Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary morning that spread about the muted, suburban landscape of Little Whinging. The sky, solid and gray, bowed like curtains as bulging cumulonimbus clouds swelled with rain. Every few minutes, a cloud would lazily dribble a small spattering of water, not enough to make one bother with an umbrella or delay usual business. Not that the streets were especially alive. On the main village block, only one cafe had rolled up its bars and begun to churn out the faint scent of coffee grounds and pastries; it was Sunday after all. Presently, an elderly couple had wandered into the shop, out of weekly routine.

They set themselves on the cushioned sheets near the large glass pane at the front of the cafe. The owner, a casual Spanish man, prepared the usual order; Lemon and mint tea (cooled a little) with a generous portion of heavy cream, two sugar cubes (brown) and one piece of toast (crispy, not brown) with a layer of margarine and citrus marmalade was brought to the bolder woman of the pair, who had been eyeing the precision by which her instructions were carried out. For the milder partner, a dark roast coffee was accompanied by a bowl of porridge latticed with honey and cinnamon. Setting the meal between the women, a sharp crack punctuated the serene quiet of the street outside, startling the owner and causing him to pour quite an excess of cream into the more particular customer's tea. The woman took the cup without complaint however, visibly captivated on the object rolling, as one could best describe it, down the street.

The vehicle was antique and defaced with a bright but densely pastel coat of blue paint. It was the movement that was most startling though; the whole contraption seemed to readily disconnect with every lurch and bump. The wheel axels sprang from their sockets, the side doors shifting unnaturally up and down. Yet, at just the second one would believe the parts would collapse, the entire vehicle would spring together by some unknown attraction. The elastic car moved along, jolting at an occasional gunshot-like noise emitted by its incorrectly bent muffler, puttering past the coffee shop window towards a boring aggregate of residential dwellings.

"They'll wake the entire place!" gasped the small woman, adding, " And don't you get so liberal with this sweetener mister! I've had these chompers for 78 years and I have no plans of rotting them now!" gesturing in renewed attention to her creamy drink.

Apologizing, the owner set the water for another cup and she promptly lapsed into quieter mutterings with her companion about a certain neighbor's reckless child, the State's election, the status of her favorite plum tree (blooming like never before!) and other complaints and muses that fill a perfectly ordinary life.

Harry Potter gripped the worn wheel of the faithful Ford Anglica and fixed his eyes on the road ahead, partially to keep the roaming vehicle within the painted lines, mostly to avoid the incredulous glare of his wife.

"You said Ron fixed this thing, Harry."

"He did Gin, the spell makes it impossible for it to fall apart."

"Fixed, Harry " she repeated.

"Well that sounded pretty fixed to me," Another loud crack. Harry winced, "I suppose it could sound better."

Ginny scowled and turned her attention to the back seat, examining her uncharacteristically quiet children. They looked back at her, a wiley grin, a mop of brilliant red hair, and a pair of green eyes magnified by spectacles.

"Tell me again why we can't just Floo to Uncle Dudley's house, Mum?" Lily concentrated intensely on an unnatural gap that was regularly opening and closing between the side door and the floor of the car.

"Because your Aunt Camille hates the mess and their children have a fit every time we appear. I think Preston may be allergic, why he was absolutely puffy for hours after we came for Christmas."

"And tell me again why we don't want to do that Mum?" James waggled his eyebrows mischievously and Albus, who had been rather solemnly staring through the windshield until this moment, and now grinned softly at his brother's quip.

Harry turned to eye his eldest son, "Now James," but his expression, too, matched his middle child.

"Harry there," Ginny pointed and Harry veered sharply into a driveway leading up to a rightly square house slathered in an egg-white tone, with inoffensively tan shutters.

Harry never really had an intention of visiting number four Privet Drive after that fateful night before his seventeenth birthday. However, after the events of that following May, the Durselys had returned to their old, unsold dwelling in a heartbeat. The year had not been kind to Mr. Dursely, nor his wife and son. On several occasions, the family had been hastily forced to abandon their new homes during the wee hours of the morning for "precautionary measures" against "imminent enemy threats." Vernon Dursely was not the man to usually give in to such intimidation though Petunia, his wife, seemed to know a bit more of what these "threats" entailed and her blanched, shaky reaction to these sudden relocations always persuaded Vernon to follow without much question.

Dedalus Diggle remained a constant and vigilant companion to the Durselys during their travels into hiding. As a skilled auror, he could detect the slightest presence of Dark magic or the wizards practicing it like Dudley could find the one sugar-coated strawberry on a platter of fresh fruit. More than once, the Durselys were safely whisked away from any wizards who wished them harm due to Diggle's alertness and on the rare occasion that dark forces initially eluded him, his superior wand use- in particular a dangerously accurate Reductor Curse- never failed to keep the family's heads on their shoulders. If anyone was in debt to this wizard's talents, it would be the Dursely trio.

Unfortunately, Vernon Dursely never saw Dedalus as talented. Rather, he noticed the odd way this man would mismatch his muggle clothing or how he caught him, every so often, talking into the embers of a fire, or the simply ridiculous news he would share with the family about escaped dragons from goblin-run banks and increasing activity in known giant communities across Britain. It didn't help that every relocation Diggle brought the family to was in a community where a few wizarding families resided.

"It adds to the protection," Dedalus would explain when Vernon and Petunia would spot a cluster of oddly dressed individuals who lived down the street, "and perhaps you'll benefit from the exposure- the absurdity as you call it."

Nevertheless, after almost a year of total absurdity, Dedalus informed the Durselys that, if they so ever wished, they were free to come out of hiding and return to their old house on Privet Drive, which remained perpetually unsold in order to deter Death Eaters from "interrogating" and unsuspecting muggles about the previous residents. The wizard had also added, "Of course, you are more than welcome to continue your stay here…" though whether that last invitation ever made it to Vernon's ears as he bowled up the staircase to his half un-emptied suitcase remained unknown. So, a mere two days after the wizarding world had begun to celebrate the fall of the darkest wizard in memory, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley had finished squeezing their belongings through the front door of their abandoned home and promptly slouched on the couch, turning the telly to the most mundane local news, which had little to say other than that the nasty fog which seemed to have enveloped the whole country finally seemed to be clearing.

Dudley Dursley had turned eighteen in the comfort of his home and attended a local trade school the following year, happily living in his mother's care. It was much less complicated with his cousin out of the way, as the deeply upsetting feelings Dudley had wrought with during their year on the run regarding his loving.. but yet... no, his very good, loving parents faded with their care, no longer interrupted by cruelty or meanness that so often erupted when Harry had been around. He'd risked a reawakening of that anger when, one day, he had brought a girl home with him, close to the world that his parents had seemed to have forgotten. However, as a non-magical sibling herself, Petunia had taken to the girl like a daughter ever since that first night. Dudley believed no other woman could have lifted the smothering protectiveness she'd lavished on her son so quickly. The deed to Number 4 Privet Drive was a wedding present, as Petunia and Vernon had no need for such space in their age and were having increasing difficulty managing the stairs every day.

The wedding had also brought his cousin back into his life, almost a decade since their not-so-final farewell. Harry had come alone, though he'd shown the Durselys an animated picture of a stunningly beautiful witch, whipping deftly around on a broomstick. Standing at the altar Dudley suddenly became all too emotional at the sight of his own gorgeous wife-to-be as she strode gracefully up the aisle, guided by her wizard father dressed in almost appropriate muggle formal wear. Fearing he might faint, Dudley scanned the room, tugging on his collar, which he realized was far too tight, just as his jacket was far too hot and shoes far too stiff. But everyone had their gaze turned to the beautiful woman, drawing his attention back.

Finally, at the brink of unconscious, he'd found the one person out of tune with the choreography of the scene. His cousin was sitting rather still despite the vibrating chords of the organ, which bobbed everyone else's heads in cue. And his face, not angry or sad, but not something near the comparable elation of the other guests, was turned towards the front of the hall, staring at his cousin but really staring through him. It was this odd behavior that caused confusion and a little annoyance to bubble up in Dudley, allowing him to regain his composure as his bride made the final steps to the altar. Harry riveted into more natural motion as she appeared beside him, as if she'd popped into view by magic. Now he smiled, but it seemed more like relief, as if this whole affair was an act of great fortune, something to happen against all the odds. Dudley did not ponder him longer, he needed to get through his vows and after... well start the rest of life that would surely change after this one momentous decision.

The next time Dudley was able to think, it was almost midnight. He'd spent the last hours chatting aimlessly with wedding guests, laughing at quips that were supposed to be laughed at, and wearing in the new term of "my wife" with an indescribable pride. Then he saw it again, the pale face that wasn't swaying to the funk band that kept almost everyone else on the dance floor in the reception room. He strode up to his cousin, who stood and smiled that odd wooden smile as he came near. He was still so very short and this irritated Dudley as, in the back of his mind, thoughts from that fretful year emerged and he wondered if Harry might have been taller had he grown up under other's care.

"Congratulations Dud!" Harry took Dudley's hand with firmness and sincerity and Dudley noticed that, while small in stature, his cousin's voice had matured beyond his years, sounding like an older uncle rather than a peer. This too, this disconnect between body and presence, unnerved him.

"Thanks," He managed, groping inside himself to shut the doors on the feelings that knocked on his heart, which only wanted to feel joyful today.

"Honeymoon plans?" Harry filled the momentary pause that elapsed.

"Erm yes actually, France. A castle tour in Brittany and then vineyards in Champagne."

"Sounds lovely."

Harry now glanced at Camille, his wife, chatting amicably with a gang of young men in slightly outdated tuxedos. Dudley whispered, "Yes, they're wizards, her brothers."

Harry nodded but seemed unsure if he should continue the subject, "Will you be house-hunting then, after?"

Dudley beamed, "Actually yes, but helping Mum and Dad find a nice place in London. They've given us the house as a gift, proper size for a family really."

Harry smiled again, though averted his eyes from his cousin. Dudley, too, had realized his mistake. Again, that feeling, like a itch crept up his body. He hated how normal conversation could not be said in Harry's company, how it had all become tainted, ruined by... well...

"I...um... I was just about to leave actually." And Dudley realized Harry was carrying his coat, a long cloak-like garment with star-shaped buttons on the cuffs. Not something Dudley would find in the stores he shopped in.

"Ah yes, I wish I could follow you. It seems like it will never end," Dudley replied

Harry shuffled a bit towards the door, but turned once more, weighing his words, "If you could," He scribbled down a number, "Um... give ring when you find a place for erm... your parents. So I could send an invite for..." Harry had gone red and when words finally failed him, he procured a small, velvet box from his jacket and opened it. It was empty but Dudley, so imbibed in his own love story, immediately understood.

"When did you? To the girl... Jenny was her name?"

"Ginny, yes just a few days ago actually." Harry took an effortful breath, as if getting to this point had required substantial physical strength, "I'd like you to come, all of you." Harry cocked his head to where Vernon and Petunia sat.

"Of course, of course." Dudley grinned and clapped Harry on the back, jolting the small man, who remained jovial nonetheless.

In fact, Harry looked more thrilled than he had all evening. He said his goodbyes to Dudley and Camille, who'd wandered over to see where her husband had gone, and then gave Petunia and Vernon a brief farewell before exiting the ballroom. Dudley watched him go and out of the corner of his eye saw his parents cackling in a tone that didn't match the positivity of the night; mocking, cruel. And again, before Camille thankfully pulled him into more niceties with more people he pretended to remember, Dudley was aware of that tangled, unworkable sensation that told him that he was wrong to be glad his cousin had left the party.

Harry turned into the driveway of Number Four to meet his grown cousin and celebrate his second daughter's birthday. Opening the car door, he hesitated for a moment, again wildly thinking of why he was returning to the place he had so longed to leave as a child. Although he knew it was illogical, Harry always had the fleeting fear that he might not be allowed to leave the house at the end of his infrequent visits with his cousin and his stomach would twist into the familiar feeling he had felt during the summers of his school years.

A flurry of bright red hair whipped past Harry as Ginny quickly rounded the hood of the Ford, "Pockets out!" She accosted James, discreetly scanning her wand about his person. "What's in your shoe?"

She bent to protract a 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes' ever-bubbling bubble gum tuck near James' ankle. "My goodness James, they have braces!"

"Who said I was gonna share?" James laughed as Ginny finished her, less intensive, search of Albus and Lily. He hung his arm around his brother and Albus felt a small parcel drop into his front pocket. He looked up at James, who whispered, "For later," and winked. Albus gulped, less enthusiastic about the idea of pranking the Dursley children.

Ginny knew the sentimentality that Harry held this house in and so she took the lead, crossing the small path leading up to the porch. She paused with her finger on the doorbell before looking back at the rest of her family who stood unmoving on the walkway. Her three children, James, Albus, and Lily all waited behind their father. Even James was secretly hoping Harry would change his mind about coming, hoping that they wouldn't have to visit for yet another year.

"Well come on! They're expecting us you know and standing there is not going to make them come out," Ginny tapped her foot on the porch, striking an impressive reflection of her mother and eyed each of her children sternly. As her eyes traveled to her husband though, her gaze softened and she turned once more to ring the doorbell.

At the sound of several feet pounding down the stairs, Harry gave a jerk, as if coming out of a trance, and strode quickly to his wife's side. James gave a sidelong glance towards Albus, but only found Lily by his side, her eager look of possibly returning home fading fast with each of her father's footsteps. Behind him a soft click of the car door was followed by the even softer footsteps of his younger brother. "Forgot my book," Albus explained, a brightly colored cover held in his hands.

James snorted, "I thought you already read that book," and flicked the cover with his finger. To the ordinary eye, this gesture seemed perfectly harmless. However, James was not an ordinary boy and that had not been an ordinary book. As Harry and Ginny were greeted by Dudley, the three adults turned towards a sudden squawking noise to find Albus frantically calming his flapping bird book with James and Lily doubled over with laughter. The children looked up at the adults as Albus hissed to his brother," You always do that at the wrong time!"

"Perhaps we could leave that particular book in the car for the time being," Dudley nervously eyed the now settled book chirping contently in Albus' arms.

Al shrank away from Harry's cousin, as he never brushed off the tension that emanated from the senior Dursely as easily as James whenever magic was presented. Dudley was easily the most massive thing on the front porch, with an extensive build of both muscle and fat. He reached a towering height above the average man with a thick neck that seamlessly flowed into broad shoulders and led to a, once fit, but now slightly pouched belly. Al didn't think much could give a man like this a fright yet he knew Dudley was afraid of quite a number of things that didn't fit into his ordinary world. A flapping, squawking book was one of those things. Al suspected his family as a whole was another.

Seeing the boy's face fall, Dudley added quickly, "We have more in here. You're welcome to read them."

"Okay," Al brightened slightly and turned to placed the book back in the car.

Ginny turned to Dudley, apologetically, "Sorry for that, I told them to bring normal things…"

Dudley, who was still following Albus, turned distractedly toward her, "He reads a lot, the little one doesn't he? Always brings a book when he comes."

"Yes, Al's our little reader," Ginny smiled, glad the situation hadn't ruffled her cousin-in-law too much.

"Reading's a good thing for kids," Dudley continued, "Quiet…" the bird book suddenly gave one last screech before Albus shut the door. Harry, who had been removed until now, suddenly laughed and even Dudley gave a smirk as his last comment died on his lips.

"Trust me, Dud," Harry said as his cousin led him into the house, "Nothing is quiet around wherever we are. Not with James and Al so close to each other."

"Oh yeah, I know," replied Dudley, nodding wisely, "Even without the- you know- it's still a rarity to get peace here. But the birthday girl isn't in at the moment, so we'll have about an hour before the storm really starts."

The interior of the house had changed since turning hands to Dudley and Camille, and yet Harry could clearly see a general similarity of taste in decor had permeated the younger generation. Upon viewing the inner design without knowledge of the residents, one might conjecture that an older widow may be the occupant, perhaps accompanied by a few cats to accentuate the interior with a fittingly stale smell. In reality, Dudley's wife's strong 'Coconut and Amber' Cologne sufficed. The woman appeared from the kitchen to acknowledge the visitors. Camille Marcella Dursley had a favorable enough visage and perhaps, if freely framed with her naturally curly locks as they had on her wedding day, would even be considered pleasant to look at. But it seemed with every visit she became more tidy and exact in appearance; her unruly strands were meticulously straightened and tugged into a small bun near the nape of her neck. So tightly was it tied that she appeared to stretch her lineaments into a more severe countenance; her eyebrows, finely drawn and filled, never seemed to come completely to rest, her eyes widened to an effect of being hawkish, and her lips pulled out like a stringy taffy.

"Ah my dear!" exclaimed Dudley, "They're back! A little bigger and none the more tame, so they'll do even more damage!" The statement was mostly in jest, but the taffy drooped slightly, puckering into a pout.

"Don't touch anything unless you're clean." Camille studied the Potter children. They waited as her eyes fell on James' unkempt hair, Albus' slightly bent glasses, the small scuffs on Lily's knees from climbing earlier that morning. Meanwhile, a horridly obtuse boy of around thirteen years came smashing into the kitchen. Dispensing air in a rising panic, he traipsed around the counters and chairs.

"Mum!" he labored, voice rising to a dangerous apex, "Wha- wha was in the chocolates?" Camille immediately swooped down upon her son, examining the sweet residue left on one of his fingers.

"What? What have you gotten into? I...Oh," She suddenly opened a drawer, revealing an opened box with a bow rather unceremoniously shoved to the side, "Preston it was clearly a gift!" She extracted a bottle of pills from a cabinet and handed them to her son, who had managed to fill a glass of water.

"For your birthday. It was last week wasn't it?" Camille returned to the foyer with the box and eyed Harry, who paled under her scowl. "He's allergic to pistachio." She finished, slight accusation in her voice as if the whole situation could have been prevented had Harry simply enjoyed another flavor of sweet.

"Ah, well that was a nice thought Camille. I wouldn't mind taking the rest off your hands. I really do like them..." Camille shot a withering look as Harry reached for the chocolates. Finally Ginny nudged him when, not taking the hint, Harry popped a treat into his mouth and nodded, somewhat exaggeratedly, "Yes, very good."

Preston appeared in the entrance of the kitchen, considerably calmer but still visibly puffy in the cheeks. He suddenly caught the eye of James and, only now realizing his embarrassment, skulked in the doorframe, trying with all his might to nonverbally threaten the Potter children into never repeating what had just happened.

Unfortunately Camille broke the effect as she spotted a smear of chocolate on his sleeve, "Preston you change your clothes this moment and get that one soaking immediately! You will not ruin another perfectly good shirt!" She glanced unconsciously at Lily, dusty from her outdoor excursion in her dress.

Ginny seethed soundlessly as she followed the other woman's gaze and as Camille followed her son upstairs, she whisked our her wand and whispered, "Scourgify!"

Lily rolled her eyes as her dress gave a little wave, the olive green looking slightly brighter, "Oh did James teach you that too?" Ginny caught her daughter's expression, but didn't seem angry.

A voice emanated from upstairs, "Oh Penny, please show your cousins where they may play outside."

The second Dursley child descended, smiling coyly at Harry and Ginny. "Hello Auntie and Uncle! Shall we go to the patio? Why the garden is just blooming at the moment!" Her voice lilted unnaturally as a result of excessive practice of the lines. Penny Dursley was more composed than her brother, rather neat and particular like her mother, however, she possessed a hurricane of a temper when either neatness or politeness were threatened. Even now, as James smirked at her haughty delivery, the coloring of her cheeks darkened. Not wanting to cause a second commotion, both Harry and Dudley made to quell the situation.

"Ah sweetie how very proper of you! Why I'm sure our guests would love for you to give them a tour!" Dudley crooned as Harry enthusiastically nodded pointedly nudging James.

"Right then, follow me!" The storm on Penny's cheeks subsided and she pivoted and continued out the back door at a brisk pace.

As they made their way to the back of the house, only Albus looked back to see his father lagging behind, walking almost lethargically through the hall. And only Albus saw Harry pause for a second, certainly unaware of his son's eyes on him, and almost absentmindedly brush his hand against a cupboard door beneath the stairs.

Chapter Text

The backyard was an extension of Penny and her mother; the layout decent and the flowers were healthy and bright. Each species was contained, though, and the Potters followed the chattering Penny through a patch of bachelor's buttons, which abruptly shifted to coneflower, which in turn morphed into shrubs of roses. Not a single plant dared transgress the hard specie lines, nor spill any part of their foliage onto the brick lining. Albus, upon closer inspection, noticed an oddly cropped rose florescence, as if a pair of shears had been passed through anything beyond the trimming.

Penny was taking great care to explain the details of each plant, as if persuading her audience why that certain species deserved the honorable position of growing in her garden. At points, her speech stumbled slightly and her features would gather at her nose as she wrestled down the disruption of her failure and her annoyance at Harry and Ginny's well-intentioned encouragement. Penny was only a few months younger than James, but was more socially aware than most adults. This propriety manifested itself in precociousness but also compulsive and insistent behavior. Circling upon the beginning of the garden once more, the girl seemed to reset herself; rapidly gathering any loose strands of hair behind her ears (she wore a bun like her mother as well) and straightening her dress from the minute angles it had shifted during the walk.

"Why my dear, that was splendid!" boomed Dudley with pride, though adding more humbly, " She gets it from Camille that's for sure."

Harry couldn't hide his agreement.

Just then, Camille reappeared in the doorway. "She's home! And already found the presents!"

"Little Tyke, I remember when I got that excited for my birthdays. Now…" Dudley tenderly rubbed a thinning spot on the back of his head as Ginny snickered and nodded understandingly.

James, Albus, and Lily followed Penny and their parents inside, heading toward the crazy noises emitting from the living room. Camille bounded up the stairs, searching for a camera.

Preston had returned to the party, sulking unhappily in a salmon colored shirt that did not match his still puffy and peachy features. He now sat in an overstuffed armchair that could've have even comfortably fit a form like Dudley's with room to spare for Harry.

James sauntered into the room and grinned at the considerably larger boy without a hint of fear, "Lovely shade of pink mate, I think I'd lose you in the roses your sister was so polite to show us."

Penny settled near her brother and promptly stuck out her tongue in reply. The gestured was returned by all three Potter siblings. Dudley had two other children as well; dark-haired and gray-eyed Duncan, who was considerably smaller than Preston but comparably petulant, and his sister Marge. Margie was wider and greedier than the rest of her siblings put together, with watery eyes and thick lips that seemed to constantly protrude in a pout, and easily the Potters' least favorite cousin. Duncan was a year younger than Lily and Margie happened to be born just weeks before Albus which meant that the middle Potter had spent the most time acquainting himself with her overwhelming unpleasantness.

Today more than ever, Margie seemed to excrete an air of being spoiled beyond the healthy point of any child. This, Albus thought inwardly, might be because of the mountain of presents perched rather precariously around her generously proportioned body, half already unwrapped. Clasped between her pudgy fingers was a button that hurled insults when pressed and was responsible for most of the noise in the room. At every comment made, Duncan, who was balanced on an especially large present, would burst into a fit of nasty laughter, rocking the box beneath him.

"Off it Duncan," said Margie, all but overturning her younger brother from the gift, "I want to open that one now."

"Oh no Margie-pie, not that one just yet," Dudley chuckled, "Wait till your mother gets back- that one's a special present from her and I."

Albus watched as Margie's lower lip started to protrude even more and give a dangerous quiver. She looked on the brink of a tantrum before eyeing a present in Ginny's hands and smiling up at everyone with a hideously sweet face said, "Then perhaps I could open Uncle Harry's and Auntie Ginny's present?"

"Sure honey," Ginny replied, handing the present to James, "This is from all three of the children, hope you like it." James mimed retching on the small box just out of sight of his mother's view.

"Here Al, you give it to her," James whispered, shoving the box in Albus' chest.

"Mom gave it to you James,"

"You're her favorite,"

"That doesn't mean she' s my fav…"

Ginny cocked her head toward her sons' direction, "Is something wrong?" she said, casting a harsh gaze particularly in James direction.

"No mom," James said, flashing a charming smile, seemingly undaunted by his mother's glare, "Al here just wants to give Margie her present. After all she is his favorite cousin."

Lily snickered but eyed Albus sympathetically as he dejectedly gripped the present and walked over to where Margie now impatiently sat. Once he was within reach, she quickly snatched the present out of Albus' hands and he backed away, sitting up on yet another large gift. The size of the box was rather too small for her liking, Al thought, as she judged the package with some distain. Then, after a few intense seconds of ripping and tearing, Margie suddenly stopped and, with a confused expression, lifted a palm-sized transparent ball from the mound of tattered paper. She looked up at Albus and narrowed her eyes as if he was playing some sort of joke on her. In all fairness, he thought, this wasn't from lack of experience with her magical cousins.

"Say Chromaignis, chroma- ignis" Albus said softly, pointing to the ball.

"You think I would fool myself like that?" Margie said incredulously, obviously thinking Albus was trying to make her look stupid in front of everyone. She looked at her father indignantly as if he should intervene.

"Margie-pie be calm, just say the words. Something will happen." He glanced at Harry unsure, "Right?" Harry nodded encouragingly at him and his daughter, whose face was becoming increasingly mean.

"Fine," Margie glared once more at Albus before repeating very loudly, "Chroma-Ignis!"

Instantly, the transparent ball grew black and opaque, only broken by tiny explosions of color that sparkled and popped, making the orb jump slightly in Margie's thick fingers. "Fireworks!" She exclaimed, now fixing Albus with a triumphant gleam as if to say that he could never get such an amazing present.

Harry whispered to Dudley, who wore a mixture of relief and trepidation that the incantation had worked, "I've bewitched a general command spell on it. She can tell her friends it's voice-activated. They're Cele-orbs, sort of popular with the kids these days- got them for all three of mine. Not dangerous at all."

"I see..." Dudley said slowly, his eyes still narrowed slightly at the pops and bangs coming from the toy. He whispered back, lowly, "You couldn't, you know... find anything...you know..."

Al was listening quietly to the exchange, shame blooming as he listened to his father offer excuses and Dudley snarking back. Finally, he turned, finding his father somewhat redfaced and glum, "It was my idea." Shock registered on both men's faces as Al continued, "They're very popular and I just thought Margie would like it, seeing how she loves colors."

It was true that Margie's bedroom vomited just about every neon color in existence. The gleaming fireworks matched perfectly.

Dudley had the decency to look contrite, "Ah well son that was very thoughtful of you. And it looks like she loves it so thank you." He offered no such apology to his father though, Al noticed, nor did father seem to expect any. Harry was roaming up and down the pile of presents with a distinctly nostalgic expression and something else. Al thought it was envy but it seemed so out of place, he dismissed it, turning back to his cousin, who was animatedly practicing how she would gloat about her toy to her friends.

"Oh this will get Paulina in a tizzy I know it." She grinned evilly at the thought of making her best friend, jealous, "She always brags about having the nicest things. Well I bet she'll drag her parents all through London trying to find one of these!"

"Can I see it sis?" Duncan, who had been glowering on the floor under his other siblings from his unceremonious dump from Margie's present now seemed mesmerized by the little orb. In greedy instinct, Margie initially pulled the firework ball closer to herself, though after a moment turned to Duncan and plopped the ball in his lap.

A sudden rush of movement followed as James had successfully launched a wad of paper toward the armchair, squarely striking Penny in the nose and erecting another bout of giggles from Lily. Just as Penny gave a screech of surprise, her mother burst through the kitchen door, camera in hand and telling off no child in particular to lower their voices. Dudley all hurried to greet her as Ginny accosted James and Lily, who were quickly balling up more projectiles, leaving Albus to notice Margie's brief action. Duncan clasped the little orb carefully, and remained unmoving in the chaos around him, blinking rapidly as if trying to understand or recall something.

Al glanced up at the other strangely still character in the room. Harry was also considering the youngest Dursley and Al couldn't help but notice the distinct fear that tightened his father's features and tensed the knuckles grasping his knee.

Camille placed the first of the family's presents in Margie's lap, who gave a squeal of delight. Harry looked up and saw Al staring, an impassive shield melting the emotion in his features away. This happened a lot, Al thought, ever since... well Al didn't want to think about that, not here. Someday though, perhaps the puzzle pieces with his father would make sense.

Lily crossed the room to Harry and beamed at him, whispering something that Al could not hear. Harry chuckled and reached into his pocket procuring a pistachio chocolate and holding his daughter tightly. Calm.

With both her mother and father present, Margie commenced with the rest of her numerous gifts which included but were not limited to a T.V., fashion dolls, fashion video-game for her T.V., a new bike, cloths, cloths for her dolls, and a chest full of gowns that she had hinted she would like to play with Albus if they had time. The mountainous stack of wrapped presents was now replaced by a smaller, more dangerously looking stack of toys piled high onto each other. Just as she tossed the last present (a jeep made for her dolls) into the heap, Margie fixed her mom with another falsely cute stare and said, "Is it time to go to the zoo yet?"

James, who had been getting scolded by both Ginny and Penny for fashioning a coiled bat from the wrappings, looked up, "We're going to the zoo?" He repeated mischievously, already thinking of the many pranks Preston and Penny could possibly fall into in a place like that. Ginny, catching her son's train of thought added sharply, "Not you if you don't behave and apologize to Penny for messing her hair, NOW."

"Sure honey-pie, we can go right now, it's your birthday anyhow," Dudley's wife crooned to her daughter who was currently trying to hoist herself upright without upsetting any presents. Preston and Penny slipped off the armchair in unified fashion, both giving James and Lily identical loathing scowls as they pranced past. Duncan carefully nestled the firework ball atop a rather puffy yellow gown and quickly scampered after his older siblings to the garage.

"Right then," Dudley placed his arm around Marge and guided her out the door. Turning to Harry, he said, "that's everyone now? "

"Think so," replied Harry, "Oh wait, I don't think I saw…" Suddenly Albus appeared behind Dudley, pulling on the much larger man's shirt cuff.

"Hey now, you probably want that book I promised you now, right?" Dudley had to lean closer as Albus answered, "Yeah," and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Right, well follow me then," Dudley led Albus to a much more austere room near the front foyer. They reached a bookshelf which, despite its opulent size and design, held a very scarce number of books, "Not sure whether you'd like many of these, not really for children," he scanned the shelves, all of which were quite well out of reach for Albus, "Here- this one's got pictures in it. You like castles?" Albus nodded and Dudley handed him a large, thin, and quite unmoving book. Then the two proceeded to the garage where the rest of the family was trying to sort out who should sit by who.

"But I wanta sit by Preston!" wailed Duncan as Penny pushed herself between her brothers.

"It's okay Duncan, you can sit by me," Albus came to join the other kids. Duncan narrowed his eyes at Albus before throwing his nose high in the air and jutting his lower lip out painfully far, resolute.

"Careful, Dun," James hissed quietly from a seat ahead annoyed at his brother's treatment, " If you keep doing that, your head's gonna stay that way and then you won't be able to see where you're going and no one's gonna want help something that looks like a git."

Duncan stared wide-eyed at James and then frantically began prodding his face to verify everything had gone back to their original sullen look. He glared at James, "I'll tell. I tell them you called me that word."

"What word?" James blinked innocently, his lips curled in only the slightest of a sneer.

"Git!" Repeated Duncan heatedly. He hadn't seen his mother come up the side of the van.

"Duncan Sterling Dursley if I hear another word like that from your mouth you can sit yourself back in your room. Those are no manners to be out be out in public!" Her hawkish eyes scanned the Potters even as she told off her son, rightly suspecting that he had been provoked.

James was wheezing in his seat, barely in control, "Sterling huh Dun, does your Mum want you to marry royalty?"

This time, Duncan smartly kept his mouth shut.

Al made to invite the fuming boy again to share his spot but Lily shifted quickly near him instead, moving from James' side and snuggling affectionately.

"Here Al, I'll sit by you," Smiling up in her other brother's face, "Will you read to me? Please?"

Albus contemplated her for a moment, then shyly grinned and opened the book to an impressive-looking Scottish castle. James sulked in the background, suddenly finding himself alone.

So with Lily and Albus immersed in their book together, Penny and Preston murmuring with each other, Margie- who insisted that she have a seat all to herself, and James and Duncan sitting together trying to ignore the other's existence (though Duncan occasionally received a flick from the older boy), the trip to the zoo was on its way.

With the bustle of the kids dying down, Harry and Dudley had lapsed into an uneasy silence. Although Dudley was much better at politeness than his parents, seemingly innocuous subjects of conversation, such as careers and finance, reminded him of the very different world that he didn't care to hear about.

Camille and Ginny prolonged their conversation a bit longer. In perhaps the only indication of a more wild countenance under her outward primness, Camille was a fairly good athlete and played on a recreational rugby team. Ginny of course, coached the Holyhead Harpies after retiring as a chaser and found some common ground in discussing sports. This conversation too, eventually wore thin as Camille's boasts of her triumphs on the rugby field gave way to coveted snobbery of Ginny's magical talent.

"I mean, is it really a wonder if most of your skill relies on the model of your broom?"

"It's really only amateurs that it makes a difference, why Etta Bromwick has been using the same stick since her school days."

"But surely the game favors those with better equipment."

"Perhaps, although we've tried to open up quite a bit in the recent years. There's several special programs to get muggleborns into the sport where they aren't out-competed by wizards who can practice at their homes outside of school. We really have done a lot expand the opportunity to all magical folk."

"Yes well, there are still barriers it seems. It was quite a messy sport to watch if I recall as well. You can never focus on a level field and those quaffles come too close to the onlookers far too often in my opinion." Rubbing her nose, Camille traced the angle by which one such rogue quaffle had dislodged it when she was a girl.

Camille was from a rather mixed family of muggles and wizards. A few generations above, her great-great-grandfather and his twin had sparked a trend of magical beings that arose a random throughout the family. Though most were inclined to marginally integrate with the wizarding world, usually picking muggle spouses, the frequency of magical offspring had persistently increased. At the time of Camille's generation, she had been the sole child to not be gifted with any ability. At eight years old, she had resolutely decided, while being treated for her broken nose and visited by the quidditch beater responsible, that she would one day, play on a team. As her eleventh birthday passed without invitation, she felt struck once more and harbored an intense jealousy that had taken until adulthood to subside.

It was unclear whether this make her a squib, though Camille regarded that particular term with special resentment, as Harry had personally discovered.

"I just didn't think Dudley would end up marrying someone so involved with the magical world," he had tried to explain, apologetically, after the instance "I figured he'd had enough from growing up with me…"

Dudley smirked and turned to his wife, "It was nice to meet someone who understood," he said simply." You know, knowing about the world you live in, all the magic and surrealism, but never really being a part of it,"

"Curious, though how none of you children got it," Ginny looked back at the children piled in the back, four of which not the least bit abnormal. Harry stiffened slightly.

"Yes I was surprised when not one of them showed any signs…. I must say I wouldn't have been unhappy if one of them turned out a wizard. Huh honey?" Camille turned again to her husband but Dudley had put on a peculiar expression not unlike the one he had worn when he saw Albus' squawking book.

"I like them the way they are," He replied weakly as the car sped through a yellow light. Apparently a few of Uncle Vernon's genes had trickled through the generation.

Chapter Text

As the tropical display at the zoo's entrance appeared, Margie let out a raucous squeak and began listing off which animals she would see first, "We must start with the monkeys," she demanded as Ginny helped her from the car, "Then we will move on to the turtles and we can't forget to visit the lions. I must visit the little cub- I've not seen him since he was born a couple years ago," She added to Al as he was the only one making an effort to listen at the moment.

"Oh yes, Margie," said James, casting his hands over his head in a dramatic fashion, "I bet he just adores it when you come for your annual visits."

"It's a she, by the way James," Margie countered before flouncing up to her mother. James rolled his eyes and instead advanced on Al.

"Wanna do something fun?" He nudged his younger brother playfully. James, though only two years Albus' elder, was noticeably the larger of the two boys with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and glinting brown eyes that betrayed his quite rambunctious person. He was recently much broader as well, a consequence of making the Gryffindor Quidditch team during his first year. He hung his arm around his brother, tightening it into a playful headlock.

"You are the oldest James?" Lily rolled her eyes, catching the exchange

"Say whatever you want Lil!" then more quietly, "As long as it's not to mum!" James captured his sister's head as well, adding, "Besides, I'm clearly the oldest. The better question is which of you is next!"

Albus was a tiny boy for his age, barely taller than Lily and quite thin. His hair was neither as unruly as his brother's nor as red as his sister's and coupled with his rather reserved presence, one would think a boy like Al could easily fade into the background of many, more distinctive faces. But Al had also inherited his father's eyes; striking green, famously green eyes that made both muggles and wizards alike look at this otherwise quite ordinary boy twice.

Lily on the other hand had a lively nature yet personal instances, such as the way she would precisely mimic the quirks of Al's correct stride or clung to him when she was tired or scared verified the hierarchy of age.

"It's her birthday James," Al stated, looking up to his brother. It hadn't been scolding or pleading, just a blunt observance as Al rarely dared to counter James.

"I know but won't it be fun?" James nudged Al once more, "And I really need your help to make sure Margie buys into my plan." Al squinted at James, "What exactly does my help include?"

"Oh nothing to detrimental to your health Al, lighten up a bit, would ya?" James tousled his brother's hair, "See, I just need you to lead Margie away from the adults. Then I can have my fun. Seems harmless enough right? Well, for you at least," Al paused and when James ceased to elaborate, inquired, "And do I get to know your part of this brilliant scheme?"

"Perhaps, but now is not the time to delve into the details" James smirked before strolling off. Al trotted after him, a sense of mischief and curiosity accumulating inside himself, "Wait, James tell me! I'll do it but I gotta know the plan…"

"What plan?" Al recoiled a little as Margie's voice slapped him upside his face. He hadn't noticed her wander from their parents, caught in a fairly extensive line for admission, and approach him and James, "What plan?" she repeated.

"uh, nothing" Al whispered, shrinking visibly under his cousin's glare. "What? Oh speak up would you Al, you are always so quiet," Margie advanced towards the slighter Potter. James however, broke her encroachment, "Oh Margie just butt out, obviously we don't want to tell you about our plan."

"Oh and why not?" Marge turned her robust figure on James who grinned, "Well if we really must tell you, it's about how we can see all the big cats here," he nodded genuinely before continuing, "See, Al here wants to see the tigers first but the leopards, lions, and bobcats are all closer so we're going to visit them first, you know, and save the best for last." Obviously content with his story, James smiled once more.

Margie was not convinced, "And why would you not want to tell me a dumb plan like that, James, unless you're lying." Al's eyes darted intently to what James would say next.

"Well, Margie I didn't want to tell you this but since you so kindly asked, Al and I don't want the likes of you to come along." This seemed to satisfy (and slightly peeve) Margie, who suddenly snapped her pudgy hand around Al's wrist and commenced to dragging him towards the adults, saying, "Well, I hope you weren't too set on visiting that tiger because we're going to see the monkeys first, I'm the Birthday girl and I want to see the monkeys-first the little orange ones, then the chimpanzees, we can skip the ugly big ones with the blue snout and…" Al glowered at his older brother as Margie's plan was articulated, who was still smiling contently, a safe distance out of earshot.

Standing in line next to her father, Penny briefly twitched her head in the direction of an oncoming onslaught of chatter from her younger sister approaching with a very miserable-looking Al tightly in tow. Judging that the younger boy was tormented enough, she glanced at James. As his cocky smirk registered, a look of annoyance spread through her features. To remedy the cause of her irritation, Penny subtly extended her leg under James as he lounged past, effectively causing him to crash into Duncan. The tiny boy was already at his wits end with James from his treatment in the car and made sure to make a fuss as James picked him up from the concrete.

"Oh brush it off Dun, go cry to Penny, she's the one who tripped me. Gosh you're a sissy…" though he quieted quickly as Ginny fixed him with a stern gaze, "James. Here. Now." beckoning towards her far side. James took a moment to stick his tongue out at Penny before making his way over to his mother.

Al usually enjoyed witnessing James' acts of immaturity, but sadly, Margie had spoiled this episode with her insistent mouth. Obviously inspired by James' "plan", his cousin had named animals to visit that Al was certain did not reside in the zoo. When the families finally passed through the zoo's entrance, Al was numbly resigned to bear the burden of Margie's constant talking. "The Monkey's Daddy, let's go!" Margie screamed at her father and waddled towards the cages with surprising agility.

Dudley beamed as he watched her go, "Precious tyke," he cooed and turned to Harry, "They really are enjoyable at this age, so innocent and easy to please."

"Of course," Harry muttered, eyeing Albus being unmercifully yanked, "Little Margie is, err, quite something to be reckoned with eh?"

"Oh yes," Dudley crooned, "Reminds me a lot of myself you know."

"hmmm, yeah." Harry muttered quietly.

The day was passing in rapid controlled chaos. Margie was unimpressed with the sleepy monkeys, rattled on their wired cage, and was promptly told to move on by a sweaty, haggard zookeeper. They then visited the penguins where Duncan and Lily were unceremoniously squished into the glass separation as Margie and Preston battled for the prime view and James managed to place a fat black beetle on Penny's ponytail without her noticing. Then a small ice-cream snack was called for. Albus was disappointed when Margie ordered the last Sundae Supreme cone and even more disappointed when she decided the Supreme was not enough to fulfill her hunger and shared Albus' vanilla cone as well. Margie then led the party towards the lion den and threw a fit when the keeper there informed her that the cub had been shipped to a zoo in Winchester and Penny collapsed in a puddle of mud near the giraffes when James' beetle found its way down her forehead.

Now Albus, Margie, Lily, Preston, Duncan, and James sat crowded on a bench, none of whom were happy at the moment except James who thought he had suitably exacted his revenge. Watching a raging Penny get hosed down, the elder Potter grinned and stood from his seat, glancing at Al significantly as he passed. Al followed his brother a short distance away near a temporary domed structure that looked like a greenhouse.

James chuckled again to himself, "Well this has been a wonderful day after all!"

Despite his better angels, Al couldn't help but laugh at his contentedness. James turned to him, "Just think Al, in a month's time we'll be doing this at Hogwarts. There's loads more people to rile up than this lot." He nodded his head toward the bench of glowering cousins, "It's more fun doing it with magic too." He added.

"I think I want to make friends before enemies James," Al countered, and James nodded good-naturedly, "Sure sure Al, and I can help with that too. But onto the plan!"

He suddenly pivoted back to face Al completely, tapping Al's pocket, "Do ya still have it?"

Al remembered the object he'd dropped in earlier and retrieved a small stringy bundle, tangled slightly from it's travels. James took the mess and began carefully unraveling the string, which was curling slightly around his finger, "I thought we'd have some fun considering the neighbors always have that yappy dog out," James explained, "But the zoo is so much better!"

The bundled mass was another product of George Weasley's joke shop, a permutation of the extendable ear, this object allowed the user to make rudimentary animal sounds which made the person sound ridiculous and usually offended an intelligent enough animal.

"Now she won't let me near her..."

"I can't imagine why,"

"But you'll have to sneak this on her at some point without her noticing." James continued, only acknowledging Al's input with a good-natured smirk, "Time it with something worthwhile too, cause you know she's going to make a fuss once she figures it out. It's too bad we've already seen the elephants..."

He placed the untangled ear covertly into Al's palm. Al gripped it and returned it to his pocket, thinking quickly. The plan was harmless enough and he would cherish a memory of his cousin rapidly turning her chattering into the roars or squeaks of some ridiculous animal.

The absence of the two boys had peaked Margie's paranoia and she sped over to where they stood, looking keen, "Well what are we talking about here?" she looked between the two rapidly and Al automatically pressed down the lump in his pocket. Thankfully, Margie had been distracted.

She became aware of the greenhouse-like building behind them and confusion graced her suspicious features, "What's this place? Is it new?"

A zookeeper was standing near a zippered door. Margie hurried up to him, her commanding voice edging through even polite words, "Excuse me sir but what is this building and when did it get here. It wasn't here last year."

The zookeeper smiled, evidently mistaking Margie's general distain for unknown things as unguarded inquisitiveness, "Ah Miss! It's a butterfly tent! Exhibit's only open until the end of August!"

Margie's judgement vanished and was replaced by new insistence as she bellowed, "Mum! Dad!"

The prospect of a butterfly garden was enough to brighten even the slightly damp Penny. Lily gave James and Al an appraising stare, "So what's the secret I can't know?"

James tousled her hair again, "Not personal Lil, Margie would have suspected something sooner if I dragged you both over. You did good!"

The tent was filled with fluttering colors as butterflies large and small dappled the inside of the dome like a living kaleidoscope. Al didn't even mind as Margie snatched his wrist once more and pointed out the ones she thought were most intriguing. As she pulled him along, he imagined letting the magical ear crawl onto her wrist, adorned with several tight neon bracelets. She likely wouldn't notice the additional piece.

"And this one- oh look!" Margie suddenly let go of Al and advanced on her sister, "Penny look, on your shoulder!"

While the sight of the butterflies were no problem, the idea of any insect crawling their way onto her was more than Penny could handle. A large blue butterfly lay furled and unfurled its wings near her neck. Al was impressed when it didn't alight at the sound of his cousin's shriek.

"James I swear...oh sweetie it's just a butterfly," Ginny's voice melted gently as the adults neared the recognizable sound of Penny in distress.

"Get it off! Get the grubby thing off me!" Penny was nearing a second meltdown of the day.

"I'll take it Penny!" Margie had actually looked jealous as the blue butterfly lay contently on her frazzled sister, "Here!"

She stuck out a chubby finger near the insect, but received little reaction. Snorting in frustration and flustered by Penny's mounting cries, Margie pinched the blue wings and placed the butterfly in her palm, eliciting cries from several of the party.

"Oh sweetie you can't, their wings are fragile." Camille came over to inspect the creature.

The butterfly now lay on its side, the blue iridescence punctured by colorless patched the size of Margie's thumbs. It stirred feebly. It took a second for Margie to realize the consequence. Then, she too looked ominously on the brink of tears as well, turning her hand downward and tossing the butterfly like a used wrapper, as if ridding herself of her wrongdoing.

"Oh pumpkin, it's alright," Dudley now appeared by his wife to placate their most explosive child, "He was probably injured before, that's why he wasn't flying away on Penny. You didn't do anything wrong. Please, look at that one there- don't you like yellow?"

Penny gave a gasp that turned attention back to her and then to where she was staring. The butterfly had landed close to Lily's feet and she now knelt near the ground clasping the stirring thing tightly in her hands.

"You're going to squish it!" Penny cried.

But when Lily opened her palm again, the ugly marks on the wings were gone. She closed and opened her hand once more and the butterfly bolted into the air with frantic energy, climbing higher towards the top of the dome.

If anything, this upset Penny even more, "That's, that's not right..."

"Well neither is grasping butterflies by their wings," James swooped defensively by Lily's side, "I mean how do you not know that..."

"That's enough," Camille snapped tersely at James, "Ginny get your son away for a sec while we calm down,"

Ginny briskly whisked the trio away, but when the Potter's were distanced from their company, gave James a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Just don't push them," She murmured.

Harry was comforting Lily, who looked taken aback by Penny's reaction. Though a game sport to see the Dursley cousins pranked, she rarely was one make anyone directly upset. They walked up a middle path obscured by ferns and Lily knelt low to the ground once more, another fluttering butterfly ascending above her a few seconds later. Harry wore an expression of awe as butterfly after butterfly rose from his daughter's hands.

"You'd think he couldn't do magic like that himself," James muttered, vocalizing Al's precise thoughts. Ginny glanced over at her husband and smiled, her cheeks blushing rosy as Harry pointed out more butterflies injured on the path and clapped encouragingly as each recovered in flight.

"You know James, when you see your child do magic, its more exciting than figuring it out yourself."

James gagged slightly, "Oi Mum, don't you start crying too."

The Dursleys thought it prudent to leave the tent as soon as possible and when the Potter's emerged a few minutes later, Lily was happily skipping and Harry looked cheerful, if not slightly surprised as Ginny warmly snuggled to him. The day just might end well, he thought.

Chapter Text

Two stressful situations had taken the most out of Penny, who insisted she'd rather sit near the picnic tables rather than continue through the zoo. Preston was also bored with the days events, more keen to message with his friends than walk around. Camille decided to stay with them as the others carried on, with Margie, fully recovered from her stint, leading the way.

Obviously forgetting his mother's plea, James set again on deciding the right time for Al to sneak the ear onto Margie. "It's got to be interesting Al," He muttered, passing on the anteater exhibit, " I mean, what noise do they make?"

Unfortunately, that question applied to a great deal of the animals they passed. Zebras, Antelopes, and groundhogs were hardly worthy creatures. But finally, he saw a perfect opportunity.

Eagerly he nudged Albus and turned to Margie, saying sweetly, "Oh Margie, we almost forgot about the turtles! You wanted to see them didn't ya?"

Margie's beady eyes darted towards the Reptile House, snidely eyeing James, answered, "Yes, I think we will be seeing the turtle next," And tugged her father towards the building.

"There's bullfrogs in there," James breathed so softly that only Al could hear, "It's perfect... imagine."

Unfortunately, James would be kept imagining as Ginny recognized too much elation in Margie's enthusiasm. She grabbed James by the shoulder and rotated him back in the direction of the groundhogs where Lily still stood, "I don't think Margie needs any more trouble from you."

James protested but Harry and Dudley were already ushering Al and Margie up the path. Without James to execute his prank, Al was torn between following through with his brother's plans and leaving Margie at peace. The trick would be harmless enough, but Al couldn't derive the same joy without James around to witness it.

The bullfrog tank was right inside, the fat creatures croaking deeply as Margie tapped loudly on their enclosure, her bracelets bouncing on the glass. All Al would have to do is nudge his hand close to hers and let the magical item latch itself between them. He inched nearer but she suddenly shrieked, pulling Al by his collar, "Come, the turtles are over there!"

Oh well, thought Al as he struggled in her grip, the moment had passed and Margie had apparently earned a peaceful afternoon.

Margie pressed herself against the glass of the enclosure and started to make horribly cute faces at the large tortoises. Al took this time to wrench himself from her chubby hands. Rubbing his neck, he imagined being a turtle, happily chewing on whatever turtles eat, only to look up at a face like his cousin's. He decided he would probably hide in his shell.

"Oh Al wake them up! They are moving so s-l-o-w-l-y," Margie drew her last comment out and mimed the movements of the languid inhabitants, "Gosh are they boring, ooh!" she slapped Al on the back and pointed to another cage, "That one's moving!"

The that that Margie had spotted happened to be a thick three- or four-foot long python, wrapping its way along a branch "Ooh Al it's so long. Hey, hey snake! Look over here would you," she banged on the glass, prompting the snake to slither closer to her pink fists, and then right in front of Al.

For a few seconds, the boy and the snake simply regarded each other. Al felt a little uneasy and traced his finger in a loop on the glass, watching the python follow his movements, "Hey there," he breathed and the snake flicked his tongue as if to greet him in return, "Must be boring in there all day, watching people watching you," drawing his hand in a zigzag fashion. He could almost hear the serpent whisper "Tell me about it," bobbing his head to Al's tracings. Margie found this trick to be of some interest, "Oh get out of the way Al," toppling over the slighter boy, "It's my turn." Smacking her fingers to the glass, Margie continued Al's pattern, however, the snake had seemed to lose interest and was peering down on Al, with what seemed to be a concerned expression (as far as snake's expressions can go).

Al picked himself up from the floor, tired and annoyed and shook his head slightly. He noticed his dad and uncle standing a few feet away, a shared curiosity contorted each face. He was pondering what emotions were wound up in those expressions when a sudden boom nearly brought him to the floor again. Margie, being the spoiled brat she was, was used to people obeying her and had slammed her fist on the python's exhibit in frustration to its incompliance to give her much notice. Clearly any lessons from the butterfly garden had been frustratingly forgotten.

"Stupid thing can't even do any tricks," she banged her pudgy hands once more, attracting the disapproving stares of other visitors. Al stepped beside her and drew a line across the glass, to which the snake instantly followed, "You can't make all that noise like that see?" Margie nudged him away once more and extended Al's invisible line, but the python continued towards Al, almost pleading, "Take this girl away, oh please I want to nap now." Wait. The snake had pleaded, and Al had heard it, "Are you talking to me?" He jolted as the serpent slowly bobbed his head.

"What are you doing?" Margie squinted her eyes at Al.

"It's talking to me can't you hear it?" Al stared wide-eyed at the python, "Here just whisper something to it…"

"No, no, no. No freakish whispering to snakes, son," Dudley swiftly appeared at Al's side and steered him and Margie towards the entrance, "It's high time we left don't you think?"

"Oh yes let's do go," jealously was rearing again in Margie's voice, clearly hurt by the attention the python had given to someone other than herself. But Al was still absorbing his small conversation, and didn't really want to leave until he was sure his sanity was still intact. Yet between his uncle and Margie already tugging him halfway to the doors, it seemed as though Al would not be certain.

Then from somewhere behind him, the shrill scream of some distressed visitor rang out. Al was whisked around at Dudley's frantic turn and just caught a glimpse of the python slithering through the glass as if it was merely a wall of water. Others had noticed the phenomenon as well and turmoil erupted through the room. Visitors were backing against walls and scooping their crying children high above their heads, ducking and pacing, trying to find a suitable hiding spot. And still the snake continued to slide across the floor, impassive to the commotion around him.

He halted a few steps from Al, "It wass nice to meet a ssoul like you kid," melting the disbelief from the boy's mind.

"Bye," Al barely dared to breathe back as the python pivoted back to his enclosure. A slight flick of his tail showed he had heard. As he found the Dursley's behind him, the shock paralyzing them deathly still, he noticed his Dad had vanished.

Darting around the room, Harry was aware that the other visitors were gaining their wits back and beginning to register the quite unusual happening they had just witnessed. As the python silently slipped into its home, he brandished his wand and cast a few obliviate spells unto huddles of the unfortunate guests.

As he returned to his son and cousin, Al was surprised to see that the emotionless mask had returned, nothing like the reassurance he'd shown Lily just hours before. Without a word edgewise to Al, he ushered the stunned Dudley and Margie to the doors and only looked back once to see a perfectly normal snake sleeping peacefully on its branch. A woman nearby crawled out from under a table with the most confused expression on why she'd been under there in the first place.

At around four o'clock, a very silent carload of people was making its way home. Only James had gotten the nerve to speak up every once and awhile to bother Al on just how he had managed to quiet the enormous chatterbox-more-formally-known-as-his-cousin into an almost catatonic trance but had grown tired of his brother's equally heavy stillness.

Dudley had only mumbled a few words to his wife before leaving the zoo and the couple was stonily ignoring Ginny and Harry, who doubted they would be invited to visit next year. But mending the broken relationship he shared with Dudley was not the most pressing subject on Harry's mind at the moment.

Through the side mirror of the car, Harry looked at the face of his youngest son. He could see so much of himself reflected through him. Albus was the only child to inherit his green eyes, and his small stature and slim face only accentuated the resemblance. And now his son would also spend his childhood with a similar talent. But Harry had long lost the ability to speak parseltongue, an ability only brought on by the presence of Voldemort's soul latched on to his own. But Al's soul was wholly his, his talent not induced by dark magic.

"Don't worry Harry," Ginny whispered reassuringly into Harry's ear as she caught his nervous stare, "It'll all calm down once he's at Hogwarts and gets some control. Then we'll just have one more year before we miss those little magical moments completely."

Harry gave a convincing smile but winced inwardly at the mention of school. Would this all be over once Al was settled at Hogwarts- sorted? He gave a last glance from the mirror and saw Al staring directly at his reflection, confusion and something darker riddling his features.

Chapter Text

"Har-harry close the windoer," Ginny mumbled, half asleep.

She waited a few seconds for her slumbering husband to arise, then rose out of bed towards the open window in their room, coaxing sleep from her eyes. She started awake as she realized the rhythm emanating from the ceiling was not the sound of rain, but rather the pitter patter of feet pacing the floor above. She checked the time, 2:10AM, and curiously made her way to her sons' bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, letting a thin band of light streak the hallway. A shadow passed through the band, giving away the movement of some agitated child and the creaking of wood.

Ginny already knew which boy was awake, but wondered what kept Albus crossing the bedroom. Peering through the gap, she watched her son pace around the floor, taking inventory of his belongings, now neatly organized for the trip tomorrow. The family was spending the last weekend of the summer at the Weasleys' before the school year began.

One. Two. Three. Albus counted his reading list; Dragons and Lore given to him by Charlie Weasley, Pinnochio and other fairy tales (Had he taken that from the Dursleys?) , and The Nargles of Central America compliments of Luna and her husband. He ran his fingers down the bars of an empty bird cage, which would soon house his own mail owl. Suddenly, he again crossed the bedroom to where James lay unconscious, comfortably resting over a few piles of half folded clothes he was supposed to have packed. He slowly pulled a jumper from a stack near his feet, slightly out of place from being removed before, and, checking once more that he hadn't disturbed James, pulled it over his head and shifted slightly to face a standing mirror between the beds. Slowly, he traced the outline of a golden lion sewn in the center of the maroon material, taking in the image of himself in proper Gryffindor attire. First he stood quite square, filling up as much space as possible in the larger sweater, then, glancing once more to the left, relaxed into a jaunty pose, wagging his head slightly and flashing a mischievous smile.

Ginny couldn't suppress a chuckle at the uncanny impression of James, shattering Albus' isolation. He whirled around and stared wide-eyed at his mother, who gently beckoned him downstairs. In the kitchen, Ginny placed a kettle on a raised stovetop and began rummaging through her one of the many eclectic cupboards surrounding the archway over the oven. The kitchen descended slightly into a small living room organized around a wide gable window. A light curtain had been thrown across the panes for the night, but one could still make out the roofs of the neighborhood as they sank into a valley, the dotted lights reappearing after a distance, as the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole crawled up the slope of another grassy mesa. Beyond the hilltop lay a very familiar crooked rural home now in the care of Ron and Hermione.

The tea kettle began whistling whilst Ginny continued to search for a chocolate drink and a mint tea, "shhh, shhh,shhh" she crooned to the kettle, "Do you know what time it is?" as the pot nestled into a contented murmur. Finding her items, Ginny poured two mugs of hot drink and pushed them across the middle island, in front of Al who had slouched on a stool. Perching on a seat next to her son, Ginny ran her fingers through strands of thick brown hair, tugging the clumps into wild directions. Al grinned and shook his head, then began talking, "It'll be awfully cool if I get picked for Ravenclaw and get to sleep in the high spires of the dorm."

"Oh I bet that will be a magnificent view. I've heard you can see the clouds settle on the lake from above on foggy days."

"And Hufflepuff may win another Quidditch championship, especially since Roxanne will have recovered from her broken arm."

"That wasn't James who caused that, right?"

"No, Archer Boot."

"Ah well that may have set their relationship back."

"Oh I don't know." Albus reddened as he whispered, "James, said they were snogging on the train back home"

"James would eavesdrop on a moment like that"

Al snickered and continued

"And well James is all about Gryffindor, he said they have the best kind of people, and Slytherin... well..." Al was scuffing his hands around the edge of the countertop. He looked up at his mother who returned his gaze empathetically.

"Al, believe me when I say that you'll love the house you're sorted into. The hat...yes I know its a hat...is very good at picking the place that you'll thrive best."

Still unconvinced, Al ventured "But some houses are better though, I mean there's so many heroes in Gryffindor, even besides you and Dad and the Weasleys... other houses..."

"Why should you care Al? I know where you're going." Ginny paused, deciding, then continued in a heavier tone.

"You know, as the battle with Voldemort began at Hogwarts, Headmaster McGonagall ordered the Slytherin House to be confined in the dungeons. It was a time of emergency and at that point, several students in Slytherin had made their loyalties very clear. But there were a few students who adamantly refused her order and fought, for our side. They actually escaped the dungeons and destroyed a back entryway, using very little magic as well, Al, as most had had their wands confiscated. They more or less obliterated the front being led by Rudolphus Lestrange. " She paused again. Al's eyes were riveted with the new information.

"I believe it was Minerva's greatest regret; she insisted on stepping down from her post shortly after the damages to Hogwarts were mended. She felt unfit to lead a school of students that she had rendered so vulnerable because of her fears of a House's legacy. Eventually many wizards persuaded her to reinstate herself, I think, for the better. "

A weight seemed to drop into Albus' eyes as they trailed off to ponder this new information. Minerva often visited the Potters and Weasleys, and seemed to a small child like Al, a woman of impenetrable wisdom and will. Her decisions as Head of Hogwarts were often praised in the Daily Prophet as she increased the quality of staff and resources available to all departments, soaring the OWL score of the average wizard to the highest in Western Europe. Yet she felt responsible for an impossible choice to the point that she would have let her skills go to waste? He remembered once when he and James had prodded her to tell them a tale of the Battle, gushing about her amazing feats of transfiguration. She had ordered them away rather sternly, saying she thought as little of that year as possible and planned to continue ignoring it. "She's just humble," said James, and Al believed that to be a reasonable explanation, but now the recollection took on a new color...

Ginny was always impressed at the perceptiveness of her middle child; she swore the present contortion of her son's expression would have matched the older face of her former professor as she had confessed her story during a visit many years ago, asking for donations to make a memorial for the fallen students. She cupped her son's cheek and brought his head to face hers once more.

"Al, I want you be excited about the House you'll be sorted into. I want you to be proud of your colors and cheer on your Quidditch team and try to get as many points as possible whenever you can. But don't think that all those things require you to act a certain way. Houses are not the halls and Common Room, Albus, they're people- the people define the House, not the other way around."

She started to draw a ribbon circling her son's features and by the time she had meandered down the bridge of his nose, Albus had slouched into her, fast asleep.

Ginny gathered up the small boy and laid him into bed. As she wrapped the covers around Albus' shoulders, he stirred slightly and asked, "Does Dad think this way?"

"I think he would like to tell you himself."

Chapter Text

Ginny flicked her wand- 44-898-312- "Dialus! Oh come on, the Burrow you know!" She impatiently tapped the tip on the counter as a small window popped into view, peering down a long, wooden table filled with half-eaten breakfast.

"Hey Gin!" Ron's face momentarily filled the frame before he backed up, clearing the used plates. He paused at a clean space. "Rosie! Come down and get your breakfast!"

"She hasn't eaten yet?" Hermione came into view, "What is she doing up there-oh! Hello Ginny!"

"Sorting through her things, just in case she happened to miss any important for 7800th time." Ron turned wearily, "Its going to take at least another hour before we're ready."

"That's why I called," Said Ginny, "Albus was up late last night taking inventory as well and was a little slow to get up this morning. You remember my first trip to Hogwarts? Why Mum was sending me my forgotten things for a month!"

Ron shook his head, "I just can't comprehend it, tidiness, organization- It's simply not the Weasley way!" Then, gesturing to his wife, "Though its not a huge surprise either given..."

Hermione frowned at Ron, "I don't recall Harry being much cleaner than you."

"Oh no, he wasn't! But those three spend so much time with you, the effect probably got transferred."

Hermione's brows furrowed. Ron proceeded, undauntedly, "You know, that thing you read in that Muggle medical journal...hmmm... Epigenetics!"

"That's not how that works."

"You would know better than me."

Ginny laughed, "Anyway, whatever the effect, I can tell you James did not get it. His clothes were in so high of heaps you would have thought his owl cage was under them- well it was under one" She turned to her eldest son who looked up and smiled from his cereal."

"Ah- a worthy heir!" cried Ron, "Tell him I'm proud."

"Thanks Uncle!" piped up James, sitting at the counter and shoveling cereal into his mouth.

"Is that Uncle Ron?" Two pairs of footsteps descended into the Potter kitchen. Lily and Albus climbed onto stools near James and beamed at the redhead. From the other side of the window, two children of matching hair appeared and excitedly waved back.

"Alright now!" Clapped Hermione, it looks like we've finally gathered everyone. "Come now, lets get fed and bring everything down." Turning towards Ginny, "We'll see you soon!"

Al clutched his suitcase and cage and looked at James, who was waiting impatiently for their parents. "Mum we must go soon! The sale at Dennis' This and Thats only lasts until noon!"

"Calm down James, there'll be plenty of time." Harry entered the room with Lily and Ginny following close behind.

They stopped around a bent and rusty noodle strainer, "Now." said Harry, eyeing his sons, "You're going to need to be careful on your decent. Remember, keep your knees in front of your shoulders and pedal once you feel yourself falling." The boys nodded, "Albus, do you want me to carry something? The cage?"

"I got it Dad!" Al smiled and side-eyed James, who raised his eyebrows. James' owl, Bidi, clucked and shuffled on James' shoulder, "Well, she can catch you anyway."

"Alright then, everybody...now!" The family grabbed the old strainer and promptly disappeared.

For a second, Al felt as though he were rushing through fluid, the air around him condensing into a thick resistance. Then, the pressure cleared and he was aware of the lack of ground beneath his feet. Pedaling, Al watched the tiny cluster of dots become detailed into the many leaning spires of the Burrow. Leaning forward, Al forgot his exceptionally bulky load and rapidly flipped over a few times. "Steady" he calmed himself, continuing to pedal, slowing the rotation. An arm reached out and Al gratefully leaned against Harry, who landed with ease. Sheepishly, he grinned at his Dad, who ruffled his head.

The past week had been a stressful one for Al, Harry was aware. He thought back to the whirlwind of a week that surrounded his eleventh birthday. Everything had been so new and unfamiliar even Hermione had prepared better knowledge of the Hogwarts houses. And he remembered the night in his second year in Dumbledore's office, swearing to the sorting hat that he'd made a mistake-that he, Harry, could not be a Gryffindor. His children were quite aware of the legacy of each House and, although he felt guilty to admit it, Harry was too.

Slytherin especially had changed in the aftermath of the War; muggleborns now entered the House at a similar rate to all the others. Yet, as the years slowly turned a generation, a few names began to repeat on the rosters posted in the Daily Prophet. Parkinson, Fiona- Slytherin, Nott, Timothy-Slytherin, Goyle, Jonathan- Slytherin, Bulstrode, Ambrosia-Slytherin... Many of those classmates had been long lost in contact after school, shut out of Ministry jobs for their anti-Muggleborn discrimination displayed in their final years against other students. What had their children been told as they were growing up?

Today, Albus seemed in high spirits. He had plodded a few yards ahead of Harry, but presently slowed, allowing his father to match his stride. His face turned quite serious for a moment and he seemed to be jostling with a question.

"What's on your mind Al?"

"Oh I..." His son hesitated, fingering the bars of the bird cage, " Well I... what animal did you have while you were in school?"

This was not the inquiry that Al had struggled with, but as the Burrow came ever closer, Harry decided not to prod further. "Well, I had a great snowy owl, Hedwig. In my opinion, owls are the best choice. Best mail carriers and they make good company as well- I know James goes out with Bidi when he gets homesick."

Al smirked, "I wouldn't call Bidi the most reliable mail carrier..."

"That's nothing, you know Ron's old Scops owl Pig?"

"Pig!" Albus gasped in disbelief, turning to the Burrow and imagining the puffy mess of feathers that now took residence in a handmade nest (by Hermione) situated near the kitchen. "Can he even lift a letter?"

"No, but he thinks he can." Laughed Harry.

They were near enough to the Burrow that Al could make out a few details of the inside through the many eclectic windows that dotted the exterior. A large Venus fly trap accented by peachy striped wallpaper scaled a very narrow and tall opening while just a floor above a mobile of planets hung against a dark navy backdrop. After the fire set by Bellatrix and Fenrir, only the stone base of the first floor had survived. Molly and Arthur, unable to look at their home reduced to ash, had lived for a while with Bill and Fleur. Ron and Hermione were equally devastated, and had purchased a home in London. But as the prospect of a family began to drift into conversation, the couple asked for their parents' permission to rebuild the beloved home. After news of the plans spread, numerous wizarding families lent a hand; the Longbottoms sent a number of semi-rare garden flowers and Xenophilius Lovegood had proven to be a stunning architect, though he expressed mild disappointment at the final design approved by Hermione, who had insisted on bolstering his "structurally precarious, yes, but stylish" tower design.

As construction went underway, Molly and Arthur spent an increasing amount of time at the site, helping whenever possible and even purchasing a few, more expensive, appliances despite her son and daughter-in-law's insistence otherwise. About a month into the renovation, Molly presented Ron and Hermione with the Weasley family clock, now ridiculously complex with extra faces for the sibling's nuclear families. Hermione couldn't accept the gift and after a night's deliberation with Ron, made their parents an offer; they would come to live with them in the Burrow. Another tower was designed fitted beside Mr. Lovegood's, who pronounced he wouldn't continue unless another tower was added (Three is the magical lucky number he explained, gesturing to his triangular necklace and ignoring a blanched Hermione).

And so, the current Burrow stood a trio of mismatched towers and material. Ron and Hermione made a home in Xenophilius' addition, a helix stone cylinder criss-crossed with wooden supports. The elder Weasleys resided in the much shorter and more boxy extension, which included it's own living room and small kitchenette (though Molly rather liked cooking in her old space and Hermione did not mind) as well as a spacious room that was rapidly crowded by Arthur's strange muggle trinkets. The third tower was a rather amorphous shape of reddish and greenish metal and open to any guests that frequented the place. A small hexagonal room perched at the top of the mass was reserved for Teddy Lupin.

A movement flashed across a round window near the top of the stone spire and a few moments later, a girl's face appeared in the front entryway, framed by a wild nest of curly red hair.

"Al!" Rose Weasley beamed at her favorite cousin, "Come inside! I have something to show you." She grabbed the suitcase from Al and disappeared into through the door. Ginny, James, and Lily had already gone inside and were sitting at the long table that took up most of the kitchen, chatting with Hugo. On the table top sat a rather tall bird cage, where a small, but stately bird perched inside.

"Charlie found it abandoned in the Taiga," Rose exclaimed, "He's a Boreal owl. I thought I was getting Hermes," she gestured to the expansive cage, "Isn't he grand? I've named him Teng. Oh, yes he's quite feisty. "

James had opened the cage and let the bird hop up his arm. As he neared the shoulder where Bidi sat, he nipped the bigger bird who alighted in astonishment and settled on Lily. From a corner between a high shelf and the ceiling, a small cluck of disapproval revealed Pigwideon, clearly offended from being excluded from even consideration as Rose's messenger.

Ron appeared from the back garden and greeted the Potters enthusiastically, "Ah well! Lets get these up to your rooms." Taking his wand he gathered the various parcels and with a whisk, sent them flying up the stairs.

"What, ow! Ronald!" Hermione ducked beneath the last suitcase as she appeared at the bottom steps.

"Ah sorry, Minister." Ron chuckled.

Harry and Ginny looked up sharply, " Hermione?" James also stared at his Aunt's deeply reddened face, impressed.

"Yes, well more on that later," Hermione patted the blush on her cheeks, a mixture of frazzled and endeared emotion. She prodded Rose and Hugo from their seats and ushered everyone to the fireplace in the adjacent den. A thin shelf skirted the top of the pebbled pit and Hermione snatched a flame-licked silver box. Opening the lid, she offered Floo powder to everyone and then threw a pinch into the fire, lighting a contained jade flame. Stepping in one by one, the Potters and Weasleys disappeared with the incantation, "Diagon Alley!"

Albus hobbled on the road as he arrived and was promptly pulled onto the curb by Rose as a rickshaw rocking with books and quills sped through the very spot he'd occupied seconds before. The troupe had landed near Madame Malkin's Robes for every Occasion and decided to fit the two new students while James took Lily and Hugo to explore Dennis' This and Thats: An Antique store of magical whats-nots and has-beens. Standing for measurements, Rose pointed towards a shelf of Quidditch uniforms, each emblazoned with the four Hogwarts houses.

"I can't wait to be sorted Al!" She gazed longingly between the red and blue emblems. "Mum told me that she wanted to be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw and I suppose those are my top choices as well. Either way, she said not to worry. What about you Al?"

"I've thought of it a little," Al offered hesitantly. Harry was standing nearby and caught interest in the conversation. Al also looked at the uniforms, considering the options but fixedly ignoring one color.

"Well if we do get in different Houses, I promise to show you my Common Room. I've heard they're all magnificent," Rose brought her arms down as Madame Malkin grunted, rethreading a seam. "But I think I'll like it best if we're together."

"Yeah." Al replied quite more confidently.

James re-entered the store excitedly and beckoned to his father, "Dad, dad, come see! In This and Thats!"

"Just a second James, they're almost done," but whether James had heard was unknown as he bounded again toward the shop next door exclaiming again, "It's the coolest thing!"

The adults finished buying the robes and headed toward the shop, a turquoise-painted hole squeezed between the stylish Madame's and a glittering Indian restaurant. James had happened upon the place during his first year preparations, but Harry and the others had never explored inside. The ownership was obviously new as the thin layer of paint barely concealed the previous sign "Gatwick boots and shoes" which had gone out of business less than five years ago. The interior was a maze of geometric tables of varying heights, with loosely organized items crowded in small heaps on each; binoculars and cameras, muggle radios and record-players, a pile of glass orbs displaying hilarious scenes on repeat. The ceiling was lower than expected and filled with numerous photographs of mostly countryside landscapes and a small Muggle town, but a good collection featured Hogwarts scenery and students. James glided agilely through the narrow walkways, following the photos. He stopped over a cluster of Quidditch scenes and pointed at a group of Gryffindor students carrying their smallest teammate, a dishevelled boy with messy black hair and round glasses.

Harry squinted in disbelief. He hadn't expect to recognize the students that were memorialized in the 'antique' shop, but upon a second look, he spotted several pictures of Oliver Wood and Angela Johnson whizzing through the air, and a fair share of himself as well.

"Why Ginny, it's us!" Ron was also inspecting the nearby photos and pointed out a picture of Ginny being embraced by her brother, donned in Keeper's clothing, "It's when you won the House Cup- your first game. Oh we have to get this." On command, the photograph peeled from the ceiling, revealing yet another layer of memories. An envelope careened from the back of the shop and captured the photograph, landing gently in Ron's palm.

Harry was engrossed. His eyes darted from photograph to photograph. There was Hannah Abbot descending one of the moving staircases, jumping as hers began to transform. Padma and Parvati switching their house robes, giggling. Seamus Finnigan exploding a dessert during dinner. Professor Trelawey dazzling over an orb while the form of Ernie McMillian dozed in his seat. He retraced the direction of the envelope and approached the cashier's desk. There sat a tiny man with a magnifying lens balanced in one eye examining a glass orb, muttering inaudible charms that set the scene inside into motion. As he drew nearer, the little man looked up expectantly and smiled. He was petit and could haven been mistaken for a person not yet thirty, but Harry knew he was much older. "Dennis?" The little man positively beamed at the recognition.

"Harry Potter! How nice it is to see you again!"

Hermione had also wandered over, curious about the owner, and took in the man in shock. "You're not Dennis Creevey?" Again, the man looked delighted, "Hermione Granger er Weasley er Granger- and those are definitely Weasleys!" he greeted the amused Ron and Ginny. "How have you been?"

Nobody had seen Dennis since he had been a Fourth Year at Hogwarts. The Creevey brothers had been expelled from school when Voldemort overthrew the Ministry but had crept back to help in Dumbledore's Army. The brothers, being braver than talented, were often tasked with running messages between the school and Hogsmeade, where Aberforth could dispatch the information to others in the resistance. Near the March of that year, the brothers were ambushed by Death Eaters and though they did escape, they had been recognized. Fearing retaliation on their defenseless parents and not wanting any more harm to come to his brother, Colin had sent Dennis home to send the family into hiding.

The concerns were valid, and just after arriving home, Dennis had to hastily flee a group of snatchers. For over a month, the young boy camped about in various places, honing and improvising magic to a point where he was quite skilled at charms. At the news of the defeat, he brought his parents, beside themselves in pride of their fearless boy, home to wait for their other heroic son. This of course was shattered when Minerva had returned Colin's body. Staying with the clearly shaken family, the Headmistress attended the small funeral, the only representative invited from their sons' magical world. And though Minerva tried to persuade Dennis to finish his schooling, she never saw the boy enter Hogwarts again.

"We're alright," Harry gestured toward his children, "Albus is just starting school this year and James will be entering his third."

"Rosie's going this year as well," added Hermione, "Do you have any of your own?"

"Ha yes!" Dennis answered cheerfully, "Five in fact- my oldest is also starting this year. My wife's a muggle but I swear we were meant to be wizards. Every one of 'ems magic, even the little ones are lifting things up, twirling 'em around. He's getting his supplies at the moment with his mother- she's great about all of this. But the others..." he stopped his chatter and turned to a staircase leading to the second floor, "Arley, Anna, Amie and Mabel!"

Without a moment's delay, four small heads covered in various lengths of mousey brown hair peeked out from the opening. Their eyes bulged as they took in the group of celebrities, even gasping at James. "Its the seeker from Gryffindor!"

"A yes, Amie's a fan of the sport. She makes me read the Prophet every week for the recap- gone to a few games as well." He patted the head of a girl with huge square glasses fastened to her head by a thick rubber band.

"Well it's always nice to meet a fan," James remarked smugly, but looked uncomfortable as the smaller kids drew closer and closer, "Erm, what's the best thing in this place?" He breathed in relief as the siblings set away on the task.

"These pictures..." Started Hermione, wavering on the thought of being too direct, "They're quite candid, lovely really, were they..."

The smile on Dennis' face shrunk slightly, but he gazed contentedly at the flapping photos, "Yeah they're Colin's. He had so many rolls of film, it took me seven years to develop them all, well, I started pretty slowly. He really had a knack of capturing the worst moments, I swear Harry there's an entire roll dedicated to you wiping out on the pitch."

"How far do they go?" Asked Hermione.

"Up through his last year," Dennis looked back at the moving orb in his hands, "They were the first ones I developed. Less fun and more of a documentation of the abuses going on. I brought them to the Ministry to see of they could help round up any unknown sympathizers. They put one of the D.A. on display."

"In the Ministry? I think I know it." Ron, Harry and Hermione pictured the great portrait that hung in the atrium at the entryway of the Ministry Courtrooms. A group of haggard students crowded around hammocks looked wearily into the camera. Below, the statement: Justice maintained for Justice fought was embossed onto the frame.

"Yes well I figured people would enjoy these years better. I've gotten quite a few visitors." He nodded at the picture Ron was holding, "Half price if you find yourself in the picture."

"I'm glad you're doing well," Hermione said gently.

James returned with a pair of binoculars and the group paid and left. "I'll have to tell Fred and Angie about the place! Its quite a nice little gem he's got there." Ron took out the portrait and traced his face, "I never looked better!"

Ginny came up by Harry and produced the photo she had purchased, a bewildered Second-year Harry took up most of frame, blinking rapidly in the wake of the camera flash. "I couldn't resist."

Harry chuckled.

The group stopped for a small snack and decided to split up so Rose could get her textbooks (Al was using James' ) and Albus could find his owl. They entered Eeylops Owl Emporium, a frantic shop of numerous species. James, who was rather fond of animals, took it upon himself to lead Al through the various temperaments of the perfect pet.

"Now you'll want one that's not too shy, otherwise they'll never get along in the Owlery. " He reached out his arm toward a group of speckled pygmy owls, who all promptly cowered away in a haste of nervous twittering. "Poor things," James' cupped a quivering bird and stroked its head, calming it.

In fact, a number of birds, to James' dismay, seemed rather on edge and of uneasy temperament. Al was fairly convinced that the reason was because Bidi, who was still clutched to James' shoulder, was a positively menacing sight to behold. Obviously jealous from her owner's divided attention, the large screech owl had puffed up to twice her size, her distinctive chartreuse irises boiling as she glared around the lesser fowl. As James won the trust of a few more birds despite her efforts, Bidi nipped his ear sharply, prompting an "Oi! Bloody bird!" James turned to Al, "One second Al, let me deal with this jealous git." He wandered over to the treats section of the store.

Albus took in the brilliant array of yellow and blue eyes that now stared at him curiously. A striking pair of amber discs caught his attention. Coming closer, the color vanished, but Al was still interested in the peculiar bird. It was definitely a barn owl, but the usual milky white feathers appeared ashy and black, as if they had been dipped in soot. The amber coloring was a trick of light, a reflection on the truly opaque pupils that currently regarded Al with mild suspicion.

"Not der friendliest owl yeh could find 'ere. Reckon the pigmentation made der other ones 'fraid of 'em, " A burly, bearded man approached Al, "Got mobbed wen he was younger so he tends ta be a bit of a loner. Sorta likes ya though. Name's Ibn- got it from sum older lady "

The owl was bobbing his head in front of Albus' face, and the boy could make out a few thin fleshy lines of healed scratch marks. Al laughed at the ridiculous behavior, causing the bird to recoil for a minute in offense, before deciding otherwise and recommencing his routine.

Al and James left the Emporium a few minutes later, each with an owl in tow. Bidi at first coldly observed the strange, dark bird, but upon realizing he was solely Al's, settled to pleasant clucking on James' shoulder. "The depth of your insecurities amazes me-Oi!" earned the older Potter another nip.

The boys found the others at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Rose was hidden behind a large stack of books for First Years. Ron read the titles in amazement. "Primary Level Transfiguration: from Transformation to Animation. Why did we even learn animation in school? "

Ginny shook her head, "I know, I couldn't believe those were for First Years when James started. Apparently they've disused most of the spells we've learned for newer incantations. Easier to master and less finicky."

"Sounds like we'll be out of a job in no time," muttered Ron.

"Speaking of which," Ginny turned to Hermione, "Minister?"

Again, the blood rose in Hermione's cheeks. Tapping Rose on the shoulder, she suggested that her daughter take Hugo and the Potters to see George at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. The others looked rather bewildered as the children sped off. "Why you're acting as though you've been demoted!" exclaimed Harry, "You haven't killed Atterberry have you?"

"No... he's... he's resigned." Hermione struggled with what to say next, "There's been a lot of loose ends since the end of the war that have yet to be addressed... that should have been addressed... in fact their negligence borders on criminal."

"What do you mean?" pressed Harry, "Incidences in Dark Magic have been the lowest since before the First Wizarding War. And Ron and I would be the first to know about any disappearances..."

"No, no it has more to do with my department... well, really just me..."

Hermione had entered the Ministry of Magic as head of a new (and underfunded) department, "The Rights and Protections of Magical Species" which sought to set up a justice system where magical creatures besides wizards could file grievances of both criminal and civil nature. While slow to gain the trust of the very different communities, the abolishment of House Elf servitude boosted its credibility. Very soon after, Hermione was able to expand the territory of centaurs and set up "forgiveness programs" for giants orphaned during the War. This had a huge impact on wizard-giant relations and made Hermione a popular political voice, though with a fair amount of harsh critics highlighting some of the more barbaric practices of their magical counterparts. Hermione combated these opponents by offering representation on the Ministry Council in exchange for complete adoption of Wizarding laws as well as tailored taxation requirements. House Elfs, Centaurs, Goblins, and Merpeoples were currently engaged in partnership.

At the time, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the sitting Prime Minister. One Friday morning, he had entered Hermione's office and declared her promoted. And, as part of her new position (he hadn't yet told her exactly what was higher than Head of a department) she was to travel with him for a three day business trip, starting in 15 minutes. He left the office in haste, failing to mention the destination. Hermione had accompanied the Minister and returned the next Monday with a pale and blotchy face, but took the position at once.

Shacklebolt had sworn Hermione to secrecy and moved her office to a room next to his own. A few months later, the Financial Department accused Shacklebolt of mismanaging Ministry Funds for trips to private destinations. Hermione had been included as a person of interest in the probe, but Shacklebolt produced seemingly valid bills of his many vacations to the Caribbean, released a statement that he gravely regretted betraying the trust of his citizens, and resigned. Ian Atterberry, a strong opponent of policies enacted by both Shacklebolt and Hermione, was instated, and a very public feud between the two had arose.

"Is your work still secret?" Ginny probed her stalled friend.

"Yes, well Ian was informed of the nature of my duties when he was instated. It was a mistake to do so... inescapable I guess, but I wish I hadn't. He cut off all funding of the project at once and now the situation is brimming to the point where we may not be able to control it."

"Who else knows about it?" Ginny, Harry, and even Ron were at a loss as to what their friend was hiding from public knowledge, from even her fellow Ministry members.

"I'm sorry to be so cryptic, " Hermione clearly wanted to shrink smaller than a speck of dust, "Artemis- the Head of Health- knows a bit about the situation; enough to persuade the rest of Atterberry's cabinet that it was crucial that I supersede him. I...I really wish I could tell you more, but if this gets out and a number of high profile Ministry members are implicated it could ruin the entire political structure. As of now I'm working with single members associated with Bulgaria, the States, India..."

Harry sat back with wide eyes, "This is something of international concern?"

Hermione slumped back, exhausted, and didn't reply.

"And how did you find all this out?" Ginny directed the conversation to Ron. Her brother was in similar disbelief as Harry and stammered a reply, "I... I knew nothing about this," he continued to stare at his wife, "I just walked in the office as she was swearing in around the cabinet..."

"Art insisted a private ceremony would be the least controversial. On Monday Atterberry will announce his resignation and my appointment."

"Is all of this, this situation... its not going to affect Hogwarts, is it?" Ginny caught sight of their children returning, hands stuffed with brightly colored toys from George.

Hermione's face didn't change to something reassuring.

"Hermione!" Harry nearly shouted.

"No! My goodness they're not in danger are they? I'm sending my own child am I not?" She shot back heatedly.

"But I have a feeling some of their classmates may hint at things that should have been dealt with a long time ago"

Chapter Text

Albus slowed slightly as he approached his parents, aunt, and uncle. His Dad looked livid and was glaring pointedly at Hermione, though as his cousins drew closer, the rigid features relaxed into something more pleasant. His mum wore a peculiar expression as well and abruptly stood and clapped her hands, "Well, it's high time we get little Rosie and Al their wands, how does that sound?" At Rosie's squeal of delight, all four adults leaped from the table rather too eagerly.

Garrick Ollivander had wandered into his shop about a year after his imprisonment, turning the closed sign hanging in the boarded door around. This seemed to do nothing for business, so he swept the inside free of glass and debris and had new windows installed. People were ecstatic of the wandmaker's grand return and filled the tiny shop from open until close. Eleven year olds were barely the bulk of the customers; over a year of Voldemort's reign had denied hundreds of muggleborn witches and wizards of obtaining a proper wand and hundreds more had lost theirs during the trials led by Dolores Umbridge. It wasn't long before one could see the bare shelves of the shop, shiny spaces where dust had never been able to settle before now, increasing in frequency as the stock was depleted at a regular pace.

Ollivander was old. And his imprisonment and torture had surely sent him a decade further toward his last years. A wand carefully crafted by his hands, precisely endowed to an volatile, but promising young witch had been used on him and others to inflict a pain never meant to be emitted from its core. And there was a whole lot of them; horrible wizards with his wands. He was jumpy too, and no longer patient enough to coax out signs of magic from chosen trees. The idea of making new wands was impossible; he would close permanently once the last wand was sold.

His shelves had but five unsold cases when a tall man with distinctive blonde-white hair had entered his shop. Of course Ollivander had seen this boy standing beside his torturers, and he could see now that Draco Malfoy remembered his stay in equal clarity. The man nodded his head and, not receiving one in turn, produced a short black wand of hawthorn wood, purposefully split in two. A request came from the man as to whether the wand was repairable. Ollivander shook his head. Then perhaps the man could purchase one of his remaining wands? The Malfoy wasn't picky about compatibility, he just needed a wand for basic transport and spells required for his job.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot sell you these wands in good faith."

"But perhaps one will choose me, " Draco nodded pleadingly at the small stack of boxes, "It's worth it to me to at least try."

"I don't believe any of these wands will choose you."

The man had stiffened, his eyes dangerously glinting in the darkened shop. "If you believe that I wanted this wand to be broken, you're quite mistaken. It has done nothing but formidable magic and the idea that it can't be mended is as saddening for me as I believe it is for you."

"Seeing your wand in this state has actually made me quite happy." The words had left Ollivander's mouth before he could think of the consequences. Revenge from a Malfoy was not something he could face again. Ollivander made to speak once more, but Draco put his hands up to stop him.

"I understand. Thank you for your time."

Ollivander could detect no malice in the man's statement and watched as the figure slumped once outside of the shop. Seven years had passed between the boy he'd seen at the Malfoy Manor and the man who had just walked in. The wandmaker tried to remember how seven years could change a young person; it had been a long time since he would be able to know.

About a week after the incident, another man entered the shop with an armful of wands and a winning smile. " Zheng Ming He, "he introduced himself to the impassive Ollivander, plopping the sticks on the front counter. The young man wanted to enter into business together. Ollivander picked up a wand and delicately spun the wood through his fingers. He tapped it, letting out sparks, then abruptly tossed the wand aside and grabbed another. He did this to each wand, pausing momentarily at a few to ask what core was used. Zheng would reply with various obscure materials. Ollivander perked slightly, was this man a traveler?

"Oh yes, personally the best part of the process in my opinion." He had answered enthusiastically.

"You could open your own shop-these wands are passable. Better than Hunklemader's down the road."

"I don't think they're anywhere near great."

"They aren't"

The two struck a deal. Zheng was free to gather his wide variety of materials (although quite different than he was used to, Ollivander found the items to be of high quality) and Ollivander would resume fashioning the wands, with lessons given to the younger wizard.

It was Zheng that greeted the Potters and Weasleys outside of renovated shop. New gold lettering had been molded into the exterior and the walls glowed welcomingly in new mossy tile. But with the amount of wands the old wandmaker could produce, it was inevitable that the inner room kept a familiar stale smell of dust and wood shavings.

Rose and Albus wove through a few families that appropriately filled the floor and craned their necks over the countertop to see where the endless shelving might end. Ollivander was ascended halfway on a ladder spanning the storage height and sensed the eyes looking at him. He squinted and leaned towards the children, teetering dangerously. After a pause, he swung the ladder about two shelves down and began pulling out an array of boxes, sending them careening to the counter with a swish of his own wand. He made his way to counter with the last box in hand.

"Who's first." He eyed the freckled face and ginger hair before gazing up at the two adults also bearing the same features, "Yew and phoenix feather and, ah, Chestnut and dragon heartstring. How does it treat you?"

Ginny and Ron instinctively gripped their wands at their mention. Ron still used the wand he had won from Peter Pettigrew- his third, "Its worked well for me I suppose."

Ollivander grunted in acknowledgement and returned attention to Rose. Sliding out a case from the bottom of his pile, he placed a slender wand in her hand and stepped back. Rose gripped the base and looked at Ollivander, not especially sure what to expect. Suddenly, sparks began pouring out from the tip of wand. "Ah perhaps we have a match already..." but the stream had progressed into a pressurized spurt and small glowing fractures began to crawl away from the tip. Ollivander snatched the stick away and examined the instrument. "Very interesting." He gave another to Rose, who held it gingerly. Again, sparks began to emit, but this time the spout remained steady and the wand calm in her grip. "Rowan with Phoenix feather, 12 inches, swishy- will be easy to spell cast once you gain its loyalty." Rose smiled with relief.

Albus gulped as the ancient man now squinted at him. He looked at Harry stating, "Another one I see," turning to James, "Alder with scales of grindylow- Easy? Manageable?"

James happily produced his wand, swishing it once, "I like it a lot, its quite good once I've gotten a spell."

"Ah, good," Ollivander actually smiled approvingly in Zheng's direction, "It's his combination, I thought they might be rather insubordinate, but most are happy with the core."

"And now you," Ollivander placed a wand in Albus' tiny hands, but even before any magic could erupt, the wandmaker snatched it away again. He repeated this three more times as Al sank lower in his shoes. He didn't dare look at either Rose or James. The pile of boxes disappeared and Ollivander returned to the looming shelves lining the back hallway. Al felt the embers of his ears and was sure they were glowing red.

"Its okay Al, it took a long time to find my wand as well." A low voice whispered sympathetically. Al turned to Harry, who placed his hand on his son's head, "Ollivander is a very particular wandmaker that's all, I assure you that no other wandmaker will give you a wand of better fit."

The man had returned with two boxes. "Try this one first." he extracted a sandy-colored stick and held it out. Al took the wand and clapped his other hand around the base as it began to almost squirm in his hands. A healthy flow of sparks was emitting, but the entire grip felt slippery. "Ah, just as I thought." Ollivander had already taken the other wand out, shorter, with a single notch near the tip. Al brightened as the wand fell perfectly in his grip and sparks flew from the edge in increasing intensity before politely fizzling out. "A good fit! Yes it does make sense now. Eight inches, unyielding, might be hard to master but with practice it will do you well in transfiguration, willow and, quite interestingly, fang of... a basilisk."

"Oh wow!" gasped Lily and James, and the latter added, "There is no way you are cool enough for that wand..."

But Albus was focused on his father, who had spluttered a, "What?" at the core's identity. Harry wore an animated expression that Albus couldn't say was truly positive or negative.

"Ah, another of my apprentice's finds. Quite a good use of the nasty skeleton in that school."

"They are from Salazar Slytherin's monster?" Harry looked at the wand peacefully nestled in his son's hands, "Is that a safe source of magic?"

Ollivander stood affronted, "Do you think I haven't asked that question myself? No, they're a well-known stable source of power, of course the way one must obtain them makes them rarer," Ollivander gestured to the boxes behind him, " But given this special opportunity, I've fashioned dozens and given quite a few away. Quite truthfully, they couldn't be in a safer form sequestered away in one of these..."

Ollivander held the wand's box open to Al, who placed it back. His Dad still looked peculiar, but not angry, the same expression he'd worn at the zoo. The wandmaker completed the purchases and Zheng cheerfully showed them out from the shop. His Dad had sidled nearer to Al as they exited and Al had the strong feeling that Harry wanted him to asked the question that had been caught on the tip of his tongue all day. But the incident in the wandmaker's shop had swallowed any boldness Al needed to speak his concerns out loud. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear his father's answer; the truth seemed to be revealing itself slowly in these little moments anyway.

The time was nearing the early hours of evening and Hermione informed the others that a large dinner prepared by Grandma Molly Weasley was well underway. Sure enough, as the families returned to the Burrow a savory flavor coated the interior, making everyone from Ron to Lily drool in anticipation. As strict as she'd been a mother, Molly Weasley was equally permissive as a grandmother. Scooping up Lily as she ran inside, she let the children sit in the living room while scowling at Ron's unshaved 5 o'clock shadow.

As they waited for supper to finish, Rose retrieved Teng and let it acquaint itself to Ibn. James had even managed to coddle the still forlorn Pigwidgeon into a somewhat pleasant mood as Bidi calmly watched (apparently finding no competition in the elderly bird). Al realized he had picked a rather funny pet as Ibn circled the rug between the cousins, wagging his tail in exaggeration at the laughs emitted from them. He had settled on Lily's knee when Harry and Molly entered with steaming bowls of meat and onion stew. Al sank into a large cushioned chair with his bowl and Lily joined him, smiling as Ibn followed her loyally.

"Oh I see" quipped Al, "Picking favorites already," and held out a small morsel of chicken. Ibn abandoned his sister immediately and settled on the arm of the chair, expectant for more.

Presently James had been trying to convince Hugo that if he swallowed a Balloon BonBon whole, he would be able to fly for at least a half hour. The youngest Weasley was dubious, though he had laid out his various treats from George. With the soup gurgling gently in the pit of his stomach, Al slouched even lower in the seat. He blinked heavily as Rose situated herself in front of her brother, frantically trying to dissuade Hugo of James' suggestions. From the kitchen, the chatter of the adults gradually lowered as their heads leaned closer and closer together in somber conversation. Al saw his dad turn his face towards James and himself just before drifting into sleep.

Chapter Text

Albus woke sandwiched between his brother and sister under a thin plaid blanket. He shimmied out of the sheets, shivering a little as the warmth of the night escaped into the cool air of the early morning. A small, triangular window was glowing just above the headboard, overlooking a small garden on the side of the Burrow. The garden stopped near a badly eroded stone fence, irregular from many repairs using cement and pebbles. An equally broken-looking gate was placed in the fence and separated the yard from the rural moor that ran for miles uninterrupted, ascending into low, foggy mountains.

Two people were walking on the moor, nearing the gate from the outside. Al recognized his father with his Aunt Hermione and remembered the argument they had the earlier day, wondering if he had anything to do with it. Perhaps it was the weakness of being newly conscious, but the strange incidences of the summer, his father's odd reactions, began opening deeper memories that Al never liked recalling...

"Oh, Al why don't you join James and Lily in the backyard?" Ginny pushed past her son, hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes. When the small boy continued to stare at her she made clear that it was a demand, "Al, outside."

Al dawdled as he tied his trainers, his fingers moving lethargically as he heard his mother begin to sob to someone on a call, "Please, he's slipped into it again. If you could come over as quick as possible, we're supposed to have guests tonight."

He'd heard them yelling just minutes before, but just as Al was about to head into the backyard, he poked his head into the kitchen where his father sat, still as a stone.

"Hey Al, take her off my hands for a bit, will you?" James led Lily over to him as he descended into the garden, "It's foggy enough out so the muggles won't see, and I want to try hovering again."

James did a few low circles around the yard on his father's old broom, "Al did you see? Look I'm doing so well!"

But his triumphant smile faded as his brother stared solemnly at the ground, kicking dirt up with his toes, "Hey c'mon Mum's got it all under control. He'll come out of it like he always does. What were they yelling bout anyway?"

"He wants to go back to Wales," Al mumbled. James said nothing but sat down next to him. Lily leaned between the two, glancing back at the house, "Is Rosie and Hugo not coming then?"

"Dunno."

Al continued to stare at the small dent he'd scuffed into the Earth, "Do you think she's dead James, Katie?"

He shrugged, "Who knows Al, Dad obviously doesn't think so."

"If she is though," Al continued, "It'll make all this stop, right? Or will it never…"

James sighed, "Al I don't know what happened. Don't worry about it okay? Mum doesn't want us to, and it stresses her out when you poke around them too much."

"I mean, what is the likelihood after all these years. What would she even be like if she was found…"

But James had suddenly sprang up, agitation twisting his features. He glared once at Al before grabbing his broom and returning to his practice, pointedly looking away from his brother.

Lily stayed by Al as he sunk into quiet brooding, "I hope she's alive. Maybe she knows he's looking for her."

Months after the end of the Second Wizarding War, numerous Death Eaters were still being rounded up for trial and imprisonment in Azkaban. Though capture was proving to be a complicated matter in itself; stretched thin by causalities from the past year and needing to securely guard at least seventy dangerous and unpredictable wizards -not to mention doing deep investigations into other implicated families- Aurors who had yet to complete proper training were paired with a certified wizard to perpetuate the image of a full and strong force.

The result was that more than a few individuals managed to free themselves from the lapsed security, usually caught a few days later. However, a notable case was still unresolved; notorious werewolf Fenrir Greyback had evaded recapture, and he had taken with him a new Auror only a few years out of Hogwarts- a young Katie Bell of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Albus became familiar with the name of his father's old teammate a little over two years ago. Harry had come home elated, an anomaly for his line of work, talking excitedly to Ginny about a 'break in that case."

"Ginny I couldn't believe it when she came through my office," Harry's green eyes had twinkled brighter than Al had ever seen, shining from happiness and tears.

His Mum, as well, was also glad for the news, a tip from a slightly addled, but adamant old woman, "Oh this could be the perfect end to this nightmare! The final nail!" She banged her fist fiercely on the counter, grinning, "Just wait 'til you can tell Angelina and George."

That initial hope had rapidly dissolved, though, as Harry stayed longer and longer hours at work, leaving for days at a time and returning frustrated and disheveled. He'd also taken for granted his wife's intelligence, something she did not take too kindly to.

"Harry what were you thinking?" She'd hissed one night when the children were supposed to be in bed, "That I wouldn't find out about this? How thick do you…"

"It's not that at all Gin just drop it," Harry replied wearily, but Al could hear a sharp undercut in his words, warning.

"Just drop it?" Ginny's voice was rising, "You're not even on Ministry orders to travel there! Ron had no idea where you'd go off to! He thought you were coming back here early! I had no idea what to think after that I mean it sounds like…"

"Like what?" Harry barked, "Like an affair? What Ginny do you really think so low of.."

But Ginny rounded on him furiously, "You think THAT'S all that goes through my head Harry! You absolutely daft…"

She'd called him some rather colorful names that Al was sure would turn his father's face purple.

"…no you idiot- I'm not wasting away here crying about some imaginary witch! You were near the Cardiff Giant Clan Harry! Hermione told me so! Even Auror heads aren't stupid enough to go to a place like that alone!"

"Well I've not had the support of the Ministry, Gin, as I said- but this is real!" Harry's low, rumbling suddenly cracked into a desperate pitch, "I know it is and they… they want to drop it. But I can't Gin! She's there I… I just knew it the last time…"

"That is going to be the last time, Harry!" Ginny, too, was pleading, "Cause they… they've deemed the testimony false, haven't they?"

A pause lengthened the chiasm between his parents as Harry failed to answer. Ginny spoke again, "It sounds like less to go on than that Horcrux hunt Harry."

"Yeah, well that turned into something quite useful if I recall," Harry snapped back, menacingly

"But you had friends helping you! You lied to Ron, Harry I," She choked, steadying her breathing, "Why after all these years do you think you're so disposable… that no one would care if you just didn't come back."

"Ginny c'mon it's not that…"

"No more traveling!" She'd bit back, "Or… or there's going to be consequences…"

"Consequences Gin?" Harry teased back, lightly, "Well I suppose it'll work better on me than James."

"Oh, it will, Harry" Ginny's voice was sharp steel, "James doesn't have a marriage in jeopardy. Though if this all is so easy to leave already…"

"You're not serious?"

"I am, Harry. So, you think about that."

Al didn't have the heart to tell Lily why he'd come back to bed balling.

As it was, either Harry didn't think too much about Ginny's ultimatum or that he decided the case was more important, because he disappeared at the end of the week once more. Al could tell Ginny was livid and he, too, was incredulous that his father considered a case over his family.

Ron and Hermione had taken the Potters in for the weekend, as the house was becoming maddening in Harry's absence and Ginny needed the comfort of her parents. It was becoming rare to catch his Mum without angry splotches adding to the mosaic of freckles about her face.

"Don't worry Ginny," Al overheard Ron comforting his little sister, "I'll let you kill him first before I have my turn."

"Ron, why?"

"He just…" Ron paused, choosing his words carefully, "He's told me that she can't just be collateral damage to all this."

"What does that mean?"

"I couldn't tell you."

Ginny had grown increasingly worried as that weekend ended and a new one began without a trace of Harry's whereabouts. Eventually, Harry's own team of Aurors, led by Ron, set out to find their colleague, coming upon Harry in a part of Wales. Finding him had been easy given Ginny's information but it was the state Harry was found in that unnerved the team. It was determined that a powerful confundus charm, among other hexes, had been cast upon him, turning him as pale and babbling as the witch who had first come to Harry with the initial tip.

For two months Harry remained in a sort of fugue dominated by large stretches of catatonic stillness disrupted with short bursts of energetic, but completely unintelligible ramblings. The spell eventually lifted, and Harry returned to work, closing Katie Bell's investigation, or at least coming home when he was supposed to.

But he often couldn't handle stressful days, and the relative peace at home was only a delay of a week or so, as Ginny could only stifle her betrayal for so long. Unfairly to her, Al thought, was the way conflict and raised voices would trigger some sort of panicked freeze on his father, so that Ginny would be forced to choose between hiding her feelings indefinitely or risk plunging her husband back into an agitated trance.

Sometimes the trigger would be less direct. It terrified Al when he would catch his Dad looking at him for long periods of time, as he slipped unknowingly into a state far away from the present. He remembered trying to get Harry to read to him, to do anything with him, only to meet his confounded stare as though he was unsure the boy in front of him was, in fact, his son.

Eventually, this behavior subsided, and Al was sure he'd never seen his Mom and Dad closer than in recent memory. But Harry was changed, or perhaps Al only just recognized the profound sadness that his father carried, seemingly from things older than any of his children. And now, privy to this hidden torment, Al couldn't unsee it.

James didn't seem to be nearly as affected, and Al had attributed this to the similarities he saw in is brother and father. James was wildly popular, great at Quidditch and could think fast on his feet- so of course he and Harry could get along cracking sly jokes in each other's direction and rambling about seeker stats. Lily too, was just thoroughly enjoyable to be around.

But Albus was peculiar; despite the lack of conflict between him and Harry, he couldn't shake the feeling that his Dad was watching him with some concern. The incidences had been mounting over the summer, every time he caught his Dad glancing at him when he thought Al wasn't looking. It was as though Harry didn't know what to make of Al, like he couldn't understand even the most mundane moments. And Al, likewise, understood very little about Harry, other than knowing he was nothing like his famous father.

"He's so much like me, Hermione, its unnerving," Harry shook his head and looked pleading at his friend, "Just please guarantee that whoever you say is going to be at Hogwarts this year, that they haven't brought another three-headed dog to guard them."

Hermione chuckled despite the rather serious conversation that proceeded Harry's statement, "That I can guarantee. Besides Harry, wouldn't you be more afraid of James getting into that sort of mischief?"

Harry snorted. "James boasts about his accomplishments so much that everyone would know what he's up to. Al...Al's got this determination where he can set himself on a task and the whole world seems to disappear. I can't tell you the amount of times I've found him on our roof retrieving some toy that one of the kids has thrown up there. He doesn't ask for help or other's input."

"That actually sounds quite a bit like you."

"And you, as of late."

Hermione paled again, "Harry please..."

But Harry nudged her playfully, "I know, I know."

The two walked for awhile in silence, nearing the garden gate. Harry paused before going through, "He can talk to snakes too, Hermione."

Hermione turned and shot Harry a surprised stare, "I thought you lost your ability when you destroyed the horcrux..."

"I did," Harry replied simply, "I... I don't know where he's got it from... we're not descendants of Slytherin to any of my knowledge."

"And you're sure of this? You saw him speaking?" Hermione pressed.

"Funny enough, it was at the same zoo that I hoodwinked Dudley at when I was eleven. He didn't really take the experience too well the second time around if I'm to be completely honest." Harry recounted the incident ruefully.

"And does Al know about it?"

Harry paused, considering his son, "You know, I'm not sure... at least I don't think he thought the encounter was anything out of the ordinary... at least by wizarding standards." He looked at Hermione, but she could offer him no more, shrugging her shoulders and eyeing him empathetically.

"Al's a good kid." Harry finally stated.

"He is." echoed Hermione.

Ibn pecked Al once more, finally pushing the boy to guide him (with some forced persuasion) back into his cage. The bird regarded Al with some vengeance before settling in a huff. Al surveyed his surroundings, wondering how many people had noticed the odd gathering of people near the old brick column between platforms of 9 and 10 at King's Cross. Ron came up with Rose in hand and wrapped his other arm around his nephew, "Ya ready?"

Al glanced at Rosie, who was definitely a trembling mixture of fear and excitement, though at this point, Al couldn't tell which emotion was winning. He had already seen James go through and tapped his cousin reassuringly, "I'll go first."

The bustling of the platform seemed to hide the strange activity at this particular gate and Al marveled, as he picked up speed toward the solid partition, how little the muggle people noticed the impending collision that would be predicted by any rational observer. Whether anyone reacted was lost to Al as he emerged onto a considerably more extraordinary platform, filled with robes and owls, toads and pointed hats. Ironically, Al felt as though he was under even more scrutiny among this odd company, as many witches and wizards seemed to be paying particular attention to his eyes. Soon enough, Rose, followed by James, appeared at his side. The trio of students made their way to a waiting train, where countless other children had already crammed on the cars. Lily and Hugo rushed up by their older siblings and James hugged both before spotting a fellow Quidditch player, "Aye Adrian!" he made to board the train.

"James Sirius Potter, you come here and give your mother and father a proper goodbye!" Ginny and the rest of the adults had managed to catch up to their children. James reluctantly trudged back to his mother and half-heartedly offered his cheek, which Ginny kissed loudly, "And don't forget to send Neville our love."

"What!" this request was past the point of decency for the oldest Potter, "Mom, Neville...Mr. Longbottom is the Herbology professor, I can't send my professor love!" James' face mimicked his incredulous tone. Quickly hugging Harry and Hermione and nodding cheekily at Ron, James retreated to the sea of older Gryffindors juggling beater bats and other Quidditch equipment.

Rosie was next to say her round of goodbyes, pulling Hugo into an extra-tight hug and giving her parents a long look of desperate exhilaration. She brought her suitcase to a nearby undercarriage and suddenly exclaimed, "Teddy!"

The remaining family looked towards a train brakeman, who, upon being discovered, knotted up his eyes and pinched his nose as if blowing up his head like a balloon. spreading from the roots, the man's hair turned a vibrant shade of teal. Teddy Lupin greeted the Potters and Weasleys, who offered their welcomed surprise.

"How's it going Ted? I didn't know you got a job with the Express?" Ron clapped his man on the young man's back.

"Well I spent a little much when I visited Charlie and needed to get a little saved up before catching this train back to school myself."

"Ah, so you are going back," Hermione swelled in pride.

Ron rolled his eyes, "So how is Charlie..."

Harry had become quite quiet in the exchange, regarding the young man that stood before him.

"You'll be godfather?" Remus Lupin's voice materialized from the smoke and chatter of the station. The question shattering the blistering pain he'd felt in Shell Cottage surrounded by the murder of Dobby and the torture of Hermione and Ollivander. Something that could only be said when there was still the promise of new life amongst so much death and despair.

That same unlikely miracle of hope haloed the boy when they'd found him, encased safely and only slightly shivering in charmed Devil's snare in the backyard of the Tonks' family home. His grandmother slain in the doorway, undoubtedly by her vile sister. That had been the first blow to the euphoria of the victory over Voldemort, when McGonagall had found him in the Gryffindor tower and presented the wand found at Bellatrix's side, expressing her sickening recognition. There would be more, but the thought of being stripped of even meeting his godchild, even hypothetically, spurned hurt like nothing Harry could have described, even after all he'd been through- until, of course, James had been born.

The trio, barely adults themselves, found out very quickly that caring for a child was not something they could experiment with. Minerva had gladly rushed in to care for the infant, but upon being persuaded to return as Headmistress, felt the child should go to a more available parent. By this time, Hermione and Ron had gotten married, and soon after, Harry and Ginny. For a while, the two new couples shared custody of the young Teddy, also juggling their blooming roles as ministry officials. A number of other students also took in their beloved teacher's son; Luna and her husband had fostered the boy for a summer in South America and Neville, with his wife Hannah, offered Teddy a stay in Hogsmeade whenever school breaks commenced. Recently, Bill and Fleur had also extended their hospitality to their daughter's boyfriend.

And so Teddy, unlike Harry, had grown up around many guardians who loved him, but still, the sheer number of people, though well-meaning, had split the boy's loyalty so thin, that no one person really held the true weight of a parent. Harry himself would describe his position as more of an older brother; someone whose advice could be taken with a grain of salt, who was still making his own mistakes and had no business demanding authority from anyone, even in his care. That laisse-faire approach had produced a rather free and sociable boy, but a less than stellar wizard.

At the start of his fifth year, knowing his magic skills would never pass in the O.W.L.S., he had jumped the Hogwarts Express on his broomstick and ended up somewhere in Bulgaria, where he located Charlie Weasley and joined him as an apprentice for Dragon-keeping. His guardians (mostly Minerva and Hermione) had tried to coax him back into school (McGonagall even offered to let him play Quidditch despite his age). Harry had been pleased to hear that despite his disruption in formal education, the boy had taken a special O.W.L. assessment and passed with surprising competence, as his experiences had cultured their own resourceful, if not unorthodox, magical ability. He'd now only have to return for N.E.W.T.s.

More than once, Harry thought of Remus and the numerous doors slammed in the skilled wizard's face due to his condition. He'd died with the hope of better opportunities for his son, one that could perhaps inherit the worst of his symptoms. He hoped that his sub-par nurturing had not stunted the potential of the man's last legacy. As he knew all too well the way childhood scars often swelled, rather than faded, with the passing of time.

Ginny pinched Harry's arm and nodded in the direction of the train. Teddy had finished helping Rosie with her things and both were boarding the Hogwart's Express. But someone was lagging behind. Harry walked over to his son, who was tying and untying his shoes, trying to look busy. Albus glanced up as his father knelt beside him. "Exciting isn't it?" Harry began awkwardly, "I can't tell you how terrified I was my first time."

"Dad, how do you feel about the Houses," His son gazed at him earnestly.

"The Sorting Hat is pretty good at putting you where you belong Al, I really wouldn't worry. Any house will have gained a great wizard regardless"

"But say I do get put into Slytherin..." Al plainly laid out his apprehension. Harry took a deep breath.

"Albus Severus Potter," He enunciated his son's middle name, "You were named after two great wizards. One of them was in Slytherin and he was the bravest man I ever knew."

Al absorbed this fact, but worry still kept his brows knitted together.

"Al, if you really don't want to be in Slytherin, you don't have to. The Hat takes your choice into consideration." At this, Al brightened, "You can choose?"

"I did." said Harry.

As he returned to his wife, Ginny held a triumphant smile. "You really got to him. I haven't seen him this excited since he got his letter."

Harry turned with Ginny to wave at his son, who had found the carriage with Rose. He beamed back at his parents and proceeded to play with a chocolate frog that had jumped from Rose's wrapper. With the verbalization of his Al's fears, Harry could now easily imagine both his sons walking the halls of Hogwarts, lounging by the Great lake and sharing meals, donned in red and gold. Relief Harry had not realized he'd been holding, washed over.

The train let out a deafening roar as thick, white steam drifted from the engine. Through the fog, two thin, blonde characters crystallized. Ginny cocked her head and turned to Harry, "Draco has a son?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione worked with Draco Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic, one of the only pro-Voldemort families to still hold their representation. The relationship was nothing beyond curt professionalism, though after hugging his child, a spitting image of his father, he slowly made his way towards the trio.

"Yeah, Scorpio is his name, I believe," said Hermione. Ginny still seemed confused, "And he has no other children?"

"Not that I know of, no...why?" Hermione turned to Ginny, who struggled to recall her memory, "I could have sworn I saw him in Diagon Alley, right after we left Madame Malkin's, with a girl...but maybe..." She ceased to further her recollection as the man reached the group.

"Hello Potters, Weasleys," Draco nodded formally at each, who greeted him somewhat bewildered.

" I see your son is starting Hogwarts this year as well?" Ron uncomfortably started the conversation.

"Ah yes," relief seemed to overcome Draco. Harry noticed that a few dirty looks were being aimed at his colleague's way, some from pure-blood and muggle-born couples alike. "He's quite excited , ready to get his broom and play Quidditch, he... he likes chess too, " the statement was directed at Ron, "Does Rosie play? Perhaps they could together- he can already beat me but you were pretty good back then eh?"

Ron shifted, not knowing how to answer, "Erm, yeah I guess I was alright. Yeah Rosie plays..."

Draco retracted himself again, regaining the trademark Malfoy air of haughtiness, "I mean if they get along and all."

"How's Astoria?" Hermione interrupted, sternly eyeing her flabbergasted husband. Draco seemed to shrink some.

"She's sick." he paused at length, "We've had a difficult time diagnosing the problem and... well... getting help from the wizarding community in general.." he ended bitterly, eyeing Hermione in particular.

"What do you mean?" Hermione brushed off his cool stare, "I heard she has something rare, with only trial treatments available."

"Yeah well no one's really jumping to get us up to date on what's available, given our blood should protect us from these sorts of things."

"Did a doctor say that?" Ginny cut in sharply.

"I...no... not a doctor, "Draco was becoming undone once more, "Anyway we've gotten connected to a rather good muggle doctor and things seem to be moving forward."

"A muggle doctor? How do you keep that secret? The muggle money? That's a big risk to security..." Hermione quieted as Draco fixed her with another icy stare. "We have an agreement made out and its working."

The conversation seemed to dissolve from there.

"So does Scorpio hang around with any wizards?"

"No we keep to ourselves."

"How is he."

'Nothing like me."

"He looks like you"

"That's about it." Draco was itching to leave. But first he engaged Hermione, revealing his true intention for approaching "I hear that Atterberry has picked you to replace him. I don't believe it and I think you should watch your overreach before you end up like Shacklebolt."

Ron, who had been quietly fuming, found his spark, "You don't get to talk to my wife like that."

Draco sneered, "I get to talk to my colleague like that Weasley," turning again to Hermione, "I remember you being able to stand up for yourself at one point you know."

"Draco don't act like you know what's going on, " Hermione barked back, "Trust me when I say that you are in no one's inner circle of confidence at the Ministry."

Draco seemed taken aback, "Maybe it's time to forget my father when considering my ability to perform my duties."

Now it was Harry's turn to step in, "Maybe it's time you get that ugly tattoo removed," he gestured at Draco's covered arm, where he knew a faded Dark Mark remained.

Draco touched his arm and glowered at Harry, "Maybe you should stop harassing me about things that I can't change."

"Maybe you should have picked the right side in the first place," The words that flew out of Harry came from a time before the Ministry.

Draco smiled contritely, "I guess some things don't change do they?"

The train gave a final whistle and lurched forward on the tracks. Forgetting the feud, the adults turned to find their children and give them one final farewell.

Chapter Text

The carriages of the Hogwarts Express were massive compared to muggle trains, equipped with high red cushions and a great window for sightseeing. Albus couldn't stop looking out at the fast-changing landscape, squinting for the first view of the Hogwarts tower peaks, although he knew it would be long after sunset when the train would arrive at the school.

Rosie laughed at her cousin, "Al we've be here for almost an hour and you haven't said a word."

Rosie was entertaining Teng who had mistaken her braided hair for something that needed to be caught. Teddy had visited the two to see them settled but had since left the carriage. He was still on shift until he arrived at the school and was in charge of supervising any dangerous behavior.

"Oh...ah...sorry," Al smiled.

A candy woman stopped at their carriage. Al and Rosie each bought a handful of sweets for the journey.

"What are those?" Al picked up a stringy gelatin-like mass of a queasy pink hue.

"Plent-O-Ropes." Rosie carefully untangled a single string from the mass, "The more you pull on them, the longer they last, see?" She chewed on one while tugging on the end. The candy continued long after it should have disappeared, "They're a new invention of Mr. Jordan's, Uncle George let us try out the testers."

Al took one of his treats, another Weasley invention, called the "Meteors of Mystery." They were a mixture of several other candies melted and aggregated together in colorful clumps. One could make the consumer laugh uncontrollably, shoot small flames from his nose, and turn his fingertips green all at once.

Rosie scrunched her nose as Al procured a large clump. "Uh Al the last time you and James had those both of you ended up sneezing sparkly snot everywhere."

Al chuckled at the memory and popped the meteor into his mouth, raising his eyebrows at Rosie, who rolled her eyes. After a few seconds, he began to feel very hot, but when he looked down at his cheeks, he detected a deep blue color. Suddenly smoke began pouring from his ears so fast he began to shake. Rosie started in alarm, "Al you alright?"

Al was fine and made to answer Rosie but instead heard a distinctive, "Ribbit!" in place of his voice. At this, Rosie doubled over in laughter, as Al continued croaking, "Ribbit! Ribbit! Ribbit!"

"Ah, these look like nice people, come on now there's room too." Two students had stopped in front of the carriage. The girl, being the bolder of the pair, slid the partition to let them in. The boy looked painfully shy, although as he turned into the carriage, it was clear that a great deal of his expression may have been actual pain. Wadded up in the back of his head was a mass of Plent-O-Ropes, clearly exacerbated by futile attempts to remove the candy.

The girl spotted Rose's stash, "What are they? Are they hexed? Can you un-hex them?" She was clearly a muggle-born.

Rose shook her head. "They're supposed to be everlasting, but only if you pull on them. I'm not going to bite your hair though." She sat back, perplexed.

Al walked up to the boy and grabbed a hanging part of the rope, twisting it sharply, he snapped it off. "Ah thank you!" the boy looked at Al gratefully, "Can you get it all out? Its okay if you pull out some hair. This is horrid."

After the peripheral mass was removed however, it became clear that more that a little hair would be lost in getting the deeply embedded candy out. Rose had exited from the carriage and now returned with Teddy, who surveyed the visitors. He frowned at the boy, "What did you do?"

Al looked at Teddy in surprise at his uncharacteristically unfriendly tone. The girl bristled, "You're asking the wrong person that question, if you want to punish someone go find..."

But the boy cut her off, "Jeya its fine, I think we'll just stay here anyway." He turned to Al and Rose, "Is that fine?"

The cousins nodded. Teddy examined the clump knotted up in the boy's hair, "Hmmm well, I could try a freezing charm. That should save as much hair as possible." He flipped his wand, "Glacialus reductus"

A cool spray of mist emitted from Teddy's wand and coated the boy's head, freezing the mass in a crackling crystal that shattered a few seconds later. The boy shivered as small icy droplets doused him, but smiled as he felt the back of his head, damp and candy free. "Hey thanks."

"Hmm,hmm." Teddy replied, "Now lets stay out of trouble until the end of the trip eh?" He left curtly.

"Well!" mustered Jeya as she sat herself on the cushion facing Rose and Al, "Everyone here has a grudge!" She was very short and her feet dangled freely sitting down on the seat, kicking up indignantly a few times.

The boy sat next to her, making the contrast between the two conspicuous. Jeya had long, straight hair that almost brushed the seat when she was sitting. She had intense brown eyes that seemed to pop from her darker complexion, looking almost bronze in the way they sparkled angrily at the moment. The boy was impossibly blonde and pale, with slate blue eyes that completed his washed-out visage. He had distinctive angular features and had the potential to look rather arrogant, though his dripping hair and lengthy limbs, disproportional to the point of clumsiness, dispelled most of this effect.

He smiled pleasantly at Al and Rose, "I suppose introductions would be appropriate" His tone struck Al as extremely formal, as if the boy had spent his life solely in the company of adults.

"Ah yeah, I'm Al... Albus actually...Albus Potter."

"And I'm Rose Weasley."

"Jeya Sivaseelan, " The girl extended her hand to Rose and Al in turn. Everyone looked toward the remaining nameless companion.

The boy was contemplating his guests, "I'm Scorpius, " He paused, taking in their reactions. When none came, he offered again, " Scorpius Malfoy."

"Oh," Rose shifted in her seat. Al was undeterred, "Your Dad works at the Ministry of Magic then right? I've heard of a Malfoy before. Our Dad's are Aurors."

Scorpius smiled broadly, "Yeah, yeah my dad works in the zoning department. For establishing magical homes and public places without muggle detection. You reckon you'll work for the Ministry then?"

"Yes I think so." said Rose, warming slightly, "Or a professor. My parents know Minerva McGonagall quite well and she was an excellent teacher."

"Oh that's brilliant," Scorpius couldn't hide his amazement, "And you've heard about the new guest professor then? "

Neither Rose or Albus had. "Oh well I supposed my father found out on the fly. It's Luna Lovegood- the author of a few magical creatures books? Her husband is the grandson of Newt Scamander- they just updated his textbook."

"Oh yes we know Luna, our parents are friends with her as well." Rose paused, "I didn't know she was teaching this year, she hasn't been home for awhile."

Scorpius looked the two wistfully, "Well your parents knew the right people..." he continued, "We used to know a lot of people in the Ministry, I suppose we still do... but it's different, " Scorpius shrunk a little as Rose raised her eyebrow, " I think my Dad wants me to follow his career but I honestly would love to be an explorer... what about you Albus?"

Al cocked his head to the side. He'd never actually contemplated what he'd be as a wizard. He wondered if his Dad would want him to choose a particular career. "I'm not sure yet, to be honest... I suppose I'll figure out what I like to do at school. But call me Al, please."

"Oh definitely!" said Scorpius, and settled back happily in his seat. He turned to his friend, who had been alertly observing Rose and Al, "I suppose you will figure out what you like after this year then too, or do you know any non-muggle jobs? They can get pretty interesting."

Jeya shrugged, "I want to be a doctor."

"It's an unhappy job, well especially for wizarding folk, " Rose turned to the girl, her tone sympathetic, "Most of the people come in with hexes and curses and there's nothing much more to do than treat them until they escape the effects, or don't." Al noticed Scorpio nod somberly.

Jeya seemed unfazed, "There's always advancements, new technologies and such."

Al shared a look with his cousin, perplexed about the term "technologies."

"You mean like new spells and potions?" He inquired.

"No, no like MRIs and vaccines and such. I mean don't you have a way to detect where the curse is? How it travels? I mean if someone is growing horns from their head they've obviously got the charm acting in the head you know? You don't have that?"

"I don't know? Can muggles do that with patients?" Perhaps their grandfather wasn't as crazy as everyone thought when he marveled at muggle trinkets.

Scorpius chuckled, "I told you. We're quite different sometimes. And you haven't even been in a class yet- I hear Divination is something else entirely, half of wizards don't even understand it!"

Al offered Scorpius and Jeya a chocolate frog each and the four snacked in silence. The evening was beginning to appear on the landscape, as the increasingly mountainous countryside turned orange at its peaks. Scorpius turned to Jeya once more.

"Oh by the way, I've wanted to ask you for the longest time, how did you find out you were a wizard?"

Rose interrupted before Jeya could reply, "That's not polite! She got a letter in the mail just like the rest of us!"

Scorpius reddened, "I... yeah...sorry," but Jeya continued undauntedly, squinting at Rose for a second.

"Well yeah the letter was the confirmation, but I had some earlier hints. I really hate cauliflower you know and we have it all the time at our house, " she rolled her eyes comically, "My parents would make me sit at the table until I finished everything on my plate and, well, if I was in an especially stubborn mood I guess the food would just disappear. I turned on of my Dad's shirts bright pink once as well."

Al laughed, "that's what I did to my Mum's shoes when I was little, turned them all checkered."

Jeya nodded, but was looking at Rose assertively, "Scorpius and I know each other already. About three years now?"

"Yeah, something like that." Scorpio still seemed to be feeling the repercussions of Rose's scorn, even as his cousin blushed and mumbled an apology.

Al couldn't quite understand the boy's sensitivity. He cautiously started a new topic of conversation, "Scorpius, how did you end up with Rope in your hair?"

It was not exactly the change that Scorpius wanted. "It's really nothing I, well, there's a lot of wizarding families who think my father and grandfather got away with some pretty bad crimes. They... uh... well they weren't exactly fighting on your parents side during the Second Wizarding War to put it broadly."

Rose again hardened her expression. "To put it more specifically Al- I can't believe Uncle Harry never mentioned this- Voldemort himself used their Mansion as a headquarters for the Death Eaters. And yet none of them were punished."

Scorpius made an attempt to defend himself, though it seemed half-hearted, "I mean, it was more of a legal deal. Lucius, my grandfather, he confessed tons of information about anti-muggleborn families, their gathering places, codes they used to secretly express their alliance. And your Dad actually pardoned my Grandma, " Scorpius nodded at Al.

"For that I'll never know why..." Rose muttered.

Al had never discussed the politics of the war their parents fought in with his cousin and he was taken aback by her fierce opposition. If anything, Harry was particularly sparing on details of the battle, really only acknowledging stories told by others with a bare nod.

He watched as Scorpius' face contorted with guilt, having a difficult time imagining the timid boy in front of him doing anything resembling the violence displayed by purebloods in the onset of the War.

"I... well we don't talk much with my Grandfather... he, he's not proud of my Mum. Grandma's better but very fretful. And well, my Dad was very young when the war happened so he was never accused criminally for his association to...uh... the other side." Scorpius ended lamely.

"He was the same age as our parents," reminded Rose.

"Yeah, yeah." Scorpius couldn't say anymore. Jeya met Rose's glare with equal severity. "Well he certainly had nothing to do with all of this, " she gestured to Scorpius, "But that doesn't seem to matter to you now does it?"

This time Rose was rendered speechless, Jeya pushed on, "And it didn't matter to those, oh well they had to be at least Third-Years, that stuck that candy in your hair. What was his name? The droopy-looking boy with freckles- Callum?"

"Finnigan?" Al looked towards Jeya, who shrugged, "Did he have a Gryffindor Quidditch jumper on?"

Jeya thought for a second, "yeah it was something of a sport. Why? Do you know him?"

"He's my brother's friend, I..." Al's tone rose in pitch, "there wasn't anybody named James that was picking on you was there?"

Scorpius shook his head, "No, I know James- my father took me to the last Quidditch Championship. He wasn't there."

Albus sighed in relief. But as he viewed the three companions sitting with him in the carriage, he couldn't help but wish that the journey would soon end. He turned to look out the window once more, straining to see the first signs of the school. Silence filled the small compartment and lasted until the train slid gently into the Hogwart's station.

Lamplight gleamed overhead as Albus stepped onto the platform. He looked to where the mass of students was flooding, which seemed liked a bank sloping downward. A still black expanse filled the space between the edge and the great walls of Hogwarts, sparkling with candlelight. Smaller lights appeared to transverse the space and Al realized they were boats carrying students across what must be a river. His excitement swelled as he rushed to grab his suitcase. Al hadn't waited for either his cousin or the others when the train had stopped, but found them near the pile of baggage, in the middle of a commotion.

Scorpius was between two older boys, also adorned in Gryffindor jumpers, who tossed a suitcase between them. Al looked on helplessly and shuddered as a hand tapped his shoulder.

"Hey calm down," it was James. His brother shook him playfully, but as one of Scorpius' tormentors recognized him, he frowned, "Come on, Al, lets get your bags and go."

"James, hey, James," One of the boys threw the suitcase towards him. James caught it, but looked unsure about what to do next, even after locating its owner. Al scrutinized his brother, who had let the suitcase hang limp in his grip, confused at his dilemma.

Grasping the handle, Al pulled the suitcase from his brother, who looked surprised, but didn't resist. He walked up to Scorpius and handed it to the boy, who was beaming at him so gratefully that Al reddened with discomfort. The other boys looked incredulously at the brothers.

"Hey what's with that?" A broad, blonde boy began to approach Al. This seemed to snap James back into motion. He quickly strode up to the boy and placed himself protectively in front of his brother, "Aye Peter lets get going, you're gonna lose us points before we even start classes."

"Is that your brother?" the blonde boy turned back to Albus. James shrugged, "Yep, sure is. See ya Al." he half-nodded in Scorpius' direction. But Peter still seemed dissatisfied, "You should tell him which wizards are worth sticking up for then," and flicked his wand at Scorpius once more. The clasp on the boy's suitcase popped open, spilling its contents onto the ground.

James looked confused once more and hurried his classmate. "C'mon, lets go" Pushing him more firmly away.

Al knelt to fold a few of the clothes that now lay in a tangled heap, not looking at Scorpius as he felt his face reddening once more. He was disappointed, "Scorpius...I...I'm sorry about my brother..."

Scorpius glanced at him thoughtfully, "Oh it's fine Al, James seems nice," Al perked up, confused. "Well it's obvious he didn't like what they were doing. I mean, its hard to go against your friends like that."

Al breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Scorpius. A few students were still milling about near the train. Rosie and Jeya suddenly appeared among them.

"Ah there you are Al, oh!" Rosie spotted the pile. Looking around she took out her wand and swept it across the clothes, "Well I suppose I can use this now that we're here. Pack!" The contents organized themselves into the suitcase, which shut neatly. Scorpius picked up the luggage and regarded Rose, "Thank you," he said hesitantly.

Rosie still looked stern from the train's conversation, but replied firmly, "It's no problem, there's no reason for that, " she gestured towards the lake, "Shall we get going?"

The four alighted on a small canoe guided by a single hanging lantern. Al couldn't help but gape in awe as the castle walls enlarged as they glided nearer, rising to victorious heights of shear stone and spires.

Scorpius still seemed uneasy with Rose, "Thanks again, I mean it. I...you're very good at spells you know. I can't... I've never cast a good charm before."

Rosie smiled, making up her mind that perhaps the Malfoy boy was indeed as sincere as he seemed, "It's really fine, I'm guessing someone didn't like you?" Scorpius' face confirmed her thoughts, "Well, I don't like them."

Scorpius settled back contently and Al also found himself sighing in relief.

The boat settled near an archway at the base of the castle. The children stepped off onto the stone walkway and joined the gathering of other First Years, crowded around a tall blonde woman with wide-set eyes and an impressionable yellow robe.

Rosie emitted a delighted sound and turned to Scorpius, "It's Luna Lovegood or Professor Lovegood I suppose! You were right, " Scorpius looked in awe at the family friend.

Jeya nudged Al and raised her eyebrow at her friend, "He's definitely got a crush, I think he might drool if his mouth hangs open any longer, "

Al chuckled as Jeya continued, "He showed me all the books she's published, her husband's too- he has them all."

Al looked at her, "How did you two meet?" but Jeya shrugged off the question as Luna started to talk.

"Okay now students, my do you look excited. " Despite her soft sing-song tone, the students quieted immedeately. She had glanced in Scorpius' direction and nodded friendlily at Rose and Al.

"We'll be going into the Great Hall shortly where you'll be sorted..." she paused, gently sweeping her hand above a perplexed boy's head as if swatting some invisible insect, "The Hat will introduce you with a song, it's quite good this year I've heard. Now if you'll file in two rows alphabetically by last name please, no rushing." She led the organized group through the entryway.

The hallway shone in flames by torches fixed to the walls, flickering the students' shadows into wild dances. As they reached the inner part of the castle, the walls became decorated with fine paintings that moved and greeted the students.

"My another year is starting? Good luck to you all!"

"Well look at these bright young wizards!"

"Don't forget the Witches!"

"I believe they'll be the best year yet!"

"Well they keep getting better don't they?"

"Definitely better looking I'll say"

Al saw Jeya in front of him, looking in bewilderment as a photograph saluted her.

"Oh well don't those eyes look familiar!" A knight gazed keenly at Al, who blushed and shied away.

"So you are a Potter aren't you?" The boy next to Al held out his hand, "Me Mum's a colleague of your Dad's, few years younger than him in school- Francis Portland." He grinned.

"I'm Albus, Al" he shook the boy's hand. In front of him, he saw a girl turn her head and fix her eyes on him, considerably less friendly.

The students suddenly stopped at two great wooden doors. Al trembled as he heard the busy chatter of other students inside the Great Hall. Luna walked through the First Years, arranging them into straight lines and flourished her wand at the bolts, which wrenched the doors wide open. The students filed between the middle tables glancing left and right at their fellow wizards. At the front of the hall, a long table filled with the various professors at Hogwarts was raised above the rest of the hall. And just in front of them, a simple stool stood with a raggedy brown hat set atop.

The chatter settled for a moment as the witch in the center of the head table rose from her seat. Al took a moment to recognize Minerva McGonagall, who was adorned in a brilliant plum robe and deep blue academic hood that sparkled so animatedly, it seemed to be reflecting the night sky that currently shown above on the charmed ceiling. She clapped her hands once, and the entire room fell silent.

"Welcome all returning students. It's wonderful to see you all again. And a special welcome to our newest witches and wizards," She nodded formally down the middle aisle, "Who will be welcomed into the Hogwarts community very soon. I have a few announcements and a delicious feast for you all, but first, let me introduce our very wise companion, " settled into her seat as the rumpled hat rose on cue, the folds of fabric twisting into a lopsided mouth and hooded eyes.

'Welcome, Welcome, come right in,

You magical folk about to begin

The spells and charms you know not yet

In Houses where your kind are sat!

So let me tell you what you're like

And I'll do my best to sort you right!

You might like knowledge, wit, and scholar

The cleverest ideas that make your mind scour

With excitement of discovery, you fill with awe

You'll find the best friends in Ravenclaw!

Or perhaps you value that close companion

Of cavernous trust deep as a canyon

Integrity is certain, loyalty enough

You won't settle for anything less than Hufflepuff!

Or maybe there's bravery deep in your bones

To face any challenge with friends or alone

I see boldness, kindness, and then something more

When I look in the head of a true Gryffindor!

Of course what are these virtues with no application

A leader is determined, with grit, aspiration

Something to prove to others or within

That's when I know you belong in Slytherin!

So come right up here and I'll search a little inside

To see what your mind in me will confide

I'll pick out the parts that make you this or that

And sort you straightaway for I'm the sorting hat!'

The hat concluded his song with a small bow and settled again on the stool as Headmaster McGonagall stood once more. Clapping politely, she extracted a list from her robes, "Thank you, thank you for that lovely poem," The hat nodded in acknowledgement, "Now, shall we begin? Arryn Gabriela!"

A girl with curly chestnut hair timidly rose and placed the hat on her head. She jumped a little as the hat began moving about and listened intently to a conversation that she could only hear. After a few moments the hat shouted." Ravenclaw!"

The students to the left of Albus roared with delight and stood up from their seats to welcome the newest member of their house.

McGonagall continued throughout the list of students and the hat continued to sort, deciding almost immediately with some and deliberating for many minutes with others.

"Arthur, Quinn Claire" "Slytherin!"

"Avery, Malachi" "Slytherin!"

"Bodleian, Delilah" "Ravenclaw!"

"Bronsin, Ryan"" Gryffindor! "

"Caster-Davies, Ava" "Ravenclaw!"

"Chance, Rudolf" "Hufflepuff!"

"Chester, Gwendolyn" "Hufflepuff"

"Creevey, Aldo" "Gryffindor!"

Albus watched the small boy positively squeal with delight as he nearly tumbled from the stool. He forgot to remove the Hat and scrambled up once more to hand it to the next student. He sat right next to James, who whispered something in his ear. They both scooted a little in their seats.

"Drummond, Reginald" "Slytherin!"

"Geller, Jakob" "Hufflepuff!'

"Gibbs, Amos" "Gryffindor!"

"Granger-Weasley, Rose" "Gryffindor!"

Rose had barely placed the Hat on her head when he announced his decision. She beamed at Al before sitting near the front of the table.

"Gupta, Anya" "Gryffindor!"

"Hadley, Elizabeth" "Ravenclaw!"

"Huxley, Jade" "Slytherin!"

"Isner, Florence" "Hufflepuff!"

"Krum, Elena Maria" "Ravenclaw!"

Francis whispered to Albus, "That's Viktor Krum's daughter! Strange she would be here instead of Durmstrang."

"Lee, Mai Pao" " Ravenclaw!"

"Longbottom, Edwin" "Gryffindor!"

Albus recalled that Prof. Longbottom had also been sorted into Gryffindor. Was it normal for children to follow suit?

"Malfoy, Scorpius"

The students became quiet as the blonde boy meekly approached the seat. The Hat seemed to be explaining the Houses once more as his eyes darted from table to table. Finally the decision came.

"Ah yes, well you are quite different I must say, but still my decision remains the same...Slytherin!"

Al couldn't tell if Scorpius looked relieved or disappointed as he sat at the farthest table to the left, considerably away from the next student at the table.

"Manchester, Henry" "Hufflepuff!"

"Markov, Milo" "Slytherin!"

"Markov, Natalia" "Slytherin!"

Al stared, along with several other students, at the twins. Their robes had an obvious wear and they seemed faded and gray. There was a ragged look about them in their mannerisms too. They sat near Scorpius but neither party showed any form of interaction.

"Parkinson, Vanessa" "Slytherin!"

"Patel-Sivaseelan, Jeyamar"

Jeya approached the Hat and confidently fitted it around her ears. She was positively enjoying the entire experience, gazing up at the twinkling ceiling and even behind her towards the professors.

"Hufflepuff!"

She sprang to her feat and joined the loudly cheering House. Everyone seemed to be amused by her character and she was enthusiastically greeted by several students though Al noticed Scorpius sank slightly in his seat.

"Potter, Albus Severus!" Albus started as he heard his name and darted up to the Hat, who seemed to be puzzling over him already. He took a breath, "Just choose Gryffindor" and gingerly placed the Hat on his head.

"Ahh well what do we have here. Well it seems your father let you in on one of my little secrets eh?"

Albus wasn't sure where the voice came from, shaking his head as it rebounded between his ears.

"Ha! Curious, Ravenclaw perhaps? hmmmm... but you were an awfully good friend to that poor boy on the train... even standing up when your brother couldn't... and I put him in Gryffindor perhaps it is a Potter thing..."

"yes please, Gryffindor" Albus thought with all his might.

"Ah yes, yes I know. Your father gave you the advice to choose...hmmm...but what's this? Have you forgotten your mother's advice as well?"

Albus paused his pleading to remember the early morning conversation. He looked towards the Gryffindor table to where James and Rose sat and gazed beyond them to Peter and the other students who had tormented Scorpius. For the life of him, Albus couldn't see how they fit the idea of courage and kindness. Of course his father was very much a Gryffindor, Albus could see that even as an adult, his mother too. But the people there in the House at this very moment, Albus had to admit he would never want to become friends with them... but still...

He gazed over at Jeya and wondered why she wasn't in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, for the Hat could surely see that she was bright and even braver than himself... loyal yes, but...

"Ahh now you're starting to understand, ha!" The Hat interrupted his thoughts once more, "No, you don't get to tell me where you'll go, what if that were true I wouldn't need to sort you out! No you choose what you value because (or despite) what you are. That's the entire secret, and I can see you value something despite, very much like your father actually... and so I've made my decision..."

Al's heart leapt momentarily. He was like his father! He excitedly turned towards Rosie before hearing the Hat's announcement. But she and his brother sat still as he descended the stool and after a second, Al realized that none of Gryffindor was cheering for him, instead, the roar came from the edge of the Hall and Al could pick out one voice in particular.

Scorpius.

He had been sorted into Slytherin.

Somehow, Al had carried himself towards the table and now found an available seat next to a beaming Scorpius. Across from them, the Markov twins seemed pleasantly surprised by their housemate and shyly grinned. Quinn also regarded Al with some respect, " Wow, I'd never thought I'd get to meet you" She held out her hand.

Al took it and smiled. But as he glanced over her, he caught the eye of his brother unabashedly staring at him. When he saw Al return his gaze, James grinned goofily and shrugged, clearly miming the phrase, "It goes with your eyes" as he pointed to the green emblem hanging above the table. Still, as James broke the connection, Al saw him sink into a melancholy expression and he whispered to Aldo Creevey, who shifted near him once more, closing a small gap where another student could have fit.

A few more First Years had been sorted. Francis Portland had been placed in Ravenclaw, as well as Keira Thompson and Leon Thoreau. A Frida Sagasti, Samuel Travis, Ida Turner, and Maybelle Vance had joined Gryffindor. Mia Pressley, Jack Redding, and Terrence Rucker made Hufflepuff.

Two students remained.

"White, Rowan" "Hufflepuff!"

"White, Martin" "Ravenclaw!"

"Do you think they're twins as well?" Quinn whispered to the other First Years at the Slytherin table. Al wondered the same thing. Martin was clearly Irish, with pale freckled cheeks and strawberry blonde hair. Rowan, who Albus tentatively decided was a tomboy-ish girl, had deep, almost burgundy hair, hastily chopped to a length just longer than a pixie, and a tanned face with prominent ruddy cheeks. Yet both, like the Markov twins, wore shabby, graying robes and had an air of untidiness about them. The Slytherin pair even seemed to acknowledge the two as they were sorted and seemed disappointed in their placement.

"They are," said Natalia.

"Alright, Alright!" Minerva had risen again to silence the students, "I hope you all enjoy your Houses and are looking ahead to a wonderful year. A few rules have changed since the past year: There will be no access to the dungeons this semester, I know many of you use the passages as shortcuts to class or to avoid certain professors when you haven't shown up to class, " She eyed the Gryffindor table, where James reddened and grinned.

"As it is, they will be guarded this year by staff to prevent such mischief. The Eastern Wing of the Seventh floor will also be off-limits due to a breach of structural integrity. Construction will be finished by next year. Please note that your History of Magic Classes will now be held on the Second Floor." McGonagall paused for a moment and chatter started to return as the students prepared for the feast that was expected to appear. After a few seconds, silence settled again as the Headmistress remained standing.

She continued, "I know you, as well as I, have heard many familiar names arise in this year's new students. Of course, as time turns onward, these names are bound to repeat. But I must warn you, witches and wizards are neither defined nor bound to their legacy, " She fixed a stern glare around each of the tables, "And I strongly hope that you treat each other with that in mind."

With that, she rapidly brought her hands upward, and a great banquet of food solidified on the tables. Al heaped a generous portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate, followed by a chicken leg and a succulent raspberry tart. Scorpio was filling his plate as well, but stopped to look at the Markov twins, who hadn't reached for anything and looked rather bewildered at the amount of food before them. Scorpius pointed to a thick chowder, "That's quite good, would you like some?" he held out the ladle towards them. Milo looked confused, "But we don't have bowls..."

"Oh watch!" Scorpius poured the stew onto the plate. the edges immediately curled, keeping the liquid securely inside. "Do you not have those? Are you muggle-born? I...sorry... you don't have to answer that. I don't care." From the middle of the table, a Third Year sneered at Scorpius and waited for the twins to answer.

Milo and Natalia looked at each other for a long while. Finally Natalia answered, "We, no, we didn't grow up with magic."

That struck Al as an odd answer, but Scorpius was too embarrassed to pursue further. He filled up Natalia's plate as well and settled into his own meal quietly. The older student continued to eye the twins disparagingly. Al grew irksome, he turned to the boy and said in a voice much braver than himself, "Do you have anything to say?"

The boy had a flat, broad face with large teeth and a slight overbite. He seemed taken aback by Al but regained his sneer. "Well some of us do care about family legacy" He glanced up at Minerva, "And I would like to know how many of you are old wizarding folk, like you," He pointed to Quinn, "Arthur isn't a common wizarding name..." Quinn set her utensils down firmly.

"Both my parents are muggle-born wizards. I don't know what that makes me in your eyes but I've heard all the categories and I must say that they are extremely limited, much like the minds who made them in the first place."

Scorpius and Al looked at each other and then at the boy, who had continued on after a moment of shock. He turned to the darker boy near Scorpio, "Drummond's a recognizable name and Parkinson as well." Both students nodded and Vanessa surveyed the other students with distain.

"Malfoy and Potter, well those names mean nothing to me, you might as well be mudbloods," Even Reginald and Vanessa started at the slur. "And you, " He finally turned to Jade, who had kept to herself since being sorted. She regarded the boy coolly, "Pureblood." the word revealed a heavy accent that Al couldn't quite place.

"Huxley doesn't ring a bell."

"Yes well we're immigrants. There aren't many resources for wizards in Niger since the Cairo Academy closed. I've only been here for a year." she concluded her explanation with a dismissive wave and continued with her meal.

Al felt uneasy for the rest of his meal. Of course there would be bullies in every house, but were the Gryffindor boys worse than the Third Year (Al discovered the boy's name was Gregor Rosier) who unbelievably held such prejudice?

The thought plagued Al long into the night as he laid in his dormitory, covered in green and silver sheets and curtains. What did it mean to value something despite? He thought of the passing joy when the Hat had noted his similarity to his father. But why had he placed him in a House so opposed to his legacy?

Al could hear Scorpius shuffling under his covers. He turned towards him and found him awake as well.

Scorpius smiled sleepily, "I'm glad we got put together Al."

For Al this much was true as well. "Yeah me too."

Chapter Text

A meeting was being held in a rather inauspicious courtroom deep inside the Ministry of Magic. Harry shuffled in his spot on a bench next to Ron, recalling the last time he'd occupied this space, where they had fought Dolores Umbridge for her bewitched locket. Illegal curses always leave marks on the people and things they are afflicted upon, and the varnished wooden hall was marred with slashes of mis-aimed curses, which turned the wood into something black and rotten. A miserable gloom layered the air, seemingly beyond the usual haunted-ness of derelict places, as if the heavy occupation of dementors during Voldemort's reign left behind a tangible reminder of the happiness literally siphoned away from countless wizards.

The courtrooms had been largely neglected in the rebuilding of the Ministry. More private facilities accommodated criminal and civil questioning, as the nature of recent crimes were incomparable to seriousness of the Death Eaters at the height of their power. Madam Bones' seat was occupied by Eliza Burbage, niece of Hogwarts' murdered muggle studies teacher. Susan Bones was also present, representing the department of Magical Cooperation, as was Percy Weasley, Driscoll Haverford (father of a friend of James), Ernie McMillian and his sister Ilene, Padma Patil, Alicia Spinnet and about thirty other department managers.

Harry came to rest upon the central focus of the room, historically occupied by the condemned, where his best friend stood, quivering slightly as Minister Atterberry recited his resignation and new appointment.

"I want a vote." Draco stood from his seat on the Council, glaring at the center podium with hard determination.

Atterberry, for his part, seemed to agree with the protest as his face sulked around the room, looking for more potential sympathizers. But when he was finally prompted to answer Malfoy, the former Minister mumbled, "It's not an election. It's an appointment. Completely in the realms of my power and my decision only." He bit on the last part of the sentence, glaring at some of the more senior council members.

Draco was not convinced, " This is well out of your bounds Minister, it's clear you've been pushed into this decision. On what grounds have you decided to resign?"

Atterberry sighed and addressed Draco, "There's no particular reason. I feel as though my skills no longer suited the needs of the position."

"And what skills do you believe Mrs. Granger possesses that would make her more fit than you? Or any other senior council member in fact?" Draco sneered and rolled his eyes as the woman to his left stood up.

"I wish you would take into account anything but blood status when you talk about Hermione."

"No one said anything about blood status but you Eliza," Draco gave the council member a tired glare as he proceeded, "It simply baffles me that Atterberry's choice replacement is an inexperienced witch representing a fledgling department whose views are well-known to contradict his own. "

Looking around the faces of his colleagues, Draco's voice heightened in apprehension as he received mostly disapproving stares, "Does no one else see the corruption of this? Or do you just not care! Have you forgotten Shacklebolt?" Draco's knuckles had gone white from gripping the banister in front of him.

He took a few breaths to steady his countenance, "Listen, I understand. I get the feeling of stability that we feel when we have a war hero like Shacklebolt or Granger leading us. But we are not at war anymore, and we can't afford to not think about the repercussions of our decisions five, ten years down the line. A mistake in judgment in the midst of terror is permissible, letting Shacklebolt play with our funds unsupervised is permissible. But I do not believe Granger will be able to fix whatever Atterberry believes he cannot and I believe she was too close to Shacklebolt to be put into power with this little scrutiny!" He slumped into his seat in exasperation.

A critical murmur wandered around the courtroom aimed at Draco, but Hermione put her hand up to silence it. "Draco, I agree with your concerns, I do. And if it helps ease your worry, I plan to implement a committee responsible for maintaining transparency within our departments."

Draco scoffed, " Consisting of who? Your dear husband and your schoolyard best friend?" He gestured towards Harry and Ron, the latter of whom began to rise in his seat to defend himself, "Malfoy I swear..."

Draco interrupted continuing around the courtroom, "Or your dormmates? " glancing at Padma and Alicia, "Am I supposed to believe that there's enough skeptics in this room to make that committee even close to legitimate?"

"Draco, please, " Hermione looked nervously around the room, which seemed on the cusp of civility, "We can discuss these concerns later. Actually, given your arguments, I feel as though the best committee would be lead by yourself."

Draco paused in surprise, but the other councilmembers continued to boil over. Eliza broke the truce with a vitriolic shout, " Hermione there's no need to appease him, the rest of us know full well of Malfoy's views and biases."

Draco fumed, "And are you aware of your own Eliza?"

Madam Burbage bristled, "My family did not participate in the exile and slaughter of muggleborns Malfoy, but please defend your bloodline."

Draco jumped to feet once more "Its been nineteen years since I've uttered a single slur against a wizard because of their parentage- not that it makes a smidgen of a difference here!"

His eyes bulged wildly, "But let me tell you what's happened since then to the so called my people. We've been arrested and unlawfully held, our children have been questioned for harmless school quarrels, they've been shut out from social circles and jobs, they've been denied services and luxuries- because of their blood. Does that not sound familiar?"

Haverford Driscoll waved his hands dismissively, "Well now, if you're done with your tantrum, could we please start discussing actual facts regarding this change in government? I would like to know.."

"Facts!" Draco spat, "Facts are the unlawful holding of the Rowle family though it was obvious only Thorfinn had any loyalty to the Death Eaters. Or how Icarus Greengrass lost his cobbler business because of ministry harassment. Or the fact that your very own son, Driscoll, is a regular bully of any child who has the misfortune of being born into a cursed family! Tell me Haverford, does make you proud that Adrian terrorizes twelve-year-olds?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the sound of James' friend. Haverford swelled, " My boy is a child. And children play around. Isn't that what you were doing when you let murderers into your school to kill your own headmaster? And yet here you are."

Draco wilted and shook head wearily, " I'm sorry Driscoll, I didn't mean to bring children into this. I'm just saying that the Ministry has neglected the rights of many old wizarding families because of this muggleborn nonsense and it simply won't work. There's biases on all sides of the War and using bad family members as a justification for alienating good productive wizards is going to have huge consequences."

"It sounds to me as if your kind simply can't fathom the idea that half-bloods and muggleborns can hold high profile jobs. If making room for others is discrimination..." Eliza plucked up again.

"Have you not heard me?" Draco cried, " Johannes and Solveig Rowle scored perfect N.E.W.T.s yet neither was permitted to continue into Auror training. And Theodora had her bed set on fire at Hogwarts her first year! This isn't simply exclusion Eliza! These are children who already hate their peers!"

Alicia Spinnet stood up, "Draco don't fool yourself into believing that the incident was brushed over simply because Theodora had an infamous uncle. McGonagall took the situation very seriously and those girls are still facing restrictions"

"They should be expelled, "muttered Draco.

"And will you be advocating for the same punishment when your son inevitably does the same?" Haverford slurred mockingly.

Draco turned to stone, "Haverford I...I..." he stumbled. Eliza and Driscoll looked triumphant. "I was going in a terrible direction when I was seventeen, heck I was going there when I was eleven, " He turned away from the glares to face Harry, who seemed to be the only member listening with any sympathy." But I had support from a loving father, a terrible, but very loving father. I can assure you things have changed, Lucius doesn't consider Scorpius to be a proper grandson. It's probably a good thing."

Ron turned to Harry and whispered, "Well I suppose Al will be able to tell you whether that makes any difference. Rosie said they met him on the train and well, with Al in..."

Harry turned to his friend, "He hasn't mentioned anything to me, good or bad."

"Not at all?" said Ron, "Well I suppose they might keep their distance and all. But Rosie seemed to think he was alright. I guess they're on speaking terms."

Albus hadn't mentioned a single friend to Harry since starting school. It was James who had informed him that he was in Slytherin, or rather, that he wasn't in Gryffindor; Harry had deduced the rest. His son's House wasn't too much of a surprise to Harry, but he was sure their little talk at the station had forged some understanding. Of course there were a thousand reasons why Al had been sorted in such a way, but Harry couldn't shake the creeping disappointment in light of no explanation.

"Alright stop!" Hermione's stern voice pierced through Harry's thoughts. Eliza and Alicia had been arguing with Draco and Carson Ryder, another muggleborn wizard had joined in with especially vulgar language. Harry hadn't heard what had been exchanged, but Draco now seemed on the verge of furious tears. Malfoy usually kept a frustratingly confident composure when arguing, but in recent months, he had completely lost control. Harry guessed his wife's condition was worsening.

"There's no need for this childish name-calling," Hermione struggled to maintain control of the room, "Seeing as we can't discuss the details of my appointment without digressing into family insults, I'm dismissing this council, stop!" Hermione firmly pointed at Draco, who made to protest, "I have my proposals typed up here and will hand you all a full copy. Read it. Disagree with it. And form your revisions. We will meet next week and I want your professional opinions on how this Ministry is to move forward. Nothing more."

She tapped her wand upon a stack of papers, which multiplied in number and began shuffling towards the council. Witches and Wizards grabbed their copies and started towards the exits, most giving Hermione encouraging nods. Draco had snatched one of the first copies and was fervently skimming through the document, tapping his wand on multiple paragraphs. He too, finally left. Hermione rubbed her temples as Ron and Harry descended to meet her.

"I swear that git doesn't change!" cried Ron as he hugged his wife. Hermione shushed him but Ron was flustered, "I mean he ruined the entire meeting! I think he means to sabotage your position Hermione, you didn't mean to put him on the transparency committee did you?"

"I actually think that would be a great idea," Harry said quietly, Ron rounded on him, "You can't be serious."

Harry brushed off his friend's hostility, " Draco is a formidable manager..."

"In zoning Harry,"

"It's important Ron," Harry continued, irritated, " And if anything, I think it was Eliza more than anyone else who derailed the meeting. Her pureblood sentiments have actually worried me before..."

Ron was incredulous, "Harry, her aunt was murdered, she was eaten on Draco's dining table."

"That's not a reason to shut down everything he says Ron."

"Well its definitely understandable."

Harry shook his head. "Not as a council head. Draco was right when he brought up the Rowle boys, and Eliza played a big hand in their denial as Aurors- you know that."

"Do you hear yourself?" cried Ron

"Do you?" Harry shot back. The two turned to Hermione, who watched them sadly.

"Harry you know these ideas just don't go away. Thirteen years passed before Voldemort returned and his followers numbered more than ever. "Herminone ignored her husband's triumphant grin, "Even without Voldemort, the Lestranges, the Ministry sympathizers, McGonagall tells me of all these incidences of blood hate at Hogwarts. If anything, things seem even worse than when we were there."

Harry shook his head, "I followed the Rowles. Teddy got in more trouble than them."

"Of course there's always unfairness Harry, but the greater picture is more important." Hermione looked at him with sympathy, "And I clearly remember character being the deciding factor in that case- we all know academic brilliance only says so much on morals."

"And unfortunately its only measured subjectively," Harry lowered his brows, "I... I'll see you later, I have paperwork."

Leaving the courtroom, he avoided Ron's stare and hurried down the black brick hall. As he neared the elevators, he heard shuffling just before being shoved into the entrance of another door. Draco held his wand at Harry's chest, seething, but not in aggression.

"My son is being tormented by the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He hasn't mentioned your son's name but I wouldn't be surprised..."

Harry shoved the wand away, "James doesn't do that Draco. And as I hear, Al and Scorpius must be spending some time together."

Draco calmed slightly, but his voice was hard, "I don't care about that. But I swear if I get another letter from McGonagall apologizing..."

"Is it that serious?" Harry said. Draco nodded and backed off.

"Listen, I'll talk to James, I don't think he would do anything mean-spirited but he can hang around some better company."

"Thank you," Draco regarded Harry sincerely, he leaned against the wall of the enclave. Green light radiated from the cracks and shown upon the angles of Draco's cheeks. Harry noticed they were especially gaunt.

"Astoria isn't doing well is she." Harry murmured carefully.

"She won't respond to anything."

"Is it cancer?" Harry asked. Draco dragged his eyes around the ground before replying, "I... I think it's magical."

"A curse? Draco that's serious." Draco shushed Harry.

"No... it's...it's just weakness." He popped his head into the hall to check for any visitors before continuing, "The Greengrass' are an old pureblood line, fairly devout in preserving their lineage, as they all are. Well, there's only so many families to choose from and the Greengrass' were rather out of way- Northern Ireland so... marriages were ah... were close."

Harry wrinkled his nose, "I didn't know- I thought their family was one of the better ones..."

"Oh yeah, recently they've been quite open. It's by force- Astoria's great grandfather was the only one of fifteen children to survive into adulthood. He married a muggleborn and had seven healthy children- naturally this softened the family view of purity and whatever. But it's persisted in some of later generations... Astoria said the symptoms are exactly like her Aunt's...and she... there's nothing we can do."

"You know what some of your colleagues are saying..."

"Yes I know," Draco snapped, "Let them talk about rituals and Death Eater rubbish. It's better than the truth...Scorpius doesn't know."

Harry nodded understandingly, "But a muggle doctor? "

Draco sighed, "There's not much research on ah...complications from inbreeding... not the most sympathetic of topics. And the muggles have significant therapies for genetic diseases. Our doctor has one daughter who's turned out to be a witch so she's not entirely in the dark about our world...it was working out so well."

Draco was almost translucent in the glow of the hallway, his brow worked up in a fine layer of sweat. Numerous small scars traveled in opaque porcelain lines along his jawline, reaching down his neck and disappearing under his collar. A thicker scar travelled from his chin towards his temple. He grazed his fingers across it, "Do you remember when you gave this to me?"

Harry started, "I...no... was it in the Battle?"

"Of Hogwarts? No, " Draco actually chuckled, " We started fighting a little before our classmates."

"It was in the lavatory." Harry drifted into one of his nastiest memories, watching Draco writhing on the flooded tiles from his unfamiliar hex, "It's one of the worst things I've ever done."

"Really?" Draco whispered, Harry couldn't tell if he was being facetious. Malfoy gripped his jaw, "Toria thought it made me look rugged. These were less impressive." He gestured to the many smaller marks, "Professor Trelawney had conjured up a wall of glass from her broken orbs, probably the most impressive thing I've seen her do, set them straight for a pack of us. And she'll teach my son in two days"

"You were on the wrong side Draco."

"I know Harry. Scorpius does too, and if he doesn't, well, I'm sure he's been reminded."

Harry couldn't decide on what to say. He reached out his arm to comfort his colleague, but Draco suddenly jumped, shuffling the papers from the meeting. He pulled out a page in the middle of the proposal, "Hey, what do you make of this?" Draco's question was inquiring, but Harry could see the start of accusation narrowing his eyes. He grabbed the page and skimmed the contents.

"I...I'm not sure what this means Draco. Obviously there's some threat lurking about the wizarding world- you know Durmstrang suspended this semester indefinitely? I suppose Hermione is just taking extreme precautions for the students." The page consisted of several defenses at Hogwarts and restrictions of certain classrooms and grounds. Draco pointed at a wall on the seventh floor which Harry understood to be the Room of Requirement.

"I think she's hiding something in there"

"Who?"

"McGonagall- Haven't you seen her here lately? She's met with Granger at least ten times in the past month!" Draco scrutinized Harry urgently, " You really don't know what's going on, do you?"

Harry shook his head, "Not the slightest, Ron doesn't know any more either."

Draco backed away, perplexed, "But you trust her then? You sent your sons there this year."

"Of course, " Said Harry, "And Hermione sent her daughter as well, don't forget."

Draco considered Harry for a moment longer. In his teenage years, Draco had seemed to Harry a miniature of his father, growing more visually alike with every passing year. Yet now, as he brooded frantically over the safety of his son, Harry couldn't help but think that he wasn't the only one to inherit his mother's eyes.

Chapter Text

"Malfoy! And what is your business being late once again?" Professor Magamus barked towards the back of the room, where Scorpius was quietly sneaking into his seat. His glare softened as he spotted Al, who followed closely behind his friend.

"Sorry Professor, " Scorpius mumbled.

"I should say so! Three times in seven classes! One more and we'll have to figure something out in detention!" Scorpius lowered his head.

Al noticed Travis and Ryan from Gryffindor looking smugly at Scorpius as he tried to pull a few specks of green goop from his hair. He bristled and spoke up to Professor Magamus. "Sorry as well Professor, but you see, Scorpius and I were just in the bathroom removing slugs from a hex Callum Finnigan performed. If you don't believe us, these two can also give their accounts. I think Bronsin found it particularly entertaining."

He gestured towards the two Gryffindors, who looked stunned, their mouths drooping slightly. Professor Magamus turned the boys to face him with a flick of his wand.

"Is this true?" Magamus eyed his House, though less severely than Scorpius. The boys' dumbfounded faces confirmed Al's story. "Well then, ten points each from Gryffindor, and fifteen more once I talk to Mr. Finnigan."

Travis glowered at the pair but said no more. Scorpius sighed in relief and pulled a sticky strand of slug juice from under his chin.

"Thanks mate." he whispered, "honestly I don't know a braver boy in Gryffindor."

Albus winced. The past month had been rough for him, as everyone scrambled to figure out how a son of Harry Potter had ended up in the Slytherin lot. And his own cohort wasn't always much kinder about it than the ones in the other houses. Still, he was well aware Scorpius had it quite a bit worse.

Rosie glanced back at her cousin and smiled, though when Scorpius noticed, she turned her attention back to the front of the class. The blonde boy blushed, undaunted, and Al stifled a chuckle. Rose hadn't completely let her guard down about Scorpius' inadvertent mishaps about muggles and muggleborns, although since the start of school, Scorpius had sincerely grown to admire her intelligence in class, which had softened her judgment slightly. But just yesterday, the two had clashed once again when Scorpius had complemented Jeya on her flying prowess, adding that being a muggleborn made it even more impressive.

"Why would it Malfoy?" Rose had snapped. Jeya for her part seemed unfazed by the comment.

"Rose, really it's fine." The girl had started.

"No Jeya it's not. You're a witch just like me. Our parents are different but we are the same and Malfoy here needs to stop defining any of your successes or failures with your blood status." She settled a stern glare at Scorpius.

"I...I really didn't mean it bad at all. I... it's just she's never seen her parents fly or anything so its quite unnatural, I mean for her natural but...I... I mean there's some difference, " Scorpius' forehead became paler and his cheeks redder, "I mean no there's no difference, I'm sorry Jeya."

"It's fine mate, " Jeya stated simply. Rose had calmed down a little. "I know you don't mean it Scorpius but some of your House, they're absolutely revolting. Do you remember the last time you said something like that you her? Gregor heard and he's not stopped bothering her since!"

Gregor Rosier was easily Albus' least favorite person he'd ever met in his life. He intimidated friends and foes alike, leading around a rather large gang of Slytherin students significantly more cowardly than himself, though who enjoyed the occasional malicious prank. He could conjure a fairly powerful hex as well, which Al, Rose, and Jeya had all already been on the receiving end of. Though he wasn't fond of Scorpius, he did treat him with a little more respect due to their grandfather's friendship. If anything, this made Scorpius feel even worse, though Al figured he had enough to deal with concerning the other students.

Gregor was particularly harsh towards Jeya, probably due to her friendship with Albus and Scorpius, who, though disgraced, were of pureblood lineage. Rose had come to her defense more than once, and the two girls had formed a tight friendship, though this meant that Scorpius and Rose were often together as well.

Al was truly fond of both his cousin and friend, but he felt he liked each better when the other wasn't around. Rosie could be supportive and incredibly interesting, talking excitedly about spells and charms (which were her favorite). But with Scorpius around, she became defensive and bordered on boastful, and Albus found himself wanting to charm his ears deaf. Scorpius on the other hand was actually rather funny on his own and incredibly curious, but he was also exceedingly timid and any attack made him curl into an insecure, mumbling mess that Al sometimes tired of coaxing him out of.

Still, the arrangement was significantly more friendly than some of the situations Al faced with the rest of his Slytherin cohort. Though not the most outgoing himself, very few of the other first years seemed to possess the necessary social skills to make friends. Vanessa Parkinson was plainly cruel and more interested in attracting the attention of pure blood families in other years. Jade and Quinn spoke with Al, though he couldn't quite describe their words as kind. Reggie and Malachi had grown close and the Markov twins were eerily silent and unapproachable.

Travis tossed two objects onto Albus' desk, over Scorpius' outstretched hand. He picked up the spoons, one was neat and wooden and the other was an ornate copper design, tarnished green. Scorpius snatched the fancy one, smiling.

Professor Magamus tapped his wand to silence the class. "Now then, today we practice our theory. I warned you on the first day and I'll repeat it again- transfiguration is a tricky subject and not forgiving to error. There will be no unnecessary flourishing, no extra incantations- if you are unsure about the pronunciation, ask. And most importantly, if I see any one of you pointing your wands at anything other than the objects in front of you, you will cease to learn in this class- if it's at another student, you will cease to learn at this school."

He eyed the Slytherins in the class in particular. Vannessa and Jade returned equally unfriendly faces. "Now, there are small utensils on in front of each of you. We've reviewed basic animal transformations and I would like you to practice at least three by the end of class. Nothing larger than a bird please!"

Scorpius pulled out his textbook and thumbed through the bookmarked pages of the first chapter excitedly. "What should we do Al?"

Al looked on to Scorpius' pages, "That one maybe? I'm not good at controlling my swishes yet, but this one just needs three turns and a flick."

"Sounds good, together?"

The two brought their wands forward to rest on their spoons lightly.

"Alright, so one full turn clockwise..." Al made a neat circle with the tip of his wand.

"Three quarters turn counter-direction" Scorpius concentrated to control the turn precisely.

"One half clockwise...and flick! Papillionfors!" Both boys tapped their objects once more.

A small, electric blue current shot through Al's spoon, and large wings stretched from the handle. The head of the utensil curled and two buckyball eyes popped out from the tunnel created.

"Oh wow, that one sure is impressive! I've never seen a butterfly that big!" Scorpius complemented Al's creation.

Professor Magamus approached their desk, "That's because it's not quite transformed, see." He gestured for Al to touch the wings. He discovered that, though, fluorescent, they were heavy and still very wooden. "Close though, it's still rather mobile. A few more tries and you should complete it." He turned to Scorpius, "And you Mr. Malfoy."

Scorpius reddened and pointed to the ceiling, "There, a brilliant green butterfly fluttered along the lights swooping energetically. Coming to close to the electricity, a small cascade of fine metal fell from the collision. The butterfly fluttered haphazardly, sinking steadily. It settled on Rose's hand, glimmering.

"Yes, well, well done both of you, " Al cocked an eyebrow at his professor's reluctant praise. Scorpius had clearly conjured the best spell. It wasn't just Magamus either, Divination and Charms had also been biased against his friend's quite advanced skills. Scorpius, for his part, didn't register the comment for he was currently trying to coax his butterfly from Rose's desk, blushing fiercely. Al snickered.

"You my friend are a hopeless romantic."

The rest of the class continued smoothly. Al mastered the butterfly spell and, after a struggle, managed to transfigure a passable cricket, though the sound was off. He finished with a walking stick.

"I suppose it's not that much of a stretch, " Scorpius commented, letting his own creation, a small snail, lurch across his palm. Rosie and Jade had both managed to make a sparrow.

As Professor Magamus collected the untransfigured utensils, Scorpius raised his hand, "Yes Mr. Malfoy?"

" Professor Magamus, how are these spells made? I noticed most end with -fors or -mus, but what's the difference? And how do you know which latin root to use? " Scorpius asked earnestly.

Professor Magamus had heavily hooded eyes brushed under thick blonde brows, but as he regarded Scorpius, his pupils were fully visible and bulged from his stretched face. "There's...there's no reason for you to know! What would the difference make? Have I not told you that this magic does not leave this room!?" Al had never seen an adult in such a manic state.

Scorpio looked as though he would have willingly swallowed his question even if it was boiling water. "Professor I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Experimentation on what? On who?" Professor Magamus was half muttering to himself, "No! This won't do- this won't be tolerated. The headmistress must hear about this immediately!" And he began furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment, "Class dismissed." when no one moved he shouted, "Get out!"

The students filed out in a rush, Scorpius trying to leave the quickest. He stumbled on Anya Gupta's robes and the two went tumbling into the hallway, tripping Ida Turner as well.

"I'm so sorry," Scorpius picked up Ida's glasses and handed them to her. The Gryffindor girls regarded him timidly and Ida quickly snatched her glasses away. Jade had followed behind the commotion and scoffed audibly, "I thought you guys were lions! You act like a bunch of chickens bawk! bawk!" she mocked the two girls, who turned defensibly, "Scram four-eyes" Jade jumped towards the two, completing their scramble away from the class.

Al brushed off the dust from Scorpius' robes and Rose handed him his books, but Jade swiped them away, "You too Weasley, don't you need some time to get that bush in order?" Vanessa pointed at Rose's mess of hair. Jade snickered, "I do see why you got into Gryffindor, what with that mane!"

"A literal mascot!" cackled Vanessa, scrunching up her already upturned nose.

"Shut it would you?" Rose grabbed the books back and shoved them roughly into Scorpius' chest. "Have fun with your friends Malfoy... and McGonagall for that matter." She nodded behind the students before storming off.

Al looked behind him. Sure enough, the Headmistress had appeared in the hallway and was looking gravely in the direction of the Slytherin group. A small piece of parchment was folded in her hands, "Mr. Malfoy, if we could have a word."

"Yeah, yeah that's fine," Scorpius shoved his hands into his pockets and hurriedly followed McGonagall.

"My office perhaps? If it's not too out of the way."

"Yeah it's fine, Herbology is just below."

"Oh well Professor Longbottom will be more than understanding. But come now, let's go right away."

Vanessa snorted when the two were out of earshot, "My mother had her as a professor and she was absolutely unbearable then! What a daft choice of headmaster, it no wonder the purebloods are doing so poorly!"

Quinn looked taken aback, "Do you really think she'll punish him?"

"Most likely, with his name and all. My mother went to school with his father and she gave them so many detentions- why she probably misses yelling our names."

"McGonagall is fair." said Al, though he was surprised as well that the Headmaster had taken Professor Magamus' letter so seriously.

Vanessa looked at Al with distain, "You would say that of course, what with your parents parroting her praises. Family friend right? Just like Weasley."

"Hey now, they're cousins," Jade stepped in glancing at Al sympathetically, "Family's tough. At least she stands up for herself, can't say the same about the rest."

Vanessa glowered and stalked off. Her mother was Pansy Parkinson, who married Gregory Goyle not long after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Goyle family was a long-standing proponent of blood purity and Goyle senior had perished in the War, so Gregory took up the task of maintaining the family legacy-hiding Death Eaters fleeing prosecution and even setting fire to Eliza Burbage's home, killing five house elves who worked inside.

Unfortunately, Gregory was neither as sly nor supported as his father and his actions were discovered a year after Vanessa's birth. He was one of last wizards given a maximum sentence to Azkaban. Pansy changed her daughter's name to throw off the stigma, though her bitterness only fueled her hatred of the new movement taking over Hogwarts and the Ministry.

Jade tapped Al on the shoulder, "You heading to Herbology?"

"I... no..." Albus looked toward a spindling tower overlooking the north side of the school, "I'm going to find McGonagall."

"I was surprised you didn't go after her right away." Jade smirked, "See ya later then Peculiar Potter."

Al took the tower steps two by two, arriving at the entrance of the Headmistress' office out of breath. He eyed the two gargoyles who were resting calmly on either side of an archway, filled with an impressive golden phoenix. As he stepped inside the entryway, a gargoyle turned menacingly and pointed a stone spear in his direction. Al thought quickly to the last time Minerva had visited the Potters and Weasleys. What had she said to Aunt Hermione?

"Feel free to visit anytime dear, you can reach my office from the northwest entrance. The password is..."

"Weasleys Wizard Whizzes" stated Al, chuckling.

The Phoenix wings swung into the entrance and for a moment, Al thought he had recalled wrong. But soon the steps began swirling from the base, ascending him into the heights of the tower.

The actual door to Minerva's office was slightly ajar. Al froze, wondering if he had been heard. He crept toward the door to hear the conversation floating through.

"Tea dear? Or a chocolate drink?"

"Erm yeah... oh the chocolate... thanks." Scorpius sounded only slightly shaky.

"Now lets see, ah! Here, you can borrow this if you'd like. Careful with the pages, they are already quite fragile. Basically there's a balance between the specificity of an object and the name you use to guide it into your target. For animals, specie names are usually too specific and only work if the initial object already had certain similarities. Genus names generally allow for a broader range of objects, albeit the transfiguration will be widely varied again depending on the object properties- such as your spoons- is that what you used today?"

"Yeah."

"As for the endings, its more of a matter of history than function. Emeric Switch, the author of your textbook, used -fors and for more advanced spells -gonis as the command. But he was preceded by another witch, Dezmelda Nott, who was fond of the -mus and -eris endings, common in the Olde Welsh magick commands. "

"Is one better? I mean, just for theory... I...nevermind." Al could imagine Scorpio drooping in his seat.

"Nonsense Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall continued on, " In fact your inquiry was quite right! Switch's commands tend to be far less temperamental, though it seems some of Nott's spells cannot be properly replaced, especially as you delve into Transubstantial Transfiguration, which I certainly hope you do."

"You mean I'm not expelled from the class?" Al peered into the crack and saw Scorpius' profile straighten.

"Oh heavens no! Please dear, this..." McGonagall gestured across the table between them, filled with sweets, "This is an apology! Professor Magamus is highly skilled in transfiguration- it's so hard to find competent replacements- but his sentiments about you are wrong. Do you understand Mr. Malfoy? Wrong."

"But if I return.."

"I will inform Chester of my conversation with you- completely driven by innocent inquisitiveness- which should be encouraged in students instead of punished. If he bothers you again, please inform me immediately. And if you would rather ask a different expert, by all means visit! I do miss the intellectual conversations with students." Minerva rested her hand tenderly on Scorpius' shoulder.

Scorpius smiled, but dropped his eyes again. "Could I ask one more question?"

"Oh by all means dear! Though I will hurry you to class soon." McGonagall rose and collected the teapot and plates from the table.

"It's not about transfiguration. " Scorpius started slowly, "You taught my father right?"

Minerva paused facing the direction of the entrance. Al could see her face twist into a melancholy expression.

"What was he like?"

Scorpius watched the Headmistress' figure with apprehension. After a few seconds of silence he mustered, "I suppose I really should go..."

"Draco Malfoy was a respectable student who had the capabilities of discovering the nuances of magic much like you Scorpius."

Scorpius seemed to grasp every word of his father's description like a jewel. He waited expectantly for Minerva to continue.

"What Draco unfortunately had to deal with, and which briefly defeated him, was a terrible kind of abuse. One that leaves no physical marks, but puts the victim through the agony of merging reality with the worldview he has been told is right. Its a hard thing to overcome; changing means to discard most your relationships that you hold dear and enter alone into a society that isn't expected to pity you or even offer you forgiveness. The strength to do that comes entirely from within oneself."

Al focused on Minerva's trembling hand, which increased its frequency. The Headmistress finally turned to meet a baffled Scorpius. "As a peer, your father was a bit of a bully until his sixth year, where it became obvious to me that he was bearing the weight of his family's honor to dangerous people that he feared very much. Then his actions reflected a new level of darkness that, and I'll be completely honest with you, made me lose all faith in him. But I know your grandfather as well- and I know that Draco was largely a reflection of him. And therefore, I know that whatever he has become will be largely reflected in you. And I must admit that I believe I was too hasty in losing hope."

Scorpius blinked a little, comprehending Minerva's words. He smiled shyly and brought his cup to the table where she stood.

"Now off to class with you- just tell Professor Longbottom that I'll send him a message later. And please inform Mr. Potter of the nature of your visits so he doesn't come rushing up here to defend you every time." McGonagall swished her wand to widen the door slightly, revealing a shocked Al.

The boys clamored down the steps and exited the tower, scurrying towards the greenhouses just across a small courtyard. Al looked back at the spires and spotted Minerva watching them from a large window. The Headmistress smiled soberly when she noticed him and turned away, leaving Al with the distinct feeling that her comments about Draco Malfoy were meant for him to hear as much as his son.

Chapter Text

“Gracewood should have taught us cheering charms before making us write a whole fifteen inches on ‘em…” Scorpius muttered, glaring at the blank parchment that still remained, “could really use it now.”

Al snickered, sitting back from his own essay with slightly more blank space left, “My uncle told me he always just wrote big letters but now that they’ve come out with this lined stuff…”

“See?” Scorpius nodded, a small grin brightening his features, “That’s the kind of good thinking they’re quashing out of us.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Rosie charmed hers with even smaller ruling…” Al rolled his eyes and laughed softly as he noticed a faint blush cross his friend’s face, visible even in the lime aura emanating from the windows.

The Slytherin Common room was glittering serenely in the filtered light from the Great Lake, the walls lighting up in little spots like fireflies dancing through the waters. Ironically, there was a nasty storm raging above that was driving this tranquil pattern, though the sharpest cracks of thunder permeated into the space as merely dull thuds, like a soothing drum. Even the waters were relatively calm this deep, with only the scarcity of marine life betraying the weather, as the fish hunkered down to the lowest depths in safety.

Though disappointed at what was probably one of the last truly warm weekends of the year, Al had to admit that he did need some time to be productive on his homework and the Common Room was quite cozy. He was flipping back and forth between two pages that seemingly proscribed conflicting information on cheering charm side effects when he yelped as the neat rows of his essay were swallowed with black ink.

“Oh sorry, was that important?” Gregor Rosier snarled, leering massively over Al’s small form.

Beside him, Damien McIntyre had ensured a similar fate for Scorpius’ parchment.

Rosier gestured around the Common Room, filled to the brim with students also locked in on this exceptionally stormy Saturday, “There’s no room for you two here, as you can see.”

Al had almost articulated a snarky reply, but Scorpius cut across him, “Yeah it is full Al. Let’s head off- I’m sure the Library will be emptier.”

Al fumed as he grabbed his wrecked essay, tossing his bag hastily around his shoulder and exiting out the Common Room into the Dungeon hallway.

“Scorpius he’s only getting worse because you let him walk all over us.” he bit out as drops of ink fell from his parchment, leaving a tiny trail behind them.

“Yeah mate, I know,” Scorpius sighed, taking out his wand, “But if it becomes something, then McGonagall will just send another owl back home and the last thing I need is my father coming here… I’m sure it’s only going to be one more incident before he loses it.”

Despite McGonagall’s warm words with Scorpius, he’d been trying to keep his visits with the Headmaster to a minimum as they seemed to add to the bullying.

“I just think we could have… I mean there were Prefects in the Common Room…” Al continued

“Yeah? And what have they prevented?” Scorpius remarked shortly, “Look Al, I’m just not in the mood to spend the day in the hospital wing, that’s all. Scourgify!”

The droplets disappeared. Al regarded the yellowing discoloration underneath Scorpius’ chin, compliments of Gregor. He’d stood up to the bully in the middle of last week, after Rosier had finally called Jeya a mudblood to her face, catching her at the Dungeon entrance asking for the two.

Hexes could be gruesome, especially some of the favorites of a few of their housemates, but Al remembered the sickening sound of Rosier’s fist colliding with Scorpius’ face and decided he much preferred magical dueling. The punch, if anything, symbolized the end of the protection his friend’s family name had been affording him.

At least Rosie had been proud of the moment and told Scorpius as much. Whether she knew it or not, her often blunt comments of approval or disapproval could make a world of difference to the young Malfoy’s outlook on the day.

But Al knew Scorpius wasn’t keen on escalating his feud with Rosier, as it basically meant making enemies of the entire Third year. James’ year.

Al had been meaning to ask his brother about some of that lot, as he gleaned that more than a few of them harbored a deep dislike of James that went beyond Quidditch rivalry, but more or less left him alone. Unfortunately, his brother had been rather unreachable in the past weeks, only greeting Al with a sort of perfunctory duty at mealtimes, before disappearing into a crowd of older Gryffindor’s.

Sometimes Al got the strong feeling that James was on the brink of telling him something important, but he would inevitably recede into polite niceties and end their conversation, very unlike the brash and loquacious brother Al was so used to. When he would ask Rosie if anything was wrong, she only gave evasive answers but assured Al that she was always there for him to talk.

“Come to the Gryffindor Common Room anytime! Teddy wants to see you too and he’s always there.”

Presently, the two found Teddy Lupin in the Library, which was also abnormally busy due to the abysmal weather.

“Hi Al, Scorpius,” Teddy emerged from behind a large pile of books, “Place’s full up but I can make room here. Gosh Al that’s Dungeon’s got you as pale as the ghosts!’

“Ha, ha,” Al smirked, but quieted as he caught the eye of Madam Pince, the hawkish librarian with quick judgment and a short fuse, “You look busy Teddy.”

Scorpius ran his finger down the titles of the books, “Poisons and antidotes: Methods for Success and Survival, The Contemporary Dark Arts, Combative magic…”

“For my N.E.W.T.s.” Teddy replied, “I’m thoroughly untalented in potions, but I don’t think reading about the subject is helping…more of a patience thing I think.”

He saw the blackened parchments clasped in the two boy’s hands, “Accident?”

Scorpius and Al answered “Yeah.” And, “No!” simultaneously, looking at each other with a mix of frustration and amusement.

Teddy held out his hand for Scorpius’s roll, “I see, well was the ink fairly dry before whatever happened happen?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Scorpius muttered, “We were almost done.”

Teddy took out his wand and began swirling the tip close to the surface of the parchment, nodding his head rhythmically. Slowly the ink turned into a gray gas, tinged with the slight scent of burning paper, “Well it looks like half of it was completely dry, suppose that’s better than nothing.”

Scorpius took the cleansed page gratefully, “Oh it’s so much better… thank you…”

“It’s no problem,” Teddy bowed his head and reached for Al’s parchment, “Polishing spell actually, for young dragons. They’re scales grow in really fragile but are also very susceptible to fugal growth, so we have to clean them often.”

Scorpius looked in awe at Teddy, “I can’t believe you handled real dragons, what are they like? Do they remember you, you know, if you cared for them when they were young?”

Teddy smiled kindly. He’d quickly realized the true power dynamics at play between Scorpius and his many enemies and felt guilty for assuming the worst in the boy on the train, “They have memories like stone, dragons,” he replied, “remember you by scent, too, so even if you’ve changed completely, they’ll recognize you.”

Teddy’s hair, which had been a demure copper color, brightened to a buttercup yellow at his words, “Which is very good for me you see.”

From her desk, Madam Pince was watching Teddy with severe dislike, clearly furious at the fact that changing one’s hair color was not grounds for dismissal from the library.

“So, you’re going to go back then?” Al asked, “With Charlie I mean, after you’ve finished school.”

Teddy ran his hand through his newly dyed hair, straining the roots in stress, “Ah, I’m not sure as of yet… obviously I love it, but…”

He trailed off, his hair dulling into a shade of bronze, “I’ve been thinking about becoming an Auror maybe, like your Dad.”

“Oh,” Al couldn’t hide the note of surprise in his tone. In demeanor, Teddy was almost the exact opposite of his father, commanding just about every room with his bright and fun presence. Even his uncle Ron could lapse into dark moods when work became serious.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Teddy’s eyes twinkled playfully at Al, before they looked down again, thoughtfully, “But Charlie got contacted by the Ministry just before I left, I actually hadn’t heard Hermione had been appointed. And, well there’s been a lot of turmoil out in Bulgaria- we stay out of it, being isolated with the dragons but we’d take the occasional trip into a village.”

Scorpius and Al exchanged a look of confusion as Teddy continued, “There’s a lot of tensions between the muggles and magical folk over there, depending on the region. See, the schools there, they’re a little more… discriminatory when it comes to admitting students.”

Deep mahogany bloomed from the tips of Teddy’s hair, “A lot of the muggleborn wizards are little more than notified of their ability- there’s so many restrictions to actually attending a school. They end up on the fringes of both worlds in shady employment… a lot of them take to hoodwinking muggles, which drives a lot of resentment and superstitions. But there was a murder just before school this year, a girl from a very prominent wizard family- that’s why Durmstrang suspended classes.”

Teddy paused, twirling his quill as he took in the still perplexed faces of the two boys, “Al, has your father mentioned anything about… well work to you?”

“Erm…no,” Al reddened, unable to add that he had yet to write to his father since the Sorting.

“Ah,” A knowing look crossed Teddy’s features, “Well, there’s been a few incidences that look like muggleborn intimidation- one of my housemates heard firsthand from his family. And with the growing tension in the East, I just… well I want to make sure things stay peaceful is all. My parents wanted that, and I ought to…”

Al averted his eyes as a sorrowful look passed Teddy, making him look much older and wearier. Scorpius was also looking down, though AL was certain it was shame driving his behavior.

“I mean it could be nothing, it’s just… I don’t know. But I just feel on edge and if something does happen, I want to be able to do something about it,” He flipped open another book, scanning the contents with a frown, “Course I have a lot of catching up to do. McGonagall’s been recommending extra reading every week now.”

The three sat in silence as Al and Scorpius got to work rewriting parts of their essays and adding their final conclusions. Teddy, too, was scribbling furious notes and mnemonics of various poison/antidote combinations and rules of ingredient preparations. Al looked up again when he heard the scratching of his quill cease, finding Teddy gazing at him with some hesitation.

“Al you ah… you haven’t heard of anything from your housemates, have you?”

“About the incidences you mean? No, Teddy I don’t even know what you’re referring to if I’m honest.” Al shifted uncomfortably as Teddy continued to contemplate this.

“Honestly, I think you know which ones are anti-muggleborn, they’re not exactly quiet about it,” He thought of Rosier and his gang, “But they haven’t been bragging about actually doing anything, at least outside of their hallway duels.”

“I doubt they’d be careless enough to boast in front of us anyway seeing as your family literally killed their cause and mine sold out the remains for their freedom,” Scorpius interjected quietly, not taking his eyes away from his parchment.

Teddy leaned back, looking apologetic, “Yeah that’s true I… I do wish you were in a friendlier crowd, both of you.”

The incident that Teddy alluded to had spread throughout the general student body by Monday, however. Al and Scorpius were informed by Jeya as they met in Charms that three squibs had been mugged, one of which Al knew personally.

“Applebee? She was my teacher- my sister still sees her!”

Jeya’s eyes widened, “Then she’s on the lists that were taken! They were all primary teachers, and all had rosters of their students on them. They’d just gotten new ones for the year.”

“Hmmph those ‘teachers’ are about the most useless things to spend your money on,” Vanessa Parkinson glared at Jeya from behind the boys, “It’s bad enough mudbloods like you rotted your brain with the garbage of muggle education. Why wizards would choose to do the same with their kids…”

Vanessa had wasted no time adding that slur to her vocabulary, as it put her in a very influential crowd in the House.

“Shut up Parkinson, maybe if you’d learned simple math you wouldn’t end up with a cauldron of goo in Potions every week,” Quinn growled from her seat next to Jade, who added her support with a thoroughly menacing scowl.

“Don’t talk to me.” Vanessa remarked in a high simpering tone, refusing to acknowledge her housemate with even a look, “It’s bad enough I got stuck with the most tainted year Slytherin has ever seen. But then again, this lot is definitely worse.”

Her eyes traveled over to where Rowan White sat, her eyes closed and hair shaggy and uncombed. Jeya caught her gaze and was about to muster a retort when professor Gracewood entered, striding quite happily to the front of the classroom, collecting essays with the flick of her wand as she went. Al threw a last unfriendly glare in Vanessa’s direction and caught Natalia and Milo glancing nervously his way, looking, in his opinion, even more worn than Rowan.

“I hope these essays weren’t too much of a challenge,” The stately witch leafed through the papers, her eyes scanning a few sentences from each, “Well it seems like most everyone is on the right track, now!”

She clapped her hands and set about the room, setting small vials of deep blue liquid on the desks, “Groups of two or three please! We’ll be practicing on each other so please be careful with your wandwork. If your charm is too out of hand… and trust me, you will know, please drink down the calming solution immediately!”

Jeya turned back towards Al and Scorpius, “Can I pair with you? Gwen’s in the hospital wing at the moment…”

Scorpius and Al blinked at each other, “Was she the one then…”

“Yeah,” Jeya replied shortly, procuring her wand, and lightly miming the movement, “But let’s get on with it.”

The two had heard Rosier and his gang maliciously recounting an incident at breakfast which involved bewitching one of the moving staircases where a muggleborn first year had gotten herself stuck in one of the false steps. They’d thrown such a violent locomotive spell upon the structure that the girl was thrown hard into the banister, bruising her collarbone and breaking her immobilized ankle.

A few frustrated minutes later, Jeya was the only one of the three who had failed to produce even the weakest cheering effect.

“I just don’t understand how they haven’t been expelled!” She slouched in her seat, her golden eyes flashing.

“I’ve heard they’re afraid of where they’ll go for alternative training,” Scorpius replied, “They could enroll them in Durmstrang where that type of behavior is more than permitted…”

“So, they just get away with it?” Jeya looked incredulous.

“Well, the Ministry keeps tabs of ‘blood hate’ on potential hires- there’s a hard cut off for incident number and age where you’re automatically disqualified. And I think any employer can request the records and make their own terms,” Al recalled a conversation between his parents when the law was passed, “So they aren’t doing themselves any favors outside of school.”

“Too bad they could probably live three lifetimes off their wealth,” Jeya retained her dour mood, only reacting when she noticed how red Scorpius had become.

“I mean your Dad works at least…” She contemplated that thought, “Is it, because of… your Mum?”

Her voice had gone so quiet Al had to lean in to hear. Scorpius shook his head, “No we, well I don’t know if Dad got cut off… I don’t think he did, not like Mum. But the exchange of wizard and muggle currency is amazing so that hasn’t been a problem.”

Al had since learned that the reason Scorpius was acquainted at all with Jeya was because his mother was gravely ill, though Al hadn’t been told any further details. Frustrated with the lack of progress (or sympathy) from St. Mungo’s, Draco had sought treatment at a muggle hospital, somehow convinced they might come up with a better prognosis.

It was definitely towing a fine line with the conditions of the Statute of Secrecy, but the Malfoys had caught a break when, upon a friendly conversation with an interested doctor, realized the bizarre incidences she described regarding her daughter were likely signs of blooming magical ability. He’d gotten special permission from the former Minister himself to confirm the girl’s status and seek treatment under Dr. Siva’s care, as long as intermittent surveillance was kept, paid out-of-pocket.

“Surveillance?” Al had questioned him after first hearing the details.

“Dad thinks I don’t know, but there’s people that think she’s only ill because of some Dark magic,” He’d supplied, bitterly, “So if you could keep the information to yourself…”

“Why is the exchange so uneven?” Jeya asked, after a pause in reading the proper inflections of the incantation.

“I… oh yeah I suppose it’s hard the other way around,” Scorpius pondered for a few seconds, “Dunno, I mean the coins are still real metals? And Goblin quality so maybe… I mean I never understood how paper can be valuable anyway.”

This finally made the smallest smile appear on Jeya’s face, “I think it’s representation… like you can’t just take any old piece of paper and say it’s worth something.”

But her face became serious once more, “But anyways, it must be difficult for muggleborns to adjust when they come here. I mean my parents are well off but I’m much more expensive than my brother… and it seems like others really struggle…”

Unconsciously, the three glanced at Rowan White, who was also having visible difficulty mastering the lesson.

“She has nothing beyond the basics, and they’re all second-hand,” Jeya whispered.

“How is she?” Scorpius asked, and Al knew his was wondering if she was as mysterious as the Markov twins. The two had given nothing away of their background.

Jeya wobbled her head, thinking, “I mean she’s overall friendly and really athletic, though she hasn’t been feeling well lately, but mostly she’s really stressed about her brother. He’s been missing classes since last week.”

The three circled again through casting their spells.

“Oh, I think I felt a little flutter!” Scorpius exclaimed as Jeya rolled her eyes, “No really! I think it says here that nervousness is almost correct.”

“Of course, she can’t get it right,” a drawling sneer emanated from beside them as Vanessa narrowed her eyes at Jeya, “You should be grateful you even get an education here instead of complaining. You can make your own money in time… you know, if you’re actually talented.”

Jeya’s cheeks looked like plums as Vanessa twirled her wand at Scorpius who, despite a considerable effort to keep his frown, looked bright, clearly showing that her spell had worked.

Al was about to retort when suddenly Vanessa broke into hysterical laughter, keeling over in her desk and bobbing her head violently.

“Oh, come off it, Parkinson, it wasn’t even a joke…”

But Al realized that Vanessa wasn’t finding the situation truly funny either. Her hands were clenching her ribs painfully tight, and tears were leaking from her eyes even as she continued to cackle, open-mouthed. Reggie and Malachi, her partners, scrambled for the blue calming solution but Vanessa hit it away as another round of shuddering laughter overtook her, the contents dissolving into mist.

And then from behind her Al saw Jade, smirking in evil admiration of her work, “Oh so that’s why we keep the last swish to a minimum…” She turned to Quinn, who looked both pleased and a little nervous as she surveyed their writhing housemate, “But I feel like this will come in handy as well…”

“MISS HUXLEY!” Professor Gracewood had rushed to Vanessa with a new vial of solution, carefully pouring a few drops into her mouth. Rather than calming her, the laughter merely subsided into angry gasps, tears still spilling down her cheeks.

“I’ve never! On another student… on purpose!” Clearly Gracewood was lost for words, “Your own house! I …well?”

The witch turned to Jade, towering over her in a menacing shadow that would have made Al wish he could melt into the floor. His housemate, however, merely stared back, expressionless, “I suppose I’ve lost us some more house points then?”

“Yes! Thirty to be precise, for your added cheek!” Professor Gracewood’s voice pitched, “And a week’s detention!”

Most of the Hufflepuffs flitted out of the room the moment class was dismissed, whispering together in huddles and eyeing the Slytherins. Jeya stayed with Al and Scorpius but trotted off towards Jade when she emerged, laughing lightly with Quinn.

“Hey I…” Jeya faltered as Jade regarded her coolly and stood much taller by comparison, “I don’t know if you should have done that but… thanks.”

Jade looked somewhat bewildered before contorting her face in mock confusion, “You think I did that for you?”

“I… did you not?” Al had never seen Jeya look less bold as she began shrinking away from the hard gaze.

Jade smirked, “I just wanted a bit of fun is all.”

Quinn laughed but Al could tell it was forced as she still looked taken aback by her friend’s actions.

“Got something to say Al?” Jade turned her attention to him as he approached to pull a trembling Jeya away, “What’d you think?”

Her eyes looked playful, Al thought uncomfortably, not unlike James’ when he was about to play a prank, “It looked like it hurt Jade. And I’m not sure it solved much if I’m honest.”

“Hmm,” She shrugged, betraying only the slightest bit of disappointment, “Well to each his own.”

Chapter Text

James found Al later that day as he entered the Great Hall for supper, “Hey I assume you’ve heard?”

“About Miss Applebee?” Al nodded, “Isn’t it horrible?”

“I…oh yeah that too,” James ruffled his hair awkwardly, “Suppose a lot’s been going on… I was talking about that stunt Rosier and his goons pulled.”

He bit his lip, scanning his shoes, “Just ah, stay away from them, will you? They’re not worth it, you know, getting to know…”

Al scowled, “I’m not trying to make friends with Rosier, James. And he’s not too keen on me either, housemates or not- or Scorpius” he added as he caught James’ eyes roaming toward the spot where his friend currently sat, somewhat detached from the rest of the Slytherins.

“Okay, yeah, “James nodded, as if reassuring himself, “yeah of course you wouldn’t.”

“Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?” Al raised his eyebrow, “Whether I’m making the right friends?”

His voice carried an accusatory inflection. James’ group of Gryffindors might not be as hateful as Rosier, but they were persistent and often times just as damaging. Peter Amery seemed to derive particular joy in modifying Scorpius’ features with various animal-like jinxes, turning his ears into elephant-like proportions, causing his teeth to grow into a horrendous orange overbite like a beaver…

The change in tone was not lost on James. His brother shrugged, his lips thinning, “Yeah, yeah I know they’ve been a lot lately.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

His brother shifted uncomfortably, “They’re just a little put out at the moment. McGonagall gave Peter detention for a whole two weeks after his duel with that Bulstrode girl and effectively got him kicked off the team seeing as he missed the tryouts. Callum and Adrian are pissed.”

“Well, he did a shrinking spell on her robes,” Al was becoming irritated at James’ numerous excuses for bad behavior, “That’s beyond crude and I don’t know why you’d even want him as your teammate.”

James reddened, looking surprised, “Is that really what he did?”

“You didn’t bother to find out?”

“She’s been in so many fights with us I really lose track,” Al felt his temper rising as James resumed his character defensiveness, “She, just so you know, smashed Josie River’s arm last year after her family home got searched by Josie’s father.”

“Yeah well, as I said, I’m not friends with people like that so I’m not going to waste my breath defending her.”

“Well, what about the Huxley girl from your year?” James persisted, “She was up in McGonagall’s office all afternoon cause she purposely threw a bad spell at a classmate! I heard Prof. Magamus is recommending suspension from certain classes.”

Al didn’t have as strong of an argument to this, but barked back nonetheless, “Are you really going to say a poor cheering charm’s too far, but the hexes Adrian pulls are fair game, James? I know Rosie hates what those blokes do to other students.”

James let out a long breath, closing his eyes, “Okay, okay. Well, I actually wondered if you’d like to join me tomorrow evening? I just told Rosie I’d take her to meet Hagrid- just spotted him on the grounds during herbology today.”

James had been surprised to find the beloved gamekeeper absent from the start-of-term feast and was quickly informed by McGonagall that he was away for “academic traveling.”

“But Rosie told me that she overheard Aunt Hermione talking about one of his reports, so I think it’s a cover.”

Al nodded, relieved to turn the conversation away from the ever-constant feuds, “Yeah, that sounds great!”

For a second, he glanced over at Scorpius, but James pursed his lips and looked away, “Well, I got to head out to talk strategy for our first game, see ya Al,” and Al took the hint that he should probably come alone.

The grounds were scattered with multicolored leaves as James led a group of first-years down to Hagrid’s hut, their vivid hues in stark contrast to the gloomy purple clouds billowing from behind the mountains framing the school grounds. They were sweeping from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, leaving the thick, wooded mass darker and more ominous than ever.

But just before the grounds gave way to the thicket, a small hut surrounded by massive brightly orange pumpkins and other colorful gourds stood warm and welcoming. White smoke was pouring healthily from a small, crooked chimney, promising refuge from the nippy weather.  

There were other reasons why Albus felt slightly chilled as he made his way down the trodden path from the castle. Rosie had invited Jeya to the outing, as well as Aldo Creevey, and Al couldn’t help but feel like he was betraying Scorpius by leaving him out. Of course, James hadn’t exactly told Al not to bring his friend, but his heavy implying had started a bubbling resentment nonetheless in the younger Potter.

“I can’t wait until we can take Care of Magical Creatures!” Jeya was bouncing happily just behind James, her deep yellow scarf perfect with the early autumn tones, “I mean Scorpius is looking forward to Magizoology with Professor Lovegood, but I really want something more hands-on.”

“He likes Magizoology?” James questioned, glancing back but being careful to avoid making eye contact with Al.

“Yeah, anything with creatures and ecosystems. He really wants to explore aquatic worlds… he’s even took diving lessons!”

“Oh wow,” James kept pulling his hair out of face, getting the brunt of a crisp wind as head of the group, “I didn’t think he’d be into that sort of thing.”

“I mean I don’t know how you would know that.” Al looked at his cousin defiantly as Rosie turned to him, a stern look passing her face.

James fell paused but didn’t look back, instead pointing to a large black mass that had wandered from behind the hut, “Oh that’s Fang! You guys will love him.”

“Al just drop it okay?” Rosie whispered as she strode alongside him, “James has his reasons…”

“Course I was expectin’ you to be here soon!” A large man with and even larger beard swung open the door to the little hut. Despite the massive amount of his face covered in ringlets of messy hair, Al could see the friendliness exuded from the man’s great ruddy cheeks and black, twinkling eyes.

“Oh! An’ a whole lot o’ you too!” Hagrid’s eyes rested on each of the first years, “Course you must be Ron and Hermione’s daughter then?”

Rosie beamed, “Yes I am!”

“And you?” He turned to Aldo, who piped up excitedly, “I’m Aldo Creevey… My Dad, Dennis, he was here.”

“Oh yeah I remember,” Hagrid smiled but Al detected the slightest bit of sadness in his voice.

“And o’ course this is yer brother! And you?”

“I’m Jeya sir!” Jeya was still bobbing slightly, looking at Fang with great interest.

“Ah no need for ‘sir’s’ here Miss, and go on, you can pet ‘em! Don’t let the size fool you he’s got no bite.”

They filed into the small hut, Jeya taking a seat next to the gigantic boarhound and nuzzling his drooping ears. Closer up, Fang looked less midnight black, with a generous amount of gray hair peppering his coat, culminating in a patchy grizzled snout. The rest settled on various chairs and benches surrounding a small wooden table.

“So Hagrid,” James began, “what did you learn on your ‘academic travels’?”

Hagrid laughed heartily, his voice booming from somewhere deep in his chest, “So tha’s what McGonagall told ya huh?”

James grinned, “So you’re telling me it was something else? A secret mission perhaps?”

Again, Hagrid chuckled, taking a wheezing pink kettle from the fireplace and pouring dark amber liquid into an assortment of goblets, mugs and teacups, “Ya know James I don’ think you inherited yer dad’s knack for getting’ information from me. Too on-the-nose.”

James took the jab good-naturedly, gratefully warming his hands on the mug Hagrid set in front of him, “Ah well, it’s always worth a shot.”

Al thanked Hagrid, who paused, coming to rest on his spectacles and, Al assumed, his green eyes.

“Yeah, yeah Al inherited the emeralds,” James drawled, leaning comfortably on the mismatched pillows lining the bench, “I got the hair though, what?”

Rosie was rolling her eyes and holding her hands to the whirls of steam rising from her floral teacup, “James messes it up just so he can run his hands through it when his Quidditch fans come by.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that one bit,” Hagrid was hacking off a piece of flesh from something handing in the far window, “Want to feed him?”

“Oh sure!” Jeya popped up from her seat to retrieve Fang’s treat.

Al almost scorched his throat through with the first gulp of tea, coughing slightly at the slightly too strong herbal flavor. He looked around the interior, trying to hide his discomfort.

And there was a lot to look at. Dangerous-looking plants hung in most of the windows, interspersed with prey for what must be Fang’s voracious diet. On the wall, an assortment of sharp metal instruments that could very likely be weapons or gardening tools hung between flower textile panels and pictures of a great variety of beasts, all snuggled with the same grinning face of their host.

So mismatched was the furniture that it seemed deliberate; even the cabinets and storage chests were all unique. Some with small cubbies that labeled various wild seed species, others long and thin with various pieces of maps and parchment sticking out. One glass cabinet was lined with all sorts of drinkware and what looked like very exotic flasks of firewhiskey.

Hagrid had been talking to Jeya about the various animals in the photographs, “This one’s Norberta. She’s a darling- I jus’ saw her out by Rosie’s Uncle Charlie, see? He keeps dragons. Say!” He turned to James suddenly, “I heard Teddy Lupin came back this year?”

James nodded, “Yeah I tried to get him to come but I think he’s being tutored in the evenings… potions I think.”

“Oh?” Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows, “Well I s’pose he wants to finish as fast as he can. Should come see me though wen he has the chance. Always a good chat with Teddy.”

“He says he wants to become an Auror,” Al said, eliciting shocked expressions from both James and Hagrid, “Scorpius and I were with him in the library, and he was talking about maybe trying to qualify…”

Al drifted off as James gave him a warning glare, but Hagrid didn’t seem to recognize the name. He looked mournful though, sitting back with his oversized goblet and swirling the contents, “I don’ know if I like the sound of tha’” he muttered, “Not at this time a’ least.”

“Why?” Rosie perked up from her seat, “I thought crime was lower than ever?”

“Oh, oh yeah o’ course it is!” But Hagrid’s words did little to convince the group, now all leaning over their half-emptied drinks.

“And why did you see Charlie recently?” James added, “Where you out seeing Eastern Giant communities again?”

“Now, now!” Hagrid straightened, his voice rumbling, “I said I wasn’ going to talk about it an’ I won’t! Blimey I’ve barely briefed McGonagall…”

“Why does the Headmaster need…”

“Okay!” Hagrid stood up abruptly, jostling the table and sloshing a few of the student’s drinks in the process, “James how does the Quidditch season look fer you?”

James looked like he wanted to press the matter further but settled after sharing a look with Rose, “I think we can take it again this year! Peter Amery’s off the team but Pierce Jenkins seems promising. But everyone else is returning and Callum’s hardly let any goals in during practice…”

Hagrid nodded, looking in the excited face of Aldo Creevey in jest, “I suppose yer a fan then?”

“Oh yes!” Aldo nodded, “I want to photograph the first game- just this new camera, it’s supposed to even capture movement as quick as the snitch wing beats!”

“Oh wow!” Hagrid laughed genially, “And you Al? Are we going to see a Potter duo on the pitch?”

“Oh! Err…” Al reddened, the implication of the question stoppering his ability to speak, “No I’m not all that good at flying actually. Never really liked it.”

“Oh no? Well, we are all different I s’pose. Yer Mum and Dad were just both into it as well,” Hagrid spotted the frown forming on Al’s face and added, “Don’ much like broomsticks me-self though. Much prefer beasts or my motorbike.”

Al smiled appreciatively but soured again when he caught a look of relief on James’ face. He gulped down the last of his drink as Hagrid made to collect the dishware and took a deep breath.

“Anyway, even if I did fly, we’d have a hard time cooperating seeing as I’d be on Slytherin’s team.”

The smallest teacup Hagrid had gathered fell to floor as the man startled, the delicate china sounding like bells as it shattered, “Oh! Oh boy…”

From his waistband Hagrid pulled out a large cherry wand, muttering “Reparo!”

The cup reformed, looking a little warped from the spell, “Hmmm don’ got the hang o’ it yet,” he muttered, picking up the cup and examining its odd curves, “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks I guess… yeh you’d ruddy well know.”

From the floor, Fang gave a low moan, flopping his enormous head into Jeya’s lap and coating her with drool. The small girl screeched, wrinkling her nose and smiling, though it did little to cut through the tension in the room.

James was staring daggers into Al, while Rosie was looking between the brothers, trying to scold them both without words. Aldo Creevey, caught between it all, looked like he’d much prefer the slobbery company of Fang.

It was a while before Hagrid said anything, taking his time to soak the dishes. But when he turned around, Al still caught a kind glimmer in his eyes. He walked over again, sitting in a chair just opposite to Al and regarded him, paying new attention to the emblem on his robes.

“So, yer a Slytherin…” He nodded, “S’pose you’ve had a lot o’ explaining to do then since ya come here.”

Al shrugged, “Not a ton actually,” adding, “I think people just like coming to their own conclusions.”

“Ah well, tha’s too bad really,” Hagrid looked sympathetic, to Al’s surprise, “But then look at it this way, ya know who’s yer real friends right away…”

Al smiled, this time with a real sense of happiness, “Yeah I suppose that’s a good way to look at it.”

“You know my predecessor, Professor Kettleburn his name was, he was a Slytherin in school,” Hagrid continued, “Bloody shocked when he told me but, well the House was different when I was a student. Excellent teacher, Kettleburn but rotten luck…” He turned to James, “I haven’t told ya about how he lost his limbs did I?”

“What?” James shook his head.

Hagrid laughed, “Let me put on another pot o’ tea…”

Almost an hour later, Al could feel his voice almost gone from laughter. Jeya was doubled over, rocking and holding her side in stiches as Fang adjusted himself away from the movement.

“An’ I say I feel sorry for the bloke but every time I think of it I jus’ don’t know how it could happen three different times… the last one with flobberworms!” Hagrid slapped his knee, “We have a good laugh about it every so often at the Three Broomsticks… retired to Hogsmeade actually. An’ he’s done some good traveling since getting that flying carpet…”

A rather harsh gust of wind slammed into the door of the hut, rattling the various items along the walls. Hagrid glanced outside, “Oh well I shouldn’t be keepin’ ya fer too much longer, might be the storms but it’s looking dark out there.”

He walked over to Jeya, taking out his wand again, “Lemme jus’ help ya there…”

Performing a siphoning charm, he removed most of Fang’s slobber from her robes. Jeya examined them gratefully, “Oh thanks, yeah that’s better.”

“Learned tha’ charm first thing after getting me wand privileges back,” Hagrid chuckled, “An’ it’s really come in handy!”

“How do you lose your wand privileges?” Aldo Creevey asked innocently as he shuffled out from the table, not noticing the darkness that momentarily extinguished the sparkle from Hagrid’s eyes.

“Oh, it’s a long story really,” He rumbled, glancing furtively again at Al and his serpent’s emblem, “But the important thing is I got it back after tha’ Battle, with me Order of Merlin first class. Yer parents played a big part in tha’ actually.”

He looked from Al to James to Rosie, a slight wetness forming in his eyes, “Didn’t even know it was going to happen until the ceremony. Good people yer parents are, you know. So, yer always welcome here, and any of yer friends o’ course.”

Al and James exchanged meaningful glances and this time Hagrid caught them, “Now what’s going with ya two?”

“Oh nothing,” James started. Al, too, wasn’t sure how to respond.

“If Al’s got a friend in Slytherin it’s okay James,” Hagrid now looked concerned, turning to the younger Potter, “I can’t say I have the best experience with Slytherins. James’ heard a few stories but obviously if you’ve got a friend…”

“It’s Scorpius Malfoy,” James replied, flatly, “That’s his friend.”

“Oh really?” Hagrid tried to sound light, but Al caught the returning flicker of something else as he looked away, “Well, funny how tha’ sometimes works…”

“He would really like to visit I bet!” Thankfully Jeya spoke up as Al was preoccupied with willing James to look at him, putting on his most murderous stare, “He’s my friend too.”

“Oh well, bring him around next time then,” Hagrid smiled, “But you ought to be heading back right away now, it’s close to curfew.”

Al was last in reaching the path up towards the castle, the wind battering his small frame. He looked back at Hagrid once more who gave one last wholesome smile as he waved.

By the time the small entourage reached the Castle, any effects of the two boiling cups of tea they had enjoyed had thoroughly dissipated, leaving them viciously shivering in the Entry Hall.

Things had turned out favorably, Al thought, recalling the conversation. But he still turned to James, fixing him with a less angry and more questioning regard, “James why did you make a big deal out of Scorpius? Hagrid’s obviously not going to hate a student he’s never met…”

Nothing about the giant man he’d just encountered would lead Al to believe he’d hold any unfair grudge against his friend. Still, James looked melancholy, “Yeah it’s fine Al. He took it well so it’s not going to be a problem. I just wasn’t sure…”

“Why?” Al pressed, “Obviously he can’t hate an entire House…”

“No,” James cut in sharply, “But the Malfoy’s specifically have harassed him for years. You might think Scorpius is nice and all, and I’m sure he is…” He added hastily as both Rose and Jeya looked ready to interject.

“But there’s a lot of history Al, with his family.”

“Sure, I’m aware…” Al started, “But…”

“No Al, I don’t think you are.”

James drew himself up resolutely as he regarded his brother, reciprocating the stony gaze he was receiving, “The Malfoys aren’t the most open-minded family around- no listen Al!”

James took a step forward, taking advantage of the full difference in height between him and Al, “They never thought Hagrid was fit to be a teacher at this school! Sabotaged him, tried to intervene with his lessons. They don’t consider mixed magical folk equal to themselves, ‘half-breeds” they call them.”

“You don’t know that Scorpius thinks that!” Al exclaimed. Even Aldo and Jeya were surprised, though Rosie seemed to have heard the accusation before, looking down.

“Well, do you?” James retorted, “I mean there’s not many mixed magical students in Slytherin. Have you ever heard him talk about folks like that? I just wanted to make sure Hagrid was protected from all that, he’s deserves a warning is all.”

Al fell silent, looking glum. Rosie stepped between the two, “Al I told James that Scorpius would probably be fine with Hagrid, but I agree, it wasn’t a great idea to bring him along right away. But let’s just leave it now- he can definitely come along from now on so there’s no need to bother with this.”

Al wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words, so he acquiesced to his cousin, offering a half-smile.

“I think we should head back before we run into any prefects,” Rosie glanced at a clock hanging among a group of large landscape portraits. She turned once more to Al, eyeing him sympathetically, “See ya tomorrow!”

James led Rosie and Aldo up the staircase leading to the upper levels, wearing a closed expression as he nodded goodnight to his brother.

Al and Jeya made their way downwards towards their respective dorms. The usually bubbly girl had gone quiet, pensiveness riddling her face. They paused near the basement entry, where the smells of the earlier supper still wafted from the Hogwarts kitchens.

“Does Scorpius talk much of his family to the other Slytherins?” she asked earnestly, toying with the hem of her robes.

“No,” Al replied honestly, “I think they burned more than a few bridges with most of the pure-blood families they used to know. You saw what Rosier did to him.”

“Yeah, yeah I didn’t think so…” She paused again, fumbling with something in her mind, “You know, his dad was always really nice with me. He helped me get my school supplies, even got my owl from some special breeder the family knows, as a sort of welcoming gift.”

Conflict deepened the lines in her face as she continued, “He’s never been rude to my parents- I mean you know the arrangement but… well… people in my House are shocked we’re friends and I’ve heard things, things that sound a lot like what your brother was saying.”

She searched Al’s face, as if trying to decipher some code, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to make of it is all.”

Al nodded, trying to look comforting, “I don’t know more than you about this, but I do know he values your friendship.”

“Oh yeah,” Jeya perked up slightly, “No I’m not worried about him personally. Well, goodnight Al, let’s try to visit Hagrid soon again.”

She turned, heading towards the basement entrance as Al continued downward into the dungeons. It was odd, he thought, how different his information was about the Malfoy’s than his friends in other Houses. Of course, the students in Slytherin had a very different bone to pick with Scorpius, but the idea of new and different rumors following him from the rest of school gave Al a troubled, lonesome feeling. He imagined being trapped on a boat in the middle of the Great Lake, surrounded by snapping beasts on all sides, and Scorpius simply waiting for it all to collapse, too ashamed or scared to tell his own version of the truth.

Chapter Text

Albus looked at the package sitting at his usual seat in the dining hall. "Where do you go Ibn?" He checked the send date, released from home almost two weeks ago. The bird blinked innocently and nibbled at his pocket.

He tossed him a bit of the granola bar inside, "Not that you deserve it," but laughed when Ibn started strutting in celebration.

James walked over to the Slytherin table, "Erm, Mom sent these with Bidi seeing as Ibn's been gone for so long," He tossed a wrapped chocolate pumpkin to his brother and turned quickly to rejoin his friends.

Al struggled for a moment, deciding on his words, "Good luck today James! I'll be rooting for you."

Callum and Adrian were also at the Gryffindor table and shot Albus particularly accusing glares. Callum lashed out venomously, "Now we know which Potter takes after his father, actually good enough to play the game!"

James paused but didn't turn, disguising his hesitation by adjusting his seeker uniform. Albus winced and sat back down, coming to level with similarly hostile stares from Malachi and Reggie. Scorpius was trying to unwrangle a letter from his owl and didn't notice the exchange. Albus brought out a little more granola to distract the Great Gray, allowing Scorpius to finally pull his mail free and positioning the bird between him and his sour housemates.

"Thanks mate." Scorpius acknowledged his friend, but Al gloomily sunk into his breakfast, slowly chewing a bite of his eggs while swirling the yolk absentmindedly.

Gryffindor was to play against Ravenclaw in the first Quidditch match of the season and the favor was heavy for Gryffindor team, given James' stellar performance the year before. He had caught the snitch in every match, ending the last game against Slytherin in a record twenty minutes. Adrian, too, would probably break the previous school record for total goals sometime this season.

But the chances had shifted recently due to a set of unsportsmanlike events. James had arrived at practice to find his beloved broom, an Arrowhead 360, blasted apart with what looked like a reductor curse, the handle little more than a pile of splinters.

Moreover, during the practice, Adrian and one of the beaters, Gladys Pepperhorn, realized their own brooms had been tampered with, the footholds twisted slightly. Gladys had tried to kick her rests into order once more, but accidently accelerated and in her off-balanced position, was thrown violently into the ground. With two broken wrists and a sprained ankle, she tearfully informed her teammates that she would have to sit out for the rest of her final season.

Naturally, the Slytherin team was suspect; Gladys was a muggleborn, and had been playing Quidditch since her Second Year, leaving plenty of time to develop deep animosities with Slytherin players. But with little trace of any magical signature that might give away the culprit, the Gryffindors were left with only guesses. The reductor spell was only learned by Fourth Years and above, but this only cleared the Slytherin Keeper, Second Year Timothy Nott, who was probably the least likely perpetrator regardless.

James had pulled Albus aside between classes about a week after the incident, asking if he'd heard anyone bragging about being involved in the prank. Al had sworn he'd heard nothing, a fact that had personally led him to believe that the Slytherin team was not actually behind it. James seemed upset, though Al thought the frustration was brought by the general standstill of information.

So he was somewhat surprised when only a day later, Adrian, Peter, and Callum, along with Callum's girlfriend Patricia Beauton, cornered him as he made his way to lunch.

"Hey Potter!"

Al hadn't turned immediately as his housemates rarely called him by his surname. Of course, the inaction was understood by the Gryffindors as avoidance, and Al soon found himself shoved onto a hallway bench with Adrian gripping his robes in his fist.

"What's wrong with you huh? Don't want to talk?" Adrian's face was uncomfortably close, and Al couldn't help but focus on a wine-colored bruise blooming from the left side of his chin all the way up to his brow.

"Think it's pretty?" Adrian snapped, "Your friends Goyle and Macntyre gave it to me after we told them off about their little trick. Great losers the lot of you. James' is even worse, got hit right on the nose."

"James?" Al perked up, concerned, "But I... I just saw him the other day." Though as he glanced at Adrian once more, he could see the bruise was quite recent.

Callum snorted, "Yeah well because you seem to think that defending your slimy friends is more important than helping out your own brother, we decided to take matters into our own hands."

"Since when were houses more important than family huh?" Peter spoke up, regarding Al in contempt.

Al shook his head at the comments, muttering quietly, "I really don't know what happened, no one in Slytherin has said a thing about it, at least what I've heard."

Clearly his earnestness was lost on the Gryffindors. Adrian finally loosened his grip, though not without shoving Al a little into the back board of the bench.

"He's a lost cause, " turning to Al, he spat, "Well I hope you like your new friends, let me know what happens when they start calling you a blood traitor and we'll see how much I care."

"They're... they're not my friends."

"Who?"

"Goyle and Macntyre."

Callum narrowed his eyes, "Do you think we only have a problem with them? What about that Parkinson girl that won't leave Ida alone huh? Or the twins in your year that look like they've already used the killing curse!"

Patricia laughed, looking at her boyfriend in amusement, "They do look creepy. And they follow you around like dogs."

Al felt his cheeks reddening, and glanced around the hall, unfortunately empty in the meal hour.

"And let’s not forget the Malfoy boy you're never without! Most cowardly family the wizarding world has to offer!" Adrian nudged Callum as Al burned even more crimson.

Callum grinned cruelly, "Oh that's what set him off! The pathetic son of a man who should be in jail but instead gets to sit on the Ministry cabinet! Is he your friend?"

Al stood abruptly and pushed through the older students tripping slightly on his robes and earning another bout of smirks. Finally mustering a bit of courage, he glared once at the group and headed towards the Great Hall. From behind he heard James' friends try their last attempts at insults.

"I really can't believe he wouldn't tell!"

"I mean his own brother!"

"Maybe he won't blame it on anyone because he did it himself out of jealousy."

"Yeah, I'd be pretty embarrassed too if I did so poorly in flying."

Al stopped and turned sharply, looking wide-eyed at the Gryffindors. Adrian smiled smugly, "Oh you didn't know did you? Word got out pretty quickly about your first lesson," He shook his head mockingly as Al paled.

Patricia giggled again, "A whole hour just to get your broom off the ground? Never mind flying for Quidditch, are you ever going to fly a broom on your own?"

Al had only told his brother about his horrible first flying lesson. He was distantly aware of the Gryffindor's continued laughter, but his mind was balling tighter and tighter around the idea that James, who had sought out his humiliated brother when he hadn't shown up from dinner, who had somehow known to find him near the Quidditch pitch and comforted him on his disillusionment, who had sworn he would tell no one, even their father, about his son's lack of talent, had betrayed him to his brutish friends over a prank he truly knew nothing about.

Of course, that had all happened before the intrusive comments about his friends and activities, Al thought. Before he’d become so obviously close with Scorpius.

He tried to untangle the painful mess in his mind- perhaps another first-year had told? But the lesson had been for the Slytherin House only (due to an unfortunate, early morning mishap in the kitchen that had triggered the fire spouts in the Hufflepuff dormitories above) and Al couldn't imagine any of his peers spilling to a Gryffindor, much less a Quidditch player.

A convoluted tale through the grapevine was possible... Al shook himself back into motion, he had already missed most of his lunch period. But as he turned towards the great hall, he came face to face with his brother.

James initially regarded Al with concern, "Yo Al, why are you all red? Something happen in class-oh."

Adrian noticed James and hooted loudly, "Oh yeah Potter! Tell us again, when the broom spun sideways and tripped him? How many lessons before he got off the ground without Madam Hooch’s help? Three?”

James froze, mortified. The other Gryffindors didn't seem to notice as they strode up to the pair of brothers. Al could feel his face getting impossibly redder, the tangled tightness he had felt in his head snaked down into his chest and closed upon his fists. James nudged him again, still gently, but his expression turned defensive.

"C'mon Al, don't cry here, geez it's fine." Callum was about to add another insult, but James interjected, "I got this, guys, you've clearly done enough."

"How could you?" Al's tone was wobbly and pitched, so close to a wail that it quieted the jeering.

James looked back at Al, a morose expression clearly present on his face. Adrian and Callum glanced uneasily at each other and, deciding that perhaps they had indeed done enough, scampered away, Patricia and Peter following nervously behind, " I would hate being either brother's brother..."

Albus and James stood facing each other, one set of eyes glowering upwards, the other trying to look unapologetic.

"You said you would tell no one."

"That was before your friends decided to sabotage my team."

"That's a lie! And it's got nothing to do with me!" Al intended to shout at his brother, but through his emotion the accusation came as a yelp. Still, James stepped back and looked nervously around at the empty hallway, "This isn't the place to do this..."

"Why? Why not?" Al managed to bring voice down an octave or two, " The Slytherin team didn't break your stuff. I'm not keeping secrets for them. I wouldn't keep that secret for them if they asked. Because they are not my friends! I mean what do you want me to do? Make up a story so your trollish friends can go beat some up!"

James quieted, but looked at Al in reproach, "I just can't believe you know nothing."

"How so?"

"They're Slytherin, they did this. Maybe you don't know what's going on, but how do you not?" James almost seemed to contemplate his questions at himself.

"I still don't understand."

"I mean sure I have my close friends, but I'm at least acquaintances with everyone. Especially my first year when everyone is trying to meet everyone..."

Al finally caught James' drift, he sighed, " That's Gryffindor..."

"... And you're a Slytherin. A Potter. In Slytherin." James drifted off again.

Al was tired and he'd all but missed his break. He made to go around James but his brother stepped in front of his path, "Why did you choose it? Your House."

Al looked at James once more. His brother's wounded face revealed the question had been brewing beneath for a long time.

"I... I didn't choose, it happened so quick.."

"That's rubbish." James interrupted, "Everybody chooses."

"No... no there's no way of knowing that.."

"Oh, please Al, you think I didn't know what Dad told you at King's Cross? He told me too, 'Don't feel compelled to be a Gryffindor because of me blah blah blah, truth is it is you who decides what you want to be."

James leaned into Al, his expression severe, "I don't why you wanted to be with that mixed bag of menaces but I it's you who has to answer for your decision to be in that House. I don't feel sorry for you."

Al skirted around him, tired of the broken record that had become of his interactions with his brother, "At least I can tell for myself who I shouldn't be friends with. Maybe everyone in Gryffindor shouldn't be your acquaintance, because some of them are nothing more than gits."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Al spun around, wide-eyed. His brother's impassive face did nothing to ease the frustration curling inside him once more. " I. Don't. Know. What. I'm. Talking. About."

A moment hung between the few feet separating the brothers. James’ expression remained stoic, as if to say he was not about to budge from his position.

“I’m going to grab a bite,” Al shoved past his brother, who let himself be pushed aside.

In the Great Hall, Scorpius surveyed Al with apprehension, “Did they give you a hard time? Adrian and his gang?”

Al nodded, shoving a sandwich into his mouth as he tried to calm down. A few of the other First-Years were glancing in his direction.

“They came over here right at the start of lunch asking us all about whoever did it,” Scorpius explained.

Al looked over at his friend, and housemates. Quinn shriveled up her nose, “Well they really only asked us and few Second-Years, seeing as they’d probably come off worse with anyone else.”

Beside her, the Markov twins looked pretty shaken, while Jade let out a “hmmph” in agreement.

Al was still upset from the whole exchange, but found he’d run out of sandwich. Shoulders slumped, he told Scorpius about what James had done. Though usually the most mild-mannered of the cohort, his pale features looked indignant as he ended.

“I can’t believe they’re doing this over a stupid game!” Scorpius frowned, “I mean our team isn’t even the worst of them seeing how they’ve earned lifetime bans from the sport.”

This was true, Al thought. He’d learned that a few of the boys in Rosier’s gang had actually been kicked off of the team after they’d injured a Ravenclaw Prefect, a half-goblin girl, by fastening her to the Quidditch goal hoops when she’d called them in for curfew.

“I’m surprised Adrian’s still on Gryffindor,” Malachi added, “But they’re just harmless pranksters right, it’s only when it’s us that they have to worry.”

“And his dad is a pretty big guy at the Ministry,” Scorpius added, “And a Governor of school.”

Jade looked at Al, puzzling, “Why’d you even tell James about flying anyway? We would have kept it secret.”

“I really didn’t think he’d tell anyone.”

Jade was looking appraisingly at him, as if he’d made some error in easy arithmancy, but Quinn seemed more sympathetic. Even Natalia acknowledged him, a look of complete worry etching her features.

She left the table abruptly as the rest of the cohort finished up their meals.

“Well,” said Scorpius, nudging Al when he failed to cheer, “Maybe History of Magic can take your mind off of things, you know, when you fall asleep halfway through.”

They were halfway to the classroom when Al heard the unmistakable voices of Adrian and Callum once more in what sounded like another fruitless interrogation. He was about to veer away from the hallway and take an alternate route to class when Milo brushed aside him, heading down the hallway with agitation.

“What’s with…”

But Scorpius and several others also looked concerned, pausing in the commotion of students filing through the corridors. Al turned and realized with horror that Natalia was the present target.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Milo reached the group of Gryffindors first, followed closely by Al and Scorpius. Natalia looked utterly terrified, trembling close to the wall and rubbing a gross, brownish black substance from her arms.

It took a second for Al to realize that the substance was actually her robes, which seemed to be eating away, the threads fraying and sizzling into goo.

“Want to match?” Adrian pointed his wand at Milo,”Vermisculus!”

 But Jade pulled him back just in time, brandishing her wand warningly.

Adrian leered at her, “Aren’t you one step away from being expelled?”

“Want to find out?” Jade raised her eyebrow, a look of enjoyment flickering across her eyes.

Al knew she’d caught a break since the episode in Charms class because Jeya had gone and informed the headmaster that her actions, though unacceptable, were not unprovoked. Still, he was not about to get caught in a feud that would surely get back to James. It would make his case of ignorance even less believable.

But then, James appeared once more, this time from the other end of the hall with Rosie. He shoved his way through the gathering crowd, as students began to linger at the prospect of another duel.

“Oi Al what’s going on?” James looked thunderous as he surveyed the group of Slytherins, completely missing Natalia and her devoured robes. Her uniform was similarly shabby-looking, and her bare arms showed long thin scars running up them, as if a cat had scratched her many times.

Al returned his brother’s anger in full, “Why do you think we’re causing the trouble James, it’s your dumb friends who wrecked her robes!”

James glanced again at the scene and suddenly looked unsure, backing away slightly, “Aye Adrian I really don’t think they know…”

But Adrian looked mockingly at Al, “Oh I wouldn’t be too sure. She’s the one that sought us out anyway…came right up and was about to say something but, well I don’t what’s wrong with them really… maybe she actually can’t talk…”

Natalia was still shaky, looking at Al as if to desperately convey some information, but what Al couldn’t be sure.

Adrian continued, “I think your brother set this freak on us in revenge! Too bad she’s about as good with magic as speaking.”

James looked at Al, who wore a genuinely incredulous expression. The Markov twins were about the least likely students to confront anyone, but Natalia had disappeared before them…

“Well,” He said, “Did you?”

“No James, unlike Adrian here, I don’t send people off to hex others. You’d know that’s not normal if you had decent friends.”

Adrian grinned, “Well, well I really hit a nerve earlier didn’t I?”

But James cut him off, “Hey, lets just get out of here huh? We’re going to get suspended from playing if we start too much trouble, you heard McGonagall.”

“Oh that does remind me,” Adrian rounded on Al once more, ignoring James, “Did you actually snitch on me to the Headmaster? Or…”

He turned to Scorpius, who had tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible behind Al.

“…was that you- wouldn’t be out of character I suppose.”

“Adrian c’mon, its not worth it!” James tugged persistently on the larger boy’s robes. Callum, who’d clearly given James’ warning more thought also tapped his shoulder.

“She did seem serious mate, let’s not push our luck. Hufflepuff isn’t going to be easy.”

Finally, Adrian backed away, glowering at Al as he stalked off. But James rounded on Al, “Can you just stop baiting him? You know he’s in a bad mood!”

“Yeah, okay” Al bit back, “I’ll just let him attack anyone he wants because he’s mad, James. Hey! I’m sure you’d do the same if he did that to Rosie one day too. Cause he’s just that important.”

James looked livid, “Rosie wouldn’t have a problem with him because she didn’t go looking for a fight in the first place.”

He cast a withering glance at Natalia but softened, when she simply stared miserably at her robes.

“Do you at least know the counter curse?”

James frowned and sighed, muttering something as he waved his wand around her sleeves. The substance wiggled, but did little more, “Sorry I’m not the best at these...”

He sat back, frustrated, “I just don’t remember the right phrase.”

Rosie, too, looked at a loss.

“I think Madam Pomfrey knows what to do about this,” He stopped trying, “But maybe don’t around looking for trouble from people that clearly outmatch you.”

“Are you really going to take his side?” Al shouted, losing his patience, “He was towering over her!”

“So what Al, he’s just tall,” James snarked back, “And as it is, it’s not the worst thing on Earth, just get it sorted out with a teacher and move on!”

“Oh it’s not the worst thing,” Al replied, his anger pounding on his head and clouding his judgement, “Fine, then you deal with it too!”

"Ver-Vermisculus!" Al stumbled over the new phrase as he pointed his wand toward James. The older boy shot backwards and cried in disgust, looking at his robes. The jinx wasn’t perfectly executed but parts of James' attire had turned into a wormlike goo.

With his anger leaving as if captured within his jinx, the relief of finally standing up to James quickly faded. Al suddenly felt scared. He turned to James, expecting him waiting with a proper hex, but only found evidence of a great fatigue that had swept over his brother's features.

For the first time, Al noticed a slight bruise at the top of his nose, curving into the socket under his brow, probably from Macntyre or whatever Slytherin the teammates had encountered earlier. Both Potters had obviously had a bad morning.

Most of crowd had dissipated when Adrian and Callum had left, but a few remaining students gasped at the idea of Al throwing a hex at his own brother.

But James dispelled any notion of continuing the fight, pocketing his wand and turning to a Ravenclaw boy,

"Aye Goernig, tell Professor Gracewood I'll be late to class, will you?"

He turned to Natalia, “C’mon, I know Madam Pomfrey can fix it quick.”

Scorpius grabbed Al, dragging him away with the rest of the Slytherins, “Yeah, mate lets get to class huh?”

Reggie and Malachi grinned as they rounded the corner,”Well they might have the Seeker, but I think we got the better duelist by far. I can’t believe you got it to work in one go!”

But Al didn’t return their enthusiasm, sidling into class as Professor Binns started another hour of monotonous droning on eighteenth century which burning and the premise of the first Statute of Secrecy. He could see the eyes of the Ravenclaws turning to stare at him as whispers punctuated the lecture.

Staring at his textbook uncomprehendingly, he felt like worms had sprung into his belly as well.

Chapter Text

Over a month had gone by since the Potter brothers had fought and Albus had been in a constant bad mood ever since. He had almost skipped the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff but Scorpius had convinced him otherwise. Most of the Slytherin team had sided against Gryffindor and Vanessa snorted loudly when she saw the pair donned in red and gold.

"Oh shut up Parkinson you sound like a farm animal," Jade smoothly passed between the boys and Vanessa, dressed conspicuously neutral and looking bored. Vanessa had just got to her retort when Jade spotted Quinn and left to sit by her. As she turned Vanessa gave a shout and clutched her nose, which was becoming quite snout-like and pink.

Al had found that despite spending his childhood with Lily and Rose and his other cousins, that he was quite afraid of the Slytherin First-year girls. It didn't help that almost all of them were taller than him. Since the incident in charms class the fight between Jade and Vanessa had only worsened. She and Quinn were now best of friends and barely spoke to Vanessa, who preferred the company of a few Second-Years she'd known before starting school.

For their part, Al and Scorpius had never seen any further incidents, yet strange things occurred in every class for the last few days. Jade had gotten a good chunk of her hair cut by a mystery stray spell during their shearing charm lesson. And Vanessa in turn had her robes ruined by a Bogeyroot extract "spilled" while  Quinn was nearby in Herbology. And yet none of the three had said a word of complaint to their professors since- which Al found most terrifying. Natalia rarely spoke to any of them, preferring the company of her twin, and Al couldn't blame her.

Presently the Second-year Slytherin girls were coming to aide Vanessa and Al and Scorpius hurried away, soon spotting Jeya in the front stands. Scorpius had told her all about the sport before coming to Hogwarts, but nothing prepared her for the first game. She'd been absolutely mesmerized, even checking out a few books to catch up on the jargon. Someone had charmed her badger hat to howl loudly whenever Hufflepuff scored and growl if the opposing team got too close. It was growling now as Scorpius and Al neared in their Gryffindor attire.

"Just don't cheer too loudly you know," But her eyes were friendly. Just as the teams entered the pitch, Scorpius started waving frantically and Al spotted his target. Rose, along with Ida and Anya, were searching the stands for empty seats. The three made their way toward Al and Rose smiled brightly at him.

Surprisingly, she had taken Al's side in the fight between her cousins and had even told off James in the Common Room, the sole detractor to an otherwise sympathetic crowd.  The idea of the wildly different Potter children being at odds was both tantalizing gossip and, given James' overall popularity and age, deeply unfair to Al. He'd been reminded that he was neither as funny or as charming as his brother, nor athletic. And besides being sorted into Slytherin, he was not otherwise very interesting.

Rose was impressively single-minded when it came to issues like these, for which Al was grateful. He hadn't made many friends since the start of the schoolyear, but at least he hadn't lost her. Still, a nagging gloom that seemed to bother him constantly made Al feel like, eventually, Rose might retreat to the comfort of Gryffindor friends (she'd made many) and leave him and Scorpius behind.

Ida and Anya regarded Al and Scorpio shyly. Ida had bug-eyed glasses that matched Professor Trelawney and many light freckles covering her face, which made her look rather like a snowy owl. Anya didn't need glasses to give the illusion of big eyes. Her dark brown orbs were always very open and slightly in awe, whether it was taking notes in class (which she did very frantically) or simply watching the pictures on her way through Hogwarts.

Recently, the girls had struck up a friendship with Rose like glue and sometimes Al would catch the three animatedly talking, but he was lucky if we got a complete sentence in response to any of his attempts at conversation. They didn't seem to be rude and neither was particularly amused by the taunts directed at Al- still, it was hard to see why they ended up in the brave, but rowdy Gryffindor House.

Al stopped his train of thought abruptly. It had been months since the Opening ceremony and Al was dawning on the idea that whatever the Sorting saw within their heads, many of his classmates had yet to fill those shoes. This gave Al both hope and trepidation; he was, after all, the same person before and after being sorted, there was no need to scrutinize his past actions or change anything. But what if the hat saw something in Al's future? Something that would change him to… well to someone he didn't like. They had just finished the chapter in History of Magic about the Hogwarts Founders and Al hated Salazar Slytherin. Who would put a monster in a school?

The lesson had been unfortunate timing since Al had just finished a letter home, telling his parents about his House. He'd instead ripped his letter to shreds and let Ibn hop around in the pieces. How could his Dad handle a son placed into a house that bore the origins of Voldemort's, and so many other Dark wizards' prejudices—that more or less orphaned him? Al shook his slightly and grinned at Scorpius teasing Jeya's very agitated hat. The Quidditch match was about to begin.

James flew unto the pitch with ease and swooped around center field as the chasers made practice shots before the first whistle, rallying the Gryffindor fans with a few sweeps across the stadium. The fact that he was currently using a school broom while his own was being repaired barely registered in his grace and speed. As he swerved near where Al sat, Jeya's hat gave a great growl and bark, slightly startling his brother. James did a loop-de-loop and circled back to look at Al's small friend, puzzled. After spotting the charmed garment he gave a great laugh and saluted the group, winking.

"Good luck James!" Al shouted a little loud, surprising himself. James on considered Al for a moment, but unlike his usual cold reaction, he nodded, grinning. Perhaps the adrenaline of the match had lifted his spirits just enough to put an end to the ostracization, Al thought hopefully.

He returned to the center of the field where the players had begun to line up as Madame Hooch entered the pitch. She began bellowing the rules to each team as she wrestled open the case with the playing balls, releasing the snitch. James ceased to take in the crowd and now focused on his target. The Hufflepuff seeker, Isaac Engledorf had been regarding James with intimidation and nervously eyed between the small, golden spot and his opponent.

"He might make co-captain next year, you know. I've heard Josie Rivers had been impressed with him this year." Rose chattered to Al as the bludgers shot into the air and whizzed around the pitch.

"He's got to be one of the youngest captains ever then!" Scorpius exclaimed.

"In a couple decades that's for sure." Replied Rose, "Either way, he'd be loads better than Adrian, such a git, "she wrinkled her nose and glanced at Al meaningfully.

Al was impressed as well but another unconscious feeling had bubbled beneath those good intentions. It wasn't jealousy directly, but Al was sure that news of his brother being promoted to captain would make both his parents, Quidditch stars in their own right, quite proud. It would so perfectly fit what anyone would expect a Potter to be…. Something Al rarely felt he achieved.

The whistle popped Albus out of his (now frequent) brooding and he brought his attention back to the game. The quaffle was taken immediately by Adrian, who made a beeline for the goals. He was massive for a chaser, but somehow stayed agile enough to move with frightening speed. The Hufflepuff chasers were all third years and barely made and effort to steal, likely frightened of being knocked cleanly off their brooms by his freight-like momentum. In ten minutes, Gryffindor was leading by 40 points.

"As is usual, we see Gryffindor 'as taken a good lead from ze Hufflepuffs. Adrian 'as taken possession quite often and leads the score with 'hree goals." The unmistakable lilt of Dominique Weasley floated across the stadium, "'ee is definitely a strong player but also he doesn't pass much now does 'ee?" She critiqued the Gryffindor in her singsong voice.

Rosie snorted, "Of course only Dominique could get away with this…"

She was probably right, thought Al. Dominique was a fourth year Ravenclaw and beyond beautiful. She'd somehow inherited her mother's glistening locks with the Weasley traits, getting a head of sleek, strawberry blonde hair and deep blue eyes framed by ample lightly colored lashes. Apparently she was coy and quiet in school, which made her more mysterious- but Al and Rose knew better about that. At the moment, Adrian seemed more pleased that she'd mentioned him at all than really registering her comments…

"Oh and a wonderful return by Graham Dizz- izi-inger, it 'eems the Hufflepuffs 'ave been underestimated! Bravo!" Dominique now turned her attention to the Hufflepuff captain, who had just scored after a lovely dive from a bludger. Al noticed Graham Dessinger also enjoyed being mentioned by his cousin, his cheeks blushing beyond the flush of adrenaline.

Of course the Hufflepuff's comeback was brief as Adrian returned with yet another goal. Then, for a moment, everyone's attention riveted on the seekers, as James suddenly swooped steeply toward the ground. For a moment. Al thought he saw the glint of the snitch slightly ahead. It didn't look as though Engledorf had spotted the snitch himself as he seemed to trail James deliberately, straining to see. Al found himself standing up to cheer, along with his friends…

A bludger zoomed sideways at the two seekers and Engledorf pulled up and away. James was also aware of the ball but kept inching closer to the snitch. Finally, though, the ball caught up and he was forced to abandon his quest. He expertly rolled around his broom, just missing the bludger by centimeters and quickly righted himself. Still, it was obvious after a few moments that he'd lost sight of the snitch.

"Oi Vance, get your head in the game! He's got one job and so do you!" Al could hear Adrian berating Gladys Pepperhorn's replacement, Annaliese Vance. The new beater reddened profusely as the game resumed. "I knew we should've went with Carlyle…"

"Aye Adrian let up… maybe you can beat your goal record now," James had pulled up near the two and playfully bantered away the tension. Josie Rivers looked more stern as she gained control of the Quaffle and passed it to Adrian, "Remember who's Captain Haverford…"

James would not be able to prevent more turmoil however, as less than ten minutes later, another bludger smacked harshly into Adrian's shoulder, throwing his shot at goal far left and taking his scoring arm temporarily out of commission. This time, Al was sure the entire stadium could hear him insulting Anna, which was confirmed by Madame Hooch's warning for sportsmanship.

Rose rolled her eyes, "Ugh see how he is, it's unfair he's so good otherwise I'm sure they'd be shot of him." Jeya's hat growled in agreement and Scorpio nodded, though probably for more personal reasons as Adrian was in competition for being his worst bully so far, "I mean it's not really her fault…" he agreed.

Al concurred. Anna had definitely missed the bludger, but only because it seemed as though she and Pierce Jenkins, the other beater, weren't communicating well and failing to cover both sides of the pitch. From what he'd heard from James, a good beater set needed to basically mind-read each other, something Al doubted anyone could learn in less than two weeks.

"An' now we know why we play thee whole game! A beautiful combination by the lovely Pasha and Monique!" Monica Niles grinned as she rounded back from her goal. For the next half-hour, Hufflepuff made a steady comeback against Gryffindor's 60 point lead.

This was despite good passing between Rivers and the third chaser, Max Baskerville. The problem was Adrian, who, as Dominique had pointed out, was horrible at passing the quaffle. At first, he stubbornly persisted with the ball to the Hufflepuff goal, but his arm no longer had the speed to outwit the Keeper. But even when he tried to pass, he rarely made it easy for his teammates.

Yet despite this apparent dynamic, it was clear Adrian thought the blame rested on several people, maybe even everyone but himself. He even snapped at Josie after the Hufflepuff beater was able deflect his poor pass with a bludger. But the person at the end of most of his frustrations was Vance. He now practically followed her around whenever Hufflepuff had the quaffle, telling her to be anywhere than where she was at the moment. Josie was too busy defending to throw much more than a nasty glance or two.

"Gosh McGonagall looks furious." Rosie commented. Indeed, Al could also see the Headmaster pursing her lips tightly, her bright eyes flaring as she caught snippets of Adrian's insults, "I suppose this is the first time they've seen him like this given how much Gryffindor has been winning lately…."

It finally seemed like Anna had, had enough of her teammate as she abruptly dived away from Adrian. But Al and others in the stand quickly realized that, once again, James was racing another bludger as he caught sight of the snitch. Glancing toward his left, he seemed to spot Anna hurtling his way and promptly returned attention to his prize. Again Al stood on his feet, but this time in apprehensive anticipation. Jeya verbalized his fears, "How is she going to bat that ball away when they're so close!"

Given Anna's position, it looked as though she'd only catch up inches from James. It seemed equally likely that he'd be thrown off by either her or the bludger. Still, none of the players had given up the chase. Al almost closed his eyes as the point of collision became unbearably close, but was glad he hadn't.

"Thwack!" Anna had also predicted that she wouldn't have the arm room to swing at the bludger and had instead brought her bat vertically down from above her head.

"I think thee bludger eez stuck in the ground! A brilliant idea by Annaliese Vance!" Dominique crooned from the announcer's stand, "And, oh my I 'ope she eez okay!"

The momentum completely knocked Anna off her broom, but she was able to catch her arm under the handle, slowing her fall to the ground. "GO JAMES" she screamed as he had concernedly turned to check on her. He blasted forward and yelped victoriously as he clutched the snitch.

As the teams landed Adrian roared in approval at James' performance, but he veered away from his friend's high-five, rushing instead to hoisted Anna on his shoulders as the other players rallied around her. It might have been the recent isolation from his brother, but Al was willing to see any slight on Adrian as a sign that his brother was maybe seeing his friend in a new light.

He looked over at Rose cheering and smiled, "Yeah, I think he'd make a great Captain."

Chapter Text

The group of first-years made their way back to the castle and Jeya was only slightly disappointed by the Hufflepuff loss as the final moments had been so entertaining. Scorpius and Rose looked absolutely amicable as they recounted their favorite plays and even Ida and Anya were enthusiastically adding their own observations. Rose waved happily at another group of Gryffindor First-years, Rudy, Maybelle, and Aldo, "May, your sister did great!"

"I agree! And I hear you aren't a bad flyer yourself? Maybe we'll have two Vances in a few years- siblings make great Beater teams." James had materialized from behind the group with Josie and Anna. Al noticed the older Vance was now holding the snitch and beaming, far from the tears she'd almost been driven to during the match. Maybelle looked beyond pleased at the recognition.

"So the party starts at six!" James exclaimed and, noting Al, "Anyone who cheered for Gryffindor today is invited! And you too if you don't wear that hat!" he pointed at Jeya jovially, "Password's pick-axe, which incidentally is what Madame Hooch is currently using to get Anna's bludger out of the pitch!" James laughed at his own joke before catching up with some older friends.

Josie rolled her eyes and regarded Al and Scorpius, "Come over around seven unless you want to hear him and Adrian retelling the entire season so far," adding, "But I hope you come!"

Scorpius looked brightly at Al. It was one of the first friendly interactions he'd had with a Gryffindor outside of Al's acquaintances, especially after the vandalism. But Al wasn't so sure he wanted to go. Truth be told, he had no idea where he stood with his brother at the moment and couldn't tell whether James' invite was an attempt at mending their fallout or simply post-victory euphoria. Then again, Al knew that if he kept avoiding his brother, the rift would almost certainly widen between the two. He doubted going to the party would truly heal his feelings but he'd felt so wounded lately that even a temporary bandage was somewhat appealing.

"It sounds fun." Al mustered and Scorpius didn't register his slight trepidation. He turned to Jeya, "And you'll come too?" Jeya smirked and nodded, " I guess I can manage to bruise my ego a bit more."

Later that evening Al and Scorpius waited at the Hufflepuff dormitory entrance for Jeya to emerge. Scorpius had managed to charm an old crystal ball he owned, similar to the Cele-orb they'd gotten for Margie, to mimic a light display that looked like a prancing lion, "I want to show Rosie, I think she'll be impressed." He explained. Al was truly happy that his friend was so excited for the night. Jeya appeared shortly after they arrived and the three headed towards the Gryffindor common room.

"Pick Axe!" stated Al to a befuddled Fat Lady, "NO SHARING OF THE COMMON ROOM PASSWORDS" She bellowed into the open gateway to the Gryffindor Tower. James sheepishly winced as he greeted Al and his friends. "It's okay she was going to change it tomorrow anyway…"

Albus gazed around the circular space. The walls were draped in long luxurious red and gold drapes crocheted with the Lion emblem. The lamplight from the chandeliers also cast a gold hue across the space and a crackling fire babbled in the background of raucous celebration. Almost every Gryffindor had made their way into the room and was singing random tunes with glee. Albus spotted a good number of Ravenclaws and even a few Hufflepuffs as well, probably friends of Dominique and Teddy, respectively, who came over as they spotted Al.

The Weasley clan had largely dismantled the old standing tradition of Common Room exclusivity as their student numbers steadily grew and House choices diversified. Dominique had caught Albus staying late at the Great Hall numerous times since the beginning of the year, trying to avoid Rosier and his thuggish gang of friends, who'd taken to bullying them regularly out of their own Common Room. She'd gracefully offered to let him study in the Ravenclaw Common Room and was very impressed when Al correctly answered the riddle that afforded entrance.

"I've heard something like it before- in a Muggle fairy tale."

"Ah that eez so precious," She'd patted Al on the head approvingly, "De Muggles are more thoughtful than us sometimes I think. My Maman, says they make thee most exquisite art even with no magic."

Al adored the spacious Ravenclaw tower and the ceiling proved especially useful in studying for his early astronomy quizzes. But eventually he felt burdensome to his cousin.

"Albus!" Teddy roared as he approached the newcomers," What a game right? I mean they would've lost had I played this year of course…" He winked and tousled James' hair, "I need to pass my N.E.W.T.s though so I get on with the finer things in life. Ah I know you!" He laid eyes on Jeya and finally noticed Scorpius, "Ah hello again!"

"Hi," Scorpius was struck by shyness as several students began to recognize who had entered. But the party was too merry for anyone to say much. 

"Rosie they're done! Come over!" Aldo Creevey piped up from a large cushiony sofa near the fire. Al saw his cousin cross the room and pulled his friends over. Aldo had laid out several polaroid photos on a coffee table of the earlier game. "Oh bring James here! Look what I got!" He'd managed to capture the moment James caught the snitch, with Anna jumping below.

"Wow you could send these to the Daily Prophet." Scorpius admired the image.

"You think?" Aldo blushed, "Oh I got this too!" He handed Scorpius an image of the crowd. Though it was rather far away, Albus could make out he, Jeya, and Scorpius in the stands, with Scorpius making a face at Jeya's celebrating hat after a Hufflepuff goal. She swatted Scorpius, "One of these days he's going to bite you."

James made a round to the fireplace with his hands full of mugs of peppermint hot chocolate, which he handed to the group. "Oh wow Aldo that's amazing." He entertained the younger student as he showed him a few other photos. "Oh I'm definitely giving Adrian this one," He plucked a photo of Adrian's horrible pass to Josie, "For when he denies that he has anything to improve on…"

The victory had evaporated Adrian's temper entirely as he was currently joking with Anna and Max at a table across the room. The others seemed perfectly content to forget the fiasco as well. He suddenly stood with his large mug and bellowed, "To Gryffindor! Yet another game closer to a third House Cup!" Everyone raised their mugs and settled back again to chattering.

"Hey thanks for coming," James squeezed Al's shoulder and smiled, "I really hoped you would." Al nodded, "Of course." James gazed a bit more at Al's red and gold sweater, which he'd taken from some of James' older clothes during the summer and Al thought he looked sad for just a moment, before turning to greet a few classmates. For the next hour Al was perfectly content to sit next Rosie and recount to their friends how Teddy used to charm random objects for a young James to catch, often with hilarious results. "No I think my favorite was the time he broke almost every egg in the chicken coop, Grandma was so mad and he smelled horrible…"

"Oh Rose I forgot, but look!" Scorpius had produced his charmed orb, with the starlight lion still prancing about, "I used the motor charm we learned last week… made a few adjustments."

"Oh wow Scoripus that's so good," Rosie beamed. Ida and Anya also looked awed, "I have a similar ball! Can… do you think you could make mine do that?" Ida sprang to her feet and went to her dormitory to fetch her Cele-orb when Scorpius nodded.

"What's that we got here?" The meaty hand of Callum plucked the orb out of Scorpius' hand, "Oh? Are we trying to impress these ladies?" He waggled his eyebrows but Al caught a vicious gleam in his eye, "Aye Adrian come here! Look at this! Our big fan from Slytherin!"

The room became uncomfortably silent as Adrian crossed the room. James, tried half-heartedly to pull Adrian back to the table, "C'mon mate its going to be your draw soon," Gesturing to the cards laid out. Adrian had found a more fun game to play at the moment. He stared mockingly at Scorpius, who did all he could to break the eye contact.

"Cute charm, Malfoy," He drawled, tossing the orb dangerously high in the air. Al saw Ida frozen on the steps to the girls dormitory, clutching her orb and scanning the room uncertainly. "And who's the girl? Oh a Weasley! Tell me Malfoy are you sure your father would approve of that? "

That elicited a few giggles from around the circle. Fed by the response Adrian continued, "And here I thought you and Parkinson would make a natural couple… or are your family's too inbred for your comfort?"

This time the laugher was more sparse but distinctly meaner. Scorpius looked diminutive, fixing Al with a desperate stare. Even Rosie and Jeya were aware of how many older students were about and his cousin could only muster, "Well I think it's nice…" not really glancing in Scorpius' direction. Al looked around for James and suddenly felt unbearably angry. His brother had collected the cards and was concentrating desperately hard on bridging the pile, not acknowledging the room.

"Why don't you give it back now." Al squeaked, looking mortified as his voice failed to command any respectable tone. Still he looked at the broadfaced boy and tried not to blink. Adrian just sneered, "James there's at least one more chance for another good Potter right? This one's a lost cause." James gave no indication that he heard the taunt at all.

Adrian lobbed the ball once more, high into the air. "You want to see and even better charm?" Brandishing his wand he silently twisted the point and made a swooping motion. The orb lunged unnaturally in mid-air before hurtling to the ground. A cloud of smoke erupted and a hulking lion swirled around the mist menacingly roaring. It was impressive and a few Gryffindors clapped excitedly but Al saw as the creature rose into the tower that Scorpius' orb lay as a fine powder on the floor of the Common Room.

"Ah well it is a one-time trick of course," Adrian finished and strolled away into the approving eyes of a few older Gryffindor girls surrounding Patricia Beauton. Not many other students had heard the final comment but everyone's eyes riveted once again as Scorpius gave out a cry, "That's… it was…"

"What is your Father missing his family heirloom?" Callum mocked, "Are we going to feel the wrath of Malfoy from, where does he work again, magical zoning?"

To Al's dismay, Scorpius was obviously crying. He sprang up and grabbed his friend, pulling him towards the Portrait hole. Jeya and Rosie followed meekly. As they exited the Common Room, the Fat Lady shouted, "Excuse me but it's after student hours! You should have left for your dorms ages ago!"

"Shut up!" Albus finally found the deeper tones of his voice and bellowed at the bewildered portrait in misplaced frustration.

He forcefully guided Scorpius down the floors of the castle, huffing from exercise and anger, while his friend let out a few more sobbing moans. But on the second floor just above the dungeon entrance, Scorpius just slouched in total despair and Al decided to usher him into an empty classroom until he calmed down. Sitting in a chair Scorpius unsuccessfully tried to verbalize his thoughts, but everything came out rather blubbery, "Al my…. It was my… it was hers.. she gave it to me.."

"Who's her?" Jeya kindly asked, pattng his shoulder lightly. Scorpius didn't reply for a few moments, his face contorted as he cried.

"My mum, she gave it to me." He choked, "She got it when she was accepted here."

Oh. Al felt another wave of anger as he realized that Scorpius' pain was far deeper than simple humiliation. He couldn't say a word and simply breathed deeply to calm himself down.

From the entrance of the classroom James suddenly appeared, looking forlorn. "He—ey, Scorpius."

He walked cautiously into the room and avoided Al's gaze once he saw his brother's fury. Al saw that he cupped a Cele-orb in his right hand, charmed into a glittering Quidditch Pitch with a cheering crowd, "Hey, this one's mine but I really don't do much with it but I'd like you to have it." He dropped the ball into Scorpius' palm and slid his hands into his pockets, unsure of what else to say.

"It wasn't a Cele-orb James." Al coldly muttered, his eyes piercing

"Oh well it must have been similar… I can buy you a new one if you tell me the brand." James offered apologetically.

"I was his Mum's. From when she was little. I doubt you'll find it."

"Oh erm, I see," He glanced annoyedly at Al, "I'm sorry mate, that's rough."

"His Mum, in the hospital, James," Al bit back more as Scorpius glanced weakly at him, "No it's fine Al really, this is fine."

"Sorry, I really didn't know," James muttered defeatedly, "It's the best I can do."

With that Al snorted loudly and James finally turned to fully face him, "What!"

"You're delusional if you think you're doing your best," He spat, finally letting frustration bubble freely at his brother. James looked dumbfounded and Al erupted.

"You. Are. Absolutely. Daft. If you think you're being a hero here! Why'd you even come James? To make sure you mended relations with everyone? So you still have enough fans for the next Quidditch match?"

James looked speechless. So Al continued.

"YOU DON'T MAKE ANYTHING BETTER- you just make sure that, at the end of the day, everyone likes James Potter. Even if his friends are horrible, stupid gits and bully their friends and teammates. Even if he doesn't do anything to stop them…"

"I try Albus it's more complicated than that!" James retorted defensibly but shrunk slightly as Al bellowed back.

"OH IT'S COMPLICATED. Then why do you think that handing out gifts is the simple answer to everything! Oh did Adrian hurt your feelings Annabelle? Here have my snitch! Did he break your toy? Here have mine! It's only complicated James because you're too scared to do the one thing that would make this all stop because heaven forbid you make an ogre like Adrian Haverford not want to be your friend!"

Albus had leapt from his spot and, ending his rant, now finally felt like he could cry from every little interaction he'd had since the beginning of the school year. He whimpered once and quieted down. Again, James suddenly looked a lot like their father after a long day at the Ministry.

Scorpius tried again to break the tension, "I really like it James," He swirled his finger around the orb and watched as a team of players followed, "It's a nice gesture anyway…"

James half-smiled but looked ready to leave, "Yeah it's no problem mate, I … oh" He'd turned to go and spotted Headmaster McGonagall at the doorway, looking incredibly worn and sad. She was clutching half-emptied vials of a milky substance and had wandered to the classroom after hearing the yelling.

Al's feelings plummeted further. He'd been certain James would have kept their current quarrel secret from their parents but now his father would definitely hear how Al was actually handling school.

"Lets get you all back to your dorms," McGonagall gently glided into the situation, "James why don't you take Rose back to the Common Room- I've already put an end to the night's festivities."

She appraised Scorpius, "Mr. Malfoy I think a good night's sleep will do you well. I can contact you father about the inci.." But Scorpius shook his head, "I'd prefer if you wouldn't Headmaster…."

"Alright I won't but be assured Mr. Finnigan will be receiving detention and Mr. Haverford will not be playing Quidditch for the rest of the season."

James looked relieved at this news but said nothing as he left with Rose.

"Ms. Siva I'll escort you to your dormitory if Albus is fine with helping his friend back to Slytherin."

Al nodded numbly. McGonagall fixed him with a stern stare, " And Al, I'd like to talk with you tomorrow during lunch- I'll expect you at noon at my office." Again Al nodded curtly.

"I think he's right though, Headmaster." Jeya looked at Al.

"Oh he's not in trouble, " McGonagall reassured her, "But we need to speak before this all gets out of control."

Al pondered what those parting words might have meant as he entered the Slytherin Common Room, lit serenely by the moon and lake and green lamplight. Everyone had gone to bed and the room looked cavernous. Sinking deeper into another moody spell Al recalled how, although he'd now been invited into every House Common Room since the start of the semester, not a single friend had asked to see his.

What a waste Al thought as he gazed into the depths of the lake, which sloshed relaxingly at the windows on the far side of the room. The space was quite beautiful and stimulating, with moving geographical maps of the Lake and Forbidden forests on its walls and cozy desks of glassy landscapes that levitated around the room. But Albus knew that the room itself wasn't why the other students avoided coming here. As he stepped down the corridor toward his and Scorpius' dormitory, he could hear Rosier snoring freakishly loud and resisted the urge to open his door and Hex him quiet.

When they arrived at their beds Scorpius gave a small sniffle. Al eyed him sympathetically. Just as he was about to fall into a tumultuous sleep, he heard his friend mumble softly, "Al you're… you're really brave… I don't know how you ended up here."

"Let's go to sleep Scorpius," Al muttered wearily.

"I just… I'm really glad we're friends Al but I don't want to take you away from your brother."

Al turned to Scorpius, who looked truly guilty, "I'm glad I don't look up to my brother. I'm glad I figured out who's worth being friends with myself." He said fiercely

Scorpius gave him a watery smile, "Thanks mate, I… thanks."

Chapter Text

Albus had woken up considerably more nervous about his meeting with McGonagall later that day. He'd accompanied Scorpius, along with Reggie, Malachi, and Milo to the Great Hall for breakfast and immediately felt a change in the atmosphere as most of the Gryffindor table fell quiet and stared at the small Slytherin gang. Al noticed that Rose and James were conspicuously absent from their friend circles.

Jade hummed slyly as the boys made their way over to the Slytherin table, which, thankfully, was as far away from the Gryffindors as possible. "Albus Potter," She drawled amusedly, "What exactly happened last night?"

"Erm…" Al didn't really feel like regaling Jade with the details between him and James, "I guess we had some trouble with Adrian Haverford is all."

"Oh really?" Jade mused, not exactly surprised, "Is that why he was escorted out earlier? He was screaming at your brother, you know. The Headmistress had him leave not ten minutes ago. I hear he's no longer on the Quidditch team." She finished, smirking.

That explained a lot of the reaction Albus thought to himself as he settled in for breakfast. He glanced over at the Gryffindors once more and saw that Adrian's massive form was also not there, though Callum gave him a particularly nasty glare when Al met his gaze.

"Was James okay?" Al suddenly turned to his housemate. She pondered this for a moment, "I mean Adrian was yelling a lot, but I think he's fine. It sounded like most of his House was on his side so I don't think he's going to have problems. Your cousin left with him." She shrugged sympathetically.

Al decided to spend some extra time deciding between the oatmeal and rice pudding on the table. When he looked up again, Jade was still looking at him expectantly and the other boys in his year now looked equally intrigued. Al realized Scorpius had also grown very quiet and had planted his face in his Herbology textbook while shoving the better half of a blueberry muffin in his mouth. He glanced up briefly as Natalia and Quinn arrived and sat down to the left of Jade.

"Great conversation this morning…" Quinn remarked, surveying the group with a slanted eyebrow. Jade smiled sweetly at her, "Oh you're just in time Arthur, Al's about to tell us what he did to get Haverford knocked off the Quidditch team. You heard he went to the Gryffindor party last night I'm sure…"

"I didn't do anything to get Adrian in trouble," Al finally said, ignoring Jade's triumphant grin as she lured him out of silence, "He's just doesn't care how many people see him act like a total troll that's all. It was bound to have some consequences at some point."

"Yes okay," Jade interrupted, "But what did he do last night specifically?"

"Did you hex him?" Quinn countered.

"No, he just…" Al glanced sidelong at Scorpius who reluctantly swallowed his meal and spoke softly, "He destroyed my Transfiguration ball."

"Oh not your Mum's?" Quinn implored, "I'm so sorry Scorpius."

"Just for fun or what," Jade pushed, while briefly acknowledging her classmates' pain.

"We weren't doing anything, Jade," Al replied, "We were sitting with the other first years and Callum just came up and starting messing with Scorpius and then Adrian made it worse." He finished simply.

Jade looked disappointed, "And then what? You just told on him to the Headmistress?"

"Oh. No I guess, well I guess she heard James and I going at it and must have checked on the party."

Jade's interest was rekindled, "Oh so you had a row with the Good Potter huh?" she smiled, "I mean it was long time coming I suppose. He really runs with the most obnoxious of 'em" She gestured lazily toward the far table and waggled her hand in a mocking sort of wave when she spotted Callum and his friends glowering in their direction.

"He gave me his Cele-orb," Scorpius added, but Jade snorted, "Oh cause that solves anything…"

"Yeah that's basically what I told James…" Al finished, "Well, I sort of lost it really- he wouldn't even look at Adrian while he was taunting us. Not one of them said anything! And then when we leave… he just thinks he can waltz in and separate himself from all of it, like he's just I can't tell whose side he's on cause how can you be on both?"

"Huh," Jade nodded approvingly, "So I'm guessing that the Gryffindors are all just going to cower from you in Herbology and we're not going to have any problems?"

"Don't sound so disappointed Jade," Reggie muttered grinning.

Jade's prediction wasn't far from the truth. The Slytherin's had walked into the Herbology Greenhouse to find the Gryffindors huddled together and whispering frantically. Though the moment they spotted Al, they became almost impossibly closer. Ryan and Travis didn't even wear their usual scorn for the Slytherins. Professor Longbottom seemed to be informed of the situation as well as he scrutinized Scorpius closely, trying to gauge the boy's demeanor. Herbology was not Al's favorite subject but Professor Longbottom was, by far, the most fair-minded teacher the Slytherin students had, other than their Head of House, Professor Rowle, who only taught Ancient Runes. Even Jade seemed to genuinely enjoy the pleasant, albeit clumsy man, perhaps because he'd given her a beautiful fairy bulb after she'd mentioned her family grew them often at home.

"Well I suppose we have a busy period ahead of us, now let's see, oh! Hello Miss Weasley," Professor Longbottom rarely punished students for being late, "Well now let's see if you can tell me two potions in which the Shrivelfig is required?"

"Shrinking Solution and Draught of Euphoria, Professor," Rosie hastily found a place between Anya and Ida. She seemed flustered and little upset, but gathered her composure slightly when she saw Al looking.

"Ah Splendid yes!" Professor Longbottom puttered happily, "Ten points for Gryffindor. And now, who can tell me where all potion-grade fruit originate from?"

"The lands around ancient Abyssinia," Answered Jade, ignoring Rose's and Anya's raised hands, "They thrive especially in the Great Rift."

"Yes excellent! Ten points to Slytherin as well," Professor Longbottom handed out small shovels and spears to the students.

"Now the Shrivelfig can survive particularly harsh environments and, in fact, we find that more extreme climates potentiate the potency of its blossoms, which usually soothe the user from physical and mental stress. Now today we are going to vegetatively propagate two Shrivelfig roots, one to your sand pots placed in front of you, and another to the rocks, which are located at the edge of the table. Albus observed the large formation of boulders that made a sort of lumpy pyramid near the West end of the Greenhouse. "You'll work in pairs once again and-Oh! Be careful while you transport the roots- they can be very aggressive and a little clingy."

Al and Scorpius wordlessly paired up and obtained one of the smaller plants they could find. "Okay, you spear and I'll hold." Scorpius nodded.

Twenty minutes later Albus regretted both choosing a small specimen and volunteering to hold the roots. Once the plant had been speared apart the sister propagates had latched viciously onto each of his arms and Scorpius was not being very successful in his efforts to coax them into their habitats.

"I think you can tug a little harder," Al tried to hide some of his urgency as the roots eagerly moved upward, immobilizing his elbows.

"I just don't want to injure them." Scorpius huffed, flustered, "The roots look very fragile." He glanced furtively at Malachi and Reggie, who'd chosen the largest plant and seemed content to manhandle half the roots into their pot. Jade and Quinn were also struggling, "A little clingy he said… does that mean this won't strangle me?" Jade glared at a root climbing near her neck. For what it was worth, the spindly root seemed to reverse course under her gaze.

"Maybe you can slide your arm into the pot and we'll figure out the rock later." Scorpius offered.

That had been a good idea. As Al funneled his arm into the sandy depths of their long, cylindrical pot, he could immediately feel the grip of the roots lessen as the plant moved into a more preferred environment. Still, he continued his dive until the top of his shoulder's met the sand, before slowly and victoriously pulling his limb out Shrivelfig free.

Only Eddie Longbottom and Maybelle Vance had managed to secure both of their roots. Al noticed Ed had wrapped his arm in a rather greasy substance, allowing his roots to easily slide off. His situation seemed a little beyond that preparation. Scorpius was scanning the pages in their textbook and Al found he had little to do other than feel the remaining roots begin to wrap around his abdomen. He looked around at the other pairs and was reassured that most groups now had an unfortunate partner wrapped in one or both root sisters. Rose was the battling a particularly speedy root that wrapped around both arms, and was now traveling to her right leg, rendering her almost motionless. Aldo had just finished setting the sand pot and now puzzled out loud, "Well they don't grow above the Mediterranean? So maybe they don't like cold?"

"They snap if they freeze though," reasoned Rose.

Scorpius was also listening to the conversation and suddenly turned to Al, "I have another idea." They scampered over to the rock formation where Eddie and May's root now pleasantly pulsed. Choosing a protrusion Al held his arm as close as he could to the rock's surface, yet the roots didn't budge. Carefully, Scorpio brandished his wand and twirled it skywards "Eira Espousare!"

A small column of snowflakes began falling on Albus' outstretched arm from the ceiling and Al could feel the tendrils shaking uncomfortably as the flakes made contact. Gently, he guided the roots to the rock and made sure the growth was secured.

"Oh my, brilliant! Ha!" clapped Professor Longbottom.

"Malfoy bring that charm over here!" Jade was almost immobilized by her large plant as well, "it's nothing personal Quinn but you made it hail when you tried that spell in class…"

"I'm very pleased with all of you!" Concluded Professor Longbottom, "Always good teamwork and such creativity. Why the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs lost half of their plants and here, well, I guess we'll see how that one does…" He gestured to Reggie and Malachi's sulking plants, which had not taken well to their badgering approach. Aldo had discovered that the plants also didn't like being peppered, and was similarly successful in guiding his and Rose's plant to a rock close to Al's. Rose had sneezed quite a bit in process though. "What made you think of that spell?"

"Oh erm, well I'm also not great at the snow charm yet- it's more like sleet- and I just felt like plants might get jumpy if they're being seasoned." Aldo explained, eliciting snickers from even the Markovs.

"I'm adding another fifteen points to each house! For ingenuity and… comradery let's say." Professor Longbottom beamed as the students exited the greenhouse.

"So basically he's glad we didn't kill each other today," Jade elbowed Albus a she packed her bags, but enthusiastically waved off her professor as she left.

"Oh Al, hi… uh how are you?" Al looked up into his Dad's schoolmate's easygoing face and figured that the staff had also probably heard details of the night's events as well.

"It's fine Professor, thanks for asking."

"And Scorpius is feeling better I hope?"

"I uh, yeah he seemed better this morning but I really haven't talked to him about it. I suppose I need to find him and James sometime soon." Al wondered if Rosie was too far ahead or if he might catch her to ask about James."

"I see," nodded Professor Longbottom. Al suddenly felt a bit of the emotion that had fueled his rant against his brother bubble again with an acerbic aftertaste. He looked up at his teacher, "I suppose I shouldn't have yelled so much and made this such a big deal."

Surprisingly Professor Longbottom didn't agree right away, "Well Al, I don't really see you as much of a confrontationist, so I guess I'd need to know why the fight happened."

Al sighed, "I mean I guess I blame James for his friend's behavior that's all, he just tried to make the situation better in his own way though. I was unfair"

"hmm…" Professor Longbottom thought for bit. As Al waited for a reply he gazed up at the prominent man. His professor always seemed to look harmless and a little disheveled, with long cheeks and bushy eyebrows that rested in an anticipatory upturned manner. But on the left side of his face was a long, slender scar from the deep slice of a curse that Albus knew came from the Battle of Hogwarts.

"I guess my advice to you, is that if you truly want to live a fair life," He looked at Al kindly, "No foe is worth ignoring when they happen to be in the right and no friend is worth defending when happen to be in the wrong. But it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to-or for-them. Or at least that's what someone told me long ago."

Al pondered his teacher's words as he made his way toward the Headmistress' Office, feeling as though he understood that Professor Longbottom seemed approving of his actions but also as though he'd come across another Ravenclaw riddle. When he alighted from the top step of the staircase, he saw the door to McGonagall's office was open and stepped inside.

The noon sunlight was fractured by several stained-glass ornaments that hung from the ceiling and speckled the space with dappled rose-gold and ruby tones. Albus remembered that McGonagall once was the Head of Gryffindor House and seemed to still prefer that color scheme, though this was considerably more elegant. The space was both brimming with objects yet primly organized; small silver and gold gadgets lined a few shelves near the entrance and seemed to be place in increasing complexity. A solar system spun regularly across the rafters and was accented nicely by draping maps of planetary and lunar geographies. Beneath the galaxy was coffee table accented with several stacked trays and bowls, offering a wide variety of sweets to visitors. A smaller table stood behind one of two cozy armchairs, velvety and copper colored, with whirring machines percolating out hot chocolate, coffee and tea.

A twin set of shirt stairs led upwards into the more administrative part of the office. Behind the impressive mahogany desk stood an equally stout bookshelf, packed with old, but not dusty spellbooks, most of them referring to specialties in transfiguration, with a few on astronomy and charms. Near a large window perched no less than eight Great White owls, with dazzling plumage and piercing yellow eyes, though presently five were dozing peacefully. There were a few other odd plaques for awards in transfiguration and teaching, but the rest of the wall space was dedicated to numerous portraits of former Headmasters. And although Albus knew she was a very organized witch, even McGonagall couldn't fully render the portraits to a standard of "neat". The frames were all sorts of material, some wrought out of metal, others wooden, one was glassy and turquoise. Some were thick and ornate while others slender and simple, some were oval and one was even triangular. Like the owls, most of the portrait subjects were also asleep and a few were completely empty. A large stand with a worn potions book stood facing one of the empty portraits and just in front stood a rather large cauldron brewing a milky liquid that Al was sure was the same concoction in the vials McGonagall had been holding when she'd found him last night. The potion smelled pleasant, if not a tad sickly sweet, and Al identified the blossoms of the Shrivelfig plant he'd just propagated in class.

"Oh careful dear! It emits rather large bubbles from time to time and it's quite hot at the moment!" Al started slightly as McGonagall burst into the entryway, looking as though she'd had a busy morning. A bulky stack of letters was nestled under one arm while her other hand gripped the tails of eight, fat, dead mice. Al recognized the Burrow as one of the addresses and wondering nervously whether the Headmistress was already sending letters home about the incident last night. McGonagall walked briskly towards her, now alert, owls and plopped the mice on trays near each perch. As the birds munched contently, she quickly fixed a sizable portion of the stack to each and opened the near window, where the owls flew gracefully into the sunny skies.

"And now that we have that settled.." She twirled her wand to clean up her hands and returned to sofa and table setup where Al now stood. "Come, have you tried the sweets? Well help yourself, I know you're not that shy at home…."

Al sank into one of the armchairs with a handful of candied citrus, but only turned the candy absentmindedly as he appraised McGonagall.

"Well, it seems like there's been a bit of a feud brewing between you and your brother." The older woman finally stated.

"I mean it was mostly Adrian…" Albus began.

"But you didn't yell at Adrian did you?" McGonagall inquired.

"Well no, he's… well I don't really care about what he does." Albus tried to explain, "Everyone knows he's a bad sport and has a temper and is childish…" he caught the edges of McGonagall's mouth curving slightly, "But James, I know James isn't like that…"

Relief washed over the Headmistress' features as he finished and Al raised his eyebrows, "Is that…okay?"

"Oh yes! Well actually I'm very glad to hear you say that- I think it will help me in my talk with your brother later today."

"Can I ask why?" Al was genuinely at a loss.

"Because I can tell him that you aren't acting this way because you no longer care about him. I happen to think, and correct me if I'm wrong, that you are mostly mad because, until this year, he meant the world to you." She explained, looking for his approval.

The more Al thought about it, the more he agreed. James was always pushing the boundaries at home rule-wise but he never did anything mean-spiritedly. Until this year Al told his brother everything, things that made him mad, things that made him cry. And now, for many months, that trust had been slowly slipping away, every time he watched James ignore his friends' very mean-spirited antics. And no one, not even Scorpius, had replaced that.

"Yeah, I guess, school's not the same as home." Al concluded.

McGonagall smiled again and Al thought he might bring up the other nagging thing that had dampened him for most of the semester. "I'm… I am a little jealous of him too, I think."

A chuckle, "Al there's nothing to be jealous about that we can't work on. Some Quidditch players are horrible flyer's starting out, I don't particularly remember your Mum being especially talented until her third year. You're already doing better in class though that's not to say if he didn't try a little more…. And you might not know it, but you've managed to make a wide net of acquaintances in your own way. James has two years of friendship on you, he didn't come in Mr. Popular."

Al shook his head, "No it's really not that… honestly," He carefully chose his next words, "I just feel like James is what my Mum and, well really my Dad want and I'm…. I'm not like him and it's really hard because I don't think I want to be like him, not exactly."

McGonagall had grown more somber listening to Al, "And what do you think the son of Harry Potter needs to be like?"

With that mention, a number of the portraits came to life and peered around the room.

"Harry Potter? Is he here again?"

"Oh my, no, but I recognize those eyes."

" Another Potter? Are there more?" a dour-looking man framed with the name Phineas Nigellas Black appraised him skeptically.

From the middle of the portraits, a particularly old man with a long beard and half-moon spectacles smiled at Albus. He seemed to be looking at the empty portrait next to him and after awhile exited his frame as well.

McGonagall rolled her eyes, "Well obviously he was very famous but… that did not help," She scolded the portraits.

Albus didn't mind the interruption, until the Headmistress asked, he'd never actually considered what would make his Dad proud, only that whatever he was now probably wasn't enough. "I don't know, I guess… well he saved the world McGona…Headmistress"

"Disrespectful" chided Phineas, "That's a lot like your father"

McGonagall shushed the portrait, "Albus your dad didn't save the world when he was eleven. He didn't save the world when he was seventeen either. He was one of many young magical folk that decided to fight for a cause that was going to come for them anyway."

"But he's different…"

McGonagall shook her head, "Not in the way you think dear. There were students that perished in these halls. That endured a year of Death Eater propaganda and torture. Neville Longbottom has scars, Luna Lovegood, Horace Slughorn- the man in your Common Room. Of course your father has the scar which I'm sure is what you're getting at. But you know, when Voldemort came for Hogwarts, he promised to spare the school if we'd only turn over Harry Potter, and every one of us said no, knowing full well the costs incurred" She paused and took an emotional breath, "you Potters are one of numerous children from heroes and heroines. Your class is full brave family lines- and trust me, until fate played their hands, they were quite the ordinary group of young wizards. You are not a disappointment Al."

Albus sat silently, "Yeah I guess."

McGonagall sighed, "I know your father, in addition, is almost a legend with his story."

"Funny enough, that reputation -that expectation of greatness- plagued him in a way not unlike yourself you know."

Al cocked his head.

"He was a pretty ordinarily skilled wizard. I believe both you and James seem to take classes a little more seriously. And he knew it- I think I remember him recalling himself as 'simply lucky'" McGonagall chuckled again, "He didn't understand why he'd supposedly defeated a highly talented wizard as an infant. And he didn't think he could do it again, quite honestly."

"Oh." Al reflected somewhat to himself, "yeah I guess that's a lot to take in"

"Quite." Agreed McGonagall, "But do you know what made him win? Because yes, when the battle ended, it was him facing that monster, wand to wand. Do you know what made him get that far?"

Al didn't have the answer.

"The thing that I most admire about your father is that he appreciates humanity. I think, with the way some of us are gifted with magic, that we can let other things slide."

"Like what?"

"Like love. A good many bad wizards were made because someone forgot to love them. Like dignity, which can't be fixed like bones and wounds. Like honor and honesty…" McGonagall considered Al, "Like fairness and empathy- I think you already embody quite a bit of what made your father, and your grandmother I might add, uniquely special."

Al didn't think he'd felt this light since the train ride to Hogwarts. Still, he asked one more question, "But, Headmistress, my dad, he said he chose to be in Gryffindor…he knows I could have made that choice as well."

McGonagall shrugged, "I saw your father first walk in the Great Hall with Ronald Weasley by his side and he never left. I think you found an equally great friend in Mr. Malfoy- Houses change my dear, but I'd trust your judge of character more if I were you."

From behind McGonagall, the cheery Headmaster had returned to his seat and the empty portrait next to his finally held its inhabitant. He was considerably younger than most of other Headmaster's, with long black hair and deep black eyes. His features seemed blurrier than the other paintings as well.

McGonagall caught Al's line of sight, "Ah your namesakes! I'm sure you've guessed. Severus how nice of you to grace us with your presence."

The younger man rolled his eyes and sneered, "Albus told me you were in need of more potion advice."

"Ah well I was sure you would answer that call, Severus," The older man genially admitted his lie, winking at the younger Albus.

Al couldn't think of two more dissimilar men as he stared at the portraits, Dumbledore still smiling warmly while Severus looked the boy up and down, derisively, pausing slightly as he met his eyes, "This is the boy that he named after me?"

"Why yes Severus, and if you look closely, you'll see he shares your House as well." Dumbledore patiently watched the younger man's expression change.

"He's in Slytherin?" The beetle black eyes now fixed on the serpent emblem emblazoned on Al's robes.

"You'd already know that if you would spend more time in your House portrait, Severus," McGonagall chided. Albus recalled that the hideaway nook Scorpius had discovered held a large painting of potions and plants, but looked as though a figure should have been the central subject, yet he'd never seen anyone in the frame.

"And what, he's in trouble?" Severus inquired to the Headmistress, "That would be unsurprising…"

"Just a small quarrel between brothers is all," said McGonagall, "Harry and Ginny, most unsurprisingly have two strongheaded sons."

"James Sirius, am I correct?" Dumbledore replied.

At this Severus snorted, "Oh no wonder they don't get along…"

But Dumbledore pushed by his colleagues' remarks, "And a Lily Luna Potter to round off the bunch if I'm not mistaken. She'll be joining us next year?"

Severus choked slightly, to the older Albus' amusement. "Potter was always much too sentimental for his own good…" the man muttered. He caught Al's eye and seemed perhaps a tad pleased, before nodding brusquely and making an exit, "Well if tradition holds, I'm sure we'll see each other soon Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore looked kindly on Al, "Yes, I suppose he's right, after all, I've yet to meet an interesting person that didn't break a few rules along the way."

McGonagall had conjured a small sandwich and cookie, "Well I do believe I've taken the better part of your afternoon Albus." She handed Al the meal and guided him to the exit.

Before descending the stairs Al turned once more to McGonagall, "Headmistress, are you going to send a letter to my parents?"

"Not unless you two can't figure out your differences. I happen to believe that school is a place to learn how to solve these sorts of issues between peers- I would just rather not see brothers hexing each other in the process."

Relieved and deeply content, Al skipped down the stairs and headed to afternoon Potions. Somehow, as the anger and shame had dissipated from his mind, he could now feasibly imagine calmer words to exchange with his brother. He'd seek him out later that evening.

Chapter Text

Potions had been particularly boring as Professor Dervishire had informed the class that their Hiccup Solutions would be postponed until further notice, due to a lack of ingredients. "That's the second time this month…" Vanessa complained, "What a poor excuse…"

Instead, the class was taking notes on the various ways in which draughts differed from elixirs and the unique side effects that certain medicinal potions had on various creatures. "Why do I care if centaurs can't digest feverfew?" Vanessa rolled her eyes, "You know what muggles do to horses when they get sick…"

"Parkinson shut it. Amy and Georgina aren't here so no one wants to hear your trash." Jade snapped. Vanessa looked hopefully at Reggie and Malachi but the boys had decided Jade was a deadlier force to oppose and simply shrugged. She hissed quietly and glowered at her text. Scorpius and Al exchanged quick glances as they had been comparing theories as to what had so viciously fractured the Slytherin girls. At first, they had thought that Vanessa's snobbery towards Quinn's bloodline had been it, but as time went by, it seemed the schism had been centered around Jade. Beyond that, the pair had run out of solid reasons as to what had set Jade off.

Albus looked over to the table holding the Hufflepuffs, where Jeya looked contrastingly intrigued. After learning about the various Magical Creatures in History of Magic, she'd been increasingly interested in perhaps becoming a trans-magical Healer, or "veterinarian" as she'd described. Rowan White had left class midway, sick to her stomach, leaving her best friend Rudy Chance looking after her worriedly.

"It's just like last time…" Al heard him whisper to Jakob Geller. Apparently, Rowan had been an amazing and natural flyer during her lessons and was even asked to try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. But she had missed so many practices that she'd eventually stopped coming altogether. No one knew why.

The Markov twins also disappeared from classes every so often and sometimes Milo would be absent from the dorm even when Al and Scorpius returned late into the night. But they were so withdrawn Al never felt like he could pry much. Early on in the semester, Al had caught Milo watching his QuickRite quill editing his History of Magic essay and given him two extras for him and his sister. Since then, they had barely spoken a word, but Al was sure they liked him. Scorpius had tried to get them to hang out but they never wanted to venture much from the castle and didn't know many wizarding games like gobstones or even shared muggle games like chess or marbles, though they sometimes watched Scorpius destroy Al in wizards' chess, mildly amused. Scorpius had hypothesized that they had been abandoned by their muggle parents when their magic was discovered and maybe raised in some isolated orphanage- "My grandfather used to tell me muggles would do horrible things to even their own children if they thought they were witches…. But he could have been lying, he's not a friend of muggles for sure…" Al felt sorry for the twins if this was true but couldn't rid himself of the lingering feeling that something else explained the odd pair.

"Mr. Potter, how long must I let an Infusion of Wormwood age before it can be acceptably used in drinking potions?" Professor Dervishire had obviously seen the lapse in Al's notetaking.

"Erm.." He eyed the page, not seeing the ingredient anywhere. To his right Scorpius made a 'W' with his fingers and tapped his thigh five times. "Five weeks sir?"

"Ah hah, well I'm sure the answer was obvious with Mr. Malfoy's help, tell me, will you also be cheating on the quiz this Friday- Yes because of these two we will now be having a quiz this Friday, anything between pages 208 and 280- and ten points from Slytherin for lack of character."

As the class was dismissed, Scorpius looked scornful, "I swear I don't go a week without losing points for our house." He eyed the potions classroom ruefully.

"If you think house points mean anything, you really do have a lack of character. Really who cares?" Jade passed Scorpius and Al briskly, rolling her eyes, but giving Scorpius a half-grin.

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Scorpius eyed Al, equally bewildered.

"Yeah I think so…" said Al, wondering if he'd ever met a more confusing person in his life, "Maybe she's just trying to say thanks for freeing her from that Shrivelfig root."

"Oh good point," chuckled Scorpius, "Cause I'd doubt you could get her to say that directly…" Still, Al could tell he was a bit down from getting in 'trouble' and he was right- last week he'd been penalized almost thirty points from different teachers, mostly due to tardiness (after being hexed) or from being caught hexing someone (to avoid being tardy).

Jeya appeared moments later, looking a little more sympathetic, "Cheer up Scorpius, he's just in a bad mood…. Oh Al, your brother found me and he wanted to show you something, he said he'll meet you near the dungeons around 6."

"Excellent," laughed Al, still high from his talk with McGonagall. He had planned to find James sooner, but was curious as to what his brother had planned, "How can I miss a chance to lose more points?"

From the Slytherin common room, the sounds of the Merfolk wafted through the windows looking into the Great lake. The singing was positively enchanting, and Al had stood transfixed, along with the other first years (even Jade had been moved) the first time the haunting, dulcet tones had echoed into the space. The Merfolk kept time only to track the rising and setting of the sun, which did not penetrate the deepest depths of their watery kingdom. At this time of the year, the sun was beginning to set just around 6pm. So as the, now familiar, sunset song lilted through, Al cleaned up his space at a desk and nimbly left the Common Room in search of his brother.

The halls near the Dungeon entrance were silent and empty, so after waiting nervously outside his Common Room, Al surreptitiously begin walking towards the entrance where a Gryffindor would most likely be coming from. As the absence of his brother continued, Al begin to let nervous thoughts creep back into his mind, "What had McGonagall said to James? Had she'd been equally understanding or did James get blamed for causing the fight? Would he be angry with him?" Al had just sunk low enough in his brooding to entertain the idea that his brother may have lied to catch him out of bed when suddenly many things happened at once. Al was haphazardly pulled against the wall, his side colliding with the stone in a dull 'thwap". Both him and another person let out simultaneous 'oofs' before a hand covered his mouth. Just ahead, Mr. Filch, the wispy-haired and hawk-eyed castle caretaker hobbled around the entrance corner, with his ancient cat Mrs. Norris meowing petulantly at his side.

"There, there my sweet I believe you. Oh yes I know there are students out of bed, I can feel it." His acrid yellow eyes scanned the corridor and Al softly gasped as they gazed his direction. Yet, though Filch did seem to linger on the spot where Al stood, the man moved past him as he slunk his way down the corridor without acknowledgement. As the footsteps and paws receded, Al slowly realized the shimmery veil that had also been thrown around him. He turned carefully under the Invisibility cloak and stared up at his brother, who gave a careful glance in the direction Filch had gone before tugging Al the other way.

"Can't be too careful, I'm so tall now that sometimes if I'm not watching, my ankles show," James half boasted as he seemingly led Albus back toward the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room, "Not that it matters with that bloody cat anyway, I'm sure she can see right through this thing! I'm just glad she can't talk." He laughed lightly at himself but Al could sense his brother was just filling the space between them, nervous to let any silence bring about the elephant in the room.

In his head, Al thought about the main things he wanted to say to James, repeating a mantra in his head and trying to remember what compromises he was willing to make to get back on each other's good side. He was so engrossed in his strategy that he didn't notice that James completely passed his Common Room. In fact, it wasn't until he was stepping into another abandoned classroom that his whereabouts suddenly came back.

"James where…." Al looked around the classroom, tucked at the end of a hallway just past the winding stairs to the Divination tower.

Moonlight flooded the space like streaks of spilled silvery ink, highlighting the substantial accumulation of dust that seemed to cover most surfaces. Whatever had been taught in this space, had not been taught in a long time. At the end of the night-lit stripes, though, stood a very large and very ornate mirror, distinguishingly dust-free. Al looked up at James, who was fixated on the Mirror ahead of them and looking rather uncomfortable now that he'd brought his brother to his destination. Wordlessly, the pair crossed the room to stand just in front of the large glass. Al could now make out inscriptions on the wooden frame but didn't understand them- perhaps an incantation of some sort…

His queries were bounded as he caught sight of what lay... inside? Al quickly looked behind him to reassure himself that he still stood in the abandoned classroom. Yet, even though his rational mind reminded him of his whereabouts, as he turned again to face the mirror, he felt engulfed by the scene before him. He was staring at the kitchen in the Burrow, down the long wooden table that usually spanned the length of the room. But even with its great size, Al knew the table was extraordinarily long. Still he didn't linger too much on these abnormalities because of who was at the table. He saw his cousins- all of them- with his aunts and uncles, lined up on the left benches, laughing happily. He saw Grandma and Grandpa Weasley, but he also saw another pair of people sitting just across from them, a couple that he only recognized from photographs in a single album that sat on the tallest shelf in his father's office. The young woman turned toward Al and smiled warmly and Al saw her pair of glittering green eyes.

"It's all of them," whispered James. As he followed his line of sight, "They go back generations…"

Al followed the table to less familiar faces, but frequent features, red hair, freckles, green eyes, black messy mops…. Somehow he could never see the end. As he pulled back from the engulfing visage he also noticed his father and mother sitting right at the head of the table. He'd almost missed them because Harry, how Al knew him, looked like the father of his own parents. A sharp panging sadness suddenly enwrapped Al but was abated as his Dad turned to him in the Mirror. Tipping a mug toward him, he was smiling more fully than Al had ever seen in real life, before turning again to talk to his mum….

Al stepped back quickly from the front of the mirror, feeling like the magic was both beautifully fulfilling yet incredibly cruel at the same time. The other grandparents in the mirror looked more lifelike and real than any of their small snapshots, more real than reality itself…

James was studying Al's reaction. He smiled comfortingly, "I don't think they're actually in there, but isn't it cool? I think this shows you your families' history." He looked back again at Al, " I found this during my first year here, its not too far from the dormitory see… I," he paused, "I really missed all of you, especially you and Lily. But even Victoire and Dominique weren't around as much as I thought. I came here almost every night until Christmas."

"I didn't know you had a hard time here." Said Al quietly. He remembered greatly missing his brother as well, but receiving notes about how he'd made the quidditch team, his antics with Teddy, his new Gryffindor friends…

James shrugged, "I guess I was used to knowing everyone around me and then suddenly no one really knew me, but they knew our father. And… well I don't know how to explain it." He paused again, choosing his words carefully, and Al felt they had finally shifted to the reason James wanted to talk.

"See, there's me- the 'Me' you know. The 'Me' I am at home with Mum and Dad and the cousins, you know… I see that me in the mirror. But I never had to explain that 'Me' to anyone. So then there's 'School Me', I guess, and 'School Me' is me… of course." James looked a little frustrated as he puzzled his way through his words.

'But it's only a small part of me and, well, when you came here I guess you sometimes force me to be parts of 'Me' that I haven't shown to people here and… well honestly… I think the real me would be ashamed of the 'School Me'." He finished and shrugged at his little brother, looking for feedback, "Did that make any sense Al?"

"Yeah a little," replied Al slowly. He considered the rambling for a bit. "What parts of you do I force out?"

James looked in the Mirror again and gestured to it, "This I guess. The part of me that's someone's son or someone's brother. I mean, I know Adrian is sometimes horrible… Al please just listen." James looked weary as Al couldn't help but snort at that description. "Look, the third year Slytherins are the biggest pureblood supremacy lot there can be. There's not one of them that isn't on about that garbage about lineage. You must have figured this out by now."

Al had to agree, Gregor Rosier was the leader of a very unified cohort.

James went on, "And they hated me right off the bat. I heard it on train here- 'Harry Potter's Son'. The reason their families were outcasts. If Adrian and Callum hadn't pulled me into their seats I probably would have arrived at school bloody. And it was hard Al, I mean everyone loves me at home, even the Dursleys aren't actually that bad, but people hated me."

Al realized James had left a lot out of his letters.

"But then I made the Quidditch team and other people started to like me and thought I was funny- but I wouldn't have been that if Adrian hadn't accepted me and protected me for those months. He's the reason I'm where I am. And honestly for the most part, he didn't really go after people that didn't deserve it. Really it was him and Rosier going at it for the most part- but Scorpius came."

"What's so special about Scorpius?" Al asked. James sighed, "Dad never mentioned it but he and Scorpius' dad were also in the same year in school and, well, they were pretty much sworn enemies. His dad hated Aunt Hermione because she was a muggleborn and he, he let a band of Death Eaters into the school that were going to kill Albus Dumbledore… his family housed the Lestranges, Greyback, Voldemort himself during the last of the War."

"I mean his family did that…" Al started, but James cut in, "Yeah sure his dad was the Death Eater at first, but Draco took the Dark Mark as well, at sixteen. And he, by himself, let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts… I mean his dad was in Azkaban!"

Al was quiet. Scorpius didn't talk much about his family, other than mentioning that his mother was often in a hospital. James pushed on, more excitedly, "And after doing all of that… all those things… where are the Malfoys? Sitting in a fancy Manor biding by on their family riches. At least most of the other Death Eaters are rotting in Azkaban right now, but somehow Draco still has a job in the Ministry?"

Clearly this was a subject that many of the non-Slytherin students talked about, but Al was just hearing it all put together for the first time. Some of the reactions to Scorpius were starting to make sense…

"Most of the people in Gryffindor figured Scorpius would hate you Al. I thought I would have to defend you from him like Adrian had to for me, "James calmed down as he explained, "But then you ended up being friends… best friends! And it's just confusing because then people started saying things about you and I, well I never thought I'd have to choose between you and my friends that's all… I figured you would be one in the same." Al looked up sympathetically, as James finished, "I guess this semester just reminded me that no matter how I am at school, I'm the worst brother and…"

"What?" said Al sharply, "Why would you say that?"

James smiled softly, "I guess when I came back from school, I felt like you and Lily had gotten really close… or maybe I had just gotten less close." He shook his head at Al's protests, " No, it wasn't bad but Lily… chooses you over me a lot… she goes to you for help, she asks you to read to her, you guys have inside jokes…"

"I thought you didn't like reading to her?" chuckled Al, "You always complained…"

James groaned, "Yeah I did when she asked all the time, but then I went away to school and really missed everything. But then when I came back, it just felt like it still wasn't the same. And I really hoped that when we all came here that maybe it would start to be the same again, we'd all be Gryffindors and get to do everything together and I could be me again… and that just hasn't been true since the first day you got here…"

Al remembered James scooting Aldo Creevey over to open up a seat next to him during the Sorting Ceremony. James sniffed very softly, "I'm not saying that you chose to be in Slytherin as something against me, McGonagall basically told me you found Scorpius on train. But it's just been really hard not to take it personally… I just… like maybe if I'd been a better brother and invited you to sit with me when we came maybe you would… " He gestured to his red and gold sweater, "I know you tried it on in the summer… it was always laying near your bed."

Al was shaking slightly as he took in what his brother was saying. In a way, James' words were comforting because Al finally understood why he had acted so distant since September. Still, he needed to tell James his side.

"I didn't expect to sit in the same carriage with you, James- I didn't mind really- I knew you would want to catch up with your team," James didn't look convinced, "Besides, I had Rosie to sit with anyway."

"Then what made you choose it?" James pointed at the Serpent on Al's chest, "Like really, what pushed you away?"

"I guess Scorpius was really nice is all," said Al, "And then your friends were just so mean to him right away and… well you didn't stand up for him really either. And Jeya got sorted into Hufflepuff and Rosie into Gryffindor and it just seemed like I already knew who my friend was, and he was in Slytherin…" Al finished lamely, "I mean, I figured that since we're brothers, it wouldn't mean anything to be in different houses."

James nodded, "Yeah that's what McGonagall tried to tell me. I guess Scorpius doesn't really fit into any other house and he's okay… he's not at all what I imagined a Malfoy would be like."

Al was silent for a little longer before starting again, "James, I haven't told Dad that I'm in Slytherin."

James smirked, "Yeah, I mean he knows Al," but became more serious as he saw how affected his brother seemed, "Al, he's not going to think you're something just because of your house…"

"Yeah, but you did," Al replied, and James blanched, "Yeah but I'm your brother, I'm… Dad loves you okay? He always says you're so much like him when I complain about you…" James nudged Al playfully.

But Al looked up bewildered, "But I'm nothing like him. I'm not good at flying, I chose Slytherin, I'm not popular at all…"

James cut in, "What does that even mean Al, those are just things he did or how he looks now. He means how you are. I-apparently- am just like Mum." James beamed in exaggeration, trying to lighten Al's mood. Al gave a reluctant grin.

"Look, he's said that you are a lot like him, I'm not lying. But also, when I got here, everybody knew about him and it was honestly impossible to try to be what everyone thought Harry Potter's son would be. You deserve to be yourself, Al. Cause, you know, he's a good friend and stands up to people and, sometimes, is…cool"

This time, Al's laugh was genuine.

The streaks of Moonlight were very much slanted from their original trajectory, signaling the passage of a good amount of the night. Al looked into the Mirror once more.

"James, does it make you sad that we don't know them?" Al pointed his distinctly youthful grandparents. James nodded. "Yeah, I don't know how Dad made it without…" he trailed off, "I guess our family is so big it seems like we are always with some of them. I can't imagine half of them being gone, and he had no one. I wish everyone could be together, or that they could have been together."

James pointed to the Weasley side of the table, "Do you notice the double-take?"

Al had skipped over the cluster of Weasleys that were his uncles but now realized that his Uncle George was sitting next to his twin brother, Fred. Like Lily and James, Fred looked unnaturally young, yet still strongly resembled his aged twin. Still, it made Al feel uneasy to look at the mirror's image- everything was so real and yet the inconsistencies cracked that reality… that hope. And even though he knew it wasn't true, he was still fearful of how badly he wanted it to be so. James had said what Al also felt, he wished more than anything that his entire family had the chance to be together. That way his Dad wouldn't withdraw suddenly or hide photo albums or just… look lonely.

James seemed more wholly content as he stared into the Mirror. He turned to Al again, "I know it doesn't make a difference, but Adrian's family was almost completely wiped out by the war. His Dad and Mum were both the youngest in their family and only survived because they were in still in school. They both lost all of their siblings and his Mum had nine of them. His dad is… very extreme in the way he treats pureblood families and very particular on who Adrian can be friends with. He never mentions that he hangs around with Theodora Rowle because she's a pureblood, even though she's in Gryffindor and his dad basically tanked her brother's Auror chances when he found him talking to Adrian once…" Al tried to keep his face neutral.

"It's no excuse but Adrian could be a lot worse. And his dad is hard on him overall- he's livid that Adrian got kicked off the team and Adrian won't tell him exactly why because he doesn't want his dad to get involved with Scorpius. I know it seems like he's ruining Scorpius' life right now, but even he knows his dad goes too far." James sighed, "I know you must hate him but I know him a little better and there's a lot of reasons why he's the way he is."

"I guess I wish people gave Scorpius the benefit of doubt like that, that's all." Al said glumly.

James agreed, "McGonagall told me you expected me to stand up for Scorpius yesterday- I'm touched you think I'm that brave."

Al looked at James soberly, "I think you are that brave James, I guess I didn't realize how complicated this all was. There's no War anymore but everyone still seems to think there's a good and bad side like it never ended."

James regarded his brother, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. But there's no war between us okay? Unless of course you manage to make Slytherin Seeker."

Al chuckled, "I think I see a lasting peace then," eliciting laughter from James, "You know some people are late bloomers that's all… It's almost winter break, I can give you some tips when we get home"

"Drop it James." Al snorted, genially.

Somehow, the shadows had gotten even longer and both brothers realized that it was now very much past midnight. James handed Al the invisibility cloak, "Here, the Gryffindor dorms are so close I won't get caught. I just need it back by Saturday."

"Oh how come?" Al raised his eyebrow at his brother, "Isn't that the first trip to Hogsmeade? And aren't you the only one on the Quidditch team that can't get into the Three Broomsticks?"

"Completely unrelated statements Al, "Dismissed James as he ruffled his hair. The brothers exited the classroom silently and, after hearing a sharp yowl somewhere distant in the halls but nothing more, bid their separate ways.

From inside the classroom, the dappled shadows had hidden the calico coat of a very still cat perched under the last window of the room. After a moment, the cat began to walk through the streaks of light and gracefully emerged a few bands later as Headmaster McGonagall. She strode inquisitively to the Mirror of Erised and wondered how rare it was to have two people look into its depths and see the exact same thing.

Chapter Text

Hermione walked down the brusque, emerald marble corridor that led to the Minister's office. She wore a smart pair of slacks with a cream-colored blouse and practical ankle boots, all wrapped under a muted navy cloak with simple bronze moons crocheted into the scalloped hems. Her hair was tightly braided and bound with a navy ribbon. All of this looked very professional and unless one came very close to inspect the young Minister, they would not notice her bare face and swollen eyes, or her bitten lips and short nails. Ron, of course, knew all of this but couldn't say much on the matter, mostly because Hermione often left home while he still slept and returned almost always in the AM. Otherwise, he too was being called for more frequent overnight Auror missions, which Hermione suspected he actually enjoyed since it made her unhealthy absence less obvious.

He was on one such expedition at the moment, and Hermione had woken up in the darkness alone and decided to make her way back to work extra early. To her right and left, the portraits of former Ministers slept in the same rendition of the stately royal blue chair that she would soon occupy once she made her way to the end of the hall. She eyed the dozing Cornelius Fudge, who had passed away quietly around five years ago and snoring Rufus Scrimgeour, painted with even more slashes than she remembered seeing in real life; remnants of his final battle. Although Hermione was not fond of her schedule and would stop once the tasks ahead were finished, arriving at work earlier and leaving later had incurred one benefit; she no longer was greeted by the waking images of the former Ministers. She had never felt more like a fraud in her life.

Settling in her royal blue seat, Hermione stirred a cup of coffee and and began reading from a massive stack of reports. Pink tags were evenly placed along the pile- every twentieth report to be exact. Hermione had requested such tabs in order to keep track of her efficiency. At full attention, she could get through twenty in an hour, which meant the stack of 50 could be done before 9AM, just in time to receive the daily Auror briefing and updates from the Wizengamot about recently closed cases… She glanced thoughtfully out the windowed wall that lay to the left of her desk. From her vantage point she could see into the central atrium of the Ministry. The massive "Magical Harmony" statue looked tiny from her view above, though the gritty picture of Neville Longbottom and Dumbledore's Army was not diminished the same way.

Hermione always wondered if Neville would one day want to join the Ministry, but he had easily taken the Herbology Professorship at Hogwarts and slipped back into the gentle, albeit less naïve, persona she had grown up familiar to. He was thriving too. She had heard Rosie and Al adored him, like Bill's children before (and Dominique would barely help in the garden at home!). Thinking back to her days in Herbology, Hermione considered this a great triumph as even the pleasant Pomona Sprout hadn't quite compelled her interest for more than academic achievement. But mostly, she felt comforted by Neville's lasting passion; it was one of the few lovely things that seemed to have endured the War and aftermath without too much damage.

The senior managers of Magical departments, minus the Department of Mysteries, all had their own overlooking offices spread about the atrium. All were dark and empty at this time except two and Hermione didn't even need to look closely to know that the top left office was holding her best friend bent over Auror mission plans and updates, probably wringing his hands through his floppy dark hair while the other lower office, almost straight ahead, held a childhood nemesis probably pacing as he mapped out new enchantments for expanding magical passageways and tucking a bent wand behind a tuft of white-blonde hair. Harry and Draco did not make it out of the War Era with the same resilience as Neville, Hermione mused. She remembered returning to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year and seeing, among many of her classmates, the pale, pointed face of Draco, standing well on his own and looking at only Headmaster McGonagall with the blankest of expressions. She had seen then that his arrogance and bravado were truly gone or deeply hidden, as was a lot of his malice. Honestly, the way his stony expression barely acknowledged his peers' whispers reminded her of Professor Snape's passive, yet gloom demeanor. Only once had she seen an outburst of emotion and that had been directed at Astoria Greengrass as she pursued him onto the still-damaged viaduct.

"You need to leave me alone!"

Dark auburn hair continued to whip in a steady pace as Astoria Greengrass followed Draco, "You can't cross it anymore you know, they haven't removed the Amory yet to fix it."

The viaduct passage became narrowed by debris and pieces of stone and metal armor until Draco stopped, finally relenting that the bridge was, indeed, uncrossable. He didn't notice Hermione and Luna leaning on the other side of a fallen knight and steed, who often sat together in periods of silent mourning on the bridge, where the view of Hogwarts still showed the most damage from especially violent curses.

"Tori, my family is a disgrace. I'm not looking to be with anyone, do you understand? It is my full intention to let my line die out at me." Draco's voice was nervy and high, like he had tamed his shouts into desperate whispers.

"I never said we'd have to have kids Draco, I don't even know if I'll like you in a few months," Astoria's tone was measured and she didn't move from her stance, "I just want to get to know you more that's all."

Draco huffed, flustered, "Everyone knows everything about me, you especially. Don't act like you aren't interested, I've seen you looking at me for years at the Goyle's parties."

Astoria laughed, "Well sure, I mean I couldn't have been the only one." She took another step toward Draco, blocking his attempt to skirt past her.

"Tori I'm not here for the reasons you think, I'm done with it all. I know Goyle has been asking for support and Alton Rosier managed to beat his indictment so I'm sure you can find a sympathetic ear whenever they get back their courage to mingle again…. It seems like the younger ones are being blessed second chances by our kind Ministry… probably to save face after Stan died" Draco, again tried to ease his way around the girl.

But Astoria now looked angry and flustered, "Malfoy, if you think I want to get back in with whatever sorry blokes manage to skate by the system perhaps you aren't as smart as I assumed. Do you really think that little of me?"

"I don't know you Tori and I'm just trying to make sure I don't end up a hermit in one of my family's estates sapping away my inheritance and watching the world go by." Draco finally gave up his escape. The two had moved slightly down the bridge and their voices were more faint. Hermione tried not to move as she strained to hear and while Luna still gazed glassily out at the castle, she too had gone still.

"And why wouldn't you do that if you could?" Astoria questioned, "No don't answer! I know why- I wouldn't either. Don't you understand? Daffy won't even talk to me anymore and I just thought…. I thought you were feeling the same way."

"Are you not going home?" Draco asked. Hermione couldn't see but Astoria must have shook her head. "Oh. I… okay yeah maybe I do get it- don't cry Tori. I didn't know. We can… we can talk…"

Their voices melted into the wishing air.

Hermione couldn't tell if something had changed that night because Draco had showed up to class the next day same as ever. It wasn't until she saw him arrive at the Ministry one day, a little over a year ago, that she recognized his wife as Astoria.

Hermione clucked impatiently at herself as she noted the time. She found herself on the last page of a report completely lost about the subject at hand- she'd have to re-read the last few pages. Yet as she finished and took out a third stack of papers, she drifted to the man in the upper office. Harry hadn't gone back to Hogwarts, a great disappointment to McGonagall. He had, however, taken the new night classes being provided to students affected by the war about two years after 1997. Hermione wasn't sure that Harry was helped by those classes as they only helped to make him available for promotion in the Auror department. She had come to respect that he was a rather brilliant wizard in practice- or rather, when things had real consequences (and N.E.W.T.s were apparently not 'real' enough). He currently was up (for a third time) to be promoted to Head of the Auror Department and as long as he continued to receive promotions for another decade, he'd be the youngest wizard to be placed so high. But Harry had declined the first two offers and Hermione knew this one would end the same. Being a Department Head meant less time out in the field and Harry was more than content to lead and plan detailed excursions for his team, naturally the most successful group of Aurors in recent memory.

It also meant more scrutiny, and Hermione was aware that Harry still broke rules that didn't suit him with astounding frequency. One such instance was that, at this very moment, Harry had a stack of confidential files stored in a safe in the floor of his office that concerned the disappearance of Katie Bell. Every so often, when most of the offices had emptied, he'd open the files and scribble furiously in a rather unseeming notebook that he kept in his desk drawer. And sometimes he would take a day or two to "work from home", which Hermione knew from Ginny was a lie and, always, the little notebook would be gone as well.

Most of her colleagues had noted that Harry Potter was rather different than how they remembered him. Most also believed that the profound confundus-something, it was a powerful bit of unrecognizable magic that Harry had sustained in Wales, was the culprit to his new solemn presence. But Hermione was less sure. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, like all of them, had basked in a moment of weightless euphoria for what the future, now certainly less dark, could hold.

And then came a constant procession of funerals. Not just the fallen from Battle, but the muggleborns in Azkaban, the disappeared that had met some grim fate with the Snatchers, the whole families murdered without anyone to check on them, all finally brought to light. And while most high-ranking Death Eaters had perished, there were hundreds of suspected followers now lined up for their day in court, which would need to sort out the liars and accomplices from the imperiused and coerced. At first, it was everyone's intention to do justice, to the dead and the living, but the sheer magnitude of the work made it impossible. Hermione felt numb after Fred's funeral and found she didn't really cry at many after that.

Harry had though, she and Ron had watched him slip into the same agony at each wake. And he had gone to every burial he heard of, regardless of how well he knew the person. Ron had found a list of gravesites that they realized were people laid to rest that he couldn't attend and paid respects to later, alone. That was the word that defined Harry- alone. As much as she tried, as much as Ron, Ginny, Molly and Arthur, Minerva, Hagrid, tried, Harry had become a fog both brimming with emotion and yet subdued and secretive that no one quite understood. He was always there, at the funerals, the trials, the rebuilding of Hogwarts and the Ministry, but he walked around looking on the verge of tears and barely acknowledging the living around him.

Then, as the waves of sorrow ebbed just enough for people to move and talk once again, Percy Weasley had announced his intention to marry Audrey Snyder, who he had quietly sent into hiding after she leaked Death Eater locations to Xenophilius Lovegood. The wedding was simple, but the feeling spread like the flu- George proposed and married Angelina Johnson within two months, having back-to-back weekend festivals with Lee Jordan, who finally plucked up the courage to woo Alicia Spinnet. Neville had also eloped with Hannah Abbot, Seamus with a muggle girl he grew up with. Dean ended up marrying a friend of hers who, with him, stood witness to their vows. Ron only waited so Hermione could find her parents once again, which took longer than she expected, and settle them into a new home. Susan Bones and Ernie McMillian followed, then Cho Chang and boy from Duramstag, Vincenzo Cabari… Professor Trelawney had personally oversaw the weddings of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown's older brother Forrest, as well as Padma with Lucie Milner, another Hogwarts student. Penelope Clearwater and Oliver Wood, Michael Corner and Lisa Turpin, Justin Finch-Fletchley and a muggle man named Joel, Terry Boot and Nadine Ali. Each subsequent wedding was filled with more and more young couples.

To her credit, Ginny had been incredibly patient as she accompanied Harry to these celebrations. But as the fever died down, she had come tearfully to Hermione to beg her to drop Harry a hint that, perhaps, it was time for him to make a commitment.

" I mean, I know he loves me, he sat with my father to personally carve my new broom handle and I've never been able to turn so smoothly… I just would like him to ask is all- I'm never going to shut up about it if I end up proposing and I'm reaching that point," She had confided in Hermione one afternoon as they watched Harry and Arthur show Xenophilius Lovegood the impracticality of his Burrow design. Luna had arrived home with a very handsome and properly cloud-eyed Rolf Scamander and her father was over the moon. And then, of course, Bill and Fleur had brought Fleur's younger sister for the weekend and the girl had been too excited to hear that, unlike most of his peers, Harry did not yet wear a ring.

Later that evening, after Molly prepared a lovely picnic in the moor in full view of the nearly-completed first Burrow tower, Harry had walked a ways away from the supper chatter and Hermione caught a meaningful look from Ginny. She left the group to stand beside her friend, who was gazing in the direction of the Ottery St. Catchpole town lights, but probably worlds away.

"Luna somehow found the perfect match huh?" She began after Harry failed to start a conversation. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Xenophilius says they met in a different country every time I've heard him tell the tale," She continued, Harry smirked but still said nothing.

"So it seems another wedding is upon us… Harry why are you waiting? Did you lose it?" Hermione lost patience and this was enough to visibly bring Harry to full attention. He turned to her and patted a front pocket on his jacket, where she could see a small weight bulge slightly.

"I've always got it, I just…" He trailed off again and stopped meeting her gaze.

Hermione grasped his shoulder, "Harry you bought that before Ron even proposed… I can't imagine it's regret…"

"No, no of course not," Harry said quickly, "I just, I can't explain it Hermione. I think about my wedding and I see the chairs full of Weasleys and I just, I wish my Mum and Dad would be there, or Sirius, or Remus, or Dumbledore…"

He looked up again and Hermione recognized the sorrow she'd grown to know in him, "its not appropriate to have so many empty chairs but I just want to, I don't know, have some representation of a family… my family."

The two stood in the grasses as the sunset lit them yellow, orange, then deep red and mahogany. "Harry, I know you want to make sure they're remembered and honored. I can't do what you've been enduring all these months- I've tried honestly and I can't. But Harry, I know they don't want you to dwell on them. They're at peace for now, they're not feeling pain- you are the one suffering and I think you need to let yourself live. You have time to make a family, I know it's not what you're asking but it will be good enough, trust me" She glanced at Harry's face, hoping he understood her words were in kindness. Harry stood thinking as he now did, letting the silence stretch longer than Hermione was comfortable but not really noticing, before replying, "You're right Hermione, you are always right."

The next time Hermione saw Ginny, she almost picked her off the floor before flashing a beautiful teardrop diamond encaptured in delicate gold ringlets, "It's perfect, I heard you helped pick it out… over a year ago!" she pulled a stunned Hermione near, "He kept this on him every day? Just how sweet that is almost makes up for how long I've waited… almost... I gave him an earful before I said yes." She winked and giggled girlishly, quite out of character.

The path to the big day had thrown Harry into several bad memories, but Hermione was impressed by how present he tried to be. Funny enough, a week after Harry had proposed, he'd received an odd invitation in the mail about yet another wedding. His cousin Dudley was marrying a Squib named Camille in an intimate ceremony, completely unrelated to the post-war bliss in the wizarding world. When Harry had returned home, he sent out an invite to his cousin and Aunt and Uncle. Dudley had accepted quite politely, but Petunia and Vernon never replied, something that had surprisingly hurt Harry deeply. "I didn't think he would want them there in the first place…" Ginny had mused as the day approached. Hermione felt a pang, but wasn't sure if Harry had wanted their short conversation to be secret.

The Weasleys might have had impressive numbers, but they hardly dominated the wedding. Almost every invite, other than Petunia's, was RSVP'd, with mentions of perhaps more than a few extra guests. And there was no short supply of people willing to cater, provide music and entertainment, decorations. Horace Slughorn had lent his home, a splendidly lavish manor with an expansive, grassy backyard, only too eager to see two bright pupils of his come together. Perhaps the most important part to Harry was that McGonagall had suggested that Hagrid walk him down the aisle. The whole affair had gone perfectly… even if Hagrid had pulled out a baby hippogriff that allegedly was the offspring of Buckbeak who allegedly had a mate (though Hermione suspected he'd landed it in some shady dealing).

But even after settling into the life his peers were all beginning, Harry never seemed as free. He didn't miss Ginny's anniversary (unlike Ron) or birthday and always came to the holidays. But it was in the middle of these large family events that he would suddenly disappear to be alone. And much to Ginny's frustration, despite being his closest confidant, Harry didn't reveal a lot about his day-to-day feelings. Eventually she reached an understanding, and the children had punctured some of the distance that would settle between them, but Hermione knew her feelings had been hurt. After that talk on the moor those many years ago, Harry had never mentioned anything similar to Hermione. But it was a clue, small and incomplete, that led Hermione to believe that the despondently sober man, an Auror Prodigy and great hero, was not encumbered by a single attack in Wales. She was rather inclined to believe that Harry still wrestled with the same demons that tortured a little boy trapped in a cupboard- physically in a house, but never feeling at home.

The Minister glanced at the clock and gave up her reading- she'd have to skim the documents again before she went home, probably past midnight. The window holding Harry now had another figure, one she recognized as her husband. Perhaps she could get the Auror's report in person today, and feel a little less isolated from the two people she trusted most.

Chapter Text

Harry looked up from his desk briefly and caught the silhouette of Hermione facing him through the window of her office. He promptly checked the time to make sure he wasn't late to turn in his latest Auror summary. A good two hours remained until it was due, which was a relief since it was extensive, especially after Ron's updates.

"Something wrong mate?" The red-haired man inquired, "Are we on a schedule?"

"No," said Harry, "I just saw Hermione looking out her office and I'm fairly sure there's no one in yet but us… just thought time might have flown by."

"Nah," laughed Ron unabashedly, "I bet she spotted me, I swear it's a miracle if we see each other more than once a day, and usually I'm half asleep."

Harry looked up at his friend. Ron may have brushed it off, but he knew he never liked being without Hermione for long. It had been excruciating getting him to lead extended missions because he didn't like missing supper with his wife and kids. Recently, there had been a sudden change of heart.

"How's Hugo like being on his own so much," Harry pressed.

Ron looked uncomfortable, "He's been fine, though I s'pose he's had his fair share of adjustment with Rosie gone and all that. Still, Mum and Dad have been keeping him busy-apparently, he's realized that if he helps Mum with the cooking, he gets to eat all the extra goodies." He eyed Harry, "I know Lily's been spending a lot of her time with Grandma and Grandpa as well… well I've heard of a few incidents…"

Harry smirked, "Molly's convinced Lily taught herself some 'summoning charm'. I guess she's retrieved a few items from the roof that the kids got stuck… but honestly, I think she probably just climbed up those stones that stick out, taking notes from Al. Bill's youngest is over there too while he's away and Percy recently dropped off Molls and Lucy since he and Audrey volunteered for that diplomatic affair in Albania… "

"Good grief we better get them a wonderful Christmas present this year," Ron muttered, "Well at least my Dad since I'm pretty sure Mum's over the moon with that full house."

"You mean your house," laughed Harry.

"I told you," said Ron wearily, "I've barely been back to grab leftovers, see Hugo, and fall asleep for a few hours… and somehow Hermione gets by on even less. Lily could teach herself a tower destroying charm and as long as its not mine, I probably wouldn't hear it!"

"And she hasn't said anything about… well anything?" Harry inquired.

Ron shook his head and answered shortly, "Not a hint," before adding, "And you?"

Harry shook his head, "I just feel like it has to be bad, I mean Shacklebolt clearly didn't misuse Ministry funds… and with the stuff popping up now in our department…" he gestured grimly to the photos Ron had compiled of their last investigation, "It's a wonder no one died from that."

"I just don't understand why she wouldn't let us know; I mean we aren't as brilliant as her for sure but I can tell the landscape is changing!" Ron pulled out another file of papers and photos, smacking them onto the desk. A photo of a small boy in a St. Mungo's dressing gown slipped out and Harry picked it up carefully.

Ron shuffled the papers a bit, muttering his complaints on the case, "I mean it's like it was a practical joke but then they're lucky the old lady made it out alright… like it's either someone very talented is having a bad laugh at all this or someone very stupid is trying their hardest to… well whatever he's up to its not good." He paused as he saw Harry had drifted away from the conversation and stared at his friend momentarily, sad.

Harry was contemplating the photograph of the young curly, haired boy- Liam Vane-aged 09-magical-half blood-as the documentation described, stood with his arms outstretched and cut and a blooming black eye, his lips quivering. The injuries were treatable, but the boy couldn't bring himself to look at the camera…

"Oi mate, we'll catch the bloke, just be glad it wasn't worse… positive thinking okay." Ron tried to bring Harry out of his reverie. As was the usual for years now, Harry seemed to forget that silences lasting more than a few seconds were not normal in conversation, "You can tell me what's up mate." He steered Harry back into his investigative mode when he failed to answer, "Does it remind you of something?"

"Erm… actually, what team did Francesca say had just dealt with the primary school? Was it Gambino's group?" Harry shook himself back into reality and shoved the photograph into Ron's open file. His friend regarded the photo briefly, not able to see what it could have triggered, before closing the pages.

The case in question was another reason the elder Weasleys were currently strapped with their grandchildren. Hermione, not one to miss any opportunity for education, had made it very plain that Rosie and Hugo would attend some form of muggle education during their elementary years. She'd grudgingly got Harry to agree and most of the Weasley siblings decided it would be a good place for their children to spend their days while juggling their jobs. It had been a growing trend among many of the 'newer' wizarding families, people who appreciated some of the practical skill they garnered pre-Hogwarts- so much so that quite a few squibs had found a lucrative niche in educating small groups of wizards and witches and set up primary programs. This minimized the chance of incidences that might arise if many magical children suddenly flooded an unsuspecting muggle school.

The Potters and Weasleys sent their children to a woman named Amelia Applebee, who was a relation of Filius Flitwick of all people. The small woman was cheery and good with handling everyone from boisterous James and Fred, to shier Al and Molly. Unfortunately, she and three other teachers had been attacked in London one night, their lessons and student attendances stolen, but jewelry and money left. This caused great concern, which was further compounded when, not a week later, the location of one such school was suddenly razed by a muggle demolition crew… despite magical enchantments. When questioned about these plans, the Crew Manager seemed confused about what these odd people were accusing him of. He had not ordered any buildings destroyed in the last month and certainly not some old barn not in the path of new development. The teaching union had suspended all in-person curriculum until a more thorough investigation was complete.

"Yeah, yeah it had to have been them- I heard it from Wood as well. Maybe we can bother him for the files… but honestly I don't see the connection." Ron summoned the flyer paper, beginning to scribble a request. "Aerogami!" The page neatly folded into a paper plane and zipped out of the room, "Not sure if he's in yet so it might take a few hours to get it."

As the door opened, Harry glanced back at the window leading into the Minister's office but could no longer see Hermione's form. This was because she had made her way just outside his office and ducked as the plane swooped by.

"My Dear Minister!" Ron loudly pulled Hermione into an exaggerated hug. "It's been ages!"

"Oh Ronald! Stop it! It's not appropriate!" But her face was facing Harry and he could see the joy crinkling her eyes.

The two pulled away and Hermione's countenance changed to tepid curiosity as she noticed the large, messy stack of case files lodged at the edge of Harry's desk. "I suppose that'll be in the report I receive today?"

Harry sighed, "Hopefully- I haven't had time to brief Francesca about many of these, they happen so quickly. Ron just finished compiling the evidence of four this week."

"Four?" Hermione looked concerned, "That's a lot. And they're all serious?" She started to open Liam Vane's file.

"By outcome, no, thankfully." Harry ran his hands through rumpled hair, "By intention, well it's hard to say for sure but I'm planning to recommend a task force to take another look at some of these."

Harry watched Hermione closely as she skimmed the files, hoping for a hint at whether these cases were merging into her secret endeavors. He couldn't discern much though.

"Harry thinks these might be connected to the primary school attack and robbery." Ron had appeared over his wife's shoulder, "I've just sent Oliver a request for his team's case files. If you stay for lunch, we can both witness Harry's twisted logic make sense of all this activity. Wouldn't be the first time he's been right about something like that."

But Hermione intervened, "The school case? Wood won't have it; they've looked through it so many times. I… I requested it to be looked at by Draco so he can rule out whether it was just a simple lapse in Magical enforcements."

Ron sneered at the mention. Draco's name had been turning up far too often in conversation ever since Hermione had picked him as a "ethics and transparency representative." He'd caught the pale man in the Minister's office many times, always holding briefs riddled in red ink and question marks. And Hermione looked berated after every encounter.

Harry piped up before Ron could start digging another rabbit hole into Malfoy, "I'll have my proposals done within an hour and maybe Francesca will have more ideas on how we should approach this. I assume you two will be meeting later. Would you be too busy to grab lunch?"

Ron's face brightened considerably, and Hermione also looked hopeful, "I think so- it would be short and maybe if you are comfortable waiting until one o'clock… I would love to though"

"I can manage that," Ron chimed in, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek, "I'd better get my write-up in then so I can check in with the newbies. They're both adjusting quite well to the pace of the team by the way. And ever since Harry's given his little lessons Florian has been sharper than ever."

"Yes, I've heard," Hermione beamed at Harry, who flushed at his friends and continued to scribble notes quietly, "Francesca and I were just discussing that perhaps Harry could lead a training lesson or two to hopeful Aurors. McGonagall even said he could be a guest instructor for a week or two for the N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts. And no, we won't force a promotion on you if that's what you're grimacing about."

"He got nominated again didn't he?" Ron gestured to a rather fancy piece of paper laying neatly in Harry's waste bin, "Blimey mate, you are bonkers."

"Francesca is adamant that Harry should replace her one day." Added Hermione, turning to her friend, "She was the one that sent out the offer this time, you know."

Harry smiled politely but said nothing.

At five to one, Ron reappeared at Harry's door to usher him down to one of the small cafes on the balcony floor of the atrium. Harry had not expected his friend to be so punctual and hastily covered his open files before heading out.

The two sat on a relatively secluded round stone table overlooking the bustling space below, as Tipsy, the catering House Elf that ran the café, took their orders.

"I'll have a soda, and could you also grab a cappuccino with sage? We'll wait for the food orders if that's alright with you." Ron glanced up at the Minister's Office, which looked empty.

"Oh, is Minister Granger joining you today how splendid!" Tipsy squeaked, sending Ron's order to the bar with a snap of her fingers, "And for you sweetie?"

"Some water to start off that's all," Harry smiled at the elf.

"Tsk." She swatted the air, "It's getting colder now, I'll bring you a pot of tea at least, we just got the seasonal Yeti mint sprigs from Oslo today. How does that sound?"

"Oh yeah, that sounds great, thank you." Harry smiled as Tipsy nodded, self-satisfied.

Ron and Harry chatted lightly about the prospects of the Hollyhead Harpies taking the World Cup next year, which, if successful, Ginny planned to retire as coach.

"Has she mentioned what she might do?" Ron asked, "I mean it would be hard to just be home with Lily off to school…"

"I think she's mentioned trying to start a broom business with your father actually, he has a talent for tinkering with the handles in just the right way. Got an old muggle broom off the ground even. And I can't imagine her settling for a desk job- she likes active work." Harry replied.

"I heard her say something about a Quidditch Column as well…" Ron pressed, to which Harry snickered, "Yeah I think she'd be a great addition to the Prophet full-time- I know people love her muggle sports opinions as well. Rita Skeeter is still there though, and I think she finds it hard to be civil around her…"

"Understandable," muttered Ron.

"I don't know how that woman kept her job," Hermione breezed into the conversation as she sat between the men. She handed Ron a thick file, "I got the school case from Draco- he's added all he knows about the enchantments on the place so maybe that will help give a clue about what went wrong."

"Or he's covering for his own mistakes," griped Ron, though he didn't say more when Hermione gave him a stern look.

"If I've learned anything about Draco this year, it's been that he doesn't make mistakes. He's more obsessive than me sometimes." She trailed off as Ron glared at her, "I can think of a few mistakes…."

"Did he have another row with Haverford?" Harry interrupted. Hermione nodded, rolling her eyes, "Apparently his son got suspended from the Gryffindor team because of a stint with Slytherin… well I think he believes it was with Scorpius specifically, but Adrian won't say…"

"Like he was cursed?" Ron inquired

"No I'm fairly sure Adrian is the instigator of all this," Hermione countered, "If he's anything like his father… I mean Scorpius is a First Year- there's not that many curses he could throw that Adrian can't handle."

"I mean it's a Malfoy we're talking about," Ron insisted, but Harry spoke up, finally, "No I think he's fine- he and Al are pretty close I guess." Ron choked.

"Like, friends?"

Harry nodded and surprisingly, so did Hermione, "McGonagall mentioned them to me. Al's the reason Scorpius isn't in the hospital wing more often than he is. They're a little island in Slytherin apparently, but she described him as sweet. Amazing considering the horrible rumors about his family. He's in her office every other week just to talk through all of it. Oh thank you! This is exactly what I needed." Hermione took the cup of coffee from Tipsy, who asked for their orders and left a small plate of bruschetta for the trio to share.

Harry perked up, "Like stuff beyond having Malfoy as a father?" Hermione nodded.

"It's horrible. Especially because someone found out that his mother is sick. Really cruel things actually- stuff about sacrifices to bring Voldemort back and blood rituals…and they just say these things unless Al's around- probably why they're inseparable."

Ron looked dubiously at his friends, "So Al's the brave one huh- I just don't understand… I mean obviously he's a great kid Harry, you know I don't think this against him. But he just seems perfect for Gryffindor that's all…"

Harry shrugged, "They make their own choices I suppose- he just seemed so hesitant to be Slytherin in the summer I don't really know what changed. James took it pretty hard I think- Fleur told me Dominique mentioned that he had a time explaining to his house what his brother was doing with that lot."

"Well, I know he still hangs out with Rosie fairly often." Hermione comforted Harry.

"So what do you think- is Lily going to blow both of 'em off and end up in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?" Ron teased as he emphatically thanked Tipsy for the stacked, melty burger sitting in front of him.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Honestly I can't imagine her not in Gryffindor but maybe Ravenclaw… I don't know- Al always seemed the most book-smart."

"Yeah but she's brilliant Harry c'mon." Ron continued and even Hermione nodded. "I mean I know that the outbursts are pretty variable when you're young but I'm almost positive she can direct her magic already… even without a wand."

Hermione added, "I've noticed it too. Maybe it's from following around James and Teddy, but she's quite mature in some ways. Like, I'm almost positive she charms her shoelaces tied… I saw her do it over the summer- that's special"

Harry laughed, "I wouldn't put it past her to practice with what little she's got- she's pretty competitive with James and Al and has been complaining that they're going to leave her out since they 'know so many spells now'"

"That's the spirit." Said Hermione proudly. Ron giggled.

"But really Harry, they might be keeping up with her in a few years. I mean Ginny and I also had a load of experience, but trust me, we were lucky if we made smoke from our ears before school." Ron mused, "Honestly Bill's the most talented one of the bunch- no matter what Percy thinks- I think it pays to be the eldest, the problem solver..."

Harry snorted, "Let me offer you James as exhibit A of that not being true. I swear, he's in for a painful year for O.W.L.s- and that's comparing him to me."

"Yeah but he knows how to have fun." countered Ron, "he'll be fine- obviously if he can apply himself to Quidditch, he can try in other things. Its just a matter of wanting to."

"That's true," laughed Harry, "It's not like I'm that worried... but I did tell him that he only gets to keep the cloak as long as passes his finals."

"My goodness Harry, no wonder he dismisses classes!" Hermione playfully chastised him. Ron nodded approvingly. The trio fell into a comfortable silence as they ate their meals.

"Is that McGonagall?" Harry had glanced over the balcony into the Atrium. The shimmering mahogany cloak of the Headmistress immediately stood out from the sea of office hues.

"Oh no, has it really been that long?" Hermione checked her watch, "I'm meeting with her this afternoon, the first round of letters arrived this morning."

"And the Ministry overlooks that?" Ron inquired

"Yes, unofficially… we just want to improve some of the communication with the school and all. So we can help all wizards- even the youngest ones." She hurriedly finished the last of her chips and began to pack to leave, "This was great," she looked sincerely at Ron and Harry, "We… we need more time together."

Ron kissed her goodbye. As he turned, Ron looked calm, "Yeah that was nice."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, "It was- but she's lying about those letters. Hogwarts doesn't get their rosters until the New Year. Durmstrang, however, got theirs last week."

Hermione caught up with her former teacher just as she stepped out of the elevator for the Minister's floor. If the acknowledgement from the two seemed less than excited, it was only because they met often and under grave pretense. Minerva watched Hermione closely as she hurriedly passed the portraits of the former Ministers, aiming pointedly for her door.

"My dear you must know that once this is out in the open, you'll be appreciated. I'm being sincere when I say you are the clear choice given the circumstances." She sat down with her pupil and smiled kindly. Hermione barely registered the compliment and nodded expectantly to the box she was holding.

"Are they all of them?" McGonagall nodded. "Headmaster Valko says that even the most remote regions are detectable at this time- not that they accept many that come from there…"

Hermione pursed her lips. The Eastern Bloc of Magic was a diplomatic equivalent of an impenetrable fortress, both in the aspect of compromise and being a stubborn relic of a bygone time.

"I already glanced at them and I don't see any of the signs that we would expect." McGonagall absorbed the disappointment that dissipated strongly from Hermione. "Obviously, I'd like you to see if I've missed something or have new information. But twins are noticeable and not one is on the list."

"So either he's avoided that region or he's continuing…" Hermione trailed off, miserable, "his precautions." She leapt up suddenly from her desk in frustration and began to pace the length of her office.

"But the descriptions match known regions in Albania perfectly!" she mused, "I… but if I'm wrong, sending an envoy is just so dangerous, I need to be sure…"

McGonagall listened patiently, "Minister…"

"Don't call me that! I haven't done a damn thing yet," Hermione snapped, looking out at the portrait of Dumbledore's Army, "I haven't been nearly as productive out of school…"

Minerva had heard enough. She also stood and strode to the window, pulling Hermione around by the shoulder. Hermione looked defiant.

"Now you listen. Nothing you've said since you've started this job has gone wrong yet. We're making progress! The ones we have are improving and the new potion is much more palatable. Look what we have to go off of! Children's testimonies, rumors, dodgy politicians, student rosters from an institution who would rather ignore the presence of 'impure magic'. You are trying to make a diamond from sand and despite all of that, you are steadily doing it! You're not getting an 'O' from this if that's what you want but you've applied yourself knowledgably, no doubt like your studies. So, Minister, would you like to hear my idea?" McGonagall's eyes were slits as she braced Hermione intensely.

Hermione wilted and stood silently for a moment. "Yeah… thanks Minerva." She made her way back to her desk and took out a fresh piece of parchment with the day's date. She looked up expectantly.

McGonagall started, "Well, as you know the Room of Requirement is in almost constant use at the moment. But last month, it was emptied when we took them to St. Mungo's for their check-ups. And Professor Trelawney, bless her, managed to open the Room for storage. Apparently she's been trying all year with no luck, despite my many warnings that the hall is off-limits." McGonagall paused to gather her patience, "Anyway we were chatting, and she mentioned how she hates the room now, all scorched with no one bothering to clean it up, but that she loves the recycling wardrobe that's in the space."

Hermione knitted her eyebrows, "Recycling wardrobe?"

McGonagall continued, "Yes, a tall metal wardrobe with wrought-iron design. A little warped from the Fiendfyre, but no matter how much stuff she puts inside, it always empties the next time she is in need of it."

Comprehension dawned on Hermione. McGonagall continued, "Now, these things were old magic by the time the Second War came around, I doubt they would be easily recognizable. Definitely taking a page out of their own playbook, but I think if we wanted a more subtle means of spying and even extraction, these might be a good strategy. They are undetectable to even Ministry traces"

"And do we know if the other is still there?" Hermione felt light with new ideas regarding her plans, "The store closed ages ago."

McGonagall smiled, "From what I remember, Borgin and Burkes had so many nasty artifacts that Shacklebolt decided to lock most of the merchandise in the Department of Mysteries. So I would bet the other cabinet is sitting just below us, and hopefully is full of bottles of sherry."

Chapter Text

Al trudged into the large, round classroom used for Defense Against the Dark Arts, wiping a bloody nose from a bat bogey hex thrown by Patricia Beauton. Professor Gagnon noticed his tardiness with a quick comment of "Five points. Ten points- I don't want to see that look again Miss Huxley." He didn't ask where Scorpio might be, also absent from the class. If he had bothered to care, he might have sympathized with his young student, being treated by Madame Pomfrey as he gagged on slugs thrown at him by Callum and their first-year classmates, Sam and Ryan.

Something awful had happened in the past month. Driscoll Haverford had shown up at Hogwarts, demanding that his son be allowed to play on the Quidditch team. Everyone knew this because he'd followed McGonagall down several class-filled hallways, paying no mind to the increasing number of students clustering at the doors to see what the commotion was about. Al and Scorpius had been in this very classroom then as well.

"Headmaster I must impress upon you what your actions look like!" Haverford had huffed, trying desperately to match the stride of McGonagall.

"And what, pray tell me, do my actions look like Mr. Haverford…"

"Governor Haverford, Headmaster." The imposing man warned, "And a very concerned governor I must say- because it does look like the favoritism of the old days now doesn't it?"

McGonagall finally stopped and spun on her heel. In a flash she was eye-to-eye with Haverford, eyes gleaming ferociously, "What. Are. You. Accusing. Me. Of."

"She looks like a lion," whispered Scorpius to Al. Professor Gagnon had tried to usher the class back from the doorway but even he was interested.

"I'm just wondering why my boy, an athlete from a respectable family, is suspended and yet I haven't heard a wink about consequences for the pureblood." Haverford's whisper didn't escape a single listening ear. Scorpius shrank.

"There were no consequences because only Mr. Malfoy was taunted and his belongings destroyed, Driscoll. Now unless your son has decided to withhold valuable information as to what compelled him to do such a thing, I have concluded that his attack was unprovoked! And don't tell me he deserves a second chance; this is merely the culmination of too many second chances. Why I've never seen such an unequal match between bully and victim! He should be ashamed and so should you, Governor."

The small whispers between students vanished as McGonagall stared at her adversary. A nasty sneer curled from Haverford's lips, "I assure you I only have to drop the name Malfoy for the other governors to see things rather differently Minerva. And if you think Scorpius is an innocent victim I might be inclined to worry that you've gone a bit daft. We all know what his family is- him walking these halls is more of a disgrace than any silly stunt my son could pull. Why even now his family is dabbling in the Dark Arts- since they didn't even lose their wealth in the War."

McGonagall suddenly became very aware of the students around her, she whispered menacingly, "Governor Haverford this is no place to lob baseless accusations. I will escort you out now…"

But Driscoll caught on to the calamity the Headmaster wished to avoid, "Oh ho! So you are aware his poor Mum is stuck up in some Muggle hospital wilting away! She's cursed is what she is- some ritual that went wrong. I heard she's been sickly ever since the wretched boy was born! Some might even say they conceived him in the essence of the Dark Lord himse..."

"DRISCOLL YOU WILL LEAVE THE PREMISES IMMEDEATLY AND BE GLAD YOUR SON IS ONLY SUSPENDED FROM HIS LITTLE GAMES!" McGonagall was a sight to behold. Eyes flashing, she procured her wand and stabbed it purposefully toward Haverford. The stately man was dragged most unceremoniously from the halls into the entryway below.

All this would have been comical to behold, except that Scorpius gone dangerously pale and backed into the nearest desk. He had not told anyone but Al and Jeya about all the details regarding his Mum. Now, almost everyone in the school was armed with the one thing that could penetrate the meek exterior of Scorpius, and in the following weeks, many of them used their new weapon with wicked joy. The other half, almost more upsettingly, was terrified that the rumor might actually be true and cowered at the soft-spoken boy like Tom Riddle III, or whatever "essence of the Dark Lord" conjured in their imaginations.

Al managed to win back his points by performing a flawless disarming charm and even beamed when his Professor mentioned that his Dad had a particular aptitude for that defense. The class was the last of the day and Al hurried back to the hospital wing, only to be informed that Scorpius had already been released. He couldn't find his friend in the Great Hall and figured that the hex had probably ruined his appetite for the night. Still, he grabbed a few desserts and headed back to the dormitories. When his entered his dorm, he accidentally stumbled upon Milo wrapping gauze around a deep tear in this bicep. He seemed very startled by Al's presence and froze as Al pulled back the curtains around Scorpius' bed. "Milo, has Scorpius been back?"

"I haven't seen him, no," the boy said softly. Al regarded his wound, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, its just a scratch…" He drifted off muttering something about an accident and 'she didn't do it on purpose'. He and Natalia had both missed class today as well. Al set a tart pie on his bed and whisked out the door just as he heard a small 'thanks mate.'

Thankfully, most of the students were at supper. Al didn't hear a single sound from any of the dorms leading to the Common Room. At the end of the passage, an old wooden closet door apparently stood. Most of the Slytherins thought this was funny because it happened to be a false door, opening to a slimy stone wall. But Scorpius had figured out a trick accidentally after trying to escape from Rosier and McIntyre early in the Fall. Al pressed his shoulder up against the door and slowly leaned into the splintering wood, focusing his mind to repeat the phrase "Anywhere but here, Anywhere but here". Soon, he felt the resistance dissolving and folded into the secret room.

The other side of the door was a small space, barely big enough for Al and Scorpius to stand together, that immediately turned into a steep stairway of slimy stone steps not unlike the texture of the false entrance. As Al ascended these steps, he heard his friend call from the room above. In a few seconds, the tunnel-like stairs opened into a small, serene enclave. On three sides of the square, the stone material gave way to sea green glass, somewhat covered in gillyweed. In the daytime, light would glint through as a peaceful glow.

The space was just above the Lake, but a small portion of the floor had eroded, or maybe purposefully carved (it was hard to tell), and a small pool of the water's surface bubbled like a well throughout the changing tides. On the back, stone wall stood the hypothesized portrait of Professor Snape, now simply an artsy rendering of potions and their magical ingredients. An identical portrait hung just on the other side of wall, which overlooked the Common Room. Or perhaps it was all the same- the view from this angle did suggest that the subject might be viewing the scene from behind. Nothing more than two oversized armchairs and a small table could fit inside the space, but this suited Al and Scorpius perfectly, especially in the last few weeks when just about everyone had something to say about the hypothesized spawn of Voldemort.

"It's stupid really Scorpius," Al had spent all night trying to get him to stop crying, "You clearly look like a Malfoy."

"They… they say it's just a charm… that its just a complex vision or something," But even the ridiculousness of the explanation made Scorpius grin through his tears.

"That sounds like something even Rita Skeeter wouldn't speculate" Laughed Al.

Today again, Scorpius looked red-eyed and weepy, though Al noted he also was holding a bucket that smelled like it had a few slugs sitting in it.

"Maybe we can save these for later…" Scorpius still smiled gratefully, "Thanks mate."

"You're just in time for the sunset song, I think," And as if on cue, the room became filled with the Merfolk's music. The origin emanated from the pool in the floor of the room, but even though they were above the water, the sounds seem to reverberate perfectly from the glass, making the entire space swim with the beautiful songs. Al sometimes felt an aching pull, as the sounds would recede, to jump right through the opening and into the depths below….

The two boys let a healthy pause follow the song as the soft hues of the sunset turned to night. From the opposite horizon, a large, amber moon steadily climbed into view, illuminating the room like the back alleyways in city streets.

"You don't happen to have your chessboard do you?" Al finally broke the peace.

"I don't feel like playing honestly," Scorpius sighed, "It's fine if you go, I know Herbology is early tomorrow…"

"What with this view?" said Al lightly, gesturing to round orb glittering keenly in the black sky, "I might just stay here all night."

Scorpius gave the smallest laugh but lapsed into his thoughts. Al hated these kinds of moments; they reminded him of his Dad during those fateful months and he had never pulled Harry out of them. He hated that Scorpius was so obviously in pain and perhaps his Dad had been as well… and he would remember how desperately Harry had to coax him out of his ostracizing reaction when the charms finally lifted. Had he prolonged some agony in his Dad?

"Jade asked where you were when I came into the Great Hall earlier," Al tried again with his friend, "So that definitely means she likes you at least."

Scorpius laughed a little more, "That's good news- I don't think I would make it to the end of the year if I was her enemy. Was she sitting with Natalia again?"

Al tried to recall the earlier evening—"Y-yeah she was. Which was strange because she and Milo didn't come to any of their classes today…"

Scorpius nodded, "Huh, interesting."

The two had come to the conclusion that Natalia, of all people, was part of the reason the Slytherin girls were increasingly becoming two factions in a nasty and secretive war. Following the outburst by Driscoll Haverford, the amount of hexes scattering the halls during passing time had grown exponentially. And despite Al being quite preoccupied at the large portion of them being aimed at Scorpius, he was aware that Quinn and Vanessa often came into the Common Room with an assortment of odd features or bruises. On one night, Natalia had burst into the Dormitories screeching, painfully swelling pustules riddling her face and hands. The jinx was in a fad at the moment, especially amongst the girls, but the way their classmate was howling was frightening. Al and Scorpius had led most of their cohort into the boys' dormitory in order to find Milo, but her twin was nowhere to be found. Little did Al know how twisted the predicament was about to become…

"I'm l-l-ll-ate. I'm LATE!" Natalia finally articulated words in a foreign voice that Al wasn't sure was due to the hex, or just simply because he'd really never heard her speak. "I need to find..him…Milo, please!" She had growled out desperately.

"I think I saw Milo earlier, near the astronomy tower actually… I got in fight with that awful Beauton girl. If it's any consolation, her face looks worse than yours by a mile…" Jade had spoken up but faltered when it was clear Natalia wasn't calming down, "Plll-ease find Milo…" Tears trickled between the pustules on her cheeks.

"Fine, lets go back to the Gryffindor room then, we'll run into him if he's coming back sooner." Al offered.

"It's past curfew," replied Scorpius, "Milo should be back here at any moment anyway."

"No-no-no, " screeched Natalia, desperately, "He-he won't come back.. he's still there I know…nearby"

"How do you know?" AL was perplexed, but Jade seemed to immediately acquiesce to her roommate's comments.

Resolutely she eyed the rest of the cohort, "Let's find him then." Everyone else seemed less sure, piquing her annoyance, "Do we really care that it's past curfew? Look Slytherin isn't winning any House Cup anytime soon so why don't we forget about points and help her out!"

"It's not just that, Jade." Scorpius pointed out, "We don't know where Milo is- I think we should take Natalia to the hospital wing…"

"NO!" Natalia bellowed fearfully, startling even Reggie, "Please! I'm really late…."

Al was becoming more and more frightened by Natalia's actions and, rationally, agreed with Scorpius' idea. But something tugging at his instincts made him think that listening to Natalia was the right thing.

"Alright, Jade and I will take Natalia to find Milo," He finally said, "If we don't come back soon after curfew, someone find Madame Pomfrey and tell her that Natalia panicked because of the hex and we went out to look for her. That way we won't get in too much trouble."

"Will do mate," Scorpius said and Jade nodded approvingly before helping Natalia to her feet and leading her to the Common Room, "Shhhh, lets just be as quiet as possible," as Natalia shortened her moans into high whimpers.

Al, Jade, and Natalia slipped through the Common Room door into the halls of the Dungeons. "If we go through the back hall, there's a staircase that leads to the fifth floor and we'll be more likely to not run into a teacher…"

"No he's not there…" Natalia quickly gasped out as she almost skipped in the opposite direction.

"Wait he's not on the Seventh floor?" Al didn't have time to ponder her strange actions as she scrambled farther away and Jade quickly tugged him to follow. His confusion only grew as Natalia passed the main passage out of the Dungeons and continued to follow the Hall to the other side of the lower level, leading deep under Hogwarts.

"Natalia!" Al hustled near her and tried to stop her desperate movements. For a moment, when her eyes briefly focused on his face, he registered her heavily dilated pupils and a yellowish ring forming at the edges of her irses. Was this an effect of the hex?

Jade had followed Al closely, "We can't go further down there, it's the restricted part of the Dungeons remember? There will definitely be a guard…"

"No I can go!" Natalia said loudly, looking away from Al and pushing forward. She rushed into the dungeons.

Jade was right though. As Natalia's voice rang through the halls, a shadow rapidly grew from the main entryway out of the dungeons. "Who's there?" McGonagall's voice was strained and sounded exhausted. A clinking of something glass grew louder as she approached.

"No no no no no," Natalia puttered, more subdued, "I can't be late, I can't get caught- she'll never let me…" she scampered deeper into the dark labyrinth.

Jade and Al looked at each other, "Okay," said Al hurriedly, eyeing the shadow approaching, "Go follow her and make sure she finds Milo, I'll try to stall McGonagall- she's a family friend after all." Jade nodded and disappeared after Natalia.

Moments later McGonagall materialized at the doorway. She also looked exhausted, as if she had been running through the halls; her usually proper bun bobbing slightly. The clinking was coming from a satchel on her shoulder, and from what Al could glimpse, it was likely filled with the same milky substance he'd seen her brewing in her office. Upon seeing Al, McGonagall grew even more flustered, "Potter!" She strode near him, brandishing her wand and sweeping it across the restricted hall behind him. Small, bright balls lit the torches along the walls and Al held his breath as the visible hallway lengthened considerably, revealing many twists and splits in the passages. Thankfully, Jade and Natalia were nowhere to be found.

"Why are you relieved Potter, did someone go down there?" McGonagall actually grasped Al's shoulder and fixed him firmly with a gaze that suggested no 'family friend advantage' was going to help him weasel his way out. Al shifted his eyes away from the gleaming intensity radiating from his Headmaster. "It's Natalia, Headmaster, I was following her to the Hospital wing… she's had a nasty bout with the boil hex…"

At the mention of Natalia, McGonagall both sighed and paled, looking into the lighted abyss of the Dungeons. She suddenly started again, "And only you followed?" she inquired.

Al pondered his Headmaster's countenance. Something had definitely rattled McGonagall and perhaps Natalia and Jade were in danger with whatever lied beyond them in the restricted halls. Still, Jade would not appreciate being snitched on and Al was certain no actual danger could be placed so close to a student dormitory…

"No Headmaster," Al stated carefully, "I came here alone."

"Well… good. "McGonagall breathed more easily and tucked in a few strands of wayward hair, "If you would just head back to your dormitory then and please, next time notify an adult before wandering out of…"

The air was suddenly pierced by an inhuman sound that turned Al's blood to ice. And it was echoing from the twisted hallway of the restricted area. Tears of shame immediately sprang into Al's eyes as he wondered how close that… thing… was to his classmates.

"McGonagall… I… I lied…I Natalia went down there, not the hospital wing and Jade... she followed her." His voice shook violently.

For a split second, McGonagall's face looked benignly perplexed, before contorting into a rage that pulled her features taut and sharp, "YOUR COMMON ROOM NOW!" Her words hit like a wave breaking on a rocky shore. Al stumbled numbly towards the door to the Slytherin Common Room but another, deeper, screech resonated through the walls and his knees gave out just steps from the entrance. It had to be a monster, lurking through the halls of the dungeon. Al imagined all sorts of gnarly features; fangs, claws, rows of sharp teeth and beady red eyes. Would he soon hear Jade and Natalia's screams? Or did they not have time to make a sound…

"Eh Scorpius he's here-help me!" A pair of hands grasped one of Al's shoulders to pull him upright and Al looked up at an unnaturally frazzled Reggie. Scorpius appeared behind him and the two dragged Al into the common room just as another alien cry crashed through the hall.

"Blimey what is that?" Malachi greeted the other boys, perspiration on his nightclothes. Behind him, Al could see that most of the Slytherin House was up- the screams had scared everyone. Scorpius and Reggie sat Al down in a chair. Scorpius didn't let go of Al's shoulder right away and instead pushed his face meaningfully in front of him. "Al, where's Natalia and Jade, did they find Milo?"

Al quickened his breathing at the mention of Milo- had he also been lost in that labyrinth? "No… no Scorpius I didn't tell her I forgot… I should have told McGonagall." Tears, again, welled with pressure under Al's eyes. How had this evening turned so suddenly into disaster? He could see Quinn starting to tremble as she heard her friend was not back.

"McGonagall's out there?" Gabrielle Prince, a Slytherin Prefect, appeared near the cluster of first-years, looking relieved at this news. "That's good then, and we'd better just turn in for the night. No one in the Common Room- we will secure the dormitory doors until someone knows what's going on" She turned to Ivan Flint, the other Prefect, and the two began ushering the younger students back into their sleeping quarters.

Back in the boy's dormitory, the first years stared sullenly at the empty bed belonging to Milo. A bout of several screams reached the dorms and, though considerably muffled compared to the hallway, sent piercing cold through Al's bones.

"Milo wasn't even feeling good today…" Scoripus whispered, "How's he going to make it if that thing is near him?"

"Where's that thing coming from Al." Reggie inquired.

"It's the restricted section of the dungeons," Al managed to rasp out, " The ones that go way under the school. Natalia just ran in and Jade followed… I was supposed to stall McGonagall until she could catch up."

"Some plan we had." Muttered Reggie, and a shade of shame appeared on all the boys' features as they remembered their earlier scheme.

"It's not our fault really," spat Malachi, though he too was red with guilt, "It's not like we can get a professor to help with these situations without losing house points or being accused of starting a fight."

Inwardly, Al recalled several instances in which McGonagall and Professor Longbottom had inquired concernedly about the state of Al and his cohort when they showed up to class or the Great Hall ruffled from some student skirmish. But Malachi and Reggie were quite distrustful of the two, given that their own relatives had benefitted greatly from Death Eater policies. And at the moment, any ounce of blame that perhaps was not his was like taking a great weight from his shoulders. He let the two sink into a familiar rut of injustices that had been dealt to the Slytherins.

"Yeah who are we going to tell? Magamus probably gives the Gryffindors secret house points for every hex they aim at us." Reggie bemoaned, "I mean he basically gave Travis points for doing a spell right- nevermind half the class had already mastered it!"

"He's a troll," Malachi agreed, "And only brave now that Adrian's always lumbering around him."

"And Gag-on," Reggie mimed retching, "He does his best not to teach us anything since we're basically the new Death Eaters right? Can't have that on his conscience."

"He's so mad that Al's a genius on his feet," Malachi nodded towards Al. Most of the first-years were aware that Al quickly excelled at Defense Against the Dark Arts, having surprisingly good instincts and creative solutions to dark creature encounters. He'd turned a metal dueling trainer into a frying pan using a transfiguration charm when disarming spells had failed to work (the trainer had been purposely jinxed to be un-disarmable).

"And lets not forget…" But another bout of screams silenced Malachi's rant. The boys looked sullen until Scorpius spoke up.

"I don't think it was just a hex that put Natalia in that state." He said slowly. Reggie and Malachi stiffened slightly, "Yeah she was in another world…."

"Vanessa was freaked out- she said she wasn't sleeping in the same dorm as her anymore." Reggie sighed, "Apparently she's woken up before and seen Natalia pacing the room or staring off into nothing all creepy. She thinks the twins are obscurus' in the making, the White twins too- that's why they're sick all the time. She's managed to rile up that whole nasty clique of second-years."

"Well there's no need for rumors before we know anything," snapped Scorpius, uncharacteristically short. "But they definitely had it rough growing up, I'm pretty sure their wands are the only things not handed down to them."

"Maybe they're from the Eastern Bloc region. I heard it's almost impossible these days to enroll in a school of Magic without prior ancestry." Malachi mused.

"And they're orphans, so it's not like anyone could vouch for them." Added Reggie.

"I think they're fine," said Al plainly, "Vanessa needs to shut it before she starts a civil war in this House- she barely stays polite around Quinn anymore."

Scorpius sneered, "She just needs to make up another freak to pick on- now that she's gotten bored of Jeya and me."

The rumbling of the Common Room door opening perked everyone into attention once again. A few seconds later, Al could see the footsteps likely belonging to Ivan Flint passing along the dorm corridor.

"Headmaster it's good to see you." Clearly Gabrielle had made her way from the girls dorm as well.

"Yes, yes- thank you both for your quick response, my apologies for tonight. I assure you no one was in danger despite the noises- the… situation… tonight was unfortunate but contained. But given the lack of assurance, I applaud your instincts on getting everyone to safety- thirty points for you both." Al felt relieved at the return of McGonagall's measured and sure tone. And his heart lightened further as she continued, "Miss Prince if you could escort Miss Huxley to her room for the night, I'm sure she deserves some rest."

The rest of the boys also reacted happily at the mention of their classmate's safe return. Though Al noticed Natalia was not mentioned…

"And Mr. Flint, if you would please summon Mr. Potter for a quick word." Al's faced dropped once more as he remembered how angry McGonagall had looked before bounding off into the dungeons.

"I better go," He muttered and hopped out of bed. Ivan seemed surprised to meet Al near the Common Room entrance, but McGonagall didn't miss a beat.

"Mr. Potter," Her lips had become invisibly thin as she assessed him, "I'm not taking any house points tonight for your actions so as not to ruin the good planning by your prefects but I promise you if you ever so inanely decide to lie to me again the punishment on you and this House will be famously severe. Do you understand."

From the far side of the Common Room, giggles animated from Jade as she had paused to watch the exchange.

"Miss Huxley to bed!" McGonagall barked. She caught a brief smirk that Al couldn't wipe quickly enough away. She appraised him for an uncomfortable few seconds.

"Mr. Potter, I am aware of the little island that is forming in your House and I understand it to the extent that I understand your classmates and their sentiments." She continued, "But I must express my true disappointment in your lack of integrity at the present. I know your perspective is not as distrusting as Miss Huxley's for instance- and you have no reason to be. So act like it. You could have put more than one student in grave danger tonight."

McGonagall turned curtly as Al's face bloomed an embarrassed rosy hue. Before exiting the Common Room she added, "Miss Markov is recovering from a combination of jinxes in the hospital wing, coincidentally where her brother has also been healing from his own unfortunate fight. It would be helpful to know the characters involved in such instances however there seems to be a code among you not to snitch on your tormentors, but rather wait for revenge. Perhaps you might remind your friends that resourcefulness is not a synonym for secretiveness. Good night."

The next morning, both twins made it to Herbology, though Natalia looked like she hadn't slept a wink. To make matters worse, Vanessa refused to partner with the twins and later kept good on her word to not stay in the same dorm as Natalia, storming out whenever the poor girl was in sight. Given Vanessa's newfound affinity for the Second-year girls, it was a wonder that Natalia didn't come under some hex on a daily basis.

Of course, that unfortunate fate was almost singlehandedly prevented by the great enigma that was Jade Huxley. As Vanessa zealously bargained for allies within Slytherin, doing favors for older students and being nauseatingly obsequious, Jade, for her part, didn't actively recruit allies but rather won admirers. Somehow, the constant barrage of attacks had made her a formidable spell-caster and she rarely failed to block a hex.

"It's like she's dancing around a fire," Scorpius had remarked once. And indeed, in the informality of student skirmishes, Jade had developed a distinct and remarkable technique of spell casting that suited her well. All four limbs were a whirlwind of motion and she seemed to swing her wand arm wildly, instead of aiming at her opponent with steady stance, as was taught in class. Yet her spells always hit their target and she seemed to absorb the momentum to cast yet another curse. Jade had never paid much mind to Natalia, finding her too soft-spoken and rather boring, preferring Quinn's spunk and attitude. After the night of the ill-fated excursion, however, the duo had become a trio and Jade actively sought to make sure Natalia was never alone.

Al and Scorpius had tried to pry for information about whether Jade had seen the monster being kept in the dungeons and how Natalia and her managed to escape. She'd brushed them off smoothly, "I saw no monster in the dungeon, so there's not much more I can say."

"Look, if you don't believe me why don't you go look around in there yourselves. I can tell you, once you see it, you'll know its not a monster." She'd continued cryptically at their dubious expressions.

And so, in the orange tinges of the full moon, Al turned to the current plan that seemed to be the only thing that would rile Scorpius from his bouts of melancholy.

"By the way, James said I could take it. He also recommended a charm that silences your footsteps and disappears prints, not that the dungeon is going to be covered in snow."

Scorpius perked up in his chair, "That's useful for the echo though, we know McGonagall has the ears of a cat. When is the next Hogsmeade trip that we're 'dropping in on'?"

"In two weeks' time, just enough to practice the spell a bit and maybe walk around to see what other obstacles are in there." Al replied.

"Great, I'm really looking forward to this." Scorpius grinned, though he added, "McGonagall's a little sad that you haven't dropped in recently mate."

Al shrugged, "I just don't know what to say to her Scorpius, she wants me to get all of us to 'open up to her' but she should start with her own staff if she really wants to understand the problem. I mean Professor Rowle barely comes down here and he's our House Head."

Al knew that McGonagall had let him off easy that night, with only a few sharply honest words. Still, the emptiness from her lack of approval had amplified the animosity of most of the other professors toward him and his cohort, and he couldn't help but feel stung and betrayed.

Scorpius nodded, "Yeah I guess, but maybe we have been a little evasive…"

But Al interrupted, "Sure, but I mean we're definitely not the only ones keeping secrets at the moment, are we?"

Again, Scorpius had to agree. Al noted his friend's pallid face was regaining some peachiness. It had been a while since he'd spit up any slugs "Maybe you want to try a tart now mate?"

Scorpius eyed the dessert hungrily, "Yeah I could try a few if I'm being honest."

Chapter Text

As the days leading up to Al and Scorpius' plan neared, the two friends couldn't help but contain their excitement at the prospect of discovering what might be down in the restricted section of the dungeon. Many nights had gone by where Al laid awake, straining to hear a muffled sound like the agonizing cries that had paralyzed him on that fateful night out with Jade and Natalia. He knew several other of the boys' fears had been replaced by curiosity, triggered by the girls' safe return, but as the early hours would pass without any unnatural commotion to puncture the peaceful gurgles of the Great Lake, most had let the incident settle comfortably in the back of their minds.

Other Houses were also curious about the incident, as the sounds had traveled so forcefully through the school that only the Ravenclaws sequestered high in their tower had not been awoken, though none had experienced the proximal terror of the Slytherins. Both Rosie and James had approached Al in the breakfast hall the day after, asking about the monster. Al had shared in great detail the terrible fear they had felt knowing the twins were outside at the time but neglected to mention his and Jade's escapade- he needed to make sure his next request wouldn't raise any suspicions.

A little over a week later, Al found James coming in from the Quidditch Pitch, fresh from practice. The Gryffindors would be playing against Slytherin first thing in the new year, and Josie Rivers wanted to establish a few formation drills to be practiced over winter break.

"Oi Al, I'm not tolerating any spies from Slytherin," He jokingly shoved Al as they headed up the grounds to the castle, "You need anything?"

"Yeah actually, I heard that there's a new Charms shop open in Hogsmeade… I wondered if I would be able to check it out… I know I could wait until the holidays but I wanted to see if they had a present for Lily or something" He side-eyed his brother, carefully gauging his expression.

James chuckled, "Ah so you want the cloak." He glanced at his brother mischievously, stopping further explanation, "And no need to make excuses Al, breaking the rules for its sake is good enough for me. Glad to see you warming up to these antics- I always said there's loads more to do than read." He ruffled Al's hair, "I think you're thinking about the new 'Enchanting Modern'- a bit pricey for a gift but the products are cool anyway. Why don't you meet me near the Gryffindor dorms tomorrow, near curfew so there won't be a ton of people around, er sorry about the hostilities lately."

Al shrugged. Since being kicked off of the team, Adrian had been pointedly ostracizing James while also increasingly harassing Al, though he never went as far as a hex. Apparently even one more incident could suspend him for the semester and that was something he was not willing to risk. Instead, the rest of his goons had filled in his absence, probably under his command. James had definitely lost a lot of the privileges that came with running with an older crowd, but Rosie mentioned she much preferred him less inflated and so did a number of the younger Gryffindors.

"Sure thing James- and it's no problem really." Al smiled.

"The next Hogsmeade trip isn't for a few weeks though, why'd ya try to find me all the way out here?" James questioned.

Al shrugged, "Oh you know, I just didn't want any of my housemates overhearing, I'm not the only one who wants to sneak over to that town you know."

In truth, Al wasn't avoiding the suspicions of students, but rather Headmaster McGonagall. He'd noticed that after her curt message in his Common Room she had paid particular attention to him during meals and he'd often see her patrolling his usual way to classes. Although she never explicitly acknowledged him, Al couldn't help but feel her presence was an invasion of his privacy.

Presently, Al and Scorpius were strolling near the Great Lake, trying to stay out of McGonagall's line of sight. Had the Headmaster managed to glance near the shores, she would have seen a lonely Scorpius leisurely throwing pebbles through the paper-thin ice forming on the Great Lake. Minutes would have gone by along which the tall, pale boy traced the edge of the water and McGonagall would have astutely concluded that the poor, taunted boy was seeking some quiet and reprieve away from other students. Reasonably, she would have gone back to the many more pressing matters that filled her highly stressful semester and probably missed the odd appearance of a second boy stepping out of thin air, startling the first.

"Blimey you really got the silencing charm right that time," Scorpius jumped as Al appeared in front of him, "I was sure you were still here," He gestured to his left side.

"Think we're ready to try this tonight," Said Al and Scorpius nodded excitedly.

At supper, Al nibbled on the meat turnovers and stole glances at Scorpius, who also seemed too preoccupied in the evening's events to eat much.

"Yes thank you Professor!" The two boys glanced up near the head of Great Hall where McGonagall was now engaged in an animated conversation with Professor Longbottom, "If I could see them tonight in fact, this is really perfect timing…"

"Maybe she won't even be on guard!" Mused Al. This night seemed to be laying out perfectly.

Al and Scorpius laid silently awake, listening as their classmates slipped into bed, one-by-one. The amber shadows of the late autumn moon were now replaced by more opal white hues, matching the first December snow. It now hung, almost full, near the edge of the Lake, leaving long shadows to creep into the boys' dormitory. Reggie and Malachi had come and gone into heavy sleep, but Milo, again, was nowhere to be found. Becoming impatient, Al decided rouse Scorpius and head out. Milo wasn't one to notice much and might not even see that they weren't in bed, should he come around.

The boys draped the Invisibility Cloak around them, making sure the folds fell evenly to their sides, not revealing their feet. They crept out of the closing walls of the Common Room entrance just as Gabrielle entered, finished with her Prefect hall monitoring. The hallway was considerably colder than the dormitory and combined with the excitement of the plan, Al could feel cold beads of sweat running down the back of his neck and shivered. Though mostly imperceptible, the emptiness of the hall and the boys' heightened senses heard the slight disturbance of the cloak against Al's trembling.

"Mufflissimo!" Al whispered, swooping his wand towards the empty hall ahead. Should anyone be in the vicinity, their ears may prick momentarily with the sensation of being submerged in water, the air and sounds moving slower.

Carefully, they scampered near the entrance to the Dungeons, where it seemed as though no one was on watch. Turning towards the Restricted Area, the two paused and looked at each other, nodding in solidarity.

They began to descend into hall and Al soon realized that the dungeons could become a place of absolute unnerving darkness without torchlight here and there. Still, he was too afraid of McGonagall appearing to light their path. After a few minutes, they came upon a split in the hall, where the space ran into five separate tunnels. Al paused and considered his options, but jumped when the area suddenly filled with lamplight. Scorpius steadied him and backed the pair near the wall as, again, they heard the unmistakable footsteps of McGonagall.

Soon, she appeared at the crux of the tunnels and headed steadfastly into the second from the right, clearly not detecting the boys. For a moment they listened to her steps receding into the tunnel, before Scorpius whispered, "We should follow her, who knows how many halls this place splits into."

"Mufflissimo!" Al directed a second spell into the hall for good measure and the two bounded into the tunnel after the Headmaster.

Scorpius' intuition was right. The hall branched and weaved through the underground and Al wasn't even sure he was under the castle anymore. They kept a safe distance from McGonagall, just out of sight but clear enough that her footsteps indicated the correct turns. It was unfortunate that they had to keep a steady pace to chart their course as some of the halls quickly ended in intriguing rooms. In one glance, Al thought he saw a small meadow of low-growing blue flowers, lit by a false light of stars.

Finally, the footsteps stopped, signaling that McGonagall had reached her destination. Performing one more silencing charm, the boys sauntered forward into the last tunnel and came upon the Headmaster muttering a slow incantation and prodding the air in an archway just before another more open space. Al realized that she seemed to be sweeping away an invisible barrier, as the air would shimmer slightly at her touches. He nudged Scorpius and beckoned him to move forward. Imperceptibly, the pair edged near the side of McGonagall, who gave no indication that she'd become aware of her presence. As she slipped through the invisible wall, Al held his breath and followed, hoping the opening would allow their passage. Luckily, the barrier let them through, perhaps giving a little more violent of a ripple than usual, but McGonagall was too preoccupied to notice.

Apparently, the subject of her suppertime talk with Professor Longbottom regarded the Shrivelfigs currently blossoming in the greenhouses. The rocky, alpine growing conditions had proved to be the more effective method of propagating the plant and Professor Longbottom had dedicated no less than three additional greenhouses to their cultivation, stacking rows of boulders along the walls from which large purple blooms protruded. She carried a bag bursting with petals into the center of the space, where a small, stone platform stood, filled with several cauldrons, all lit and boiling with potions. She hoisted the bag unto a counter and began grinding the petals into a deep indigo powder, "So sorry for the wait but I believe the symptoms are alleviated much better with a fresh stock. And now that Professor Longbottom has built up his supply, I do believe we will no longer rely on mail-in shipments."

Al riveted his eyes away from the center of the room to the edges, where several other arches seemed charmed with the same watery wall, lying just beyond each was a small chamber, also lit by an enchanted ceiling, holding a small bed, desk, sink, and another cluster of pillows that looked like a dog's bed. It was like a prison except the desks were filled with books and class practice sets, and in some cases, paints and toys, and the furniture looked charmingly inviting with overstuffed bedding and homey patchwork quilts. A mound underneath one of quilts stirred, causing Al and Scorpius to gasp and start in a fright, before remembering they were safely silenced. Milo rose from the blankets and made his way over to the entrance of the archway, pausing as McGonagall swept her wand at his direction, opening the wall and allowing him through into the central space. As he neared Al gazed at his features, which seemed stretch and unnatural. His eyes, too, looked oddly golden and dilated and Al recalled their similarity to Natalia's on the night she freaked out, now clearly not a result of some unknown hex…

"Milo quickly, take this." McGonagall had carefully measured a few ounces of Shrivelfig powder into a small cauldron, which suddenly turned into the milky lavender substance he'd recognized on her person now countless times. "Is your sister turning as well?"

"No Headmaster, she's had a mild one this time I think," He twitched involuntarily and whimpered, "Per-perhaps I should just skip to the wolfsbane tonight… I feel it coming early." He gestured to another pot, separate from the others and glowing in alluring blue.

"Tsk" McGonagall strode near her student and assessed his features. Again, Milo seemed to jerk reflexively and grimaced, his eyes dilating more and his neck and shoulders hunching. She looked saddened at the boy but nodded.

"Yes I think if you're up for it, that would be the safest course- I'm sorry for the delay." McGonagall strode to the glistening blue cauldron and filled a sizable goblet with the airy substance. Although it was attractive to look at, the potion obviously tasted horrible as Milo gagged often as he sipped the potion, the rising gases making his eyes water. McGonagall rubbed his back gently and tipped the last of solution into his mouth. She nudged a bucket underneath him. A few seconds after the solution had been down, Milo gagged violently but kept the potion down.

"Good, that's it then for you. My apologies again Milo I didn't realize the symptoms came on this early."

Milo nodded, settling into only a slightly sick state, "It's really fine, it happens in the winter more, when the nights get longer. I can be a whole day early… Martin and Rowan don't change that way but Natalia and I are… more volatile I suppose."

McGonagall listened with clinical interest and Al spotted a Quill writing notes feverishly on the counter. Scorpius tapped Al lightly, "Mate, they're all here…" and pointed to some of the other rooms, where other blanketed mounds stirred and revealed themselves as Natalia, and Rowan and Martin White. Four other children that Al didn't recognize also emerged to the edge of their rooms. They looked rather young but also unmistakably were two sets of twins.

"That's good Milo, any details on your condition will be of great help. Now, the rest of you line up!" McGonagall swept her wand across the chambers and the children emerged, looking less…altered… than Milo, but distinctly sickly. The Headmaster ladled the milky substance into more goblets and offered them to the students. This potion must have been pleasant as even the younger children drank enthusiastically. As they finished their drinks, McGonagall tipped an hourglass, sighing, "And now we wait."

The students sat on benches surrounding the platform and McGonagall busied herself by assessing their features while taking notes. She conversed lightly as well, "Natalia I heard you made it to Charms this morning and was pleased. I'm hoping last month was simply a fluke of stress. I've already informed your brother but she's doing much better after the medical scare… much more stable and improving quickly, you might even be able to visit over the break."

Al and Scorpius gave each other confused looks but Natalia brightened considerably. McGonagall passed onto Rowan, who seemed by far the healthiest of the bunch, "The exercising seems to be working I see- do you want to go out tonight again?"

Rowan nodded, "Yeah it helps a ton."

"Good well I hope to see you on a broom next year for Hufflepuff." McGonagall nodded and continued sympathetically to the younger children, "Now I know a full turn is scary the first few times but it's much more pleasant with your faculties am I correct?"

The younger pairs of twins gazed at the Headmaster nervously and shrank as the far cauldron coughed more sapphire clouds. McGonagall returned an empathetic stare, but quickly jumped to apprehend Milo, who, though no longer nauseous from the potion, was hunched over the bucket she'd given him and gripping the edges with white, knotted knuckles. He was spasming regularly now and Al was certain he'd break his own neck in the violence of the thrusts. In fact, Al had half a mind to run out from under the cloak to aid his classmate in some way…

The only thing impeding his movement was Scorpius, whose hands also gripped Al painfully tight. Al glanced backwards at his friend. Under the shadow of the cloak, Scorpius looked translucent, the tendons in his neck wrung taut like the grooves of the twisted Whomping Willow. It occurred to Al that Scorpius was not feeling concern for Milo, but unbridled fear, for he had seemed to solve the mystery of this whole setup…

"Al," he rasped, strained, "They're… they're like Lupin…"

Al knit his brows in confusion, "Teddy?"

"Like Fenrir…" Scorpius was nearly paralyzed. Suddenly Al harkened back to their last History of Magic lesson, which involved the statutes regarding mixed magical folk… Remus Lupin, Fenrir Greyback.

Al snapped his head back to where Milo stood, well where he was now kneeling, an inhuman whine coming from him. His face was lengthening slowly, and this seemed to be deeply uncomfortable, if not downright painful. He was blinking rapidly, and Al could glimpse the punctured transformation of his pupils, ever stretching into the whites of his eyes, and burning a great neon hue. He was screaming now, filling the space with a sequel of the horrific sounds the school had heard almost a month ago, though Al guessed the Headmaster was present this time to muffle the noise with a wave of her wand. Milo's ears stretched agonizingly and turned pointed and lupine and when he stood again, steadied by McGonagall, he now towered above her, his haunches tearing through his nightclothes. After a few moments in his werewolf state, Milo whimpered and looked down at McGonagall. The Headmaster sighed, "Are you sure? It may do you good for a run like Rowan."

But Milo, shook his head and stepped gingerly back to his room. Before passing through the rippling of the archway, he suddenly turned and fixed the spot where Al and Scorpius stood with such an accurate stare that Scorpius bore his hands into Al impossibly harder. Still, he yawned and entered his room, taking the blanket from the bed and curling up in the fluffy platform on the floor. McGonagall had already turned attention to the others. In the process of Milo's transformation, the hourglass had emptied, and she now spooned the acrid blue potion into the goblets for the other students. Although looking far from appetizing, the milky potion must have masked the worst flavors of the wolfsbane because even the younger twin could down their drinks with little more than a determined gulp. McGonagall collected their flasks, checking to see if they'd finished all the potion.

"Ah Theo, see you had nothing to worry about!" She patted the smallest boy's head as he showed her his finished cup. He blinked gratefully but soon began twitching, his features morphing into a snout and filling with sharpened teeth.

"Ah now, come to your rooms, its better with the spasms if you steady yourself or lie down, see, just like Martin there." McGonagall gestured to the Ravenclaw boy, who had already passed into his room and was gripping his sheets in bundled fists, jerking slightly as he morphed into a smaller, frail-looking wolf, fuzzy with the same light red hair as his human head. Rowan was sitting up as she turned, growing to a towering height and build. After a few moments breathing deeply, she looked up at McGonagall and, in the most wolfish features, seemed to grin.

"One moment dear and I'll let you out." McGonagall was checking the younger twins as they finished transformation. The milky solution must have also dampened a bit of the pain during changing as none of the others reacted in a manner as grotesque as Milo. Two of the twins looked exhausted and flopped miserably into the floor beds, willing themselves to sleep as they uncomfortably folded their limbs, however the others were in well enough spirits to read and play. McGonagall smiled fondly.

"Alright now, to the track." The Headmaster waved her wand again and Rowan padded out, stretching her long back legs like a sprinter before a race. The two headed towards the entrance of the chamber and Al had enough sense to push Scorpius to the floor as Rowan, too, pivoted sharply in their direction.

"Is something wrong dear?" McGonagall puzzled as Rowan sauntered near the spot where the two boys crouched. She sniffed the air inquisitively but seeing nothing but an empty corner, returned to McGonagall's side. Al suddenly became aware of the predicament at hand. He was fairly certain they would need to cross the archway barrier with McGonagall, but the werewolves could definitely sense their presence in a way beyond sight and sound. Still, he'd seen enough to not want to be stuck in the dungeons the entire night. Scorpius had a similar idea, whispering, "We'll just have to take the chance mate, but we are leaving…now"

The wall was rippling more so as Rowan stepped through with McGonagall. Lithely, the boys sprang up from their position and eased through the barrier, hold their breaths and wishing they'd had either washed up more or less, whatever masked their distinctive smell better.

Thankfully the night was considerably luckier than Al's also excursion. Rowan, excited about the prospect of the "track", had bounded into the tunnels, with McGonagall rushing to keep up. Al, breathing a sigh of relief, now looked at his friend searchingly.

"Mate no." Scorpius didn't like the gleam in Al's eye, "Your brother is wearing off on you ya know… why push our luck?"

But the blonde boy sighed as Al crept stealthily forward, "Just a look"

The 'track' as it so happened, was one of the enchanted rooms at the edge of a nearby tunnel. Also gleaming with a false ceiling, the space was guarded by another rippling door and filled with vibrant ferns and fireflies, with a solitary worn path leading off into an unknown depth.

'Alright, this is one hour." McGonagall turned two tiny hourglasses in unison, attaching one around Rowan's wrist. "I'll be back then and you'll get some sleep after- I want to see you in class bright an early." Their classmate bounded happily down the path.

McGonagall turned and yawned, slouching a little as she made her way back toward the tunnel entrance. The boys followed behind, they passed the eerie blue meadow again and McGonagall paused, checking the hourglass, before performing a bubble charm around her head and entering the space. Procuring several amber jars from her cloak, she began harvesting the flowers and Al watched a familiar cobalt mist rise in disturbance, the poison swirling around the Headmaster and turning the white, charmed moon a light periwinkle. There was a long way to go before the night would be done for her and Al felt a pang of sympathy as he recalled how stressed she'd been to discover him. Wandering students with werewolves to tend to was an unnecessary burden. Scorpius tugged Al insistently, "C'mon mate, I remember the way out from here."

As the boy's neared the stretch of stone that would shift aside to their Common Room, Scorpius tapped Al on the shoulder, "We're talking about this, now!"

Entering the Slytherin dorms, they headed straight for their secret room, entering the moonlit space with astounded relief. Al turned and grinned wildly at Scorpius, "How? How did that not go wrong?" he laughed and ruffled his unkept hair, realizing he'd been in a cold sweat for the past hours as his hand ran through damp, cold locks. Scorpius, too, looked beyond pleased to be back in one piece, but after a few deep gulps of air he sat down in an armchair somberly. "Al, this… this is something strange…"

Al took a seat opposite his friend, "I know, I think I get why Jade was so elusive. Obviously, she saw Natalia turn that night… somehow she was protected. But we can't tell anyone Scorpius, they'll be complaints for sure and who knows where they'll go if they can't stay here."

That clearly was not where Scorpius' train of thought was headed, he took in Al's statement momentarily and nodded numbly, "Yeah sure mate. Of course we can't tell students…"

Al interrupted, "Anyone Scorpius, not Jeya, not Rosie or James…My Dad, he mentioned Remus Lupin and how hard his life was when he was outed…"

"Al!" Scorpius drew Al forcefully from his sermon. He looked petrified once more, "Al this is more than some issue on a poor bitten wizard trying to fit into school," He jumped up suddenly and began pacing the short length of the room, wringing his hands, "Those extra children, they were also twins…"

"Yeah…" Al watched his friend stride side to side, his pale face wrought with worry, "Do you think they were all bitten by the same werewolf? Maybe one who liked to target twins…"

"No, no," Scorpius stopped and turned towards Al, "I don't think they were bitten at all, Al… I think they were born that way."

Al did not like the feeling that began to prickle his skin as the rationality of Scorpius' inference dawned on him. "So… if they weren't bitten, then their parents…"

Scorpius nodded furiously, "Yes! Al their parents must be werewolves! And there must be a lot of them too." He paused, catching his breath, "Did you see all the empty chambers in that room? There must have been at least fifty…"

Al tried to picture the chamber again and noted that even the empty rooms were filled with trinkets and pillows, "It's like they're expecting more…" he paused, "And those twins, two of them were definitely not eleven yet…."

"Uh huh!" Scorpius was now pent up with a terrible glee, "Al, McGonagall is housing child werewolves, werewolf wizards, without their parents. Now why would she do that?"

Al considered the number of werewolves that sided with the Death Eaters during the Second Wizarding War. He'd overheard Dominique once hysterically describing some of the gruesome crimes their kind inflicted when she covered the topic in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "They… their parents, they probably aren't good people Scorpius."

Scorpius flared his nostrils and gazed out the misty windows of their hideout, "My Dad, he lived with a terrible werewolf for almost a year… they can, if they want, they start controlling their transformations and if they fall far enough down that path, they never become human again."

"Do you think McGonagall stole them from their families?" Al surmised, "Are they looking for them…"

Scorpius considered that theory thoughtfully, "I… I just think we would have heard something from the Ministry if that was the case. Attacks or sightings at least…"

"So do you think they were abandoned then?" Al offered.

"I don't know," Scorpius finally conceded, "But I can't imagine something small could scare so many werewolves into leaving their kids in the care of wizards…. " he paused, "Al, the werewolf my dad knew- it was Fenrir Greyback."

Al looked at his friend, intrigued. Scorpius reddened , embarrassed, but continued, "He escaped custody you know… well I'm sure you know, because your Dad hunted him for years…"

"My Dad?" Al's response, in turn, surprised Scorpius, "You didn't know? Well I suppose we were both young and maybe your Dad doesn't bring his work home with him…anyway, its, well my Dad and I know some others, believe that Fenrir was the one that confounded him so powerfully on a mission."

Al froze. He definitely remembered that happening to his father, but he'd been so upset that he'd never asked about the details surrounding that particular excursion.

"You okay Al?" Scorpius blinked sympathetically, "Sorry, erm, my dad was paranoid for years that Fenrir would target me… my grandfather leaked his initial whereabouts after he'd seen him lurking around the manor…. That's partly why I only knew Jeya before coming here- they kept me isolated from most wizarding hangouts…needless to say I'm not taking this revelation lightly." He gestured in the direction of the dungeons.

"Fenrir was a wizard apparently, but he never went to Hogwarts and I don't think he ever even had a proper wand… but my dad said he could do magic… untrained, but definitely magic." Scorpius muttered as Al stayed still, "It was always very destructive and unpredictable… and could be confounding…" He offered.

Al nodded weakly, considering the eight students in the chamber.

Scorpius looked out sadly, "I don't know mate, I kind of wish we'd been caught before we saw anything. Maybe Vanessa isn't as wrong as we thought. It's not a trivial thing… that condition"

A small part of Al agreed with his friend while another part dug into his memories to a Christmas morning long ago in the Burrow…

"Al honey, go fetch your father and cousin before they start flying," Ginny called a much smaller Al off the couch, "Tell them they need a good breakfast first..."

Al found the pair in Arthur's garage, among the piles of trinkets that escaped a destiny in the trash.

"Teddy what's up? I thought you could fly in any weather…" Harry found his godson in a corner, idly turning his new broomstick in his hands.

Teddy hadn't been himself during that holiday. His hair had not turned a single interesting shade, nor did he seem up for making animal faces for the younger kids. Harry stared at the young man for several seconds.

"I know something's up, but I have to say, you look so much like Remus when you keep your hair like that."

Teddy twitched and looked up soberly at his guardian, "Did he know?"

"Know what?"

"That there was a chance that he could pass it on? That I could have caught it too?" Teddy's eyes were uncharacteristically severe as he searched for answers in Harry.

Harry paused thoughtfully and sat near Teddy, "There was always a chance I think, but it's quite low when you're only bitten and its only on one side…"

"But its not impossible, we learned in class…" Teddy began, but Harry put his hand up to stop him.

"Teddy, don't think about the 'what-if's'. You came out healthy and safe. Besides, we would have afforded the treatments, unlike your Father who had to go without…"

But Teddy shook his head, "Why though? Why was it worth the risk?" he continued when Harry tried to interrupt again, "You know Lester Grimes? The beater from my second year?"

Harry's face fell, "Yes, you know I do." Al also remembered that name from a radio bit about an especially heinous crime involving a horribly bitten corpse…

"He was fine until he graduated you know, but it catches up… the condition" Teddy sneered, hurt and angry.

Harry drew himself sternly, "Ted, I don't want to hear that type of insinuation from you- you especially." He drew a measured breath, "You consider it an injustice being born with the risk of complications… Teddy there's always risk that something won't go right! Me personally-the fact that you'll never truly know how much your werewolf father loved you and was scared for you- I consider that your greatest injustice."

Harry stood as Teddy turned to wipe a few small tears from the corners of his eye. "I once envied how Remus knew my father far more than I did, but now seeing you, I prefer the jealousy to the pain that I feel that I can never truly make him real to you. But Teddy, he was an exceptionally compassionate man and I believe with all my heart that if we were only as kind, that there would be far less stories like Lester Grimes ending up in an Azkaban cell… after no Quidditch league would sign him, after he couldn't find steady work or a place to rent, after he lost his friends, after his family abandoned him, after he ran out of money."

Al followed the features of Scorpius' contorted face, processing the state of his classmates with fear. "Scorpius, I know this is scary, but I think we need to be brave- we shouldn't leave the twins behind."

"I figured you'd say that, " Scorpius sighed, "I'll try."

Chapter Text

Draco slammed a thinning fist on his desk as he read the request outlined in the last paragraph of a heavily redacted memo. He turned and glared across the Ministry atrium, willing the slight figure in the Minister's office- he personally rejected calling her a proper Minister- to feel a small bit of his frustration. He could see her actually- her hair over the last few months had returned to a bushiness he'd only seen pre-Yule Ball, when her girly peers had finally taken pity on their know-it-all classmate who had much to learn about the wonders of wizarding self-care products.

But he tried not to remember that year; the year the Dark Lord had been reborn, and his father unceremoniously thrown from the top of his social circle. Gingerly, he rubbed his forearm, remembering the burning tattoo he so willingly submitted his hopes and dreams to.

He sat back in his desk to cool off, glancing at the paperweight etched with his professional title 'Draco Lucius Malfoy: Department Head of Magical Zoning and Enchantments.' He sighed. In another life, he'd probably chastise a person of his standing for being so ungrateful and entitled, expecting offensively more than his position suggested he'd should know about sensitive Ministry affairs. There was nothing inappropriate regarding Hermione's treatment of him- he'd been given enough information to make the proper recommendations for invisibility and anti-detection spells. Still, the blackened gaps that ran over the entirety of the paper, preventing him from seeing the big picture of it all, was only too symbolic to not be taken personally.

All his life, Lucius had drummed the same basic truth into his son: Old magic was better magic. And perhaps, Draco thought, because of some odd lack of childhood curiosity or (more likely) his worshipful reverence to his father, he had never bothered to ask 'why?'

It felt good to be special and informed; to know who was worth to befriend, support, and marry. Of course, the Malfoys had always been more intelligent than their zealot pureblood counterparts; established Half-bloods were perfectly fine. Instead of confining their choices to an ever-shrinking island of unstable lineages, they instead only had to exclude a certain type of magic- the mudblood.

Even in the echos of his thoughts, Draco jerked involuntarily at the word. He hated that every time the mention of a muggleborn passed in conversation, the utterance would bubble up in the back of his mind, reminding him of its nauseating primacy and permanence. How old had he been when he finally realized the weight of the prejudice he swung when muttering that horrible slur? Or when he realized the unspoken rules of ancestry were hardly useful in discerning ordinary wizard from great? The Pillars of his adolescence had turned out to be nothing but the paltry sentence here or there, against the backdrop of a heavily blotted out reality. But ignorant to all that was being excluded, he had chosen to build his house upon them.

Ignorance could be the sin of someone innocently foolish, but Draco was honest enough to admit his ignorance was borne out of something much more knowledgeably conniving. Even as a student, he had figured out that his situation offered him certain advantages, especially among his Slytherin peers. Status. Trust. The benefit of the doubt. Plus, his mother had tutored him well enough that he arrived with a working knowledge of magic that put him at the forefront of his classes.

But never first. That coveted position had always belonged to a distinctly annoying girl boasting dentists for parents. Draco had almost choked from laughing when he figured out what exactly the muggle profession of dentistry entailed given Hermione's obtuse front teeth. And that was considered a highly educated position in the non-magical world; He had sneered thinking about all those years of schooling to replicate a specialized shrinking and shifting charm most students mastered before their O.W.L.s.

And yet, despite the utter lack of experience or understanding, Hermione had almost instantly rocketed to the top of every class and stubbornly held on for six long years. If only eleven-year-old Draco had seen her talent as a clue that his simplistic views were only easy because they were sorely incomplete. Instead, she was an aberration- a threat- something unnatural that was trying to weasel its way into a society that wasn't hers to command.

Well, Draco thought sardonically as he turned again toward the Minister's Office, he still didn't think she truly deserved to be in command, but not because of any notion about her heritage.

He knew the exact moment his censored world had started to crumble, revealing the tangible horror he helped unleash. It had been high in the Astronomy Tower on the night of his greatest victory. He, a mere pre-N.E.W.T. student, had been able to penetrate the fortress of his school undetected, using his creativity and skill to hoodwink one of the most famously powerful wizards of all time. And then he watched that man, Albus Dumbledore, disarmed by his basic spell, beg as the beam of green light jettisoned from Professor Snape's wand.

He didn't remember running from the school, but soon he was past the grounds and anti-apparition protections, the smell of smoke from the gamekeeper's hut burning his nostrils. His companions had warped into the air, but he kept sprinting, afraid to let his mind refocus on what he'd just witnessed. Bounding into an offshoot of the Forbidden Forest, he was promptly grounded by a wicked blow to the head by some thorny, low branches. His vision swam and procured an image of half-moon spectacles and kind blue eyes… He vomited and when he could no longer do so, dry heaved until his throat and lungs were raw. Snape had found him and knelt with him, his black eyes studying him clerically.

"I…I couldn't do it," He gasped, "I didn't want to and… and he knew."

He suddenly tensed as his teacher drew his head towards him, hoping he hadn't said too much. Snape regarded him impassively, scanning his bruised face. Finally, he helped Draco stand, and backed away slightly.

"We're going to make it look like you tried." And his face almost looked kind as he drew his wand and slashed it purposefully. Draco realized milliseconds before new sensations of pain broke through his right arm and hand what Snape had meant. Reflexively he dropped his wand and felt a new wave of nausea as he glimpsed at the mangled mess of his limb. It was as if a serpent had crawled beneath his skin and distorted everything that lay deep in the tissue. His professor seemed impressed that he wasn't screaming.

"Don't vomit in front of the Dark Lord." He warned before gripping Draco and apparating.

"Oh my." Draco stared hard at spot in front of him as he willed his stomach to settle. Snape had taken him directly to Voldemort, who had found it quite comfortable in the Malfoy's summer home. "He actually cursed the boy? I didn't know the old fool had it in him."

Draco winced as he felt the deathly coldness of Voldemort's fingers gliding over his twisted hand, "Well now, let's see. How interesting- a nasty old curse I might say. I believe created by Grindlewald, perhaps with his help, so I suppose he does have style…Vitis Excilium!"

"OH!" Draco gasped and cradled his arm, but he could see that the deforming bundle was receding and his anatomy recovering, "Tha-thank you, my Lord."

"Ah so polite," Voldemort mused in his high-pitched tone, "It does one well to flatter their superiors. But something that is worth even more is completing the tasks so generously granted."

Draco held his breath as the dark wizard's voice frosted over in dismay. He felt Snape shift beside him, "My Lord, he is dead."

"Dead?" Voldemort questioned.

"By my hand." Snape replied smoothly, "and of course Mr. Malfoy was able to breach that fortress with every Death Eater requested. He then foolishly pursued the Headmaster and was stopped, after which I realized what his plan might be and completed the job. It was quite vexing I might add, for I knew he'd been granted some sort of task, but he failed to confide in anyone, even me."

Draco regretted every snark he'd thrown at his professor that past year in those moments. Voldemort gazed at him, his red eyes delightedly keen, "This is pleasing to hear. Your father might learn to follow your lead when it comes to spilling secrets."

And then he was gone, leaving Draco alive and baffled as he turned to face his counterpart. Snape looked calm as he gazed around the room they were in, his eyes alighting on the various ornate trinkets, the best finds from Borgin and Burke.

"Now as long as your dear Aunt doesn't try to complain about your performance, as I suspect she will not if only to preserve her sister's greatest treasure." He sneered lightly, "You should, for the moment, consider yourself and your family redeemed."

Draco was grateful enough to ignore the mockery and simply nod his thanks. Snape appraised him, "It was utterly thoughtless what you volunteered to do this year and keeping it to yourself. This success was nothing more than luck- I hope this much is clear to you."

Draco was tired. He wanted to find his mother and owl and pretend that he was waiting for his father to arrive from work. Still, his professor clearly had more to say.

"Draco, it's very important that stay informed about the tasks granted to you- every detail." He continued, coldly," The worst thing you can possibly do is agree to something you do not understand, or you will find that you just might cross a line that does not allow you to come back ever again."

Draco looked at Snape, there was no space in his brain to even begin to comprehend that riddle.

"Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes professor. I understand."

Snape lashed out, grasping Draco's robes and dragging him near his hard, porcelain face, "No you don't you stupid boy! You couldn't. Ever."

Draco thought of those cryptic words when the bloated face of Harry Potter was thrust towards him months later. But far from crossing the edges of humanity, his cowardness had enraged Voldemort to such a degree that should his next mission fail, he'd personally see the dispatch of his parents in a way more degrading than his muggle studies professor.

"If you do not deliver that boy to me, alive, I think it would be less painful if you lost your life in the fray than continued on with me." His ember slits gleamed ferociously as Draco watched his father writhe under his Cruciatus Curse, "Now go get your mother…"

Draco jolted in his office chair, and again when we saw the time. The edges of his vision were fuzzy and he suspected his eyes looked tired and red. Hermione would be expecting his answer on the clearance of the enchantments soon. He began scribbling notes within the margins; questions about the specific conditions that might warrant this charm over another. He doubted they'd be answered but it was his job to be thorough.

Although he was running late, Draco was surprised when he heard a knock on his office door and Hermione poked her head in. She looked flustered, as if she'd just ran through the entire Ministry.

"I've just about finished; I didn't realize this was of such high priority."

"What? Oh, yes that." Hermione glanced dismissively at the memo, "No I've come with another request of…your expertise."

Draco raised an eyebrow and set the red-scribbled papers to the side. He waited for his counterpart to continue. Hermione almost look as if she regretted her proposition, clearing her throat and shuffling her boots unsteadily. It was only the hope of knowing an ounce more information about whatever had upended the Ministry's leadership that kept his manners in check of his patience.

Finally, Hermione settled, "Well, I think it would be best if I just showed you what we've found."

Draco expected her to procure another (hopefully less redacted) file of evidence from her person, but instead, she simply disappeared out of his office, and he was forced to quickly stack his papers in order before rushing out to follow. As the two waited for the elevators, they glanced uncomfortably at one another as they ran through topics of small talk that wouldn't become too awkward.

"How's Scorpius liked school?"

"Don't act like you don't know what its been like." Draco snapped, though he softened, "It's gotten better though, McGonagall is at least trying…"

Hermione nodded but seemed a little put out. She pressed the 'Down' Button a few times before bring her arms stiffly to her sides. Draco sighed, supposing it was his turn to return the civility, "Does, Rose have a favorite class… or does she like everything?'

Hermione smirked, "I didn't like everything Draco."

"You liked it enough to beat me in everything."

Hermione glanced at her pale colleague peculiarly, "I never tried to beat you at anything. I never tried to beat anyone really."

Draco cocked his head, "Then why did you study so hard? You probably read more books than the rest of your year combined."

The elevator door opened to an empty carriage and the two stepped inside. Hermione shrugged as she selected the second-lowest level. "I guess I just liked it all so much," she started, "I mean I went from not knowing how to sew the holes in my clothes to being able to fix basically anything just by a few spells. It was unreal and all I had to do was read about it and try. It was, well it actually was just magical."

A small grin crossed Hermione's face and Draco couldn't help but imagine her as she strode through Diagon Alley for the first time. He'd seen that look on his son's friend Jeya, when he offered to take her school shopping, basically having to peel her off the store windows bubbling with potions and charmed objects and fantastic creatures.

"Yeah, I supposed I don't know just how exhilarating it feels to discover… that."

The doors opened to the eerie space that made Draco remember that this floor only held one destination: The Department of Mysteries. He lapsed into curious silence as Hermione strode toward the plain black door at the end of the hall. He had never been inside the Department before, and jumped as he entered the main chamber, for the doors around the wall now scrambled, completely losing his sense of direction. "How do we get out now?"

Hermione smirked, "We just ask."

She checked a few of the doors before beckoning him to follow through a small metal frame that looked as though it had deflected many curses throughout its existence. The room behind was very odd. Draco found himself standing on a small platform many feet above the floor, which was made of large, smooth rocks. In the center of the room, the neatness of the stone rose into a more organic platform, like the rocky scalp of a mesa, and from that, a thin stone archway further jutted out. The room was silent except for the whispering of a tattered sheet that fluttered in the arch, despite no possible source of wind. Hermione quickly descended into the room, staying close to the outer edges.

"I don't like this room very much," She offered, averting her gaze to the one attraction in the space. "But we've been storing captured artifacts in the laboratory here…"

Draco had suddenly realized the likely source of Hermione's discomfort. The rags hanging from the archway were definitely moving, but the whispers were more than rippling threads.

He heard a voice. One that he did not think he would recognize, because it had been from a very long time ago and he did not believe it was possible to hear again.

"It's best if we keep moving." Hermione eyed her colleague uneasily.

But Draco was becoming transfixed by the voice. It was talking animatedly, but not to him. Rather, it was like the way an old friend's voice might drift from the din of a crowded pub. And it was an old friend. Draco turned to Hermione, "I can hear Crabbe."

Hermione nodded, "It's normal. The first time we came here, I didn't hear anything. But now I hear a lot of people… Lavender Brown, Scrimgeour, Fred…" She drifted off, "And sometimes others too. I… didn't know him personally, but I believe it belongs to a Snatcher that pursued us"

Just as he saw Hermione tremble slightly, another voice layered the whispers, one quite less welcome. "Lets go." He stated, abruptly. Hermione peered at him, almost excitedly, "Who did you hear?"

"I… It sounded like my aunt, Bellatrix."

"Oh." She turned, leaving Draco with the feeling that he'd disappointed her.

They entered a door at the floor level of the chamber, which contrasting to the Archway room, was rather claustrophobic. The ceilings were still high, but stuff had been crammed right to it, and it all looked rather dusty. Taking a closer look at the items, Draco felt a sort of familiarity with the whole atmosphere. He came upon a trio of shrunken heads preserved in a slimy lime liquid and put the pieces together. "These used to be in Borgin and Burke's."

Hermione nodded, "The room back there, it's the Room of Death. When we confiscated some of the more…concerning items from that shop, a lot of them were of great interest to the Unspeakables specializing in this field, not surprisingly I suppose." She ended flatly and Draco wondered if she knew just how close the shop owners had once been with his family.

"The thing I brought you here for was in that shop actually," Hermione led him through the maze of items to a rather bulky mass, covered with a cloth. Draco already knew what lay underneath and his stomach started to feel queasy.

"It seems like the connection is still mostly there," Hermione opened the door of the Vanishing Cabinet and Draco saw a spattering of wine bottles on its floor. Some were cracked, but it was clearly from colliding with one another upon arrival. "We haven't tested the human transport abilities." She closed the door and faced him.

Draco was at a loss, "I don't know what you want from me with this…" He gestured to the awful design that had dragged him to his lowest moment. "I don't use these regularly you know."

"Much like most people alive today-and even fewer since this last war" Hermione studied Draco's reaction carefully, "In your testimony, you mentioned the phrase "the twin" when describing the connection between this cabinet and the one at Hogwarts. I wanted to know if that is an inflexible part of the design, if you have any guess based off your knowledge."

Draco looked at her, bewildered, "Inflexible? Like you mean could it be trained to travel to many destinations? What are you planning?"

But Hermione ignored his question, awaiting a reply. Draco scrounged the vestiges of his mind to the research he'd done during his sixth year. "They're made as pairs so that's why there's only been one connection, but…" He thought back to a rather old theory text, "It's possible that one of the cabinets could be rendered as an endpoint without making the connections too unstable."

"What do you mean by unstable? What determines that?" Hermione clearly liked the chances of his dubious comment.

Draco knotted his brows, remembering, "The way these things work is like apparition, but you don't have your mind to guide you. The connection is held with some charms between the cabinets and replaces the need for you to imagine your destination, as mistakes can be made if you're in a hurry." He paused, "Since the connections are two-way, each is charmed with the destination of the other and so the mechanism only has one option to act upon when you enter. But when you add more destinations, the charms don't allow you to really have good control on the choice of the destinations- they have enough mind of their own…"

Hermione looked entranced, "So you might just end up getting shot into the wrong place then?"

"Not just that, since the cabinets sort of share a consciousness, they create an artificial relationship between their programed destinations. For a twin set, that means a line, but with just one more you see…" Draco drew out the connections between three points with this wand, outlining a glowing triangle, "And while you can get stuck on the line between here and there, with three, you can end up anywhere in here" He highlighted the area of the shape, "And its very hard to locate someone who gets stuck here as the space they create doesn't necessarily fit into reality the way the edges do…add more points and the area just gets more complex, three dimensional even." He illustrated his point and let the figure warp.

After finishing his explanation, Draco took a moment to bask in the complete dumbfoundedness evident on the young Minister's face. He doubted he'd ever see it again. But it only took a few more seconds for Hermione to rebound and soon he could discern the calculations invisibly running across her vision.

"So all this," She gestured to the pulsing diagram between them, "This space created between the destinations, it's an emergent property of the reciprocity correct?"

"How do you mean?" Draco implored.

"The fictional area- it comes only when every cabinet can go to every other one and vice versa."

"Yes." Draco caught her line of thought, "I mean it would definitely be more feasible to create a chain of one-way connections. But its just not practical because you can still be randomly brought back to your former destination instead of onward."

"mhmmm." Hermione nodded, "Okay, but what about this paradigm…" She broke the connections between the dots, obliviating the glowing area, and rewired all of them to a central point, "Many connections, unidirectional, all coalescing on a single cabinet we'll call the 'final destination'. That way, only one has to hold more than one destination in it's 'consciousness' or whatever you called it, but it doesn't actually have to choose between them, since it will only receive people… from all of these."

Draco observed the schematic, "Sure, I suppose that definitely minimizes the bigger glitches. In theory that seems sound, I mean I'm guessing that something like this hasn't been tried because it's not particularly practical… unless someone owns many homes and wants a route from all of them- you'd have to track back to any destination via something else though. Yeah, I just don't see why this would be useful long term."

But Hermione didn't seem fazed by the impractical design, "How many destinations do you think we could link up this way?"

Draco ran his hand through his hair as he blew a breath sharply, "Hermione I honestly don't know. These things, they're usually handmade and the charms can differ slightly, the temperament. There's a lot of lemons."

"What about the one in Hogwarts?" Hermione inquired.

"These two are particularly well-made, but I still feel like the only way to know its capacity is to try to add the links themselves. There's indications when a connection is accepted." He paused, remembering something important, "But wasn't it in the room when…" He drifted off as the tones of Vincent Crabbe reverberated in his mind.

Hermione picked up an empty bottle near the Cabinet's feet. "I have a personal account that it survived and, as demonstrated as recently as last month, is functional- complements of Hogwarts's great Seer." She wrinkled her nose, "Now I can say that was a class I most certainly did not enjoy."

Despite himself, Draco chuckled, "I couldn't believe it when I saw they'd moved it to the first-year schedule. Scorpius told me she saw 'A burning lake and forbidden love,' in his future- didn't say whether they were related to each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Incredible."

Draco took the bottle from her and spun it in his hands, "So this cabinet in Hogwarts is the 'final destination'- if this theory is stable. And you want what?"

"Nine." Said Hermione

Draco looked taken aback, "Okay, you want nine- where did you get number?"

"My contact has managed to procure four other sets- I'd like to maximize the options."

Draco paused again, "So you're not making your own I take it."

Hermione winced slightly, "If we were to make new ones, they would have to be registered as active with the Ministry… and other governing bodies should they… travel abroad."

Draco was fairly certain information like that probably belonged somewhere under blacked out lines and considered it a small victory towards the truth. But he didn't want to press his luck too far, "Okay," he drew out his suspicion noticeably and acknowledged Hermione's discomfort, "Is that all you require of me then."

"No, actually," Hermione turned to refit the sheet back atop the cabinet, "Given what you said to me today, I'm pleasantly hopeful about this theory and… I'm wondering if you were willing to experiment with the cabinets and see how easily this can be adapted in practice."

"You want me to create this network? Under who's authority?" Draco followed Hermione as she wove her way through the room towards the chamber with the arch.

"Consider it an independent project, off the books." Hermione replied evasively, she turned abruptly, "If you had to start this project this very moment, what are the first three things you'd do."

Draco blinked, "I'd first decode the charms and separate the dependencies from the autonomous parts of the spells. Then I'd try to see what types of links are needed to alter the use to your design. Then I'd troubleshoot the kinks which I wouldn't know until I put some objects inside and saw their state on the other end."

"And spell-wise, you think you're capable?" Hermione eyed the crooked wand held at Draco's waist. He clasped it protectively, "I've felt how she works, don't worry."

"Well, then I suppose you only have to accept the job then." Hermione calmed her visage, but Draco could tell his answer was of utmost importance. It was still frustrating, how little he knew about the overarching plan, but he'd put his faith in wizards with much less moral fiber than the one standing before him, inexperienced as she was as a Minister.

"Yes, I'll see if I can make this possible."

She certainly didn't try to hide her relief, "Good, Draco- this is very good." Her eyes almost giddy with the prospect.

She opened the door and Draco could feel his excitement wane slightly as the whispers returned. "Hermione," He uttered quietly, the low sounds making normal conversation feel loud and misplaced, "Who did you think I might hear?"

Hermione looked reluctant to respond, "We guessed the Veil," she gestured at the waving sheets inside the arch, "sort of tuned into prominent people in our past, where their death was significant or experienced very intimately- friend or foe."

She turned, "I've heard Bellatrix too." Unconsciously touching her arm where Draco knew his aunt had carved that horrible word.

"Other Death Eaters- Yaxley. Neville hears the Carrows… but no one has heard Him."

"Oh," Draco understood what she was asking. Even within the confines of his mind he could conjure a memory of that high, cold, voice that sent shivers down his spine. But as he listened in the chamber, he could hear nothing of the sort, "Sorry no, I… I would know if I heard him."

Hermione nodded and shrugged, "It's alright, none of us that tried have ever either."

"Even Potter?" Draco ventured. Didn't Harry's scar burn at the mere scrap of Voldemort's existence at one point?

"No," Hermione sighed, sadly, "But we only brought him down once and, well, he couldn't stay for long."

Recognizing Draco's confusion, she stated, simply "He said it was too loud."

Draco thought about his schoolyard nemesis as he finished his notes on the memo before heading home. He realized long ago that if he truly wanted to live a life where he understood the consequences of his actions, he needed empathy. It had been difficult with muggleborns but helping Jeya had been a blessing in disguise. He felt in his bones just how deep that prejudice needed to be buried and was willing to recant any past notion.

But whenever he thought about Harry Potter, it just hurt. He knew, like everyone else, how much the man had changed and felt that he had contributed enough to that pain that admitting that truth to himself- really feeling what that man felt- might just physically obliterate him. Perhaps, he thought remorsefully as he charmed the redacted pages into a messenger plane, there were reasons why so many preferred censored deception to the whole story.

Chapter Text

A steady storm of large flakes was stacking against the windows of The Burrow, however the heat from a roaring hearth inside melted any snow that piled higher than the lower sills. If one found themselves desperately trapped in the formidable storm, they would immediately see the ferociously flickering windows promising solace like a lighthouse amongst the icy sea.

Inside, the Potters and Weasleys were also cavorting about in constant motion. Molly was putting the finishing touches on five different pies with Hugo (chocolate, apple, mulberry, key lime, and sweet potato) while Ginny looked for places to store her and Harry's food, trying to stay out the way of her mother's flying utensils. George and Angie had arrived the day before and were chatting with Bill and Fleur. Charlie had surprised everyone by returning from his current post in Kiev. He currently was capturing most of the children's attention with fantastical tales of new dragon species and gathering knowledge of them through centaurs and giants. A few of the children, including Rosie, Al, and Bill's oldest, Victoire, were patiently helping Arthur as he struggled to start Christmas music on an old muggle Gramophone without using a spell (it ruins the spirit of these machines!).

Percy had also returned, though was decidedly less merry than his brothers. He currently sat at the edge of the long dining table with Hermione, icing smiley gingerbread men while talking in low tones and a persistent scowl.

"It is just my feeling that Malfoy should not be entrusted with such information"

Hermione blinked wearily at her brother-in-law and colleague, "It is a matter of skill and secrecy, Percy. Malfoy could fix this issue on his own while all other options require at least three people to understand these things. Its old and specific expertise and the fewer people to know, the better."

Percy's frown had not retreated, "Yes but three people with no weaknesses…." Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Look Hermione," Percy continued, " I dealt with Draco as a Prefect and now as a supervisor. I've never had to correct a report he's turned in and honestly, he impresses me with how much he's changed. But his family Hermione, his family- his father- he'll know exactly what we're up to if he even lets one detail slip of this…project"

"It's not bias Hermione, I…. I try very hard with him to not be" Percy's features became more gentle as Hermione still eyed him doubtfully, "If you really feel he is a safe option then I trust your opinion… but I'm not the only person you'll need to convince." In his haste he had accidentally snapped a gingerbread and offered a half-frosted arm to Hermione as a peace offering.

Finally Hermione seemed to relax, "Thanks Perce, it means a lot to hear even that. I… I'm so terrified of having to make these decisions. I felt much better making someone else act on my ideas than doing it myself."

The two chuckled as Molly glanced over from the other side of the kitchen. She smiled, relieved to see them less serious. She rarely ventured out of St. Ottery, but Molly Weasley could tell something was amiss in the professional wizarding world. Ron and Harry had both mentioned upticks in suspicious incidents involving muggle-born wizards, even those too young to be enrolled in Hogwarts and essentially undetectable to the Ministry. And Hermione…. Molly gazed upon her beloved daughter-in-law with both admiration and trepidation.

Ron had hastily explained her appointment to Minister a few days after her swearing-in, awfully bereft of an explanation for the sudden promotion or the appropriate celebratory air. And throughout the fall Hermione had been gone from home for weeks, returning sometimes in the early morning with puffy eyes and day-old makeup smudges. Molly had taken up the task of distracting a curious Hugo (joyfully discovering his enthusiasm for baking). Ron had been an absolute darling husband but was understandably frustrated with how little information she could give him. She and her son often spent long, early-morning hours in the kitchen; Ron finishing Auror reports at the table while she pattered around him baking muffins and pastries… should someone return home. She'd catch him glancing at the old family clock, watching the hand covering Hermione remaining stubbornly at "Work".

Presently, Molly rested her eyes on the clock, which was clucking merrily with so many members now "Home." She remembered a time long ago when the arms of her entire family were stuck at "Mortal Peril" and could not help but wonder if the secret issues of the Ministry would force those hands again. As she looked, the hands of Harry started moving from "Work" to "Home," and moments later, the dark-haired man pushed through the front door in a whirlwind of flurries. Lily had appeared at the doorway to the kitchen and ran up to her father, "Papa! Where's Uncle Ron?"

"He'll be here soon, very soon Lilypad," Harry playfully spun his daughter around but when he locked eyes on Molly, they betrayed a more urgent matter, "What have you been up to?" Harry set down Lily and walked naturally over to Molly.

"Charlie lived with Giants! They played with a child who was Twelve feet! They haven't even got to the stories with elves- tall elves!" Lily bounced around the table and Hermione slipped her a newly frosted gingerbread, eyeing Harry with interest.

"Well you can't miss that story now!" Harry gently ushered his youngest back into the den before swiftly turning back to Molly, Hermione, and Percy, "Something's come up and Ron will be here soon."

"I haven't heard of an incident?" Hermione tapped her wand to bring up the last notifications from work, but Harry shook his head, "It wasn't an official call-in and, as of now, off-record…"

"A personal call?" Hermione knitted her brows as Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley, "I hate to ask but is there any way a few more visitors can stay?"

Molly blinked, "Why of course! There's more food than necessary, even with this hoard. How many…."

A second wind of snow blew into the entryway as Ron appeared, guiding an amorphous mass of nine other people, covered in blankets and wearing a mix of pjs, boots, and caps. This time, Lily and Rosie appeared near the kitchen, with the latter recognizing one of the smaller bundles, "Aldo, Aldo Creevey?"

Two eyes sleepily acknowledged Rosie and then James, who had come over after hearing his friend's name. He was clutching a sizable box of photos. Ron shut the door and was hurriedly gathering the dampening blankets and winter gear from the Creevey family, "James, if you would, throw these in the laundry to dry, " tossing the pile to his nephew, "Rosie please get some slippers for our guests or wool socks at least, and help the Potters move into your room, we'll have the parents put up in ours….. Louis! Roxanne! Albus! Lucy! Take these up and line the boots down in the back…" Slowly the commotion had led the children from the den to the kitchen and Ron tossed items from the Creeveys' to the nearest hands.

Aldo made a start to follow James up the stairs, "I'll just put these up there myself Mr. Weasley," he gestured to the box of photos.

"That's fine son, just hurry down for dinner… and call me Ron- 'Mr. Weasley' doesn't narrow down the options in this house," Ron winked at the boy and visibly relaxed himself. He turned to the four adults, which included Dennis and his wife, as well as his parents. They stared awestruck and delighted at the magically bustling kitchen that was setting its own table. "We'll get you all fed soon if you'd like to take a seat…"

Aldo rushed to catch up with James, and the two met Rosie and Albus in the guest room where the Potter children were staying.

Albus was throwing clothing into his siblings' suitcases and paused as he saw Aldo enter. Rosie immediately went to shut the door, though not before a nosy Lily scampered in. James spoke up first, "Aldo what happened?" he eyed the box of photos, "Did someone break in to 'This and That's?"

The boy shook his head, "No we always celebrate Christmas at my grandparents'…I…I just brought photos I took last term-see! Here's you!" He procured a photo of James catching a snitch in a match against Ravenclaw. " They're muggles but they really do like Quidditch…"

Rosie persistently interrupted Aldo, "So did something happen at your Grandparents' house?"

Aldo's face dropped and he turned to place the box on a windowsill. "Something caught fire… we… it was very fast, not like an accident…"

The Potters and Rosie stood silently, waiting for more from their friend, but Aldo seemed content with his story and looked expectantly at the door.

"Yeah, let's go eat…" Albus offered and the boy nodded, relieved.

The group was the last to return to the kitchen and Albus paused slightly on the steps to take in the scene before him. The adult Creeveys had taken the center spots of the long dining table, and Dennis was talking intently to Hermione, Harry and Percy. From their expressions, Albus could deduce that they also were aware of the reason for the unexpected visit. Aldo's Grandparents were smiling from ear to ear as they watched the multitude of children squeeze themselves onto the two benches that ran down the sides of the table. Amazingly no matter how many extra bodies filled up the seats, there always seemed to be more room for another. Arthur Weasley sat at the head of the table near the children, excitedly pointing to the trays of dessert with equal enthusiasm as his young counterparts. Molly was walking around the benches, waving her wand to start the various dishes serving the food and adding the odd cushion under some of the smaller guests. Aldo had plopped himself between is siblings and seemed happier to be in the commotion. Finally, he locked eyes with Lily, who patted the space next her, causing it to expand.

Albus joined his sister just as Mrs. Weasley, satisfied with her rounds, stood at the head of the long table and raised a glass. "I know it's been a long evening for many of you so I'll keep things short. Welcome Creevey family," Her eyes rested warmly upon the visitors, "To a full house and full bellies! Merry Christmas!"

"Huzzah!" cried Teddy, eliciting wild laughter from Louis and the young Creevey children. From there the table sprang alive with chit chat and jokes between moments of gulping down delicious helpings of food. As the treats disappeared, the empty plates and dishes began to wash in the sink and the crowd moved into the den.

"Oh my! What an exquisite turntable!" Aldo's Grandmother beamed as she scampered over to the antique. A look of hope alighted on Arthur Weasley's features and he followed her, grabbing a record, "I don't suppose you know how to use it?"

Festive melodies soon filled the flickering living room and Al listened from a distance to Charlie's resumption of his adventures. The current story was largely at the expense of his brother, Percy, who had briefly met up while on his latest diplomacy trip. As Charlie laughed heartily at his brother's protests, James appeared near his side and nudged him.

"Aldo took his sisters up to bed- He didn't seem in the mood to talk more and I think he'll stay up there with them."

Al nodded sympathetically. James had since taken Aldo under his wing, but found that the spirited boy was actually good company and could take an amazing photograph every so often. His shoulders sagged as he listened to the Weasley uncles now joining in, reminiscing on just how much of a prat Percy could be, clearly worried for his young friend. "It's just another mystery I suppose, like all the others." He muttered.

"Yeah, something's up," Al replied. Despite the cheery atmosphere, he'd caught glimpses of a certain uneasiness that would settle into the adults' features when they thought the kids weren't looking. Lily even mentioned that Grandma Molly had restricted the younger children's' outdoor games, preferring them to stay in the den where she could keep a watchful eye.

The Daily Prophet had become a staple at the Dining Halls as the last month of the semester began. Before that, a few students had mentioned the odd-off occurrence. Some concerning, but isolated and far from causing a panic. And then it seemed like everyone had a story- a primary tutor who'd been confounded, strange and deadly plants suddenly sprouting in known magical neighborhoods, muggle disappearances, an attack. They happened so concurrently that the Prophet was able to piece together an intriguing tale of organized mayhem, circumventing the need for Auror cooperation. Al would nervously chew his lip as he read through these accounts, but nothing near to a werewolf attack had been mentioned…

What was noticeable was the striking dearth of strange experiences felt by the Slytherin House, which only intensified the hallway battles. McGonagall had taken to personally giving out detentions to the instigators and no less than thirty students occupied an old, unused classroom each week. Often Al and Scorpius found themselves among the punished, doing lines until their hands cramped and making it very hard to finish their essays afterward. Al didn't take it too personally, knowing McGonagall was justifiably preoccupied with much more pressing matters than to discriminate between the aggressors and defenders. However, Jade, Quinn, and Vanessa, also recurrent attendees, had only deepened their dislike of the Headmaster.

James sunk back, leaning into his perch on the armchair Al was sitting on, "Dad knows something about it for sure, I haven't seen him look this stressed since…" He trailed off, frowning slightly.

One of the things James had admitted to Al after their row at school was that he'd also been terrified when Harry came home confounded. "I don't know Al, you feel things- like you get into a funk over stuff like that- but you always pull yourself out. I just… it was easier to pretend like nothing was wrong. But I really wasn't there for you and Lily and I don't like to think about it much because I never really got over it. It's like I'm scared to be scared."

That made Al feel much less weak, but he had to admit that the holidays had left him emotional and frustrated. Obviously, a great deal of things had occurred while he and his brother were off at school and he didn't like the starkness of those changes and the effect it had on his parents. They weren't fighting, but clearly strained. Rose had mentioned the same about his Aunt and Uncle.

And Harry was withdrawn. Al spotted his Dad sitting somewhat away from the Weasley brothers, unfocused to the conversation in front of him. Al watched him intermittently for some time, but dozed off before he managed to catch his eye.

Albus awoke many hours later and again found that someone had taken him to bed. As sleep lifted slowly from him, he became aware of a striking coldness from his bare feet. Squeezed between several bodies as the cousins shared their beds, Al's legs were dangling off the edge, far away from the warmth of the quilt. Someone was squirming near him as well, and soon the small, blanketed knot unraveled enough to reveal Lily, murmuring uncomfortably next to him.

"Al, my tummy" she managed to make out in her wavering stupor.

Al couldn't help but smirk as he recalled one of the last waking memories of the night where his sister had managed to sneak away no less than three plum tarts and the last slice of key lime pie. Still, he patted her head, "Would water help?"

Lily blinked gratefully and returned to an uneasy rocking. Al silently slipped from the bed, wincing as cold feet touched even colder floors. He spotted a pair of slippers near the edge of Rosie's bed and donned them, slinking out of the bedroom and down towards the kitchen. The stairs wound around the tower three times before descending into the common kitchen and den and passed beneath several windows strung with heavy curtains, hanging plants and Christmas decorations. At the last turn Al peered through the lowest window in the tower, which faced his grandparent's spire. He noticed the lights in the private kitchenette were on and several figures passed through the emitting light. As he reached the kitchen, he could hear tense muttering and recognized his father's and Uncle Ron's voices, as well as his Uncle Percy. Quietly he filled a glass of water, his ears straining to mold words out of the undulating tones. With no avail, Al turned back towards the stairs.

"Malfoy! Are you bloody mad!" Al stopped in his tracks at his schoolmate's name.

"Ronald, I told you I wasn't going to discuss this further! I told you he would react this way," Hermione sounded tired and annoyed. Al heard his Uncle Percy chime in, "Well as I said, it's not like this is a decision to be made without input..."

"No!" Hermione seemed to stop the shout that escaped her. For a second the adults seemed to quiet, scared that they might disturb the sleeping children. Then, more measuredly, Hermione continued, "You think I haven't weighed other options? Malf- Draco just has the best knowledge of how these things work- Minerva has exhausted the expertise of the other professors and it's becoming hard to find the skills while keeping the matter secret."

"And do we get to know this 'matter' you speak of?" Ron sounded hurt, though Hermione's tone remained firm as she replied, "Obviously it would greatly benefit me to have someone to.. well… my goodness I feel like I'm about to explode these days it's… there's so little time…and it's very damaged…" she trailed off more softly and Al heard her sniffle, with a couple of shifting sounds of others reaching out to comfort her. Percy spoke up firmly, "Ron, as someone familiar with more of this I beseech you to have some patience. This isn't something to be dealt with lightly."

More carefully, Ron spoke again, "Dear, I… and Harry too. We can't help but notice that we've come across some nasty incidents lately and, well, the usual suspects are awaiting trial so we can't help but think that maybe there are new threats coming about…"

"Francesca has informed me of the incidents. From what I gather, the attacks are crude but they could be even pulled off by muggles. What Dark wizards would risk that kind of discovery? I mean there are ways to cover up magic- it's protocol really… and no, none involved fire."

A new voice perked up, likely Dennis Creevey, "Ron already had me give a description but I know the fire was unusual- it wasn't animated or anything but it was so blue, it looked like the fire from the Triwizard tournament and I felt….cold. Painfully cold."

"I've no idea what spell that could be…" Hermione contemplated, "Which is more concerning since its clearly not sanctioned or, I mean it takes a certain level of intelligence to conjure your own usable spell…"

But Ron jumped in, "I don't know, it was rather unsophisticated- Harry put it out with the aguamenti charm in seconds- those muggle firemen could have handled it. There's plenty of known fire spells that are resistant to such easy counters. I mean perhaps he's practicing but the other attacks as well were easily combated- the Vane twins aren't even ten yet and their untrained magic was able to overcome their kidnapping."

The incident in question had been one of the first murmured around Hogwarts. Alice Vane, a fourth year Gryffindor that replaced Adrian on the Quidditch team had been informed before a match that her grandmother had been injured and her younger brothers attacked by an unknown curse that had transfigured their bedroom into a rapidly shrinking box. Scared out of their minds, one boy managed to melt himself through a wall while the other somehow blew a sharp wind, obliterating the entire structure but also accidentally cutting his grandmother. That boy was still in St. Mungo's, traumatized from hurting her and refusing to perform magic. James had sent him the winning snitch from last year's House Cup game, which seemed to have brightened his spirits.

"We don't even know if those incidences are connected Ron…" Hermione replied cautiously, "But it is a connection worth exploring- Percy, perhaps we can have some of the Wizengamot overview these cases again. And maybe your department could hold a training refresher to the Aurors on some simple curse counters."

"Sure thing," Bill Weasley replied.

"Well at least there's solutions to this problem potentially," Hermione concluded as the table quieted once more.

Al's ears perked at the sound of his Dad. From inside the room, Harry had been staring at the table that separated himself from Hermione as if he were discerning some pattern, his eyes darting towards invisible pieces of information that his mind laid out before him. As the conversation drifted, he tuned out the distraction but now broke the second stretch of silence, "Can it really survive fiendfyre?"

Hermione blanched. Taking her reaction as a verified puzzle piece, he was now deeply thinking of the implications.

"But who would you need to move from Diagon Alley? Or can these things be trained for other destinations?"

No one else at the table had a clue about what was going on, but the tension had violently sprung back between the two friends. Ron eyed Harry for hints toward his train of thought, but found nothing, "Oi mate Diagon Alley, Fiendfyre? How does Malfoy figure into that?" He decided to be impressed, "well at least one of us got sharper after school…"

Hermione was less enthusiastic, "Draco thinks they can be modified for other locations and we need them for several …. Erm targets so… it's a matter of volume and secrecy really… I…I'm repeating myself…. I don't know any other way."

Harry looked confounded, "What do you mean by volume? Like wizards? Refugees?"

"That's a way to put it I guess… we… we've tried more direct extractions but they…they …." And Hermione gave an awful sob, "They'd rather kill them than let them escape and it's horrible!" She looked pleadingly around the room and found severely concerned faces eyeing her and each other. Arthur Weasley spoke, grasping Hermione's shoulder and giving it a squeeze, "Perhaps we all need to sleep this off. I think our Minister knows better than all of us what's at stake and, well, I've put my trust in far less capable folk.

Hermione's eyes were watery and grateful, though she looked sharply at Harry before nudging back her seat and Harry knew they would reconvene tomorrow about the topic.

At the sound of the adults shuffling around the kitchen, Al came out of his curious trance. After his escapade with Scorpius into the dungeons, Al couldn't shake the feeling that Hermione's 'refugees' were more children with Lycanthropy (the proper term for werewolf as he'd recently learned). Seeing the Markov's had been difficult, as the twins' odd habits now began to make sense in the context of their condition. In Al's opinion Scorpius could also be making a better attempt at including the twins in their day-to-day activities. Despite his promise, his friend was awfully more frightened at their classmate's condition and showed it. It was causing a small, but growing tension between them.

He reached for the glass of water for Lily but found it was no longer on the table where he was certain he'd set it. Feeling the door of the kitchen could open any moment, he scurried toward the stairs and came across yet another curious sight. The glass was levitating… no it was being gently jostled toward the foot of the stairs, where Lily had crept down and was singularly concentrating. As her brother appeared, Lily started slightly and the glass lurched, spilling water and looking about to topple. Al grabbed the glass and motioned for her to hurry up the stairs. Once just outside of their bedroom, he finally felt safe enough to talk. "Lily how?" Al nodded at the glass.

His sister shrugged, still quite groggy from her uncomfortable sleep, "I have to get a lot of stuff on my own now without you two here…" and sipped her water, "I've never done a glass before though, mostly just frisbees that get stuck on the roof and sweets Mum hides…"

"That's quite good," said Al, impressed, "Have you showed Mum and Dad?"

Lily looked forlorn, "They haven't been much around since you've gone, I've been staying with Grandpa and Grandma mostly. I listen as well, but it's much more fun with you and James. McGonagall comes by a lot. She was talking about forest enchantments and security at Hogwarts but mostly she's been picking up packages that come here."

"Packages?" said Al, wondering why something needed to be sent to the Burrow of all places, instead of directly to Hogwarts, "What type of packages?"

"All sorts really. Most are large but they're different shapes." Lily paused, "I accidentally opened one and it was only pillows. Strange right?"

Al feigned confusion but he knew where the extra bedding was going. He followed his sister back into the bedroom. A small window overhead revealed the blackness of the dead night was slowly receding, but there would probably be a few more hours of sleep to catch.

He sighed, " A lot has changed since I've been gone."

His sister sipped her water thoughtfully, "You've changed too though." Al raised his eyebrows, "Have I?"

"You're not so nervous, I guess. Or off by yourself with your nose in a book." She smiled kindly, "It's not a bad change."

As Lily settled beside him, Al drifted into a vivid sleep, where he tried to escape a shrinking home only to be engulfed by blue flames, with only a pillow to beat them back.

Chapter Text

"Well for what it's worth, your deductive skills are becoming quite good. But I supposed you've figured things out like this before- you're quite keen on anything regarding Draco" Hermione smirked lightly, which lessened the deeply purple bags under her eyes. Harry guessed his mustn't look much better as he hadn't slept at all since their midnight meeting. Waving his wand to quickly quiet the coffee pot, he poured him and his friend a mug.

"Are we good to discuss here or should we take another hike through the moor?" Upon hearing some shuffling in the kitchenette, Hermione beckoned to the backyard and the two set out silently into the wintry morning.

The fresh snow shone fiercely white and made Harry's eyes squint, but the cold had seemed to recede in the night. After a way, he slowed to face Hermione, tilting his head. She paused for a length and started carefully, "As I said, it's not my choice to keep you all so uninformed. It's hard to separate workplace decorum when, well, I mean half of you are family and the others might as well be. It's not like this in the muggle world you know, well, at least not in London, but the wizarding community is much smaller…."

Harry shook his head understandingly, "I suppose that's how all corruption starts- among friends. And it doesn't help that the War made heroes of our peers no? Of course we fill up half the Ministry"

Hermione chuckled, "And we haven't even grown old yet."

"Speak for yourself, James regularly out-flies me these days. Brooms are, well I have to stretch now…" another chuckle, though Hermione pursed her lips, clearly ready to start the real discussion.

"The vanishing cabinet survived the fire, yes- apparently the old ones are very well charmed to resist these kinds of things. But, to your second point, no, we have no need for a secret portal into Hogwarts from Diagon Alley. We confiscated the Borgin and Burke one a while ago actually- it's in the Ministry at the moment with eight others. Draco thinks four can be useable by March."

"So you've already given him the job then?" Harry inquired.

Hermione reddened, "He doesn't know what they're for as of yet but obviously we want to check their efficacy at the target locations and he'll gather what's going on. And the charms necessary for the Hogwarts cabinet render it highly fragile so he'll have to do repairs there."

Harry pondered this more, but Hermione suddenly waved her hand impatiently, "You've already figured out enough I might as well tell you but DON'T tell Ron you know a wink understand?" Harry nodded.

Hermione took a rather long sip of coffee before starting, "Well, I guess to begin with, Shacklebolt didn't use Ministry funds to party in the Caribbean…"

Harry snorted, "Hermione even Ron has figured that much out himself. We saw Atterberry talking with him in a Muggle petrol station about a month after his resignation, showing him documents and such. We figured he just needed lower profile excuse- I mean, Fenrir escaped Azkaban under his orders and that wasn't released to the public until much later. I assume he made a deal or something."

Hermione looked somewhere between terrified and angry, but replied, weakly, "It's got everything to do with Greyback…. " She shuddered involuntarily, "He, he built a colony down in Wales and…"

"What do you mean 'built'" Harry's coffee was suddenly nauseatingly bitter.

"He was taking children." Said Hermione, "But there were other werewolves in allegiance with him, adults… adult wizards that were bitten. They… Lupin was right to fear about his condition being hereditary I guess- or maybe both parents need to be… turned. I don't know, but the taken children weren't surviving nearly as long as the offspring. That's why he hasn't surfaced recently"

Now even the smell of his drink was making him sick. Harry swallowed. "So we have second generation werewolves…. And there's more?" Hermione's face was stricken, "I suppose these, well what are they children? Pups? They don't have greater powers do they?"

"They are children Harry," Hermione said firmly, "They're abused and have done horrible things but they're children nonetheless."

"They've done horrible things?" Harry questioned sharply.

"From what we've gathered, they only want the ones that aren't wizards and the ones that are, they… practice on- I really don't want to get further into this. They-he- they're all terrified and starved and made to make awful decisions… you remember how hard an adult like Lupin had to try to control his transitions."

"So that's what Shacklebolt showed you that trip."

Hermione half-shook her head. "Well yes, but we had no idea what we were dealing with then."

Harry looked at her quizzically, "How did you even find them in the first place?"

Hermione laughed mirthlessly, " They, the magical ones… they turned eleven Harry."

A creeping dread had sunk into Harry's stomach. He recalled a scene just before Hermione and Shacklebolt had set off on that very odd weekend where McGonagall had all but blown down the Minister's door to talk about some urgent matter, "Hermione are they at Hogwarts? They got letters didn't they?"

Hermione looked teary, "There were about twelve of them, sets- you see you can sort of tell it was funny- they are all born as twins…" She sniffled slightly, "We didn't know what was going on so we sent a team of officials to check the…. Well we thought it was a village. But we were attacked-it's not like we thought it would be dangerous- Shacklebolt just needed officials with good obliviate spells since we figured most would be muggleborns. They…. I saw Fenrir and then I didn't and when we finally fought through the clan we found them and, he'd just killed them- every single one. I think he wanted magical ones at first but they're detectable so… we haven't received letters like that since, which means…"

The tears were now streaming readily from Hermione's face and Harry clutched his friend tightly, looking into the beautiful December mist with utmost apathy. But another thought slowly crept into his consciousness- a conversation with Al, "Hermione, my son- Al- he has a set of twins in his year—he said they're sickly…"

Hermione pulled away and wiped her eyes furiously, "The Markov's probably- there's another set as well, probably doing much better. Their mother found us after the extract… disaster. Just handed them over- you could tell they were well cared for. We found her and her husband about a month later- butchered. It's barbaric" She paused and eyed Harry apologetically, "The Markovs were rescued by… we found Katie Bell Harry."

Harry jerked away and fixed Hermione with an icy stare but couldn't speak.

"She was with Fenrir. I guess she was a trophy of sorts I- well she doesn't talk to anyone. One of the wizards had kept her Imperioused and somehow she was able to break free and managed to take those two along. She's in St. Mungo's- it's been less than a year."

"Harry, she has refused to see anyone and we have to respect it I guess. I couldn't tell you. Even me mentioning it now is more than she wants you to know."

Harry barely heard her last pleading words. He was trying to cry but the only thing his mind could summon was a blistering rage at it all. He hated himself and Hermione and Minerva and Shacklebolt and he whole mess that seemed to pass from his detection.

Hermione seemed to think lesser emotions were flooding him because she continued, to his chagrin, " I get weekly reports on her health, physically she's recovering… and she saw the twins over the holiday. We've told her that once she's passed her psyche evaluations there might be an opportunity to adopt… so far that's been the only motivation that's worked…"

"Is she a… did he bite her." Harry stated flatly. Hermione brightened a little, "No she doesn't turn but she's obviously been mauled- it's a Bill situation, a little more severe. We suspect he wanted to control her more and feared giving her abilities…. I…. I'm sorry Harry this has to be upsetting."

"And so Shacklebolt's been up to what exactly," Harry hollowly pushed further. Hermione winced at his tone.

"He's been finding out where they moved. We can't detect any more in Britain so we guess he'd left the bounds of the Ministry. We informed France and Germany-as far as India-and none know of any situation. The other countries, well, the Eastern Bloc doesn't even track muggleborns if they don't attend Duramstag so I doubt they're monitoring much else, but Kingsley thinks that if he wanted wizards, that would be the place to go. It's been a diplomatic mess to be honest- Percy and Audrey being able to travel there was a miracle. Atterberry wouldn't even set up a meeting with the Senate."

"He just ignored all of this when he came to office?" Harry questioned, incredulous. After Fudge, he had no tolerance for Band-Aid politicians, and Atterberry certainly seemed the sort.

"He's vile," muttered Hermione, "He tried to confine them to special homes- he was building a space in St. Mungo's to hold them. He covers it up with safety, but he doesn't consider them wizards worthy of being in society. He completely drained the funding for accessible learning at Hogwarts. That was the true destination of Shacklebolt's 'tropical spending'."

The two sat in silence for a while more. The rationality of Hermione's decisions was beginning to assuage the white-hot anger, but even the cold winter air couldn't cool him completely. He breathed in the frost and tried block out the visual of Bill Weasley in the Hogwarts Hospital after the Astronomy tower skirmish. Or the defeated manner of Lupin, a wizard fully educated and yet so hardly accepted.

"I just don't know how something like this can be told correctly," Hermione whispered. Harry nodded.

"And you think Malfoy will approve of this use?"

Again Hermione stiffened, "I was worried about it but honestly… he's been okay with me. We're not friends and he obviously thinks I'm horribly underqualified as a leader but there's respect- at least in regards to the genuine effort he puts into his work. His critiques are fair, and he describes other magic folk with regard. He's a good wizard and talented- and that's without a proper wand."

"What's wrong with it?"

"I guess it got snapped in the Battle and Ollivander refused to repair it or replace it. None of the other wandmakers wanted him in their shops- he got it repaired at some off-hand place in Knockturn before it was vacated. It's a little touchy that's all."

Harry did feel sorry for Draco. It had been a while since their talk in the Ministry but recently he'd been approached by his former classmate, looking gaunt as ever, while Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. He'd suddenly appeared at his side looking through an assortment of new perfumes for witches.

"Astoria's allergic to most of these." He eyed a line of earrings a little down the counter, crowded with shoppers.

"Good to know," Harry inspected a small cylinder of pale periwinkle liquid, looking skeptical at the price.

"I'd try a tester before you buy."

This was also sound advice. The promising bottle smelled sharply flowery and Harry estimated Ginny wouldn't like this kind of scent for at least three more decades. Draco was concentrating on the glittering trinkets behind the counter. Finally, he spoke, weighing his words carefully, "I hear our sons are still getting along at school."

Harry suspected this had been the reason for the conversation, "Yeah I've heard- but I guess being herbology partners can make friends out of the worst enemies."

Draco smirked slightly, "I suppose it's a rite of passage, getting punched by a snargaluff." He paused. The two had been steadily inching toward the jewelry counter and Draco looked thoughtfully at a pair of planetary earrings. Harry nodded approvingly and tried to eye a few necklaces further ahead.

Draco let out an anxious breath, "We have a New Years tradition- we go see a light show just out of Oxford. It's a whole affair; party masks, a carnival, ice sculptures." Harry had heard of the event, "Isn't it a muggle thing?" He inquired.

"Well a bit, but there's a few tents for wizards only- light dragons and fairy performances. We've taken Scorpius and Jeya- I think you must know her- for a few years. He asked me if Al could come this year…" Draco ended rather quietly and catching the jeweler's attention, beckoned towards the case. He purchased a set of Neptune earrings and a charm bracelet with the same planet as well as a constellation. The objects spun around the delicately weaved band and the stars turned into a pair of fish halfway around. "Tori is a Pisces…" He explained, "Always been into these sorts of superstitions, divination and all."

Harry nodded absentmindedly. He turned to Draco and appraised his schoolmate. Well-dressed, unflashy, pale and anxious. He could ask Ginny if they could take the family to the Carnival as well, but Harry mused that there was a reason only Al had been invited. Still, the Malfoy family were not the people he wanted to leave his son with although Jeya's muggle parents seemed fine with the arrangement….

"I suppose if Al wants to go we can let him- just ask." Harry eventually stated.

Draco looked genuinely shocked and perhaps, briefly, elated, "Well great- we, we have masks for him already if he has none and… here." He tore a parchment from his pocket and scribbled an address on it, "I suppose the easiest way to travel is by floo so that's our fireplace."

Harry took the piece, "You don't live at Malfoy Manor?" The parchment was for somewhere in Cokesworth.

"No," said Draco tiredly, "We moved once Tori started treatments with Dr. Siva- she's at a hospital near there." He nodded at the address, "So she can come home for the holidays."

"I see," said Harry sympathetically.

"My father has also been a nightmare so that's another…" Draco drifted off bitterly, "My mother comes around a bit. Tori's parents wouldn't even attend the wedding."

Harry bit his tongue at the mention of Lucius, who had weaseled himself out of Azkaban for a second time. "Well, I'll send this to Al, Malfoy- thanks, I'm sure he'll be excited."

"Yes well, Scorpius will be pleased," He shuffled awkwardly and folded his gift into his cloak, "I guess… well Happy Christmas Potter."

"Happy Christmas," said Harry.

"Harry are you okay? You've been awfully quiet." Hermione and Harry had also made it back to the Burrow garden. She'd let him fall into his thoughts for several minutes, "I'm really sorry again I didn't tell you… I particularly felt you ought to have known…"

Harry still felt panged with the information of the morning but it was nothing he hadn't dealt with before, "It's okay Hermione, I think… I think Draco is the man for the job. He'll be okay."

From the stone tower, Harry could see a long train of children scampering down the steps, probably woken up by the savory breakfast scents streaming out of the kitchen. Before he could enter, Hermione grasped his shoulder solidly and he turned to see her bewildered, beaming face, "Harry… Thanks… Merry Christmas."

Chapter Text

"Mum you really don't need to knit me sweaters anymore…" Ron tugged away from Hermione, who was determinedly shoving his head through the small gap of the cloth, "What with so many grandkids, that's just such a burden…."

"Nonsense!" Molly Weasley waved her hand dismissively as she puttered around the room of knit bundles. Fleur seemed equally off-put by her sweater but managed to eke out a compliment as her mother-in-law passed her by, "Eet is my favorite color…" She now smirked at Bill donned in matching lilac. George was wearing an orange jumper, looking hilariously pumpkin-like but beaming as he dressed his son in a matching set, "We ought to think this one through for next year mate but at least one of us looks dashing…"

Albus got a pine green sweater with a fairly good stitch of his owl and James seemed impressed by his golden one with quidditch hoops. Lily was wiggling into a light aqua jumper with a pygmy puff. Al looked up at his father who has donning a blue sweater with a simple emblazoned 'H'"

"I heard you… ehem… outgrew the last one dear," Molly passed by happily.

"Harry you still grow? Odd you look just about as short as ever…" snickered George as Angelina lightly swatted him, "It's alright you know, I added a few inches myself last year…"

Ginny was genuinely thrilled with the necklace Harry had settled on. It was a simple silver chain dappled with a few teardrop pearls and a small circular pendant with a charmed horse galloping about, "It reminded me of your patronus…"

Ron gazed for a bit at the necklace, "It's rather good- what store?"

"'Azar and Chase House of Diamonds'- Opened a few years ago, near the new chess store."

Ginny added playfully, "I suppose I could assist you if you wanted to get something nice."

Ron looked relieved, "Yes, that… that would be great." Ignoring her rolling eyes. Harry thought Hermione seemed quite content with the new quill set he'd picked out. He shuffled the light, wrapped box laying in his lap and began to tear open the contents, revealing a sleek fabric outdoor cloak that played tricks on the eye when it shimmered.

"Ginny this is amazing." He admired the extensive network of pockets and hood.

"It's meant to be worn both ways see?" Ginny turned the shiny layer to reveal a much less ostentatious slate gray pattern. "This helps with muggle evasion when you fly- the shimmering basically renders you invisible at that speed. It's waterproof, repels the five most common cursed fires, and this pocket," She tapped a small square flap just below the collar, "has a bottomless charm and absorbs up to thirty pounds without detection."

"Thank you," Harry continued to marvel at the cloak.

"I'd figured it would benefit both of us." Ginny quipped slyly, "I'm personally tired of your last cloak hanging up with God knows what on it, from whatever your little trips get you into."

Harry winced and caught Hermione's eye. Most of his messier excursions had been solo pursuits of leads on Katie Bell, which, having some conclusion to her story, would no longer be happening. Still, with the investigations picking up, he knew he'd be out in the field far more often in the new year.

He hoped that Hermione and Percy would be able to reconvene sometime before heading back to the Ministry. The emotions of the morning had rapidly evolved into more questions about the details regarding the young werewolves and possible locations of Fenrir Greyback. Harry shivered. He'd hoped that Fenrir would have met some sort of savage end by now, as most criminal gangs jockeyed for inner power with the same viciousness as their attacks on outsiders. That he might be not only alive but thriving indicated to the seasoned Auror that he was a force to not underestimate.

Harry glanced up and caught a pair of green eyes scrutinizing him. Shoot- he needed to control his demure expression, especially around his son. Al had picked up the tensions between family members almost immediately after arriving home and Harry could tell it was wearing on him. He accio'ed a leftover tart from the kitchen and made a scene dropping it into the bottomless pocket, winking at his son. Al smirked, but Harry knew he was far too precocious to be fooled.

He felt guilty knowing that the holidays weren't as restful for his son as they could be, as he'd been well-informed that Al's first semester was far from peaceful. McGonagall had sent a letter to the Potters informing them that their son had spent over four weeks in a row in detention. Ginny was halfway done concocting a howler to James before Harry caught her mistake and the two pondered what could have happened to their quiet bookworm child. A second hasty letter had answered their biggest questions

Dear Harry and Ginevra,

You have certainly received a letter stating that your son, Albus, has spent an extraordinary amount of time in detention for conjuring of hexes against another student. A letter home is triggered automatically when the student exceeds four separate citations in less than eight weeks. I am unsure if your son has divulged the nature of the student body at the moment but assuming he has not I will inform you that a number of incidents has antagonized the Houses severely. I am to blame for letting this matter foment to such a degree and can assure you that you son is undoubtedly acting in defense of himself or his friend Mr. Scorpius Malfoy, an unfortunate target of quite extreme bullying. I have been incredibly tied up with urgent security matters but am writing to reassure you that the new semester will begin with stricter control of student's behavior and a new 'no tolerance' policy with the consequences of expulsion.

My apologies,

Minerva McGonagall

Harry replayed the morning's revelations and considered the 'urgent security measure' of treating a minimum of four students for lycanthropy an understandable excuse for the Headmaster's absence in school affairs. Still, he and Ginny weren't quite sure how to approach the subject of detention and behavior with their middle child.

If he was defending a friend, Harry had no qualms with paying for the unfortunate consequences that sometimes followed. But there were other things that Al said that concerned him, such as not caring particularly much about House Points or the way he sourly described most of his professors. Points were childish, sure, but they were supposed to bring houses together and help form productive friendships. From what Al mentioned, it seemed that the Slytherin House was so disillusioned from the unfairness of the point system, that they had stopped trying altogether. And Harry knew how assumptions on a professor could inhibit learning….

But whenever the two were alone, Harry always fell short of broaching the conversation. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to say that would be stern enough to have Al take heed, but not make him feel attacked, especially since they hadn't really discussed his House placement either. He knew he should be concerned in the lack of communication; apparently just being 'not Uncle Vernon' was wholly inadequate for reassuring his son that they were on the same team.

James was gathering a group of the cousins to play a pickup game with the batwing boomerangs he'd gotten for Christmas. "Oh come on Roxy can't you and Victoire leave a little later?" He called to the older girls who were leaving with Angie to be fitted with celebratory dress robes for their impending graduation. "It's not Quidditch so you might even have a chance to win for once!" He flashed a charming smile at Roxanne's glare.

For now, Harry was content to toss another sweet in Al's direction as the boy headed out to the garden.

James waited until the back door closed to snatch the pumpkin turnover from his brother. But he hadn't even taken a bite when the dessert was forcefully yanked from his grip, right into the hands of his little sister.

"Did you do that on purpose?" He cried, holding his empty hands out in bewilderment, "Can you do that on purpose."

Al thought this was all very amusing. "Watch out James, she's barely had any supervision these last months. No one knows what she's capable of."

"If I tell you I'm impressed can I get half of that- I am actually hungry and besides, I saw you tuck in twice your weight in desserts last night- don't tell Al but you might be taller than him by the time you get to Hogwarts."

"Hey," Al complained genially as Lily laughed and split the treat in three.

Teddy, Dominique, Rosie, and Aldo had joined the siblings. The eldest Creevey looked well-rested compared to the evening before. As they tossed the boomerangs to warm up, James tried to prod a little more information from him.

"So, do your grandparents have a place to go?" He started, cautiously.

Aldo shrugged, "I think they'll stay with us for the time being. It's a little small but I think my Dad will feel better with them nearby." He glanced around the circle, "I don't really want to go back so soon… just in case something else happens."

"Awe Aldo I think it will be fine, plus I'm sure some Aurors will be protecting you since fire is kind of extreme." James tried to comfort the younger boy.

Aldo smiled softly, "Yeah I suppose you're right, I just can't help but worry though."

Teddy looked gloomier, "I didn't think we'd be dealing with this again so soon," he chucked the boomerang hard at Al, "Ah sorry bud."

Dominique looked at him in alarm, "You don't 'ink that these things are Dark magic? Like Death Eater Dark magic?"

Teddy glanced at the house to make sure no one had wandered outside before addressing his cousin. "Now I don't know much but Charlie mentioned offhand that the meeting between Percy and the Eastern Regions took a rather serious turn. Apparently, the muggles there are dealing with an active serial killer and it's been heightening tensions between the muggle governors and the Magical Senate."

The boomerangs hung limply as the cousins discreetly gathered closer together. Dominique shook her head, "An' they 'ink it's a wizard that is behind all of this, that's why?"

But Teddy shook his head, "No, ironically they only got involved because a young witch was killed. The Senate thought it was targeted but other victims have been tied to the culprit- all muggles."

"And he's non magical, the murderer?" Al wrinkled his nose

Teddy acknowledged his question, "They had suspicions I think. Apparently the man has escaped before- but he's never been detected as magical by any of the regions. But..." Teddy grimaced, "His modus operandi is…ritual-like. At least that's how Percy described it. So there's suspicions and rumors of witches among the muggle communities."

"Anyway, they have a little bit of a crisis on their hands already and whatever Percy was supposed to tell them was not welcome news. Audrey basically begged him to stay with Charlie because she was afraid that they'd retaliate before they had a chance to leave."

Dominique sniffed, "My Mum does not like thee schools there. She says Duramstrang is run by a zealot."

"Well, I'd have to agree." Teddy replied, "Charlie can barely stand having those students as apprentices. They're so backwards- but the muggle tensions are no laughing matter. The school didn't open until November and less than a week later the village next door sent a mob to the grounds."

Rosie looked completely shocked, "Don't they have security charms about the place? I suppose that's why Elena is here at Hogwarts then." Referring to Victor Krum's daughter. "She seems okay though, not discriminatory or anything."

Dominique piped up, "She said she 'ad meant to go to Hogwarts before this all anyway." Remembering a conversation with her housemate, "Krum eez not highly born as she put it. But he was so good at Quidditch 'at the Headmaster took him in. He only stayed to pull his family out of poverty."

Teddy sneered derisively, "What a lot. It's a shocking thing to see in some of these regions- I didn't realize how sheltered it was at Hogwarts, not that it's to the liking of certain families."

Al reddened automatically and didn't say anything, though he could feel several pairs of eyes fall on him. Rosie spoke up sympathetically, "Well who knows, maybe Al will change Slytherin for the better." He smiled at his cousin's support, but noticed her countenance falter.

"I wish you would spend New Year's with us though."

Scorpius had invited Al to an outing with his family on the holiday and Al had accepted somewhat reluctantly. As much as he liked his friend, he was wary of meeting his father, Draco. Since Al had been filled in on the man, he couldn't possibly see how the senior Malfoy could even want a Potter child being his own son's friend. But McGonagall's words to Scorpius held some hope, ambiguous as they were. Also, Scorpius had been a little down near the end of semester, feeling as though Jeya was slowly hanging out with him less and less. She had informed him that she couldn't spend this New Years together.

"It's fine Rosie, we got a lot of time still." Al reassured her. James was also avoiding eye contact, scuffing the ground with his feet.

"How's Malfoy doing?" Teddy awkwardly glanced at Al. Since the train, he'd felt a little guilty for being so harsh on the boy, too passive for his own good.

Al shrugged, "It's different every week- I do wish McGonagall could do better than offer him treats whenever he needs to escape to her office. Or rather, I wish the other teachers could follow her lead more."

Teddy nodded, "It's pretty uncontrollable- I never saw it this bad before, but I suppose the influx of war babies is going to rekindle some old grudges. Honestly though, the Slytherin boys from my year almost drowned Professor Magamus' daughter with a cursed Bubblehead charm. I think the main perpetrators were expelled but he still has to teach a lot of 'em. Your year seems relatively fine, but I guess we'll see-not you though Al, we know you're different."

Al shifted uncomfortably.

As New Years Eve arrived, Harry found himself worrying about his son more and more.

"Ginny, maybe we can charm a GPS signal on him for the night." "Or activate a portkey in case he wants to come home."

Ginny brushed his ideas away as she examined some of the broom head designs her father had carved during the fall. "Harry calm down. The Malfoys are on the brink of the Wizarding World as it is, for which- I think- they are very grateful. They're not going to throw it away by kidnapping our son. Besides, Astoria was never as fanatic as her sister. I never had problems with her in school."

"Gin, I'm positive you never had another enemy after knocking out Zacharias during Quidditch. If she had a problem with you, I'm sure she was smart enough to hide it."

Ginny grinned, "Fred and George gave me a whole years' worth of merchandise when they heard about that. Ron was so jealous."

Arthur had been intently listening to the two banter. He turned to his son-in-law and smiled apprehensively, "How's Draco at the Ministry? Do you still see his father about?"

Harry shook his head, "I think he avoids me as much as possible. But he's not his father- at least not publicly. Hermione says that he works harder than most senior Department Heads. He mentioned once that him and Lucius don't see eye-to-eye these days."

Arthur thought for a moment, polishing the handle of one of his prototypes. "That's too bad. I never liked Lucius, but he was the least unbearable when he talked about his son. Draco was truly the only thing that made him a little humane- but I suppose something had to give if Draco has changed as much and you and Hermione says."

"You don't actually feel sorry for that man, do you?" Ginny looked at her father incredulously, "He could have murdered me without a second thought."

At this, Arthur's eyes darkened from their usual cheery spark. He nodded, remembering his daughter's first year at school. "No, not him." He sighed, "I guess when you've existed this long you realize that, short of dying, people need to change. If his own son can't pull him from his beliefs… it's just a sad thing to think about."

Ginny huffed, apparently still bristled from the memory of Draco's father. "Well, I assure you, if I ever run into Zacharias these days, changed or not, he better hope I didn't bring my broom."

She turned to Harry gently, "Perhaps you could go with Al to Draco's house? Just to have a feel before we leave him in their company."

Al was slightly annoyed as he watched his father charm the fireplace to Scorpius' house and grab a handful of Floo powder. Mostly because he was almost certain that he and Draco were not going to get along. And if it was too bad, would he tell Al that he couldn't hang out with Scorpius?

"C'mon, the fireplace is big enough for two." Harry clutched Al tightly and the pair disappeared into the cloud of ash and green flames.

"You didn't tell me you were visiting!"

"Do I have to schedule visiting my son on a holiday?"

"I… Please this isn't a good time."

"Why because you brought the muggleborn? You know I've never said a thing against her. I find her quite bright…"

"No not Jeya. He's met another friend this year…"

"I thought you said you and your wife would be the only ones coming tonight."

Al grimaced as he heard his father bark sharply not even a moment after arriving in the Malfoy estate. Harry's arm had prevented him from tumbling out of the fireplace but it now remained protectively around Al's chest as he surveyed the unexpected visitor.

The woman was well in her years but still very pretty, though washed out with the same pale features distinctive of recent Malfoy generations. She startled visibly at the sight of Al and Harry. "Oh! Him?"

Harry didn't reply, leaving that task to another blonde in the room, who must be Scorpius' Dad, Draco. Draco acknowledged Harry's chilly demeanor apologetically. He made introductions, deciding to address the least angry person in the room. "Albus, this is my mother Narcissa Malfoy although Scorpius calls her Grandma Cissy and I'm sure she won't mind you as well."

Al thought that Narcissa's stony expression might suggest that she would very much mind that nickname coming from him. "Mother this is Albus Potter, son of Harry and Ginny Weasley- I'm sure you remember. He's been a good friend to Scorpius this semester- they're housemates."

Draco seemed to emphasize this last connection in the hopes of softening his mother's judgement of the boy. But while she remained impassive, Al felt the grip of his father tighten imperceptivity in frustration. Fearing his father would draw him back into the Floo at any moment, he mustered all the charming social skills that James and Lily seemed to exude.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Malfoy, I'm very excited for the night- Scorpius tells me there's dragons- well, small dragons. And you can call me Al, I won't use Albus until I can grow a beard at least this long" He stretched his arms exaggeratedly low from his chin.

Narcissa stared for a second at Al as if she hadn't considered that he could, in fact, speak. Then, she smiled, perhaps not as warmly as Grandma Weasley, but close, "Very nice to meet you Al- my apologies, I wasn't aware you were coming. And please, do call me Cissy." She glanced at Harry somehow understanding his behavior, "I hoped to drop in for the festivities and surprise Scorpius- I came alone."

At last, the death-grip around him loosened and Al could escape his father's grasp. Harry breathed deeply and finally spoke, framing his words politely, "It's no problem, Narcissa. Holidays are for family and friends- I… I hope you are well."

Narcissa took the olive branch readily, "Yes they are… and we are well."

"Good.. Erm Al have fun. We will expect you before midnight." Harry tousled his son's hair and stepped into the fire. Procuring another handful of floo powder, he nodded briefly to Draco and dissolved into the flames.

"My apologies Al, I did tell your father it would only be my wife and myself supervising you for the night. Are you comfortable?" Al recognized the same stiff formality that Scorpius had greeted him with on the train to Hogwarts.

He shrugged lightly, "It's okay, I don't mind at all."

The tall man regarded him silently, tucking a few strands of hair loosened from his ponytail and otherwise busying his hands to stall talking to Al longer. Al took in his slender figure, not slouching in the way his father's and uncles' were in age, but not looking particularly healthy either. The angles of his limbs and face were reflected in the austerity of the living room as well. Perhaps his aunt Hermione might prefer the Burrow to be a little tidier, but this cleanliness boded a feeling of clinical sterility that even she would find unwelcome. Could he sit on the fancy beige couches? Even Narcissa was balancing herself precariously on one seat, as if to avoid sinking too far into the fabric and risk leaving a dent. Only a small Christmas tree across the room, twinkling warm vanilla light, melted some sense of livability into the modeled space.

"That's very nice," Al pointed at the tree. Draco nodded slightly, looking towards the staircase situated in the hall at the end of the room, "I think Scorpius is upstairs…" The bounding of feet confirmed this. Soon, Scorpius appeared descending the steps with glee.

"Al! I thought I heard you!" Al hadn't seen his friend this relaxed ever at school. His hair wasn't combed neatly to the back, but lay scattered about his forehead and his shirt billowed, half tucked in. Lower, Al spotted two mismatched pairs of socks. Scorpius strode into the living room, oblivious to the awkwardness previously filling the space. He carried a rather large clump of green and white striped knitting, which he unrolled to reveal two long, thick scarves with the Slytherin insignia patch. "Mum made two, one for each of us! Merry Christmas!" He tossed Al the very nice scarf and barely heard him mutter, "Thanks… I.. didn't get you anything…"

"Grandma! I didn't know you were coming!" Scorpius happily embraced Narcissa Malfoy, who returned his affections with equal enthusiasm.

"Oh my have you gotten tall! And so handsome… oh don't be so shy!" She ignored the blush on Scorpius' cheeks as she examined his clothes, "No you have really grown, these barely fit you! Now your grandfather and I could get these modified…"

"No it's alright Mum, we'll take care of those." Draco hastily checked Scorpius' showing ankles and waved his hand at Narcissa's frown, "It's the meals there… I swear I still crave those jelly tarts they have at breakfast some mornings."

"You will be able to soon, with your new assignment." A fourth figure appeared near the doorframe, with bold, swirling curls of a hue that wandered the line between red and brown and strong deep-set eyes as dark as the rest of Malfoys were light. It was good that she possessed such commanding features Al thought, as she joined her husband and smiled warmly in his direction, for the rest of her body made Draco's thin frame seem muscular; they diluted the full effect of her waif-like sickness. Draco shook his head curtly at the insinuation, as his wife realized his mother was also present, but the older woman didn't seem to home in on the meaning. She turned her conversation to Al.

"And now we finally get to meet Scorpius' great hero!" Astoria seemed to light the room with the same aura of the glowing tree lights, beaming largely and sincerely.

"Well now let's not go that far," Draco still looked at Al anxiously. But he'd naturally molded himself to his wife's side and slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Well, we have a deal. I stop some of the hexes and Scorpius makes sure I can answer questions in class," Al tried to humor the odd variety of stares in his direction.

Astoria laughed pleasantly, "So sweet! Oh, please dear are you hungry- we just made cranberry sauce and have some leftover ham if you want to have some healthy food before you fill up on candy at the festival." She flicked her son meaningfully before popping up and heading towards the kitchen, "Come!"

Al sat at a small, square dinner table, very much unlike the one at the Burrow. In theme with the rest of the house, the kitchen was small and plain but the furniture and appliances clearly well-made and, Al guessed, somewhat costly. Scorpius was happily chatting about a new expansion pack of exploding marbles (they have sound effects!) and some of his favorite fair games at the festival, directing his attention to both Al and his grandmother. Presently Al's gaze drifted towards Draco and Astoria, watching the man carry some of the heavier items to the countertop and still receiving a painful looking 'Thwap' when he dipped his finger into the gleaming ruby sauce.

In Al's 'A History of Magic' book, the lineup photos of several Death Eater's graced the chapters describing their first and second ascents to power. Al couldn't imagine Draco shaking and screaming like the photographs of the other Death Eaters. The man was wearing a thick plaid shirt, buttoned tightly around his wrists. Al tried to conjure up what the skin must look like underneath, marked with that hateful tattoo, but also failed. In truth, Draco looked like the victim of several battles, with short and long scars peppering his face. Rather than intimidating, Al felt pity for their state.

Astoria came over with a plate for their little meal, "There you go dear, did you like your scarf?"

Al nodded, "Thank you, that was so nice- I like it a lot."

She beamed again, "It's no problem! And will go so nicely with that sweater- is that your owl?"

Scorpius also glanced at Molly's handiwork, "Oh that is cool! Don't you have another with a pixie?"

"Yeah, my grandmother makes them every year. Somehow she never runs out of designs even with so many of us."

Narcissa perked up, "Molly Weasley… I… well I guess we went to school together. It has been ages. Exactly how many grandchildren does she have?"

Al paused a moment, tallying his cousins, "Twelve of us. Well really thirteen with Teddy Lupin…"

"You know Teddy Lupin- Edward?" Narcissa leaned in greedily at the table, "How old is he now? Well, he must be of age if I remember… what does he do? Does he have a girlfriend? Talents?"

Albus blinked and looked at Scorpius, who had stopped shoveling cranberry sauce into his mouth in his bewilderment.

"I… I didn't know you knew him?" Albus replied slowly, thinking about how uneasy Teddy had looked at the prospect of Al joining the Malfoys today.

Scorpius shook his head shortly, indicating that he also was unaware of his grandmother's interest. The older woman righted herself a little, explaining, "Well he is actually my sister's daughter's son, whatever you might call that- but with such a small family he is Scorpius' closest relative. We… my sister… we lost touch and unfortunately then..." Her eyes drifted off to focus on something invisible to Al's right side, sad.

Al tried to remember, but he couldn't recall ever hearing about any of Teddy's relatives being alive. But he was quite older and perhaps she had… Al guessed that Narcissa's had referred to her sisters passing, early in his life.

Draco had been surveying the conversation tensely, but now comforted his mother, "It's okay, why don't we talk about other things." A change in topic seemed very attractive to him. But Narcissa smiled and reanimated, brushing her son's hands off gently, "No, no its just the sentimentality of age. Please Al, what does he do?"

Al paused again but this time it was to organize everything he knew about Teddy Lupin, "Well I suppose it's more of what he hasn't done," he started, "He travels with my Uncle Charlie a lot, wrangling dragons- even was an apprentice for the summer when he dropped out of Hogwarts. He traveled to Bulgaria with a circus- see he can change his hair and face, even give himself a tail! He played Quidditch when he was a student, helped out in the joke shop for a bit. I know he stayed with Luna Lovegood - Spent a lot of time on a boat- not sure if he liked that. Oh, he stayed with a giantess one summer too! I think McGonagall was registering the villages or something… He's back at school this year, trying to finish his N.E.W.T.s and hopefully qualify for a short-track Auror training from the Ministry."

Al finished, satisfied with his impressive description of Teddy. But as he caught the brilliantly bug-eyed face of Narcissa, he began to suspect he might have misjudged his audience. "Well, that is… that's quite the life he's got there as a young man…"

Draco seemed highly amused, controlling a snicker as he patted his mother again, "What did you tell me he was bound to become? A ministry official- maybe join me in zoning?"

Astoria smiled thoughtfully, "Well those are great stories for a future professor maybe! I always thought his father was one of the best teachers- even with his condition… and being so close to the Gryffindor's of course." Her eyes twinkled at Al, "Just some old house rivalry though…"

But Narcissa had shifted her mood once more as if remembering some horrible forgotten detail. Al guessed what it was before she addressed him, but was still caught off guard by the viciousness in her tone- hadn't she just been over the moon with the mention of a distant relative?

"He's not afflicted is he?"

"Mother." Draco now got up from the table and hastily scooped up the plates, even though most were only half-eaten. He eyed her sternly, as if she were his child,

"That's not appropriate." He turned to Al matter-of-factly, "You do not have to answer that."

"Oh, Draco please. You're turning into the airheads in that Ministry more and more. Pretending that things like that…"

"It's called Lycanthropy," Al spoke up, briefly stunning her. "There's potions these days, pretty widespread, to treat some of the symptoms… we were learning in class…" He drifted off, realizing that Narcissa had not been avoiding the word out of ignorance.

"Yes, well it's the descent that you have to worry about- they can get power hungry and when you can wield such a weapon, they start embracing the ghastlier instincts. Doing away with the tagging and registry was a cowing move to the uninformed flower children that Ministry is full of at the moment!"

Astoria looked affronted but simply shook her head and proceeded to help her husband with the dishes. Al glanced briefly at Scorpius, who was doing his best not to return eye contact.

The faintest tinge of color was now emanating from Draco's forehead, "Mother that is quite enough. Please, you know the ones intent on going down that path didn't register anyway. It was preventing those that were trying from getting jobs and barely improved crime." Again, he eyed Al nervously, "But really- this is not the time… lets get to the festival or we'll miss the early shows."

Narcissa looked incredulously at the couple and flashed her eyes, "So tag them when they're younger, make it a condition to be educated!"

"ENOUGH!" Draco spoke more forcefully as he slammed the fridge. Narcissa seemed to finally give in, still looking venomous before landing again on Al and changing to a sickly-sweet concern.

"But no, Teddy doesn't have it." He felt rather revolted as the reassurance swept away her apprehension and she fell back into friendly chatter about classes and Quidditch prospects, a perfectly pleasant grandmother.

Chapter Text

Al and the Malfoys whisked into the privacy of a ravine near Oxford via the portkey of an old tea kettle.

"Oh, come dear, your scarf has slipped again. Ah well, more time to grow into." Narcissa adjusted the fabric encircling Al's small frame as he regarded her quietly. While she had considerably warmed to him, he had become more hesitant in her presence… wary of triggering a sensitive issue.

"Thanks ma'am erm…"

"Cissy remember? Please, no need to be formal. But you do have good manners" She moved cheerily on to her grandson, who seemed considerably more comfortable with the attention. Well, Al supposed, he was probably used to the occasional politics.

The group treaded a small path in the lightly sprinkled snow, substantially less than Ottery St. Catchpole. Astoria had let Al choose from a healthy collection of festival masks and he now donned a swirling rendition of a phoenix face. Scorpius looked back at him from behind a tiger, grinning.

"Where'd ya want to go first, mate?" He skipped happily as the family rounded the corner of the valley and a raucous pandemonium wafted into their ears. Al knew the festival was largely a muggle affair, but he swore he could hear the low rumblings of dragons beneath the tumult of fair jingles and general squealing. He shrugged, "You said the fairies were nice, right?"

"Yes! We'll go there!" As he pulled Al a little ahead of his parents, he whispered more serious, "Thanks for putting up with all that back there...she's out of the loop is all. We don't share those beliefs."

"Erm, oh no problem. She's… she's nice otherwise." But Al couldn't help but think to Scorpius' Luke-warm approach to the Markov twins near the end of the semester. Perhaps his grandmother had planted more than Scorpius was aware.

Still, the dizzying lights and pops of circus games was rapidly diminishing his motivation to continue his thoughts. There was an ice skating rink where small automated elves were whirring hilariously in clumsy loops and emanating a jolly carol slightly out of unison. And a small carriage painted quant red and gold hues sold roasted chestnuts.

Draco and Astoria had briefly left the boys to get tickets and Al heard the man whisper "Five, with the Merlin pass please."

He returned with a stack of small plates, like the popped-out lens of a glasses frame. "Here Al, they should fit well in the mask. He pressed the thin glass to the eye socket and Al caught a brief iridescent shimmer ripple along the curve. After eagerly refitting the mask back on his face, he caught Scorpius laughing as he felt his mouth drop open.

Gone were the animatron elves. Instead, a great multitude of real house elves skated joyously to the tune of the carol, being played by a dynamic brand of goblins with one troll who was doing rather well at bashing a large, golden gong. It was like they were tripping over each other, but as Al continued to observe the chaos, he realized each potential collision was skillfully avoided by a flip or spin away. Presently, the song changed to a more romantic tone (the troll looked a little sad to not bang the gong anymore) and the house-elves quieted their frenzy, heading to the edges of the rink. Two tall creatures entered the rink and began swirling to the melody, launching each other high in the air as they spun throughout rink in large figure-eights. Al had never seen something like them- both were graced with eerie blue-white hair, like the aura one might expect to glance off of a star, and long, slender features from their almond eyes to long curved fingers.

"They're from Siberia," Scorpius informed him, nodding to the couple, "But you see them east of the Alps. They go by many names but in general they can be called Tall elves."

"Creative," Al replied as he admired a particularly complex trick. As the couple moved, they allowed a sort of powder to drifted from their person to the effect that it briefly captured their last pose like a strobe light as they went through their routine. Astoria was chatting avidly with a house elf fitted with a rather large chest of metal trinkets not unlike a hot-dog seller at a baseball game. She toyed with one of the gadgets as Draco came near and after seeing the price, paid and dropped the small thing in his pocket.

Beckoning to the boys as another song resumed the fumbling of all the elves he nodded to a small tent across the walkway, "The Fairies are in there."

Al hurriedly followed the Malfoys, but not before jumping at a proximal roar. "Wow." He watched as the chestnut seller, another portly goblin, unleashed a small green dragon to light a new batch of treats, winking as he caught Al's eye.

If the skating elves hadn't completely unhinged Al's jaw, the fairies surely finished the job. The tent was sectioned into several small theaters, where the small beings played out different musical renditions of wizard and muggle fairy tales alike. But they were not simply actors, the entire scenery was a moving living swarm of glowing creatures. He watched a particularly impressive set mimic stormy waves, as heaps of blue and green glittery wings undulated and carried a single small form on a raft.

The music was in several foreign languages, but it didn't really matter; Al could feel the victory and anguish bore from the notes that matched the various scenes. Suddenly from the end of the tent, what seemed to be a fizzling red sparkler rapidly gaining momentum and size exploded into a long dragon breathing throngs of fairy-composed glowing fire. It weaved and bowed agilely through the crowd, the fire fairies dancing atop the alighted guests like cackling embers.

Narcissa had immediately made her way to this exhibit (Fairies were her favorite stop every year) and Al spotted her looking positively youthful as she delighted in the fairies wilting gracefully around her. She made her way towards them now, "Absolutely beautiful, somehow they always come back bigger. I do wish they kept the swan routine though, not as flashy but so elegant…" She crouched, nearly eye level with Al, "What do you think?"

"It's marvelous," Al was always fond of the performances at professional Quidditch cups, but this was beyond comparison.

Narcissa nodded, pleased, "Yes it's brilliant, a little gem my son found a few years-well I suppose its many years-back. Scorpius' little muggleborn friend came here with her family- little did they know what they were missing!"

"Jeya, mother," Draco intoned as he checked the time, "I believe the first dragon show starts in ten if we want to catch that."

Scorpius seemed equally pleased that Al was enjoying himself, "It's fun right? Maybe…maybe we can take Rosie here next year too? And James and all of them really." He rushed along, blushing slightly.

"Oh I think she would love this." Al replied.

The dragon show, unlike the last stops, was more of an anxious exhilaration as a few performing wizards leapt from the backs of at least ten flying dragons (adolescents of a rather small species), juggling hoops and balls that they periodically lit from the flaming breath of their animals. Narcissa bought Al and Scorpius a large bag of roasted chestnuts and a few toffees being peddled by a rather lumbering ogre. They munched happily on their treats as they ran through tent after tent. The acrobatic elven performances, a goblin-run auction of rare metalwork designs, a vampire opera and ghost funhouse (Narcissa didn't much like the spectra running through her).

Before leaving, Scorpius suggested they play a few of the muggle fair games, hoping to win a prize. Draco had just procured a roll of tickets for each before he turned abruptly, looking concerned, and made off in the direction where he had left his wife. Narcissa instead led the boys to a stand composed of a wall of balloons, with sets of darts laid out.

After a few minutes (and a substantial dent in their tickets) Scorpius and Al were quietly willing the balloons to pop as they missed yet another round.

"Blimey I wished I brought my wand." Scorpius muttered.

"Yer right bout that lad, ya need a certain magic to get these," The muggle Fairman chuckled naively.

"Now I tell you Malfoy, I would have never took you for a fan of these things- what are you trying to kidnap one of your house-elves back into indentured servitude?" Al and Scorpius froze as the familiar sneer they'd heard harassing their headmaster surfaced from the crowd.

The putridly snobbish face of Driscoll Haverford materialized moments later, just after Draco and his wife appeared, looking hassled and worn. From behind him, Al could see his son, Adrian, smugly in tow.

Their expressions deepened to a vicious gleam as Haverford spotted Narcissa, "Oh my, you do have nerve to bring her out in public." He regarded the stylish, decorated woman with the contempt of a garden pest.

While Draco ignored the snarky comments, hurrying Astoria and making to grab the boys and leave, Narcissa drew herself tall towards the man, matching him in haughtiness. "Nerve is what you would call addressing me in that way, what, are you a Governor now? Pity, the paucity of funds your committee has raised for the school in recent years. Your lip-service is hollow promises."

Driscoll sneered, "We wouldn't take a penny of your wealth if you emptied your Gringotts vault on our doorstep. Blood money is what that is. And somehow the school has done fine without you extorting it for familial gain." He glanced around the vicinity as if searching for someone, "Where's your weasel of a husband? Or are you smart enough to at least keep him leashed up at home."

This seemed to break the cool exterior of Narcissa as her eyes flashed dangerously, "Don't you say a word about him." She hissed.

Driscoll's mouth dripped poisonously as he grinned, "You know the new edition of a 'History of Magic"? I quite enjoy his picture featured in there. You know the one I think, tell me- does he prefer kissing dementors to you still?"

Draco and Narcissa whipped out their wands, to the great surprise of the Fairman, "Um I'm going to consider that cheating…"

Narcissa looked at the muggle, irritated, but it was enough to regain her sensibility, "Draco dear, it's time we go," She said, controlled in measure. With a brief wave of her wand, the Fairman's eyes clouded, and six balloons exploded, for good measure.

"Ah sorry I- Oh!" The burly man mustered, surprised, "All three for each? Haven't seen sumthing like that all night er pick a prize, anything."

Al picked out a long, stuffed cobra as a nice addition to the Slytherin dorm. Scorpius got a lion.

"Oh are you getting that for the girl," Narcissa chuckled lightly, avoiding Haverford as he remained stubbornly in their way, "She's in Gryffindor right?" she turned to Al, "I know he has a crush but he won't tell me much other than she's very smart… always a good thing."

"Driscoll, I know there are better things to stare at than us, I don't want to waste your evening." Draco had remained glaring at his colleague. Haverford growled, still needing to say something. Then, he turned to Scorpius.

"Since you've seemed to have weaseled your way into old Minerva's more foolish sentiments, I suppose you can considered yourself safe in school," Al held in a snort as he thought about the safety of Hogwart's halls by the end of the semester, "But I wanted to tell you directly that if you sabotage my boy again, I will wreak havoc on every last strand that connects your miserly family to the fringes of our society do you hear?"

A shadow swooped into Draco's features as he strode towards Haverford, "Don't. Talk. To my son ever again or I will gladly cut my own last 'threads' in what I will do to you." He seethed

Far from being intimidated, Haverford relished finally getting under the man's skin. Enough to provoke him into a fight Al suddenly and worriedly realized. That had consequences for Ministry members. Haverford hadn't recognized him, not of the distinctive blonde features of the other Malfoys, under his mask. He wondered if the man would want Harry Potter, and by extent, the sitting Minister, to know about his antics.

"Maybe you should ask your son to tell you the truth before you risk your position over some silly fight about nothing" Al slipped off his mask and watched the magical beings disappear from the scenery, leaving the fairgrounds comparably tame. "Did you really become Governor to improve the school? Or just to bribe the hat into placing your son in Gryffindor?"

Adrian locked eyes on him and Al had the sinking feeling that he was probably going to pay for this once term started. He should warn James as well… Luckily Driscoll had enough sense to shove his son away at the moment, recognizing Al. His eyes betrayed a heavy amount of confusion; clearly the man did not expect a Potter to be in this company. Al was a little disappointed that he didn't look more offended. He thought he'd landed a pretty good insult.

Draco seemed to appreciate the comment, as a smirk fleeted across his features. But responsibly, he took the moment to usher his family away and head for the festival exit.

They crossed back into the valley and located the portkey. Just before the kettle activated Draco eyed Al again, almost mischievously, "You know, I was beginning wonder when I'd see a true sign of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley underneath all that etiquette. I figured it could only hide for so long"

Al grinned.

Back at the Malfoy residence Narcissa said her goodbyes, "It was nice to meet you Al, this…" she pointed between him and Scorpius, "I like this pair."

"You could stay 'til midnight Mum," Draco had warmed to her company greatly as the night progressed and Al was reminded that Narcissa's visits were few and far between.

"No, I can't leave him all by himself for the New Year," Narcissa paused hopefully, but her son only drew his lips tight, saying nothing. Sighing softly, she kissed Draco and Astoria goodbye and pointed at Scorpius' lion, "Tell me how she likes it!" winking.

"Well, we have an hour or so before midnight," Astoria addressed the boys, "Would you want to watch a movie? Here we have a few classics", plopping a binder of discs between them.

"Dear would mind?" Astoria cocked her head towards the stairs, "I think I might need a dose before bed."

"Ah yes," Draco followed his wife upstairs, leaving Al and Scorpius alone.

As the house grew quiet, Scorpius flipped through their options, showing potential ones to Al. But before they settled into the film, the blonde boy looked at him meaningfully.

"You didn't need to cause a scene at the festival mate, Adrian's going to give you hell now too."

Al shrugged, "His dad was trying to get yours in trouble no doubt, at the Ministry. He didn't deserve that."

Scorpius pondered that for a moment before replying, "So, do you like them?"

Al paused, contemplating the night's events, "I mean they've been very nice to me. So yeah, I like them." He didn't know why he was so hesitant to say this but the certainty that Scorpius was trying to draw from him made him suspicious.

He smiled, "Okay, that's good."

For a while they busied themselves with a movie, but as the night drew nearer to midnight, Scorpius grew anxious, watching the stairs that stubbornly remained empty of his parents. "Hmm, better check on them. They might have forgotten the time."

Al rose from his seat and a strange expression brushed over Scorpius, as if he wasn't sure he wanted Al to follow him. But after a moment, he led him up the stairs. From what must have been the bedroom, a light tune that Al recognized from the festival was quietly escaping into the hall. Scorpius was slightly ahead of Al and peered his eyes into the room first, before abruptly turning away as if the sight disgusted him. "C'mon Al we'll just wait…"

But Al had already glimpsed the scene.

Throughout the evening, Astoria had been wearing a bulky sweater with thick, billowy sleeves. But now those sleeves were rolled up and Al could spot a number of plastic fixtures coming from underneath her skin. A few of the pieces were affixed to short tubes, from which Draco was attaching bottles of medicine. Astoria looked in pain but smiled when Draco's lined face became too concerned. "It's alright honey, maybe you should go down with the boys soon and make sure Al gets home all right."

But Draco acted like he hadn't heard her, busying himself with switching the vials. "Half these muggle medicines make you worse off I think, bloody idiots…" He muttered, carefully reading the label of the next dosage.

"It's better to feel a little bad than wait until tomorrow. I'll take three times as long to recover" Astoria gently reminded him.

The song was coming from the small metal music box that Draco had purchased from the House Elf at the festival. The melody began to slow, dragging out the cheery tune into something more somber. This, too, annoyed the blonde man, who stared at the object with utter distain as the notes finally ceased altogether. "And what's this?" He cried, "Selling muggle garbage is what. Who would want to keep winding this thing over and over again when it barely plays for two minutes?"

At this he snapped out his wand and hit the box with a charm. Instantly the music came back to life…but not for long. Whatever spell that Draco had cast was winding the box very fast and the tune was no longer waltzing, but speeding through in an unnatural tempo. Soon, the notes started skipping, and a long, notched piece of metal crinkled out of the turnstile. The room went silent once more.

"Argh," Draco grabbed the little toy, but Astoria took it from him as he changed another round of medicine, looking gloomy.

Delicately, she wound the fragile piece of metal back into the machine and turned the key, letting the tones sing through the room, returned to their intended pace.

"My Dear" She said meaningfully, "Magic doesn't guarantee everlasting control -however it might help with drawing out the inevitable. Muggles don't expect things to last forever… I think we ought to understand that a little more as well."

She smiled softly as Draco sniffed and blinked rapidly, avoiding her gaze, "Sometimes there's more dignity in letting things just end."

"I really can't hear this right now Tori, I can't" Draco rasped softly, finishing the injections, "How are you feeling."

"Okay, maybe good enough for one dance even." She winked and reset the music box. Draco looked stunned for a second, but then melted naturally into a slow, swaying routine as Astoria held out her hand. The couple had clearly taken lessons, Al thought, as they gracefully floated around the foot of their bed. Draco turned and held his arm up to spin his wife and Al realized he'd also rolled up his sleeves. Extending from the base of his wrist, a rather grotesque meshwork of blackened ink and scar lines worked its way up until the joint at his elbow. It looked like a nest of worms."

Scorpius had giving up leaving, but he caught Al's line of sight and resumed his exit with a great tug on the smaller boy. Quietly, he dragged Al downstairs, where the movie was still playing, though as they sat back on the couch, the story ended, leaving the credits and a widening gap as Scorpius sat dejectedly.

"Sorry Al, I figured that upset you… the Dark Mark and all."

Al was upset, but not particularly because of the Mark. He was feeling choked up, like something was literally climbing up his throat. It wasn't unlike when his father had come home confounded- a sort of sense that an adult could sometimes be tragically breakable when they were supposed to-when they needed to- be infallible.

But Scorpius was clearly avoiding that topic. He'd never explained Astoria's sickness other than that it was doing better under muggle medicines. But even the assortment of treatments Al witnessed seemed to be slowing, rather than stopping the weakness that wracked this mother's body. Still, the Mark seemed like the lesser charged topic of conversation.

"Scorpius, did you always know that your family was… well… "

"Evil?" Scorpius grinned wryly as Al reddened, refusing to agree, "Malevolent? Diabolical? Wretched? Wicked?"

"Wrong. On the wrong side." Scorpius sobered as Al finished his sentence.

"My parents wanted me to have a relationship with my grandparents initially. My mother's parents more or less disowned her when she returned to Hogwarts. One of her friends in Slytherin, Sia Chen- she'd been adopted by a wizarding family but was a muggleborn- she helped hide her in one of her parents' estates when her name appeared on one of Umbridge's Inquiries. But my father's parents were still very happy with me."

This had struck Al as odd- he'd never thought twice about whether the elder Weasleys would 'approve' of him. Sure, they had expectations, but Al couldn't recall ever feeling the need to earn their affection, even in the middle of the massive brood of grandchildren.

"I loved going to their House- It's a huge, beautiful Mansion. They used to hire fairies to decorate the tree because it was so tall, the ceilings were so high, they have these intricate garden designs, like Devil's Snare sculptures and huge Dirigible Plums… and it was full of all these old artifacts, trinkets…" Scorpius lapsed into wistful memories as Al sat courteously, knowing this manor also held a dungeon used to hold and torture a great many of his parents' friends during the War.

Some discomfort must have escaped his control because Scorpius suddenly righted his track, looking sheepish, "I went there a lot when my father was first trying to get hired at the Ministry and my mother was becoming tired… My Grandfather would always let me touch everything and tell me stories about my ancestors- he had this magnificent family tree in his study. The branches would end in constellations… like my name see? Draco is a dragon, Lucius Orion, Abraxas Aquila- that's an eagle… He said that Malfoys didn't just leave the Earth when they died- they took their place in the sky to guide their sons and daughters so our progress wouldn't falter."

"So, what happened?"

The blonde boy set his jaw tightly.

"My grandfather was teaching me how to ride a broomstick- well I was really young- so more like hover. He always wore these long shirts even in the summer, but he had his sleeves rolled up. And there was this tattoo on his arm, really faint but intricate." Scorpius paused, already becoming embarrassed, "I think I was around seven and I knew about Voldemort, but just the bare story you know- I thought he was like a monster like in Fairy Tales- I didn't even know he had followers. He told me he had been in a secret society and that was enough for me"

"Anyway, the next time Jeya came over to play…. I drew them on us and pretended we were in his secret society." He paused, trying to gauge how disgusted Al was.

"I mean, you didn't know mate…"

Scorpius shrugged, "Sure- we didn't even put them on the right arm. And I gave Jeya two because she was the head of the group…" he laughed mirthlessly, "My dad came home and freaked out… like scary freaked out. He wouldn't let Jeya go home until he scrubbed everything off. Like he could have used magic, but I think he forgot… And then he screamed at me and when I told him about my grandfather being in a secret society, he just apparated and didn't return home until really late."

Al was pretty sure he'd heard enough, but Scorpius seemed to like being able to share a bit of his isolated childhood.

"My mom found me crying and explained what the Dark Mark was and Death Eaters and such and that was enough for me to not want to play like that. But then my father came home with these horrible books, like journals of Death Eater crimes and their oath and mission. He made me read and recite them all before he let me go by my grandparents again."

"And he showed me his Mark. It's all mangled up because he tried cursing… and cutting it out."

Scorpius fiddled with his thumbs, "I thought that would be the end of it, you know. I went back to their estate and my grandmother was very sorry and fretful about what happened, and my grandfather apologized." He paused, "But then, when my grandmother went to bed, he took me into his study and rolled up his sleeve again…"

Al put his hand out to comfort his friend, whose eyes were welling with tears, "He said, 'I know you think this looks marvelous, don't you? Isn't that why you wanted one of your own?' I felt so horrible. And then he talked about the real meaning of being a Malfoy heir- the principles I needed to stand for. Things about the friends I should have and the type of girl I should marry…"

"The thing is, he'd said some of these things before. Things about Muggles blaming wizards and Muggleborns not having traditions like old families," Scorpius sniffed, "And they didn't seem so bad, but it was because I didn't know the whole picture… where they came from. Once I couldn't get those books out of my head, I could really see what he had planned to make me into…. I ran away actually, that night. I couldn't sleep in the house. My Dad found me, and I never went back. It's only been a year since my grandmother could see me again unsupervised. I don't know if my grandfather tried… I … I disappointed him."

"I think he failed you mate." Al squeezed Scorpius' shoulder, not really knowing what else to say.

"I know," Scorpius replied softly, "But sometimes I still want him to be proud of me, even though I know what it would take."

The two boys sat in silence for a while, until Draco thankfully punctured the sinking mood. "I'm sorry! It's a little past midnight but let's ring in the New Year!" He conjured three small mugs of golden liquid, "Butterbeer… well no beer for you two but honestly the taste is the same." He smiled cheerfully as they raised their glasses.

"To friendship, good health, and landing a good hex on Haverford…if he deserves it," Draco laughed lightly as the boys heartily saluted that toast.

As Al waved at Scorpius and Draco through the green flames, he thought about how little the few paragraphs in his textbook did justice to the complexities of his friend's family. Though, he supposed, perhaps history was far too cluttered to consider little details that might distract from the big picture.

Chapter Text

Harry could see the surprise on his son's face as he exited the family fireplace, "What? Did you think we'd leave ya up by yourself?" He jested lightly.

Al shrugged, "No… I thought it be Mum is all. Erm, how was the New Year?"

Harry twitched his nose briefly at his son's honesty but brushed it off, "Good, we just got back a bit after midnight-thought we'd catch you as we went in the door- but you must've had a fun night." He nodded lightly at the clock positioned above the fireplace mantle, nearing the one o'clock hour.

"Oh sorry, yeah Mrs. Malfoy wasn't feeling well, and Mr. Malfoy was taking care of her, so the time got away." Al explained, shrugging again.

"I see, okay…." Harry got up from his seat at the kitchen island, gesturing to two mugs sitting near a humming kettle, "Well your Mum thought you'd like a cup of hot chocolate to end the night… oh…. And your brother obviously thought you'd appreciated some snapping mints... I'm going to have a word with Uncle George about presents..."

What Harry assumed were marshmallows now popped and fizzled like champagne. Harry's shoulders eased into a more natural angle as he caught his son's smirk. He stretched the mug across the countertop as Al covered the chocolate spray lightly with his hand. And then, as the clicks and whistles settled, licked his hand so as not to waste any of the goodness.

"Well!" Harry snorted as he sent over a napkin, "Please tell me you didn't do anything like that at Draco's. Narcissa might have cursed this whole family."

Al nodded, "Don't worry, she said I'm very polite."

"I wouldn't expect less…" Harry scratched his head as he drifted off. He appraised his son, trying to choose the right words to segue them into talking about school. As his gaze roamed, he noticed a long, elegant scarf still loosely hanging unto Al's shoulders. "Did Scorpius give you that?"

Al touched the knitted stripes absentmindedly as he studied his Dad's face, "Yeah, well, his Mum made it… one for him too."

For a little longer than necessary, Harry nodded as his eyes seemed to search for prompts in the swirls of his hot chocolate. A delayed pop of a mint splattered a bubble of the liquid square onto his glasses to the amusement of Al. Harry readjusted the frames after wiping them clean. Feeling the atmosphere lighten again, he took a large breath, "So," he gestured to the scarf, "How's Slytherin been treating you?"

Now it was Al's turn to examine his drink like a pensieve, "It's been good… some ups and downs- but good."

"I see," said Harry slowly, though he jumped a little when his son's head suddenly snapped upright.

"Why… did, did McGonagall write here?" Al questioned, alarmed.

"We did receive a letter, yes- for detention." Harry tried not to look too serious, "And then another one came shortly after explaining that you seemingly need to defend Scorpius every time he ventures out of your Common Room."

Harry regarded his son, confused, as the boy seemed to take this news reassuringly, "Well…" he prodded, a little more sternly.

Once again, Al shrugged and Harry tried not to grit his teeth, "Yeah that's what I've had to do," He had the sense to look more contrite as he caught his father's glare, "I don't do anything that nasty, mostly disarming… sometimes a jelly-legs jinx. You should see what they try to hex him with."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, "And it's always in defense?"

"Of course it is." Al replied quickly, drawing his chin up.

"And Scorpius… he doesn't say things that are… off," Harry winced as those words clearly didn't resonate with his son well.

"What do you mean by…off?"

Harry tightened his lips, "Things about ancestry, magical worth… muggleborns…stuff that might instigate a hex or two."

"Dad," Al interrupted impatiently, "He's friends with a muggleborn- I told you about Jeya remember? He's been friends with her since they were small…"

"I know, I know Al," Harry held up his hand, "I just wanted to know… sometimes even when they think certain things, they can make exceptions…"

"No they don't" Huffed Al. Finally, Harry had lost his patience.

"You don't think I know what I'm talking about Al?" His temperature inched higher as his son remained stonily silent, "I know very well what can happen to muggleborns and people who think like that that, childhood friendship aside. So don't act like these things are coming from nowhere… I know how far you've gotten in 'History of Magic'- you know what Scorpius' family has done."

Al's eyes gleamed as he listened to his Dad. For a moment, Harry only heard shaky breaths coming from the other side of the countertop. But Al regained his voice before Harry could quite cool down "I don't care what someone else did, Scorpius doesn't believe in that stuff. None of it. Is that why you think people bother him? He's doesn't do anything!"

Harry realized all too late that the sparkles in Al's eyes were the edges of tears. They now spilled over in two neat lines. He closed his eyes and sighed, "Al, please. Okay I just want to know what's going on. I didn't send you to Hogwarts for you to turn into a human shield," Awkwardly, he extended his arm and ran his thumb in circles on Al's hand, balled in a loose fist, "Hey buddy, I'm worried about you that's all."

Al clearly wasn't calmed, but he had regained the ability to speak, albeit punctured, "They broke his things… take his stuff… they say all these things about him and Voldemort and his mom. And no one cares at all except us…"

Harry frowned, "Yeah James mentioned that…Haverford, well both of them, Driscoll and Adrian. They're a tough lot the two of 'em."

Al sulked, "Just ask James how bad it's gotten. Teddy says it's the worst he's ever seen the students. I can't even go near Gryffindor anymore without something happening."

"Yeah, James did mention that as well. Well, he said that he barely saw you before break… maybe you can try to visit him a little more. You can see Teddy and Rosie too-she seems to have a nice group of friends in her year…"

"Yeah, they're nice, but they don't like Scorpius all that much. They get all quiet around him and it make him feel weird. Plus, there's these two boys that have really turned out to be real gits…"

"Al mind your language!" Harry snapped. He sighed, "You don't need to bring Scorpius along all the time, do you?"

Al thought about telling his Dad that he mostly spent his evenings holed up in his and Scorpius' secret nook as the latter calmed himself from some incident that day. But something stopped him. So instead, perhaps a little too harshly, he replied, "Yes. I do."

Harry let out an exhausted breath, piquing Al's annoyance, "What?"

"I think that's ridiculous."

"Why? Why do I have to act like I live in two different worlds? Did you ever think to ask James or Rosie why they don't come down to my Common Room?"

"No," Harry conceded, "No, I didn't ask him that. Al I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm just trying to remind you that there are people outside of your little bubble with Scorpius. It's fine that you two have grown close, but you have more options as well…"

"If it's alright with you, I can make my own choices about my friends okay?"

"I know Albus, it's very clear what you've chosen…" Harry set his jaw as Al grew quiet again. "Al I just mean that I don't want you to think the world is against you… I want to know what's going on, a letter or two…"

"No," Al had on a face that Harry recognized. He'd seen it in the mirror after coming back from his first year at Hogwarts, stuck back at the Dursley's and hearing how troublesome his existence was. But he was no longer the scorned child rather… that thought pained him as his son continued. "You hate that I'm in Slytherin."

Well, they had finally gotten to the heart of it, Harry thought. Now he just had to convince him otherwise, "No I don't Al. I don't at all."

Al shrugged again, "Okay, great."

"Sarcasm isn't a great look on you Al," Harry replied coolly, "I don't want you in detention this semester. I want you to try to earn your House some points. I just… Al do you really feel like you fit in, in Slytherin?"

Harry braced for another wave of indignance, but he instead saw his son truly ponder that question. And, to his dismay, the thoughtfulness slowly gave way to sorrow.

"No, not really." Came a small whisper.

They sat in the silence of the now lengthy night, sipping on the last bit of hot chocolate that had long gone cold.

Finally, Al spoke again, "Dad, when you said you chose to be in Gryffindor… what Houses were you choosing from?"

The pained expression on Harry's face told him everything before he could reply.

"So, why did you choose not to be in Slytherin? Where you afraid you would become…bad?" Al finished in a rather small voice.

"No," said Harry quickly, "No, I was much more immediate, I guess. I mean I'd been told that Voldemort and other bad wizards were frequently placed there… but really, the thing that made it for me was that Draco insulted Ron just before sorting…" Harry's eyes drifted into the distance, "...can't even remember what exactly, but the just was that he thought I needed guidance on meeting the right kind of wizard… and,"

A realization graced his features, "And I wanted to choose my friends myself."

Another silence fell between the two Potters, though this one was considerably more comfortable. A part of Harry thought it might be good to call it a night at that, but he needed to explain himself more fully.

"Look Al, I only asked about Scorpius because I heard Rosie say that he sometimes doesn't quite say the right thing. And I also heard that Jeya hangs out with Rosie and she's recently been coming alone so I didn't know if something happened…"

Al bristled, but he kept his cool, "Sure I guess he says some things that aren't the most sensitive, but he apologizes when Rosie tells him- not very nicely all the time either…. And yeah, Jeya's been a little distant. I don't know why, but Scorpius just feels down about it- he hasn't been mean towards her at all."

"Okay, okay," Harry stopped him, "I believe you, really. And I wouldn't have brought it up if I'd known anything about your side of the story, okay? But I didn't… and I want to. I want to know how everything's going with you."

"How can I get you to do that with me?"

Al looked up at the sincere pair of green eyes that begged him for an answer. But he hadn't a clue. Not when he'd much more likely go to his Mum as she never looked at him like he wasn't her son. Deep down, Al knew this wasn't fair to hold that episode over Harry's head for this long. His job was to chase Dark Wizards after all. But he also knew the fear he'd felt when a confounding hex once hit Scorpius and he saw his friend's eyes glaze over, disturbingly familiar…

Harry sighed, bringing Al out of his thoughts. His Dad nodded, sadly, "It's still about that, isn't it? I'm sorry son."

Al froze, mortified, as Harry grinned, "You're not the only one in this family gifted with remarkable perception, Al, and I've got many more years on you."

"Humph" Al muttered, though the serious groove in his forehead remained, "Well then you should also know that I really, really do hate Dark Magic…"

"I know."

The two trudged up to bed, but both took a while to fall asleep. Besides Scorpius, Al felt his relationship with the other first-years was less of a friendship than a sort of reluctant alliance against their many foes. And Rose did have a very nice group of friends- he could picture himself easily getting along with Ida and Anya… he'd love to know Aldo Creevey better. And in the back of his mind Al knew why Jeya was seeing less of Scorpius. Their earlier conversation after visiting Hagrid resurfaced and he had to admit the Hufflepuffs were a friendly bunch. Al squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep, but awoke quickly when he saw himself walking up to the snow-strewn castle, bundled in a hand-knit scarf of red and gold….

"Did everything go okay," Ginny had roused awake when she felt the weight of her husband settle beside her, "I heard a few loud words…"

"No Gin, it was alright… somehow it ended up okay." Harry sighed. Ginny pursed her lips The disappointment was visible in the deep lines of Harry's face, enough to penetrate her half-conscious state.

"Then why aren't you happier?" she replied, shrewdly.

"Don't miss a thing do you?"

"Well I've had to get quite good at inferring things that you don't tell me." But she reached out her hand affectionately when Harry shrank at those words, "What?"

"Nothing…I guess I'll need to sharpen those skills with Al too." Harry replied.

"What do you mean? I thought he talked to you?" Ginny was becoming quickly more aware and more concerned.

"He still holds on to that bout I had, Gin- the mission in Wales." Harry watched his wife's face darken.

"I know it was selfish Gin. Going there alone, not telling anyone….I was just obsessed with finding her" Ginny put her hand up, as if swatting away his explanation.

"Harry don't. I know I said it was many things back then- but I know I never said selfish. I know the one thing about you is that you are not selfish at all."

Harry grew silent and Ginny sat up to face him, her brown eyes looking resolutely into his, "You think Al doesn't know he's got this whole big family looking out for him. Who can be there for him and who worries about him. Harry if you want him to believe that, you have to show him. Cause when you start wandering away-at dinner, on holidays-and aren't looking at anyone, a million miles away, I guarantee he's looking right at you and taking notes." She sighed.

"I know it's not selfishness Harry. But I just wish that you didn't make decisions like you did as a boy- when you knew there wasn't anyone looking out for you. I wish you'd never been in a place where that was true."

Harry lifted a stray lock of ginger hair from his wife's face, now falling back asleep. He smiled as he thought of how lucky he was to finally be a part of the Weasleys. But as sleep overtook him as well, he thought of another woman with red hair and a man with round glasses and another with darker black hair and deep-set gaunt eyes…

Presently, the third man appeared quite vividly before Harry. Though he was now returned to his former handsomeness, his features were fraught with worry.

"Harry? Harry!"

"Sirius?" Harry felt light as he took in the crispness of his godfather. I had been ages since he'd seen him so…lifelike

"Harry this is wrong, I shouldn't reach you like this." Sirius backed away as Harry reached out to hug him, "No! I don't know why you are so close… you are too close."

"What?" Harry stood with his arms still half outstretched. His voice, as well, felt oddly alive.

"Harry be careful please. You must be careful if he comes again. He did terrible things, Harry…. Regulus…. Regulus never came home…"

Harry bolted in his bed to golden rays peeking through the window. Good, he thought. He had an excuse to not go back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry had almost finished preparing a feast of a breakfast when his children meandered down the stairs. He smiled; the solitude of the morning had not helped his battle against this latest dream. Or was it a dream at all? Harry had only seen that young Sirius once in his life, as a spirit in the resurrection stone, and it certainly felt more like an apparition than the usual fuzziness of a nightmare. Harry was certain that if he'd been able to touch the man, that sense, too, would be eerily real.

And Regulus… Regulus hadn't come home. Only the vagueness of that assertion kept Harry from completely believing that Sirius was searching for his brother in the afterlife…however vast that was. The thought made him ache with the sheer length of the trials that befell his godfather. Twelve years in Azkaban, wasting away health and youth, while Harry had grown blissfully unaware of his existence. Had Sirius also spent almost two decades of death desperately searching for his redeemed brother, while Harry had believed him to be at peace?

Luckily, his children spent no time in filling the room with much happier musings.

"Dad those pancakes look great! Hey Lily, I dare you to…"

"No James" Lily looked at her brother, irritated.

"Why? It would be so much easier if you'd just levitate…" James remained stubbornly seated.

"Why can you just 'Accio' them- I thought you learned that spell?"

James rolled his eyes dramatically, "Sure Lily if I wanted to smack myself in the face, I'd use that- don't look at me like that! Its hard to make a spell do exactly what you want…"

"Its fine guys I'll get them." Al rose from his seat, but Lily pushed him gently back down, "No Al it's fine, at least one of you isn't lazy…"

Harry watched with objective interest as his youngest resolutely stared at the heap of pancakes, her hands taut with effort. Then, slowly and a little wobbly at first, the plate and stack hovered from the countertop to the placemat right in front of Lily.

"Thank you, sis,!" James reached over to grab a few of the pancakes as Harry clapped from the stovetop, "The syrup is still in the fridge."

"I can't open doors."

"You should practice that then, seems useful" James ignored Lily's stuck-out tongue as he grabbed one more pancake.

"I figured out this though!" Lily eyed the food in James' hand and snapped her ring finger with her thumb, eliciting a rather loud 'Crack'. James clenched his hands as the pancake disappeared, "What the?"

But Lily was now intently focusing on a spot above her brother's head. Just as Al caught the meaning of her trajectory, she snapped her finger again and the pancake flopped onto his uncombed mop of curls.

"Hey, good thing I'm not picky," James lifted the pancake from his head and finally got up to grab the syrup, "I still think you're focusing on the wrong skills Lil, how are you doing that but not opening doors?"

"Wow, that's… that's very good." Harry had almost burned the sausages and eggs from the distraction.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you what she's been up to- Mum's been keeping me informed. She said she's never seen anything like it- Dad was going to let her try a few spells with his wand!" Ginny had appeared in the foyer entryway, looking well-rested and bundled in a furry yellow robe, "I said no of course… we don't need another fire…"

"My they've gone soft haven't they," Harry laughed as Ginny nodded ardently, "Well, Mum at least…"

The kitchen table was sizzling with potatoes, meats, eggs and fruit in addition to (the now very diminished) stack of pancakes when Harry's wand began to ring. He drew it and, after a brief look of confusion, opened the phone line to the middle of a hushed argument at another breakfast table.

"Just tell him to take it away!"

"We can just throw it away or hide it, there's no need for him to come. A nasty trick those three…"

"Camille, Dudley. Hello." Harry watched as his cousin looked blustering at the phone in his hand, before spotting the teleportal. His already red face deepened noticeably, "CAN'T YOU JUST ANSWER THE PHONE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!"

James, Lily, and Al all snickered softly as Harry fumbled for a response, finally just relenting, "What's up Dud? Something I can help you with?"

Dudley's lips puckered angrily, "Yes, yes you can help me!" he spat, "You can come over at once! I don't care about the fireplace…and take this darned cursed thing back!"

"What? Oh…" Camille had procured the 'cursed thing' and brought it into view.

"Is that Margie's gift?" Harry started. But even he could see something wasn't right with the Cele-orb. The inky black coloring was warping oddly. Slithering- Harry suddenly realized as the jet-black head of an anaconda rose above the twists of its long body, with two gleaming bronze eyes.

Without meaning to, Harry immediately looked at Al, who shook his head hard, "I didn't do anything to it!"

"Well, someone did something! Margie's a wreck- what a cruel prank by your children especially after the incident at the zoo! Why she goes into hysterics every time she picks it up!" Camille looked especially hawkish as she eyed each of the Potter children, trying to spot traces of guilt.

"How long has this been happening? Surely you must have noticed something was wrong immediately after we left- why the wait?" Ginny intercepted a particularly persistent glare from Camille aimed at James, her voice quivering on the cusp of civility.

Camille waved her hand dismissively, "She's had so many presents it got pushed to the bottom of the pile, I don't know. Besides Duncan snatches it up whenever he can- she only just found it in his room a few days ago…"

"Why I've never seen those two go at it like they have over that blasted toy! You've upset the peace in this household- your, your magic! That's what it does. Duncan's rivaled his sister in tantrums regarding it!" Dudley only stopped his preaching to glance at his wife, who had drifted off pensively.

Harry spoke up, "So does Duncan not like Margie rooting through his things?"

"Well, who was the thief first!" Blustered Dudley, "Besides, I don't see why you are trying to blame my son when you have three magical little culprits not even trying to hide their insipid laughter at this whole debacle!"

Harry tried to maintain some austerity in his glances at his children but he suspected the three were rather amused at the contortions gracing their Uncle's face and a smattering of deep crimson splotches, making Dudley look rather like a bloated goldfish. He turned to his cousin, "Look Dudley, none of them brought their wands along during that trip and two of them hadn't even started their schooling…"

"As if that prevented the zoo!" Dudley croaked, "I grew up with you Harry I know what your kind are capable of even without a wand!"

Harry pinched the growing ridge between his eyebrows, "Yes Dudley- A momentarily disappearing wall when you are a scared, a sudden change in a shirt pattern when you are excited, smoke in your ears when you are angry…. These are outbursts of untrained magic. That-" Harry pointed to the snake, "For that to be untrained magic, the wizard would have to be living in your house right now. As for planned jinxing… its just rather complicated to hide a transfiguring curse like that-delay its onset or trigger it. I don't think even James could have pulled that off."

Camille grabbed the orb from Dudley and examined it a little while the latter fumed, trying to think of a counterpoint on a subject he spent most of his time pretending didn't exist. "Well then what are you proposing?" He eyed Harry warningly.

"Duncan! Duncan, honey- can you come down?" Camille called her son suddenly, causing Dudley to start and spill a little oatmeal.

"What do you want with him?" Dudley questioned, wiping his shirt.

Harry pressed for more information, "You said Duncan was unusually upset right?"

"Sure, sure- and it's been a pity considering he gets along best with Margie otherwise. Favoritism I suppose… you give one child something special and suddenly sibling love goes out the door."

"You are informing me about favoritism?" Harry replied coolly. Dudley quickly replaced his red anger with correct embarrassment, reflecting a more watermelon pink.

"Yes, well I suppose I… yes sorry. Anyway I guess these things can just malfunction I suppose and it would be much appreciated if you could just… take it away."

The smallest Dursley finally appeared in the frame of the portal, "Take what away?" Duncan's eyes rested on the orb in Camille's hand, "That! No… I mean if Margie doesn't want it anymore…"

Camille gripped the ball harder, registering the greed in her son's eyes, "Dun, this is not your toy understand?"

"Well could Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny get me one for my birthday?" Duncan strained into the portal to look at his relatives.

Harry smiled mischievously, "I'm sorry son, but your parents are a bit unnerved by that gift and I believe they've articulated that magical presents will not be tolerated in the future."

"What!" Duncan looked incredulous.

"Well come off it son!" Dudley barked, "They can't get you anything too interesting anyway. Besides wouldn't you like a bike or a new baseball bat…"

But right now, something very interesting was happening inside the little orb still clutched in Camille's hand. The snake was slithering faster and faster, the curves of its body becoming blurry. As the motions intensified, the entire orb began to wobble. Dudley's eyes bulged further in fright. He looked at Harry in a panic, trying to convince himself that perhaps it was his cousin influencing the ball through the portal.

Harry shook his head, "Sorry Dud, they don't work like that." Obviously reading his mind.

Duncan had not calmed down and was competing hard with this father for being the most flushed Dursley. Camille suddenly screamed as the whirlwind slithering peaked and exploded into what looked like thousands of crawling ants, "Please! Come get this awful thing now!"

The din had woken the other three Dursley children and Margie chimed in her agreement, revealing her presence with a loud, "Which one of those Potters did this to me!"

Her incensed face filled the portal as she threatened, mostly James, with a very unpleasant visit should they ever show their faces around Privet drive again. Then she turned to Harry and Ginny, "That was the worst present I have ever gotten!"

Ignoring her parent's pleas to calm down and mind her manners, she continued, "I barely had it for a week you know? Before it started going funny! I thought magic was supposed to not break- otherwise what good is it?"

Harry put his hands up to calm her, "I'm sorry Margie, what do you mean by break?"

Somewhat assuaged, she continued, in detail, "Well first the fireworks stopped turning on… so I let Dun take it. But then I saw they came back on, so I took it back. Well then, all it would do was rain and thunder for weeks so I couldn't sleep with it in the room. I think I put it in the basement after that, but it righted itself again!"

"And how did you know that?" Harry pressed, though he was already eyeing Dudley's youngest, who'd gone completely quiet.

"Well I… I saw Dun playing with it again outside…." She regarded her brother, "But then the last time I took it, it started… oh it was just awful… like that snake… Dun did you do that?"

The Dursley side of the call was now very silent as Duncan stared resolutely at the orb. Finally, he spoke, "I'd really like to keep it if it's alright with you."

Dudley shook his head mightily, "Oh no, not with all the chaos this has caused us, why your Uncle will just be getting on his way…"

But Camille stopped him, "Dudley Dear, if I may. Why don't we let him have it? Margie-poo you wouldn't mind, I'm sure your Aunt and Uncle could buy you something else to make up for it…"

Ginny rolled her eyes but agreed, as she had also realized the more pressing matter presenting itself.

Camille placed the orb in her youngest's hands, "There sweetie, it's yours."

Duncan still hadn't looked up, but as the orb settled in his grip, the swarming insects began to pop into a calm, inky night. And finally, the familiar pops and sparkles of fireworks signaled a complete return to normalcy.

Well, Harry thought, normalcy was probably a bygone term for the Dursley household. Dudley's coloring had given up completely, leaving him a shade of stark white as he blinked rapidly between his son, wife, and Harry.

"Is he… so he's…he's got…"

Camille looked happier, "Dud! We have a wizard! Oh, I need to call my brothers!"

Harry frowned as he watched his cousin, who'd stopped trying to articulate a sentence and now simply attempted to breathe, inhaling large bouts of air. Though he knew he'd never get away with it, part of him was certain that if Dudley acted even an ounce like his parents, Harry would probably come steal the boy away not unlike Hagrid had done so many years ago.

At the Potter table, James, Al, and Lily were exchanging shocked expressions.

"But he never acted magical!"

"I know! He's almost ten!"

"How?"

Ginny quieted them, "Now, now, you know it can present late. It's particularly hard to mimic magic if you don't have it around often. The orb was just a more permissive object is all- at least that's my guess."

Margie's eyebrows looked rather like wiggly caterpillars as she puzzled over the information transpiring between the families, "So he's magical?" she pointed a pudgy finger at Duncan.

Camille patted her head lovingly, "I believe so Margie but that's okay! We love you all, so there's no need to be fighting anymore. How does that sound?"

But Margie was far from bursting into jealous tears. Again, her large face covered the portal to the Potters and she grinned nastily at the three cousins.

"Did you hear that? We have a wizard now- I bet you're so scared James. You better think twice before you try to play tricks on me! Right Dun?" Duncan looked up, relief washing over him as Margie nodded approvingly, "Yeah that's right, Dun here is going to make sure you three stay in line! Cause I got me my own wizard." In the distance, Preston and Penny donned equally poisonous smiles.

"Well, George's candy works equally effectively on wizards and muggles alike…ow!" James laughed as Ginny swatted him.

At this Dudley reanimated, "Well yes, yes maybe that will even the playing field so to say. Um… yes, well done son." He nodded at the pleasantly celebrating orb, "Yes I suppose we should keep that. Is that- is it healthy for him to have magical stuff? Does it give him an edge in school… oh… oh boy- will he get a letter?"

Harry also seemed to be breathing easier, "I'm sure Camille can get him a few more toys but it really doesn't make a difference before eleven. If he wants to try riding a broom, I suppose he could come visit…"

"Oh that sounds very unsafe," Dudley puttered, although Camille looked ecstatic at the chance that her son might play Quidditch.

"Oh Dud it's just a flying lesson! Perhaps we could take a trip to Diagon Alley for a few trinkets and such- its on the way to your parents, aren't we visiting next week?"

"Oh no… no, no,no,no, " Dudley shook his head furiously, "We, everyone listen up, we do not mention this…" he gestured sloppily between Duncan and the orb, "To Grandma and Grandpa. Okay? This is just our little secret."

"But why?" cried Margie, looking again at her brother like a particularly cool object for show-and-tell.

Dudley started to hem and haw for a reply, but Harry abruptly cut in, "Well I think we've taken up enough of your morning. If you need us, you know where to call."

"Ah yes, yes I probably will," Dudley still looked considerably more spooked than the rest of the Dursleys, but smiled as he said goodbye, "A Happy late Christmas to you all, I suppose I should apologize- it has been a trying few months but…"

"It's alright, goodbye Dud."

As the portal closed, the Potters sprang into surprised and delighted conversation about the new developments of a magical Dursley cousin.

"What house do you reckon he'd be put in?" James pondered

"Definitely Hufflepuff." Piped up Lily

"Hey my friend in in Hufflepuff, what are you saying?"

Ginny chided her son, "James please, Roxanne is doing wonderfully in that house- and beat you for the Quidditch Cup your first year if I recall…"

"Well yeah my first year. Anyway, we know it's not Slytherin- he'd have a bang-up time in that lot with his parentage."

"Yeah… I suppose that's true," Al grew quiet as his siblings chattered. He'd noticed his dad looked increasingly sullen as he took smaller and smaller bites from his plate, his jaw tightening. Al knew Harry had been raised by the Dursleys, yet he'd never met Dudley's parents- he didn't even know what they looked like. Surely, they considered Harry's children something like grandchildren as well-, but Al had the strong feeling that this wasn't the case.

"I'm going to get some air." Harry rose from the table and made his way to the foyer, donning the cloak Ginny had given him as a gift.

"Do you want company?" Ginny regarded him kindly.

Harry smiled but shook his head, "No I won't be long Gin, promise."

A generous half hour later, enough time had passed that Ginny's perception of 'not long' had come and gone. She sent Al to fetch his father while James and Lily helped clean up the kitchen, with James egging Lily to levitate more and more precarious towers of dishes.

"Oh Al, don't forget your scarf! It's quite chilly- here." Ginny wrapped the article several times around Al, smiling, "It really looks good Al, I hope you like it."

"Thanks Mum," Al glanced down at the white and green stripes, quite unaltered despite his dream. He headed out into the frosty midday.

The Potters were the only wizarding family in the neighborhood, which was rather secluded. Climbing steadily from the downtown valley, the Potters rested on a sparsely populated road that wove often through the inclined terrain. Small strips of forest made natural fences in between the sporadic homes as well, and the high density of firs and pines guaranteed a green barrier of privacy year-round. Most of the neighbors preferred this feature of discretion, so the Potters had the added benefit of not needing too many concealment charms to avoid the detection of a particularly nosy muggle, who might find it strange that the house never seemed to have a car but might have three unusually ornate broomsticks oddly lined up at the end of the driveway.

The New Years had brought more snow to Ottery St. Catchpole, so Al could easily track his father's footsteps down the driveway and veering left into the winding enclave of houses. He soon caught sight of his father near a small playground at the edge of a cul-de-sac.

Harry stood on the small playground and remembered pushing James, Al, and then Lily on the swing set, before each learned to propel themselves on their own. Even with the bounty of magical toys, all the Weasley and Potter cousins loved to spin, swing, slide and venture through the obstacles of Muggle parks. Harry did not like these places. He remembered an awful time where Dudley and his gang of Smelting losers tied him to a Merry-go-round and spun it until he'd retched. They'd left him there until one mother was kind enough to untie him and clean him up a little, but he was late home regardless and spent the rest of that weekend confined to his room as punishment.

In truth, Harry did not want to imagine another magical child growing up in the confines of Number Four Privet Drive-not with that cupboard still available to become a prison. Of course, Dudley was no Uncle Vernon and Camille certainly not Petunia, but Harry had seen enough of the Weasley children's antics to know that all magical children were bound to hit a very specific nerve that seemed to make the otherwise ordinary Dursleys absolute monsters.

It had been some time since Harry had considered the senior Dursleys. Dudley knew enough to not mention them during their infrequent visits and Harry was aware of little more other than that they now lived in a nice flat near the heart of London where Petunia could easily access the Royal parks and theatrical entertainment. He'd last seen them for himself at Dudley's wedding over a decade ago. There, it seemed as though Petunia might have tried to acknowledge Harry with something that might have been kindness when she explained to Margie's dear namesake that Harry had turned his life around after graduating from St. Brutus Center for Incurably Criminal Boys and now managed a task force in the upper echelons of law enforcement. She'd even said Ginny, then his recent fiancé, was quite beautiful.

But then, when Harry had sent his wedding invite, he'd heard nothing back. And when he'd sent a few reminders, thinking that perhaps the muggle mail system was rather prone to missing letters, Dudley had curtly informed him to cease and desist. All his teenage life, Harry had never considered inviting the Dursleys to anything remotely personal, preferring to count down the days in which he'd never be obligated to see their horrible faces again.

And yet, as the years toiled on, something weakened in him. And that one encounter, barely bordering on pleasantness, had somehow sowed a hope that perhaps a distant part of his family might come within the orbit of his life once again, only to be shattered by callous dismissal. Harry was now certain the act he partook at his cousins wedding was merely the bare minimum to avoid any rumors or hard conversations. To save face. He hated that he had fallen for it so gullibly, but even more so, he hated that some part of him still desperately believed that Petunia at least, might like him, just a bit more than a stranger.

Harry's head was beginning to buzz again with the frustrations of his Aunt and Uncle and the dream with Sirius and he didn't hear his son approach until he was quite close.

"Oi!" Harry jumped as he registered a solid crunch in the snow close behind him, "Oh hey Al, I take it I've used up your Mum's patience again, have I?"

Al nodded but came to stand beside his Dad when he didn't seem to want to return to the house. Another light bout of snow flurries was starting to fall around them and Harry took a moment to wipe the wet flakes from his glasses.

"Why do you keep them?" Al nodded at the pair of quirky, round spectacles. He knew from newspaper clippings that'd he'd worn them all his life, but now, in his age, the design clashed with his sleek Auror getup and demeanor. Plus, he could easily have his near-sightedness bewitched to 20/20. Then again, he could have also charmed the flakes off the glass with more success and less effort than the smeared eyepieces indicated, but Al learned his father rarely used magic for such mundane tasks.

Harry looked at the round wire rims before turning them back onto his face, "Dunno Al, I suppose I think they make me look good." He waggled his eyebrows at his disbelieving son, "No? you don't agree?"

"Do Dudley's parents not like magic?" Al swayed slightly in the wind, now picking up and blowing increasingly icy flakes.

Harry stilled, preferring to focus on the faint wailing of the merry-go-round. "No. No they don't."

"Is that why we can't visit them?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah Al, you know how Dudley is with your magic- just, just multiply it by a million and you'll get to where his parents are at."

Al listened to his father's breathing for a bit, as it had sped up quite rapidly and he feared he'd crossed a line. Something, though, willed him to inch further, if only to see how much he could prod out of his father's murky background.

"Did they not let you practice magic then? During summers."

"Well it was moot point really, I couldn't under the Statue of Secrecy anyway because my underage magic would be detected immediately as I was living with muggles. Aunt Hermione couldn't either."

Al nodded, "Was school hard then? You know not being able to practice anything over the summer? How did you keep up your Quidditch skills?"

Harry considered those points, quite relieved in the direction his son's questions had turned, "I could still read you know, and I practiced my wand movements with a regular stick or a pencil. I guess I wasn't as academically minded as you seem to be," he laughed, "I'd say maybe somewhere between you and James- you know, I turned in all my assignments but maybe didn't check them over."

Harry looked off into the distance watching the swathes of icy breeze undulate as they crashed into the hillside and winded up the ravine, "As for Quidditch, I really can't say- all I know is it was the most natural feeling I've ever experienced. I guess it was a good thing too, I couldn't imagine my childhood without it."

Harry glanced at Al, who was trying his hardest to hide his pout, "It's not for everyone though, don't worry. There's a lot of things to do in your pastime."

"Yeah I suppose," Al shrugged off the condolences

"Can I ask what you do in your free time?" Harry took off his glasses once more but fixed Al with a smart stare as he wiped them down.

Al shuffled his feet, "I read. I play chess with Scorpius- well he's much better than me. He likes gobstones too, marbles… I guess I enjoy listening to the Merpeople."

"Really? How do you do that?" Harry remembered the tricky task from the Triwizard Tournament, "Do you swim in the Lake?"

"No my Common Room is completely underwater so it echoes through…" he paused, "But Scorpius and I found this secret room and I think the glass- its quite strange, very warped- allows you to hear it as well. Much more clearly too… its, its very nice- I don't think I'd trade my House just to hear that every day."

Harry had the feeling, as his son trailed off, that those last words were meant for himself. He squeezed Al's shoulder, "Al really, it's okay… I really got fixated on my House as well when I was a student. And in the end, I knew I ended up where I belonged. I think something will make you believe the same thing but don't waste your time searching for clues- just enjoy the journey. I think that sounds like an amazing thing to hear."

Al smiled but looked at his father, "But you were worried to be in Slytherin."

Harry twitched his nose, irritated at his middle child. He had a way with turning a nice ambling conversation into a nosedive off a cliff within a second, "Al, I already told you last night. If Scorpius was the way Draco behaved, I'd wager you'd think differently about the Houses as well."

Unfortunately, his son looked unconvinced, "I just don't think one person decided this… I mean it was looking into my head."

"I really don't know what to say, Al." replied Harry.

"Why did you think I cursed that Cele-Orb?"

Harry closed his eyes for a long moment, "I didn't…"

"Yes you did! You looked right at me, not James, me."

"Albus!" Harry came dangerously close to crushing the glasses that he still gripped in his hand, "I didn't really. You were the one that caused the snake fiasco at the zoo, that's all. It just seemed very specific."

Al still glowered dubiously, "That's really it?"

At the surface level this was true, Harry thought quickly, but the conjured serpent had also reminded him that his son had brought about that particular outburst through conversing in parseltongue. And if he were being completely honest, he'd been half expecting his son to be sorted a little differently than James ever since that incident.

Harry realized too late that Al had interpreted his silence to mean that, no, something else was on his mind. Harry truly didn't know whether it was better to tell his son about his ability or not. And if he did, was he also obligated to tell him that many wizards were exceptionally prejudiced towards speakers of the language?

"No, it was really nothing else," Harry braced for the menacing look he expected from his son, but the defeated expression that met him was almost worse.

"I see." Said Al, acknowledging the sky that was rapidly growing darker and swelling in anticipation for heavier snow.

"Come, lets get back before Mum sends more troops out to find us, or worse, herself." Harry swatted Al's hair playfully, but the boy remained stoic. Well, thought Harry, that lie wouldn't have convinced his eleven-year-old self either. He resigned himself to a silent walk home.

As the road became steeper, the two slowed as they navigated the newly amassed precipitation.

"Dad?" Harry brightened as he recognized the return of his son's inquisitiveness, but Al's next words, again, shoved him roughly off a precipice.

"Did Dudley's parents…um… mistreat you?"

Again, Harry suspected his lengthy pause had answered everything for his son. He willed himself to trudge faster, eyeing their home appearing at the top of the ridge. "What makes you think that?"

Al skipped a little to catch up, "Scorpius mentioned that some muggles really don't like magic. Like they might not want a wizard in their family… they might try to get rid of them or make them lose their magic."

"And where did Scorpius hear that?"

"Well…" Al glanced furtively, "His grandfather told him when he was very young. He said it was partly why some wizards didn't like being around muggles…"

"Oh," Harry couldn't control his mockery, "Al it might do you and Scorpius some good not to listen to a word that comes out of his grandfather's mouth, understand. If that's what he believes maybe hanging around him…"

"Oh just stop it would you!" Al gave up following his father and stood resolutely in the road. Harry turned a ways up when he realized he'd been left behind. Even in the flurries, he could make out that pair of blazing green eyes, matching his own anger, "Stop making every little thing I say some indication that I'm going bad or thinking things that you know I don't believe! I'm not bad person!"

"I know that Al! How many times do I have to tell you that?" Harry shouted, half from frustration and half from the wind that was now fiercely whipping the breath out of him.

"I don't believe you!" Al cried

Harry stormed over to his son and realized that perhaps his gaze was substantially more menacing, as he shrank away. "You don't believe me? Fine. That's your choice Al. Because I don't know what else I can say."

Somehow, his son had the audacity to push him more, "You always do this whenever you don't want to answer me, its not outright lying but…"

He'd finally snapped the last chain holding down the boiling emotions Harry had wrestled since the early hours of the morning.

"You want to know what? Why you don't see the Dursleys? It's more than Dudley's nervousness- they hate you…because they hate me. They hated me and they didn't treat me anywhere near how they treated Dudley. I was not their son and I knew it from the moment I could remember, so don't go thinking I've deprived you of grandparents because they've never indicated that your existence meant anything to them. Do you want details? About what clothes I got to wear? What chores I had to do? What presents I got? Where I slept?"

Harry only caught the shaking of Al's head, not his frightened eyes, "No you don't- because you'd never get it out of your head. My entire life isn't one of your history books Al. I have my battles- I don't expect you to understand or learn or act on them. In fact, I'd rather you wouldn't- it is really none of your concern. So don't accuse me of lying when you have no idea what monstrosity the truth really is."

Again, Al nodded mutely. Harry could see now that he was also shaking, and he convinced himself it was from the cold. "C'mon, let's go home."

Harry barely had untied his boots when Al finished sloughing off his jackets and bolted up the stairs, past a bewildered Lily and James.

"What happened?" Ginny looked in the direction of her son before fixing Harry with a stern stare.

Harry could only shake his head weakly before turning away. Above him, he heard the firm closing of a bedroom door. The snow on his boots were melting and turning into tiny streams of dirty water. They soon soaked the edges of some emerald green yarn threads. Harry gingerly picked up the Slytherin scarf, the only article of clothing that hadn't been neatly put away. He drew his wand and began easing the water out, leaving the knit clean and dry.

Ginny had followed Al into his room and Harry could hear her gentle murmurs, though he couldn't make out any returning words from his son. He'd spent the last hour locked in his office, oscillating between staring at the ferocious wind battering the large window in front of where his desk stood and an old photo album. He wasn't rifling through the memories that weren't his- in fact, he'd been doing that more infrequently as the years passed on.

Instead, the book laid open to the last page, where the only additional photograph since Harry had left Hogwarts, was placed. It was unlike the other photographs, in that the two girls stood still against a similarly stagnant background.

Yet Harry could infer quite a lot from the natural way the smaller girl clung to the older one in a loose hug and she, in turn, had rested her head affectionately over her sister. They had been playing in what must have been the dead of a summer heat wave as Lily's hair was comically bushy and Petunia had more than a few strands plastered in ringlets on her forehead. She didn't look like someone who would one day ignore her own nephews pleas to eat a little more, his stunted appearance. And the more Harry looked at this photo, the less believable his own memories became.

It had been inside the wedding gift from Dudley, but slipped rather innocuously between the tissue paper and Harry suspected it had been from Petunia. And for a reason that he wasn't clear to him, it was very important that his intuition was true.

Chapter Text

Harry had made several plans to speak to Al once more before the break ended, an ambitious goal considering that deadline was little less than three days away. Unfortunately, a number of odd Auror cases had rung in the New Year as well, forcing Harry to spend much of his time compiling notes in his office. And unlike the Fall, these attacks seemed to be inflicting lasting damage.

As much as he tried to empathize with his son, the severity of these incidences had also bubbled a dim sense of resentment with Al's behavior. It was difficult for Harry to simply turn off the detailed montage of case notes as he emerged from his office and reckon with the fact that his son was angry that Harry didn't want to tell him all the truths of the real world. A vicious headache had sprang into his head in the evening of New Year's Day, like an internal bruise from the fight with Al. And it seemed the workload shortening his holiday was only lengthening its stay.

By the morning of departure he'd only managed to keep Al in his presence as long as he didn't try to talk to him directly. This effort was enough to win the sympathy of Ginny but overall, Harry felt thoroughly inadequate. To add more guilt, Hermione had sent him an urgent calling to the Ministry, so Harry had to hastily inform James and Al that he couldn't see them off at King's Cross as originally planned. Lily had caught a bit of a cold so Uncle Ron would accompany them with Rosie as Ginny tended to her. He watched his friend pick up the boys, giving a half nod towards the house.

Resting his head gingerly on the frame of the front door, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and willed the throbbing in his head to at least slow its punishing tempo. He didn't notice James and Al waving goodbye. "Ginny, do you have extra potion to spare? "Harry wondered if he'd come down with a bug as well.

Ron drove the Ford Anglia into London, only glancing back sporadically at the three dour faces in the back seat. Al noticed that his uncle also seemed to be in poor spirits, as his brows rested gloomily low on the bridge of his forehead. Between his eavesdropping at Christmas and gossip from his other cousins, Al deduced that his Dad must now be informed about aspects of the Minister's agenda and that his Uncle was still in the dark. And clearly resenting it more and more; Al wondered if he'd had a fight as Rosie kept her face pointedly turned out the window.

He'd wanted to discuss some of what he'd overheard with James, but his brother seemed to have taken his Dad's side in the little rift that had hung over the last days of their break. Or maybe he was just annoyed that Al couldn't pretend that everything was alright like he could. At least that's what Al told himself as he returned the distant treatment.

As they entered platform 9 ¾, Al immediately spotted Scorpius and Draco, though this seemed to only darken his Uncle's mood.

"Alright you have everything?"

Scorpius nodded, though he looked as though he'd been reluctantly dragged out of bed, his hair rather rumpled and jacket askew. "I'll miss you…"

Draco smiled sympathetically but was also glancing at his watch, "It's okay…I, "He caught sight of Al, "Hey look, why don't I let you two catch up? I'm sorry I just have to make this meeting with the Minister…"

The elder Malfoy now collided with the grumpy glare of Ron, "Ehem, um Good Day, Weasley."

His Uncle gave the slightest of nods to Draco but did manage to smile and shift to a more friendly tone as Scorpius timidly approached him, "Hey there- oh Al why don't you give it to him now so I can tell your grandma what he thinks."

"Alright, sure," Al clicked open one of his smaller suitcases and handed Scorpius a folded knit sweater. It was the same green as Al's but had a large 'S' on the front stylized as the least menacing snake Al had ever seen. Scorpius' eyes glowed, "Oh thank you!"

Ron cheered a little more, "Molly Weasley is both very sweet and very competitive so after she saw Al's lovely scarf, she just had to make something in return. Here, let me get your bags."

Ron lugged the larger cases over to a train worker, who was expertly sliding an impossible volume under the train undercarriages. He paused, watching as the trunks slipped smoothly into the perpetually available space, before popping into oblivion. Suddenly, he stood up very straight.

"The bloody cabinet!"

All four children looked up at the abrupt change in demeanor. Far from the trip up, Ron now looked ecstatic. He turned excitedly to his bewildered companions kissing Rosie warmly and even giving Scorpius a hug. "Okay, now are we good to go? Good, good. Now have a good semester all of you. Love you Rosie. Al, James." He nodded to Scorpius, "Now if you would excuse me, I believe I'm late to the Ministry."

James led the younger children onto the train, somewhat speechless at their Uncle's premature departure. It definitely hadn't helped Rosie's sullen mood. He awkwardly pointed at the stitched pattern on Scorpius' sweater, "It's okay if you don't like it… She made me a Gryffindor one and the lion looks like a kitten's face on a sunflower."

"Oh no I love it." Scorpius said earnestly to James' amusement.

"Ha ha, yeah well I'd expect one every year from now on, oh!" James suddenly reddened as Annaliese Vance appeared outside of a carriage door, "James would you come sit with us? Josie's here too."

"Hi Rosie!" Maybelle Vance emerged from the carriage as James waved goodbye to Al and Scorpius, "Ida, Anya and Aldo are next door, "Oh- hey" she shyly waved to the boys, "Sorry there's only six seats otherwise…"

"We can see if there's an open cart by them?" Rosie offered, but Al tried to ease her off.

"Nah it's fine, Scorpius and I can go find our housemates." He plastered on a convincing smile.

"Okay, well I'll try to come find you before we arrive." Rosie smiled warmly before heading towards the Gryffindors.

Scorpius wasn't doing as good of a job hiding his disappointment. The two headed in the opposite direction, where most of the Slytherins usually congregated. Sure enough, Al started to catch the glances of older Slytherin students, Gregor Rosier and a gaggle of Second-year girls giving particularly unfriendly looks. Finally, Al spotted the Markov twins sitting alone.

"Scorpius, here's room!" But to his chagrin, his friend looked less than thrilled at the option.

"Hey, why don't we try to find Jeya? I haven't seen her all break and really would like to catch up." Al could believe this assertion, but he also caught the uneasy glance at the twins.

"Why don't you go find her. I doubt they'll be room for the both of us." Again, Al tried to look genial as Scorpius nodded apologetically and headed off. Now alone, he stepped into the carriage a little unsure of how to breach a conversation.

"Erm… are these seats taken?"

Milo and Natalia shook their heads quickly. They looked quite happy to have a companion, Al thought, which encouraged him.

"So was your break alright?" Al wondered if they'd gone back to… well he assumed an orphanage given that he figured they didn't have parents, or at least weren't allowed to see them.

But the two brightened even more. "Yes we saw…we visited… um well we spent it with some people we hadn't seen in a while and it was really good." Natalia grimaced as she listened to Milo stammer over his answer but smiled, nonetheless.

Al decided to ignore the strangeness of that answer. Perhaps their werewolf parents were in rehabilitation? "Oh nice! That's always great to reconnect."

"And yours?" Natalia looked relieved to turn the question toward Al.

"Oh it was, good- I guess…" Al pondered the last month of school, where his and Scorpius' discovery was the only revelation on his mind. That was all muddied now with the Ministry secrets and his Dad, Duncan Dursley, Aldo's family. "Erm well a lot happened I guess…"

He looked at the Markov twins, sitting patiently near each other and watching what must have been a montage of emotion that crossed his face. Somehow a few of the barriers he'd constructed over the holiday were breaking down, "Actually, it was a little rough if I'm being honest. I think my Dad is dealing with something in the Ministry that's… dangerous maybe… I really don't know but he and my Aunt are on edge, but everything is very secretive. He barely left his office for the last few days."

He caught the twins nervously shift in their seats. After a pause Natalia spoke, "Your Aunt is the Minister, right?"

"Yeah," Al nodded

"She's very nice. She…um…helped relocate us." Milo jerked slightly and Natalia stopped her train of thought.

"Where did you come from?"

Milo was the one to finally answer, "I…we don't know. It was a small village where we were, and we had moved a lot before. We like it here much more."

There was a clear finality to his words and Al decided to drop the subject. Curiosity hadn't done him any favors in the past few days.

"So, are you excited for the Magizoology class?" The twins nodded excitedly.

"Professor Lovegood is very strange. She said to avoid eating too many pasties otherwise wack-"Milo tried to recall the name of the creature, "anyway they would buzz around my ears and make my head go fuzzy…"

Al chuckled, "Oh yeah, wrackspurts- I think everyone's got them."

Luna had taken the first semester to set up her classroom, or rather, to build her classroom. Sitting next to a boathouse at the end of a long, steep path, the students had caught glimpses of Luna erecting an awfully strange pattern of structures made similarly to the gridded glass of the greenhouses. There were about seven separate shapes that ranged from long, tented rectangles to cylindrical towers that jutted out at odd angles along the sloping grass that led up to the castle and all seemed to be tight quarters for more than five people, much less an entire classroom of students. Moreover, when a few curious students had ventured near the glass to peek inside, they'd only been met with their own reflections, making very insulting faces back at them. An hour breezed by as the three speculated about what might be inside.

The train was lurching along the ridge of a few snowcapped mountains, shuddering as the second day of biting wind blew across most of Britain. Natalia and Milo were shivering as well, their casual clothes much too thin for the weather.

"Here, I have a few sweaters if you'd want to wear them," Al rummaged through the contents of his trunk, pulling out a few Weasley knits from years past.

The twins grabbed them gratefully, but Milo paused, inhaling the air deeply after pulling the sweater over his head. Al held his breath, remembering the precision in which Milo had located him and Scorpius under the invisibility cloak. Luckily, two other figures rushed into the carriage, distracting the boy.

Jade was easing Quinn into the seat next to Al while the latter was fervently mopping away tears. "Did someone hex you?" Al quickly looked for any bruises or odd features but found nothing.

"No she won't talk to me!" Quinn blurted out shakily and had to catch her breath after another round of new sobs gripped her. Al looked to Jade to see if she would fill in some of the details, but the other girl was now curled in the corner of the seat nearest to the window, avoiding conversation. Well, Al thought, perhaps his holiday wasn't the only one to end badly.

After a while, Quinn calmed down enough to explain. "It's Keira, she's in Ravenclaw,"

Al recalled seeing Quinn talking, on occasion, with a girl with long black hair from that House.

"We're neighbors or well, we were…" Quinn's voice pitched briefly before continuing, "Our Mum's are good friends, they grew up together. Both muggleborn witches… but something attacked their house on New Years Day."

Al leaned in becoming wary of the next details. Quinn noticed his interest, "What's up Al?"

"Was there a fire?" he asked.

"What? Uh...no. Why?" Behind Quinn, Jade turned ever so slightly toward the exchange.

"Aldo Creevey, from Gryffindor you know? His family had a fire on Christmas Eve, but they said it was strange… um, like cold and bluish- and it spread very fast. My Dad and my Uncle responded to it…"

Quinn was quite pale as she listened, "Oh that sounds terrible." She turned to Jade, "Maybe that's why they were so upset, there's more than one…"

But Jade rolled her eyes and addressed the entire carriage, "So, is anyone here harboring any secrets of new Death Eater activity? No?" she scanned the room in mock seriousness, "Ludicrous right? We're eleven. But apparently because of the house that miserable hat sorted us into, a good number of people think we are being trained as spies for the third rise of blood supremacy… or whatever Thompson blubbered out at you."

Quinn whimpered, still obviously hurt from the exchange, "Her parents forbid her to talk to me, because they're scared I've been saying too much to the wrong people. I mean I barely introduced her to anyone but you," she gestured to Jade.

"So, they think the attack was by another wizard then?" Al pressed

Quinn paused, "Yeah… well it was strange. We heard this loud shattering, you know, being right down the street. And then when we realized whose house, we went over to help… Kiera has a little brother and he's right around the age where magic can get unpredictable; we thought it was an accident. And they live between two muggle families so someone ought to have noticed something."

She contemplated her next words carefully, "Every window was… gone,"

"Shattered?" Al offered

But Quinn shook her head with certainty, "No I mean gone. There were no shards anywhere. The glass was so pulverized it was like mist. I thought that snow had been swept inside at first until I saw it was glinting oddly…" Her breath quickened once more

"And it was all gathered up, like as if it had been swept up in a path and…" She glanced at her housemates, steadying her voice, "It ended right at Kiera and father and they were, oh it was so awful to see!"

Quinn's hand shakily circled her face and neck, "It was like they'd been cut underneath their skin; they had these pin-points of blood everywhere; their arms- her dad had shielded her so Kiera was mostly okay but her Dad… his whole face, his eyes…"

Quinn's emotions now vibrated through her voice and she became quiet once again. Al put his hand on her shoulder, but she barely noticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Scorpius hurriedly slide into the carriage, not even paying mind as he slumped next to Milo. Another confused looked shadowed the boy, however, as he inhaled slowly toward his new seatmate. Al gulped, trying to process everything at once. Another burst of wind rattled the carriage window, allowing Al to notice the sky was only just receding into the pastel colors of sunset. They still had hours to go…

Scorpius was taking in Quinn at the moment as he unrumpled his hair. Though there was an air of urgency about him, it also didn't seem like any hexes had landed their mark. "Hold on, I think they're just behind… Malachi wanted to grab his cat…"

Markedly more exhausted, the last two students of the cohort (Vanessa was basically an extension of the second years now) bolted into the small space and promptly locked the door. "These things don't get broken by simple spells, do they?"

"No, I mean we're not technically supposed to be doing a ton of magic on here anyway…"

"Oh I wouldn't put it past them. Bloody pack of sheep is what they are… don't even know if what they're saying is true." Malachi was trying to calm a very agitated black cat. Scorpius delicately held the furry creature as Malachi squeezed next to him and proceeded to cradle it in his lap. Reggie remained at the carriage door, monitoring what he could see of the hallway.

"So you too?" Scorpius nodded at Quinn, who'd been shocked into a calmer state at the boys' entrance, "Who accused you?"

Jade stepped in as Quinn's lip began to quiver once more, "Some older Ravenclaws… and Kiera Thompson is no longer speaking with her- for her family's safety of course." She added acidly

Scorpius paled, "Blimey a Ravenclaw too? Someone was attacked right?"

"Wait, what happened with you?" Al asked

"I found Jeya and we were chatting, Rowan came by, wasn't feeling well…" Scorpius emphasized his farce of confusion, "She came in to say that these two were being harassed by a few of the older Hufflepuffs, apparently this one bloke's mother was attacked in London…Burbage?"

"Eliza Burbage is a senior Wizengamot," Al remembered his dad mentioning that name a few times, "I've heard she's a little paranoid about purebloods…."

Scorpius looked down guiltily, but Reggie and Malachi were defiant, "Well it's not like our fathers were Death Eaters!" The latter spat, "Avery is an old family line and unlike some other names, we've managed to keep our numbers up- that alone should tell you we aren't all crazy."

Reggie stiffened haughtily, "Besides, they just want to force their own doctrine down our throats. I think half of 'em are jealous of purebloods, it certainly makes family matters more peaceful when no one is left out…"

"Hey that's not always true," Quinn had recovered her usually assertive nature and stared measuredly at the curly-haired boy.

Reggie acknowledged her calmly, "No, no it's fine if you come from that kind of family. All I'm saying is that some wizards have a preference is all- what we're comfortable with. And what matters is that everyone gets a say in what they want. But there is a space between Death Eaters and anti-pureblood sentiments that you can exist…blimey here they come."

Al had also spotted a swarming mix of yellow and black jumpers steadily making their way down the corridor. A rather beastly looking boy was leading the way and narrowed his eyes menacingly as he spotted Reggie's form in the doorframe. "Here they are, the great clean bloodlines! Want to repeat what you said to be earlier Drummond! Alohomora!" Thankfully, the carriage door didn't budge.

Reggie looked back sheepishly, "I may have insulted him…but only after he accused us of weaseling intel to our families! I didn't even know what happened to his great-aunt!"

As the others looked back blankly, Scorpius replied in a low tone, "She was a teacher here at Hogwarts, she…erm… was eaten by Voldemort's snake in front of the top Death Eaters. There're rumors a few of them took bones but… I don't think that's true."

By the greenish look on his face, Al believed whole-heartedly that Scorpius very much hoped that wasn't true. He wondered if his grandfather had seen it happen, maybe even Draco.

"Oh well look here, they've buddied up with Malfoy," The Hufflepuff boy's lip curled into a snarl, "But we'll let Haverford deal with him. Look at this pathetic lot- they'll be top recruits in a few years' time. Should be three Houses here after the Second War, I don't know why we let them learn magic only to have them inevitably defile their skills…."

"It's so we can keep an eye on 'em" Another girl gazed darkly around the much younger witches and wizards. Her eyes popped briefly as they landed on Al, "Hector, Harry Potter's son is here."

Hector Burbage locked eyes with Al, as if he were a rather annoying insect that had fallen in his drink, "That's about all he is if these are the people he's chosen to associate with. You're choosing a lonely life Potter, don't you want friends that stay out of Azkaban?"

The other students were becoming uncomfortable though, and after another meaningful glare, Hector nodded his head and retreated up the corridor.

"Our hero," Jade smirked as she mimed clapping, "Potter, savior of Slytherin. You're untouchable."

Al snorted but slouched in his seat, "They only leave me alone because they know my father,"

"Yeah of course they do," Jade looked at him, her brows arching, "So use it to your advantage, and maybe help us all out a little while you're at it."

"Yeah because that really helped Scorpius last fall."

She waved her hand impatiently when Al failed to lighten his spirits, turning instead to Reggie and Malachi, "Why'd you run away from them? I thought you enjoyed sticking it to older students- or are we turning over a new leaf this semester?"

But Malachi shook his head, "No way, you didn't hear how they were talking earlier. This isn't like before break…" he glanced at Reggie, who returned an equally serious look, "They're really scared. So, that boy- Hector- his Mum was attacked but it was, erm, very specific…" The two boys now deferred to Scorpius, who sighed.

"Rowan said that Eliza Burbage was chased by a serpent… well a snake that was much bigger than what you'd expect to be around London. And she sliced it and it apparently just turned into embers. Burned her."

"So, it was like a charm?" Al inquired, "And they think it was a pureblood family cause only Death Eaters saw her Aunt… right?'

Scorpius nodded, "Yeah the symbolism is pretty sickening, but here's the thing- the snake was real."

"What do you mean?"

"Jeya said that her parents read about a break in the London zoo in a muggle newspaper. Apparently, a python escaped in the early hours of that morning and they've yet to locate it." Scorpius rubbed his temple, "So a wizard seemingly decided to go through the trouble of charming a real snake, when they could have transfigured their own and probably made it even more deadly…"

Al was deep in contemplation. If he recalled correctly, the disappeared snake was the same one that had spoken to him in the summer. It occurred to him that perhaps that interaction was more sinister than he'd first believed. Still, the snake had seemed perfectly cordial to Al…

Scorpius had been detailing other anomalies that Jeya and Rowan had shared, "And, well Rowan wasn't sure if she'd heard this correctly, but apparently right before the embers exploded out, Eliza swore she saw a face in the flame…"

Quinn nearly jumped out of her seat, "That's… that's what got Kiera's family all riled up!" she exclaimed, "Her Dad said that when the glass swept inward, he thought it was possessed because he could see eyes and a mouth screaming at him."

Milo and Natalia had not spoken in ages and when Al looked over, they wore matching, terrified expressions. Jade had resumed watching the now last edges of sunlight dip under the horizon but her fingers were tapping rhythmically, as if she was cataloguing the information using some invisible keyboard. Al remembered the way his Dad and Uncles had discussed the odd events they'd come across at work… the lack of usual suspects…

"So, do they think it's a new Dark Wizard? Or society of purebloods? I mean, Azkaban hasn't had any mass breakout…" But Al did not like the look the three boys gave as they glanced at each other.

Finally Scorpius was the one to talk again, "They don't think it's a new threat…" now his voice was rattling, "They think it's an old one, perhaps one that they thought was dead…"

"Voldemort." Al said simply, ignoring the winces in the room, "That's just paranoia though, I mean of course they're always going to associate him with the Dark Arts- he basically terrorized two generations. How could they think of anyone else?'

But Scorpius didn't look so sure, "I don't know Al, it's more than that." He pursed his lips, weighing the pros and cons of his next statement, "You know how He started out right? After your Dad killed' him?"

Al shook his head, "I mean, he was a soul… right?"

"Yeah, and he had to latch himself onto animals and… well, willing people when they happened by…" Scorpius continued, "And these things that are happening, they're just a little too supernatural for people's comfort… they think certain families might be harboring more fragments of his soul."

"But I thought we destroyed them all?" Quinn interjected, "Isn't that why Harry Potter could finally kill him? I mean they buried his body…"

Scorpius looked reluctant to continue, "For families that were, erm, close to Him… they knew that at the end, Voldemort was becoming reckless. He didn't know he was actually more fragile than he calculated because he'd actually split his soul unto Harry when he tried to kill him- that's why he didn't actually kill him again in the Battle…"

Al had heard this explained in both History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The new curriculum had put the consequences of horrible magic front and center in their subject matter rather than hide the truth from even the youngest wizards. Still, he felt odd hearing his father evoked as a centerpiece of this warped, evil truth that had been brought to light after the War.

"And so, they think that maybe he tore off more pieces that weren't horcruxes per se… but something to work off of to…bring him back." Scorpius ended quietly as the carriage was still in rapt attention, "It's a theory you're right, and I mean my family, if anyone, would have heard rumors if it were remotely true… I mean maybe my grandfather…" The crimson hue of shame was budding rapidly on Scorpius' cheeks.

"Well, this is definitely not going to help quiet the rumors about you," Malachi looked at Scorpius with a hint of sympathy, "Wasn't that the prevailing story last term? That you were born with a piece of Him inside you? Or that you underwent some odd baptism in his essence?"

Scorpius now let his face become chalky and gray as he reminisced about the last months of the Fall. The Trolley Witch passed the compartment, pushing her heavy cart laden with candy and pasties, but none of the students were particularly hungry and Reggie waved her on with his hand.

Al sat dourly with his housemates for the rest of the train ride. His father had been holed up in his office in the last few days of break, though whether that was for work purposes or simply avoiding conflict with his son was unclear. Once again, Al felt a wave of delayed guilt at his actions toward him. If these incidences really might be a true attempt at resurrecting that terrible wizard, Harry must have been informed. Maybe that's why he was so on edge about the little things Al mentioned. He couldn't begin to imagine the fear of what it was like living with Voldemort alive. And then to have him come back all these years later…

But still, another part of him felt petulantly deprived of his father. Of course, maintaining peace in the wizarding world was an important and honorable goal, but Al couldn't help but wonder if perhaps more people than his father could shoulder some of that burden; just so he could at least enjoy a holiday or two in peace, with his family.

Still, Al knew the answer to those longings. No other wizard had his whole life intertwined with what most considered the ultimate reach of Dark Magic like Harry Potter; threatening him since his first year of life, living in him like a parasite. And while Al could appreciate that fact, it only made him feel more distant from his dad, like his own problems were merely small puddles next to the flood that completely washed through Harry's life. How could they begin to understand each other when one was the center of the most modern magical calamity and the other growing up in comfort and peace?

The conductor's voice rattled through the carriage, announcing the arrival at Hogsmeade in half an hour's time. The Slytherin students fumbled to put on their robes over their casual clothes in the confines of the overpopulated carriage, unwilling to venture outside to change in a bathroom.

As the train rolled into the station, the cohort rushed to grab their belongings and grab the first carriages so as not to be left behind with any unfriendly older students. Professor Grubbly-Plank, a wispy, ancient-looking witch that taught the Care of Magical Creatures, directed the first years towards a line of hundreds of carriages that would bring them to the Castle through the snow-strewn woods. Al had just squeezed his and Natalia's last bags onto the back of a lift when he heard a commotion behind him.

"You ought to watch who you're looking out for Potter- my father is planning some sorely needed measures to control those folks and you bet they'll be none too sympathetic to your family. You just haven't seen their true colors yet- or well, I would have thought you'd known enough to educate your dolt of brother to not get tangled up with them." Adrian Haverford's lumbering crew was leering close behind James and Rosie as they scampered hurriedly towards the closest carriage that would grant them refuge. They were flinging their belongings hastily in an empty cart when Al saw Callum draw his wand at his brother, who was sporting his owl, Bidi, on his shoulder.

"James watch out!" Al cried

But the distance between the brothers ebbed the urgency of Al's warning and James had barely scanned behind him when Callum slashed his wand down, spitting a hex that Al couldn't quite decipher.

He also couldn't recognize the curse because, in his poor aim, Callum had hit Bidi bodily in the center of the bird's feathery breast. The owl shrieked unnaturally long and loud, stupefying most of the students in the vicinity to a standstill, as they watched the bird writhed on the ground. It looked as though Bidi's left wing and leg were completely paralyzed and the rest of him was aware and terrified of this development. James dropped his bags, the long handle of his new broomstick, a Christmas present, carelessly lodged between the heavy items. He spun around wide-eyed, whipping his wand out, his mouth contorted into a silent scream at the gaggle of equally stunned Gryffindors. The point of his wand wavered between trying a counter curse on his owl and returning the attack at his former friend.

Rosie, grabbed his arm, "Don't! I don't know if a counter curse will hurt him more!" There were tears brimming at the edges of her eyes and her own owl squawked menacingly, baring its talons at the boys through its cage and coming close to tipping the entire enclosure off its current balance on the carriage. She scooped up Bidi quickly, righting a few long feathers that had gone askew in the fall, "I think it was a leg-locker curse…"

As the option of tending to his owl disappeared, James now resolutely aimed his wand at Callum, "We'll see how you like a leg-locker you lousy git!"

Al watched as his brother sent the jinx at Callum, hitting him squarely. Unfortunately, the spell was ill-performed and only briefly slowed the motion of the boy, who tumbled forward slightly but quickly regained movement. The contrition that had initially graced his features now turned to rage as he prepared to send another hex at his housemate.

"You'll have to be a better wizard than that once the purebloods turn on you Potter!" he snarled nastily.

From behind them, Patricia Beauton and her friends also sneered, "Oi there are first-years that can land a better spell! You really are just a lug with a fancy broom, aren't you?"

Al was reminded of his father as the tendons in James' neck tensed rigidly, turning deep mahogany in the strain, which seemed to travel up his face and ears. Perhaps it was the violent undulation of emotions during his first semester, but Al had quickly discovered that certain spells required a certain state of mind if they were to work. And James was not in that state; although he looked angry, Al knew it was panic that was being presented, his brother was barely breathing, his wand slipping as his hands trembled.

Al, on the other hand, could feel the white-hot rage that steadied his grip on his own wand and blurred his peripheral vision to predator-like precision, so Callum became the isolated focus.

It seemed like the boy was moving in slow motion as he drew back his wand at his brother, and Al only changed his slug-eating curse at the last moment as Professor Grubbly-Plank materialized at the fringes of the crowd.

"Expelliarmus!" Al leapt forward as he sent the spell careening into Callum, the soles of his feet protesting at the flat impact of the hard, forest earth.

It was lucky that he'd screamed the spell so clearly because had Professor Grubbly-Plank not heard it, he'd probably be in trouble for sending a curse regardless. The force of the spell folded Callum in two as he was rocketed off his feet and shot into Adrian and a few other Gryffindor boys, collapsing the entire lot. Al was personally satisfied to see first-years Ryan and Sam pinned at the bottom of the pile, one of their trunks knocked open.

"What in the heavens! Oh my!" Professor Grubbly-Plank looked equal parts alarmed and impressed as she surveyed the quite diminutive boy that had just crumbled a good part of the Gryffindor House like a set of bowling pins, "Come here boy!"

Al walked resolutely near the crowd and glanced at his brother, smiling kindly. James, however, did not return what Al expected to be some gratitude, wearing a peculiar expression as he watched his younger brother go by.

Rosie, on the other hand, moved swiftly towards the older witch, "Please, that boy," she pointed at Callum, still on the ground holding his stomach, "He seriously injured James' owl- cursed it!"

She presented Bidi to the professor. The screech owl was still hooting in pain and confusion, thrusting only half of her body clumsily in Rosie's arms.

"Shh, shhh, now calm down. Oh what a nasty thing to do!" Professor Grubbly-Plank gently lifted the bird into her arms and held her firmly so Bidi wouldn't further injure herself with her thrashing. Her face was hardening rapidly as she surveyed the extent of the injury. If any condolences had been reserved for Callum, Al could see they had promptly vanished, as the witch cast daggers in the boy's direction.

"It's some immobilizing jinx alright. She got injured in the fall and I can feel a welt on her breastbone here. Not to mention simply terrifying the poor thing! You!" She pointed to Callum, who also knew he had no chance of receiving mercy from the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, "You will head immediately to the Headmaster's office! I don't want to see you step in that Great Hall once this evening and we'll see if you do again at all!"

A few of the Gryffindors had pulled Callum upright and Adrian had clapped him on the shoulder, but Al could see that most of them scattered away, repulsed by the actions of the night, accidental as they might have been. He'd have felt better about the behavior of his own House if he hadn't caught Gregor Rosier and his gang sniggering at James and making kissy faces at each other as they mimed being an owl.

Professor Grubbly-Plank had conjured a small tourniquet for Bidi, who was churring appreciatively in her arms, though when James numbly walked over, she began prodding restlessly, trying to hop back on her usual perch on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, no I'm going to carry you… like this?" James let his professor adjust his arms around the bird, securing her. The churring resumed and Bidi closed her large glowing eyes, happily reunited.

Al now found himself awkwardly facing the small witch. She pursed her lips but addressed him fairly, "As you might have heard, there are several changes to the student code of conduct for this term, which you will hear about upon your arrival." Raising her eyebrows again as she looked between Al and James, "Ah brothers, I see. Well, I will have to inform the Headmaster about all parties involved but my personal opinion will see that you are not punished for reacting to such a dreadful, careless deed. But be on your way please and stay away from them," She gestured to a rather broad swathe of students, all hurrying to separate carriages, huddled in close-knit gossipy circles.

Rosie had resumed packing the carriage and waved as Dominique broke off from her small clique of Ravenclaws, her bronze hair whipping madly as she joined her cousins, "I was just telling 'em how 'orrible that lot has gotten! Hexing a 'ousemate? Disgusting."

Aldo Creevey had also led Anya and Ida towards the group, and they tossed their bags into the carriage, each checking on Bidi, who was now quite pleased with the attention being lavished upon her.

As the carriage lurched forward with its occupants, Aldo nodded at Al, "That was a mighty blasting disarmament mate! I don't think I ever saw it that powerful in class."

"Aldo may have captured it on camera," Ida timidly added, her and Anya blushing at Al, who decided to study the bits of mossy earth clinging to his trainers.

"Why would you take a picture in the middle of something like that," James curtly cut off the comments in an unnaturally rude tone. Aldo was taken aback by James' demeanor, and settled into an apologetic silence.

Al looked up at his brother, who again wore that peculiar face that Al would hazard to guess was a mixture of guilt and embarrassment, but he couldn't understand why. James caught him staring and sat up straighter, addressing him coldly, "Oh and Al, the next time you decide to insult Adrian and his father, gimme a heads up why don't you?"

"What? I nev…" But then Al remembered the incident at the Carnival with the Malfoy's. It, like the late-night conversation, had never been shared with his brother as the last days of vacation had erected a passive-aggressive wall between them.

James shook his head, "No, don't deny it! I know you went to the same festival on New Year's Eve with Scorpius."

Al nodded furiously, "Yes, yes you're right, but they started it! And Adrian's father even threatened Scorpius! He's a child!"

James laid back, eyeing Al doubtfully, "Well the way Adrian recounted it, Draco was the one who escalated the fight and that, honestly, sounds pretty believable."

"No…" But Al drifted off, trying to remember the details of that altercation. Draco and Astoria had been alone with the Haverfords for quite some time before they retreated to where they had been. It was possible something had happened beyond Haverford simply harassing the family like Al initially thought.

"Anyway, I'm not saying it was all Malfoy. I have realized Adrian can be a right nasty piece of work at times… but I literally defended you for at least an hour not even knowing what you got into! And now…" James voice softened as he adjusted Bidi in his lap. It was only the obvious fretfulness for his bird that made Al try to abate the snippiness from his reply.

"Sure, I wanted to tell you about it James, honestly- you know how the holidays ended." He added in a low tone.

Rosie turned her head towards him, nodding empathetically, "Don't feel bad Al, my Mum's been the same way as your Dad, all touchy. Her and Dad had a tremendous row after New Years with Uncle Percy. He's not on the same clearance as him and your dad with her apparently… or Malfoy. I've never seen them fight like that in my life."

Aldo looked on, worried, "It's not because of my family is it?"

"No, I think it's more than just that," Rosie reassured him. Judging by the knowing faces of Ida and Anya, Al guessed the First year Gryffindors had been informed of the Creevey's attack. He wondered if the other incidences had also made it to their ears.

Dominique wasted no time answering that question. She leaned in dramatically to the younger students, "And I was so sorry to 'ear about Kiera Thompson, you know her? She was only just released from St. Mungo's and her Dad is still 'ere. Awful state she's in."

The Gryffindors nodded, Ida speaking again, "Even my Mum's family contacted her, says they tried to register a wand in her name, so I'd look like a half-blood. My uncle's an Auror and is really worried." At the confused expressions, Ida explained, "My parents are a squib and full muggle." But her eyes suddenly bulged frightenedly as she glanced at Al.

"Oh stop," He cried exasperatedly, "I'm not going to tell anyone,"

"Not even Scorpius?" Ida whispered

"What? Uh…sure, I won't," Al looked away into the dense dark green of the forest, furrowing his brows.

Al still wasn't looking at his companions when the stretch of silence was interrupted by Dominique's scolding, "No James, Al wouldn't know about 'is house. Can't you see, their little group barely talks to the older 'ears."

"What about my house," Al turned and assayed the carriage, boredly as already knew the answer.

James fell silent, sulkily, but Rosie smiled at Al and proceeded carefully, "Al, I wouldn't expect you to know, but… what are the sentiments of your House about muggleborn magic… on average maybe."

"Look," Al said impatiently, trying to catch James' sight the most, "If a Slytherin has strong pureblood views, they're not afraid to let people know… its Gregor Rosier, Alphonse Goyle, Damien Macntyre, but you all already know that. Ansel Nott… Tim is actually okay. And of course, just the entirety of the Second Year girls, except for Lin Feng- third years aren't much better- that group that follows Jenna Bulstrode especially…" He flicked through his memory of off-color comments and named each perpetrator, hoping his attention to detail would win back some trust that had obviously been lost during the ride to school.

"And what about your year?" James pressed, still looking challenging.

"Just Vanessa Parkinson, I'd say," Al started slowly, "But it's mostly nasty things about centaurs and house elves, I haven't talked to her much after hearing that…"

Even though Vanessa was by far the most unpleasant member of the cohort, Al felt a slight twinge of unease ratting her out to the carriage. He didn't mention Malachi and Reggie, nor Jade.

"What about those two boys, or the twins…" James continued

"I said no one else is that bad," Al stated firmly, "The Markovs are orphans anyhow…"

Dominique cocked her head curiously, "Orphans? Are you sure?"

"I… well I suppose I never asked them directly,"

"Kiera said she saw 'em in St Mungo's. They 'ere wearing visitor's badges." Dominique explained, "she saw 'em with little Martin White and 'is sister."

"Oh…" Al looked around, trying to feign a wide-eyed innocence as the gears in his head whirred. It did seem like perhaps the parents were interned or being rehabilitated. He wondered if the stay was voluntary or some agreement for the twins to attend Hogwarts.

"It's surprising they're only visitors," Rosie lamented, "I feel so badly for them, they missed half of their classes last term."

"So they're fine?" James asked.

"Yeah James," Al fixed him sternly. In truth, he had never spoken with Milo and Natalia about their views on bloodlines, but given their condition, he was certain neither harbored a superiority complex.

James recoiled and went back to pampering his owl, brooding.

"And so is Scorpius," Al took a stab at the final elephant uncomfortably squeezed in the carriage. Ida and Anya exchanged brief nervous looks. Al remembered how flighty they had been since the rumors of his friend started in late fall.

James let out a low, "Hmmph," as he stroked Bidi's head, "Adrian said that Narcissa Malfoy was with you that night."

Dominique and Rosie turned sharply at Al, the latter stammering, "Oh my she's a… well not a good... Al, I thought you said they didn't see his grandparents?"

Al closed his eyes and counted three long breaths before allowing himself to answer, "I don't think he sees her often and the visits have recently just started again… and he never sees his Grandfather."

"What is she like?"

Al mulled over that evening once more, arbitrating each small instance; the way she'd talked about werewolves, her interest in Teddy, her affection to Scorpius, referring to Jeya's birth status more than once, but not with malintent, adjusting Al's scarf…

"She's…out of touch, but she was fine to me." He finally concluded his deliberations.

"Of course, to you, Al," Rosie said somewhat impatiently, "She's in debt to your father…"

"Well, I can only speak for myself, can't I?" Al snapped back, "Take what you want from it, coming from me, but that's all I'm saying."

A gloomy shadow of hurt crossed Rosie's face and ushered in another stretch of silence. As the Castle spires rose glintingly from above the treetops, Al remembered a comment from the commotion. He turned to his brother.

"James, what did Adrian mean by "controlling those folk'? What measures is his father planning?"

It was James' turn to squirm uncomfortably under the pressure of interrogation, "Honestly I was trying not to listen, but it just sounds like he wants a renewed sweep of a few older magical homes… ones that were active safehouses for Death Eaters during the War."

"But I thought they had been searched after?" Al pressed, "And didn't the discovery of Dark objects come with an Azkaban sentence?"

"Sure, not a lifetime one though," James hesitated, "And there's been rumors circling, about previously unknown objects, capsules maybe…"

And Al realized that the rumors about Voldemort had fully permeated the student body. He gave an involuntary shiver and for the first time that night, James smiled comfortingly, "Al it's okay, Dad and Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, they know how to handle this stuff. And there's nowhere safer than Hogwarts."

Al could see the lights illuminating the vast corridors of the Castle now, the soft flickering reminding him of the Burrow living room at Christmastime, where his family had celebrated safe and sound. He nodded at his brother, who wordlessly seem to assure him that their most recent disagreement was behind them. And it was this guarantee that finally overcame the icy pit that had been balling in Al since New Years' Day.

Though as the group made their way into the Great Hall, Al felt a sort of tweaking in his stomach as James led the small group of Gryffindors to their table, while he embarked to the far side of the room, alone.

Chapter Text

Minerva McGonagall leaned wearily into the door opening to her office, fully intending to capture at least an hours' worth of sleep before preparing for the long day ahead. Two more sets of twins had been cleared from St. Mungo's, despite their transformations being severely inconsistent. The Headmaster checked her lunar calendar. They were almost four days past the full moon, and she had convinced herself that they might skip turning at all for the cycle, as she had been warned sometimes happened from Artemis Balboa, the sole Healer assigned to the werewolves' care. She sighed- it was a good thing the term hadn't started yet and only a precious few students may have overheard the sickening cries of an unassisted transformation. But come the evening, the school would be swarming with young witches and wizards and she, once again, would be splitting herself as a Headmaster by day and pseudo-healer by night.

The vials of shrivelfig sweetening potion clattered haphazardly to the floor as McGonagall curled up on a cramped loveseat, too exhausted to be picky about positioning herself in a way that wouldn't pay her back through achiness in a couple hours. One of the twins had continued to howl in pain well after the transformation was complete, shivering in misery and shedding a reddish, flaky substance. The Headmaster bolted upright once more, yanking a spare notebook from the coffee table, and jotting down a note for later research. She might soon add a volume on werewolf symptoms and development to her authorship. At least someone in the future might be able to do more than wait and watch a young child thrashing about in agony.

McGonagall knitted her brows in frustration; she wasn't a healer nor well-versed in magizoology, yet she had cultivated more knowledge than any wizard in Europe on werewolf half-breeds in just a few short months. And try as she might, Minerva was running out of excuses other than pure discrimination and supremacy that justified this sore lack of information of such a debilitating condition. She now knew how the esteemed Lupin family had squandered away a multigenerational fortune on just one boy, and barely to seventeen. Even Artemis was little help with no training background and little medical expertise on alleviating transformation symptoms outside of the woefully inadequate Wolfsbane. The two of them had devised the sweetening potion together, but it was still a cumbersome combination treatment and required more precise timing than the irregularities of adolescent turnings sometimes permitted.

The cauldron behind her gave an aggressive hiss, reminding McGonagall that in her haste to treat her erratic patients, she'd left the pot brewing on a fire. Lethargically, she rose and brandished her wand to put out the flames and bottle the remaining potion, yawning generously and eyeing the great grandfather clock near her desk, creeping steadily towards three o'clock.

A cascading crash brought her quickly out of the doldrums at the edge of wakefulness to something closer to alert. Figuring her wandwork might have faltered and sent her potion bottles to the floor, McGonagall made her way toward the cauldron to clean up the mess. But the spell had worked flawlessly, the bottles corked and sitting on the near table, whole and unbroken.

"Clang! Crash!"

The Headmaster wheeled around. The cacophony rang through the room as if a marching band was playing through a thousand windows into the office. But there were not a thousand windows, not exactly in the architectural sense at least. McGonagall threw off more heavy layers of weariness as she realized the sounds were coming from the portraits in the room, which were all devoid of inhabitants- every last one.

"Albus!" McGonagall called into the nearest portrait, trying to see a figure in the most distant point of the painting, "Armando! Everard! Phineas?"

Even that loathsome predecessor had abandoned his armchair. The din wafted in and out through random portrait holes nonlinearly, making McGonagall dizzy trying to discern the closest origin of the ruckus. She felt the hold of her self-control fraying at its edges; she was aware enough to know this was a foreboding situation, yet too tired to apply much rational thought to an explanation.

"Minerva." A low, austere voice brought McGonagall from the brink of a breakdown. She strode up to the portrait holding Severus Snape, who looked crisper than ever, though perhaps his definition came from the obvious alarm in his features, even as his tone remained steady, "Minerva you must alert the Ministry. They must seal the Department of Mysteries. The Room of Death."

"Seal?" McGonagall fumbled for her wand, trying to dial Hermione, "What does that mean? Is someone trying to steal the Cabinets?"

Severus shook his head impatiently, "No! Remove the cabinets only if you have the time! Minerva you must go now! Seal it in every way you can!"

"What's going on? Why…" But McGonagall saw the complete uncertainty in her former colleague's face and knew he was just as uninformed. A portal opened at the tip of her wand, revealing an equally weary, but dressed Hermione.

"Professor? What…"

"Dear, the portraits have been abandoned and there's a disturbance. Severus has instructed us to seal off the Room of Death immediately." McGonagall tried to calm her voice like Snape, trying not to stir a panic.

"But that's where we are keeping…"

"You need to seal the Room as soon as possible!" Snape seethed through his frame, "We will only hold it off for a short while! Albus is traveling to his locket, he will tell you when you must abandon the Room. You must seal it! Go! Now!"

Despite the urgency of the matter, McGonagall couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride and admiration as Hermione bolted into action, "I'll wake Bill and his team. They'll be able to apply a few containment curses. Wood's team is on night duty as such- I'm sending him a notice now to clear the Department and I'll have him start to move the cabinets. We should arrive to help by then. I'll ring Cetus and Pilar to see if their knowledge on the room can help with a good defense."

Hermione was already tying up her cloak and braiding her wayward hair into place. She smiled wanly at McGonagall, "Wait five minutes and I'll clear your fireplace for a direct floo to my office."

The portal vanished and McGonagall set to tying up her own hair into something professional and grabbing a large locket, which opened to reveal Albus Dumbledore's rather strained face, "Hello Minerva, I suppose we will be off soon?"

"Yes, yes," McGonagall adjusted the wrinkles in her cloak and glanced intently at her fireplace, waiting for the emerald flames to signify her clearance, "Albus, what is happening?"

"An imbalance Minerva." The spectacled man replied, "An abundance of people neither controlled by life nor death. But that is all I know for sure."

McGonagall barely had time to ponder those words as the fireplace roared to life.

Stepping into the Minister's office, McGonagall felt a wave of relief and humor as she was greeted by Bill Weasley, his cloak covering a set of striped pajamas, as well as his elite team of curse-breakers, all in various stages of undress. Hermione was showing them blueprints of the Ministry.

"Luckily the Department of Mysteries is a self-contained entity due to the secretive and experimental nature of the work, but should the primary infrastructure fail, these vents would be most vulnerable…"

"Professor! Headmaster! Minerva!" Oliver Wood burst through the door to the Minister's Office, some of his Auror team appearing just behind, "I've sent half of them to begin moving the, what are they? Cursed Wardrobes? I don't recall an open investigation on such objects…"

"Never mind that Wood, thank you. Bill can update your team on the containment plans." Hermione ushered in the Aurors and looked expectantly down the hallway.

"Tywek's team just arrived from a mission, Hermione, and I sent them a notice to head here if they weren't too fatigued." Wood called back to the young Minister as Bill took over examining the Ministry layout.

"That's excellent Wood, thank you. Oh! Come, what have you found?" Hermione let in a pair of unusually ruffled Unspeakables, a small man with blonde hair and black eyes and a tall woman with short, magenta hair and many earrings.

Hermione led the Unspeakables to her desk and beckoned McGonagall to join them. "This is Cetus Seaborn and Pilar Moreno. I think both from Ravenclaw…"

Cetus waved off his introductions, "Bode is in the Room of Death at the moment. We've briefly ceased the Wardrobe extraction…"

"Why?" Hermione barked, "How many have you managed to get out?"

But Pilar was dialing a number and soon Garder Bode became visible on the portal. He was standing near the doorway entering the Room of Death, gripping the frame in agony. And there was good reason as to why; the Minister's office was violently filled with the most horrible assortment of wails, shrieks, and screams, recognizable voices to everyone in the room of friends and foes passed.

Pilar closed the portal, shutting the noise into a deadening silence as the room remained petrified, "It is our recommendation that the Room be sealed as soon as possible. I won't even delve into our theories as our first prerogative is to survive what we believe is an impending explosion." Her deadpanning tone ignored the odd-off shudders, "Three cabinets remain, Bode will extract one before leaving."

"I'll go down there myself. They are…they are too important" stated Hermione, after a pause.

"And I'll go with you," added McGonagall

"It's not my job to tell the Minister what she should do. But she must hurry." Cetus matter-of-factly broke the astounded stares coming from Oliver and Bill, incredulous and confused by the pair's astounding fixation on 'cabinets.'

Bill shook himself into motion, procuring three sets of suction-like saucers, "These can block verbal bewitchments from radio to ultraviolet frequencies. They should protect you from those voices if they wish you harm. Give Bode a pair if he's still down there. We are going to start in the atrium and work our way down."

The two witches exited the office as the teams clamored back to life.

"Twenty minutes!" Shouted Bill as the door slammed shut.

The early hour meant that the elevators were quick to descend into the depths of the Ministry and soon Hermione and McGonagall were face to face with a single door at the edge of a glowing onyx hall. They fastened the earplugs as the Department doors spun and Hermione found the Room of Death on her third try. Bode was curled at the edge of the platform, his wand levitating one of the vanishing cabinets.

"Duck!" He wailed as he sent the large piece flying out into the entryway. Hermione quickly fixed a pair of earplugs on him, calming the man significantly.

"I hear so many of them but never him before now… I lost my brother years ago…" The older man's large gray eyes were puffy with evidence of crying, "They've always been there but they never sounded in pain…forty years I've worked in this Room…"

"I've brought an industrial bottomless case right here," Hermione pushed onward, pulling Bode to his feet, "get the cabinet inside and we will send the last two your way. The moment you have them all- leave and put the case in Draco Malfoy's office. Make sure no one sees you."

Bode shuddered and strode into the entryway with a nod. McGonagall checked the pocket portrait of Dumbledore, "Do we have time?"

"Yes! But hurry!" McGonagall read the mouthed words as she couldn't hear the former Headmaster's calm voice above the muted din of the Room.

The voices were emanating from the archway in the center of the space, a fixture McGonagall had only seen once before as a guard for the Order of the Phoenix. The veil contained in the archway looked as if limbs were attempting to rip through the tattered material, though the boundary proved to be oddly elastic. Still, the rags were ballooning in a way that supported the Unspeakables' assessment that there was indeed an impending explosion.

McGonagall could tell Hermione shared this train of thought as the young witch briefly examined the arch with bulging eyes before speeding off to a small door at the far edge of the room. She threw the door open and, in a moment, a large black cabinet was emerging from the doorframe and heading towards the Headmaster. Taking over the movement, McGonagall carefully thrust the object towards the height of the exit, where Bode had reappeared and directed her fine movements before capturing the cabinet in a small, leather case.

McGonagall turned to receive the next cabinet, but this last structure was the most fragile collected. Hermione was gingerly hovering the mass of shaky metal, small screws rattling loose in transport. McGonagall swept up any fallen pieces in her cloak and added a steadying charm to Hermione's efforts. They crossed the room slowly, trying not to watch the rapidly inflating veil pulse like a vibrant heartbeat, matching the rhythm in their chests. As they gently lifted the cabinet towards the door, Bill appeared with his full team and, with only a second pause to ponder the crucial piece of junk being saved, began throwing enchantments around the archway, creating a multilayered dome. Bode eased the last cabinet into the case with care and, with a curt nod at the women, turned promptly and ran toward the exit.

McGonagall checked her locket, jumping as Dumbledore pressed his hand to the glass, flashing five fingers. She grabbed Hermione and signaled the time to Bill, who rounded up his team to head toward the exit.

As the door to the Room of Death shut, the wizards removed their earplugs, wincing as the screams still penetrated the entryway, much louder than on arrival, even with the enchantments.

Oliver Wood and Icarus Twyek were busy sealing the entryway with transfigured impact walling and more web-like charms. They passed quickly over the doorway as the last curse-breaker exited.

A young female Auror beckoned toward the emerging wizards, "They'll need more help sealing the last of the upstairs- we've opened an apparating path from the elevator to the atrium. We'll seal this shut once you've gone."

"We have minutes, you must follow us immediately," McGonagall informed the witch, who nodded, looking frightened. Behind them, wizards were finishing their spells and entering the elevator in pairs, apparating away simultaneously. Hermione and McGonagall left only after Bill and Oliver remained in the hall, sending up various enchanted walls every few feet.

"Crack!"

McGonagall strode over to a trio of Aurors stitching together yet another net of protective charms, glazing over the many offices and cafes overlooking the Atrium. She began adding her own enchantments, trying not to remember the circumstances in which she last created such a barrier. Hermione was both sealing the various Floo entryways and looking desperately for Bill and Oliver.

"Crack!" The men appeared simultaneously near the fountain.

"Everyone here now!" Oliver bellowed, mustering something even more formidable than his Quidditch captain's voice. Bill was creating a final dome, barely ten feet in diameter, under which the witches and wizards scrambled, huddling close and adding their last protective charms. McGonagall pulled out the locket once more to check with Dumbledore, but the wizard was no longer in the small frame.

"Where?" Hermione looked alarmed at the abandoned portrait. But before McGonagall could reply, a deep rumbling began to vibrate through her feet, as if they were standing upon the back of a great awakening beast instead of a concrete floor. She glanced at the sitting Minister, but instead saw a small, bushy-haired girl and instinctively pulled her bracingly into a protective hug. The entire atrium was shaking, but the enchantments were effective, absorbing the instability so that the windows to the many offices remained intact. The electricity, however, was flickering wildly, causing the room to be cast in and out of dull darkness and over-pulsed light.

Then the rumbling turned into a truly seasick undulation. McGonagall couldn't stop swaying and both burly Wood and Tywek needed to steady Bill, desperately clutching his wand upwards in order to maintain his protective charm. The ground however, seemed to have stopped moving; the queasiness coming from the air around them, thick and wavering. McGonagall felt her eyes perpetually out of focus and battling with her mind to close, both from ill and renewed tiredness. But just before they claimed their victory, she caught sight of an odd vision.

White streams of light with glowing blue edges were rising from the floor of the atrium, as if the solid structure of the Ministry were as substantial as air. The curses and enchantments proved to be more material boundaries however, and the shining wisps were tugging and writhing against the various walls, like a school of fish within the clutches of a deep-sea net. They were escaping gradually; at times the berating of the streams would finally snap the magical charm, and the flexible boundary would splinter, sending shards of glass-like matter speeding towards the Atrium floor, where it would dissolve into a finer powder.

The air around them was thickening even more, its punishing pressure forcing the group of wizards claustrophobically close. McGonagall felt helpless- at the mercy of the very oxygen around her; the coursing currents plunging deep into her lungs, callously filling the depths to aching inflation, before being drawn from her with equal force, leaving her in bone dry asphyxiation. A wave of relief only occurred after another protective charm snapped, whereby the currents seemed to ebb before rushing back with more force and tension.

But now the white blots were closer, and McGonagall choked again as she made out the details of their form. Rippling and shifting as they were, the Headmaster deciphered the unmistakable features of a people; arms and legs, rippling tresses of hair. A few of the figures were giants, others Merpeople with swishing tails, the small bodies of house-elves and goblins scattered in the mix of overwhelmingly human spirits. Yes, thought McGonagall to herself, as she recalled the shapes distorting the veil, these must be spirits, breaking the barrier between their world and ours. The thought did not calm her, nor did the realization that the spirits' faces were contorted in what was either agony or rage. Their screams seemed disembodied and distant but were steadily focusing as more and more enchantments fell. What would happen if they made contact? McGonagall clasped Hermione impossibly closer.

The reality of contact occurring was increasing as new spirits rose from the floor, indicating that the enchantments below may have failed entirely. But the the last protections were breaking at a much slower pace, and the spirits themselves seemed to exert more effort in maintaining their outward trajectory. For an instant all motion stopped as the atmosphere reached a new level of impenetrability and McGonagall was able to glimpse, with the highest clarity, the face of the nearest spirit. She screamed.

And, as if her own voice was a trigger, the space under the last enchantment collapsed like a vacuum, dragging the white specters into the depths of the Ministry, likely to the Room of Death. The great swallowing force slammed the ball of wizards to the floor, breaking Bill's last hold on his wand, while shattering the remaining defenses. McGonagall turned upwards from her prone place to see a multitude of solid daggers descending upon them. Mustering strength from some previously hidden store, she whirled deftly into a standing position and wielding her wand above her head bellowed,

"Tempest Evictus!"

A tunnel of wind surged from the tip of her wand, creating a peaceful eye as the hurricane-like gale blew the magical debris into the walls of the Atrium, breaking a few windows, but mostly disintegrating into more fine powder, leaving the space looking rather like the snowy landscapes outside.

"That was brilliant," said Hermione breathlessly, as McGonagall pulled the Minister to her feet. Around them, the others were also clamoring up, shooting admiring looks at their professor and murmuring in thrilling tones about what they had just witnessed.

"They was phantoms I reckon," growled Tywek, his deep voice ringing clear around the hushed whispers, "Ghouls or something,"

"They were loved ones!" gasped McGonagall, rounding on him fiercely, "Oh! I… I need to sit down."

Bill rushed over, conjuring a decently comfortable chair for the Headmaster to fall into. McGonagall withered as she connected with the seat, putting her face in her hands. "Did you recognize someone?" he inquired gently, summoning a glass of water as well.

"Yes, from long ago," McGonagall's eyes were distant and newly glistening from her recollection, "It was a muggle man, I… I fell in love with him. He died or was killed rather… in the first War. His family too."

Bill listened intently as Oliver also came over, scratching furiously in a notepad. Tywek had enough sense to stall his accusations of malfeasant apparitions, still he questioned her more carefully, "There was something up with them though. They looked right tortured to me."

McGonagall didn't protest at this statement, merely nodding shakily, "He was strangled, the muggle. I…I saw him strangled…" Even in the misty spirit state, she had been able to discern an unnaturally bloated face and clear ligature marks writhing around the man's neck and chest, as if caught in Devil's Snare. She looked up grievingly into Hermione's stricken face, "I never knew how he died, not exactly… I didn't want to know."

Hermione nodded numbly, turning toward Tywek, "What exactly would you describe as tortured?"

The gruff Auror mumbled as he thought of a response, "Well come to think of it. The one I saw looked like he came off of a Reductor's Curse from Pyrites, one of the oldest Death Eaters- shot that spell like a cannonball through people…"

"I see," Hermione was smoothing out her robes and regaining authority. She glanced at Oliver's notes, "Everyone, if you saw any detail of the… spirits, please give Wood your statement. Bode, if you could also describe the voices you heard- you mentioned a brother?"

The man nodded grimly and shot McGonagall a look of pure understanding at her current state of undone.

"Good," Hermione nodded as a line formed neatly from Oliver, "Pilar and Cetus, is there any way to know if the Department of Mysteries is stable without going down there? "

The two Unspeakables shared glances but shook their heads, with Cetus adding, "No Minister but it is our responsibility for that Room and we are willing to assess the damages in person."

"I… I don't know…"

But the two were already locked in arms and in a resounding 'Crack!' vanished from the Atrium.

McGonagall saw the resolve in Hermione falter as she palely observed the empty space that held the two just seconds before. "Right… well for the rest of you. If you could repair the damages to the Atrium and offices. I will help clear the debris…"

"Do you mean to repair this place without a proper investigation?" Wood paused his scribbling to cast an incredulous stare, "We should be sending notices of this incident to workers before they start coming in!"

Hermione stiffened her lower lip, eyeing him resolutely, "If the Unspeakables return with positive news, it is my intention to open the Ministry as usual."

The small gaggle of wizards exploded into protest. Bill strode defiantly towards his in-law, "Hermione did you not just witness… a barrier has been broken!"

"Look at me!" Hermione raised her voice so that it soared behind Bill, quieting the crowd, "I don't have to tell you that the sporadic incidents in the Fall have only increased and that the first days of this year have been turmoil."

From around the room, the Aurors nodded, though many glared derisively and fragments of 'but our concerns have been swept under the rug' and 'will we now finally get some answers?' could be heard in the return of grumbling.

"I've regrettably been unable to see to your questions, as I've taken this position with the sole purpose to coordinate a highly secret and risky mission, only to have these incidences arise almost simultaneously… and I've yet to determine if they are related to the former matter." Hermione ploughed onwards, trying to convey only the barest details.

Bill narrowed his eyes, "This is what Percy and you have been whispering about, this 'mission'."

Hermione nodded.

"And were those things, those cabinets you pulled from the Room of Death, also related to it?"

Another nod, more reluctantly.

"and perhaps why the Headmaster has been visiting the Ministry so frequently, leaving Hogwarts in the state that it's in?" Bill continued to test the bounds of his questions.

McGonagall recovered herself and stood from her chair, "State it's in?"

Bill nodded to her coldly, "My daughter mentioned that the students hex each other like nothing she's seen before. There's rumors circulating about Slytherin students being possessed and spying for their parents…attacks on families…Minerva you know I have the utmost respect for you, but I would be lying if I wasn't disturbed when I heard this."

"And it's only going to get worse this term," Added Wood, "What with five attacks since the new year- three involving current students…"

McGonagall breathed heavily as the reminder of her tasks ahead weighted down on her shoulders. Bill Weasley was completely correct but the criticism bit hard regardless.

"Its an evolving situation," Hermione tried to defend the Headmaster, "And Minerva has been balancing more than you know…"

"Of course it's more than we know," retorted Bill, "More secrets again. But Hermione, if I may offer some advice, if you don't act upon these perceived inadequacies, your vote of confidence from your allies is going to dwindle. And should you not provide an alternative to the rumors, they may become more believable than the actual truth, should the time come when you want to reveal it."

He ended warningly, "Might I remind you that Eliza Burbage is among the victims. I should hope you know the power she wields in her position… she's going to share her theories and people are going to listen."

Hermione's eyes flashed in fright at this. She glanced desperately at McGonagall, unable to make a decision. The Headmaster stared around the room, looking at the assortment of young faces. Broderick Bode was perhaps the only wizard present that came close to her in years; most were former students, barely of age at the end of the Second War and too young to fully appreciate the muddled and uncertain journey that proceeded all-out conflict. Yet she had witnessed this ascent twice, all too knowledgeable of the mistakes that were made in both eras. "Bill is correct, we can't hide what is becoming apparent enough by itself and continuing to do so will only undermine our trust with the community later, should these things escalate."

She turned to Hermione, who was nodding obediently, "That being said, the truth of our 'mission' will cause panic, there's no doubt of it. And should it fail, it will be disastrous to a very vulnerable population. I think you, "She gestured to the crowd, "Ought to know about it and perhaps this larger body can make a decision about its future covertness."

"Yes, yes I'm willing to do that," Hermione quickly assented. Bill seemed placated by the idea and shrugged in acquiescence.

'Crack!" Pilar and Cetus reappeared, looking rather unbedraggled, which was promising.

"The Department is intact." Cetus stated simply, "The neighboring chambers are as they were left, and we can detect no disturbances outside the Room of Death."

"And inside…" Hermione and Bill asked in unison.

Pilar took over hesitantly, "The Room has been… peacefully altered." Seeing the lack of comfort in her explanation, she added, "We would like to further probe the specifics ourselves…before informing the other departmental workers."

Bill groaned dramatically, but Hermione quickly cut him off, "Pilar, we can send a notice for the Unspeakables to remain home in the short term, just cite a broad disturbance as the reason for precaution. But could you work with Bill's team in handling this investigation?"

The two Unspeakables agreed, "We will probably clear any concerns by the afternoon today, if we begin working at once."

"Really?" said Hermione, "You think it will be safe by then?"

The two glanced again at each other, "Its…safe now. Just changed, but we think whatever was… escaping… was re-contained, stably."

"So you wouldn't believe that opening the Ministry today would pose a threat?" Hermione offered, hopefully.

"No. In fact I would recommend going about usual business so as not to disturb the public." Cetus droned, tonelessly.

Perhaps it was the status of the Unspeakables, or the knowledge that they now were in the inner circle of the Minister, but the other wizards made no complaint at this advice, though many were uneasy.

Hermione turned again to address the group, "Well then, we will clear this space as I said before and convene as early as possible. Nine AM in courtroom ten on the first floor. In the meantime, get some sleep."

A while later, the Atrium looked thoroughly devoid of any disturbance, and McGonagall was sitting with a large cup of tea in the Minister's office as Hermione sent notices to various people privy to their shared mission about the abrupt meeting. She straightened as she caught a glance at one of the names, "How did Potter find out about this?"

Hermione sighed, "It was over Christmas- he guessed about the vanishing cabinet after I mentioned the damages from the feindfyre. I didn't realize that was even something to go on…"

"So that's why you didn't call him in this morning. Keeping your intel as spread as possible," McGonagall had noted the absence of the Minister's longtime friend in the response, "Or your husband. He also knows, I presume?"

"No," Hermione's voice was clipped and McGonagall saw her lip tremble slightly. She recovered, defiantly, "You have no idea what it's like to separate by personal life from professional. I mean how can I expect trust from by colleagues if they think I run to my childhood friends with every bit of classified information? It's hard enough to hide these things when the nature of them is so awful…"

McGonagall realized her former pupil was arguing to some invisible third party. She tread carefully, "Dear, is everything alright at home?"

Hermione shook her head, tears now dotting her lashes, "We had an awful row not a day ago. Rosie and Hugo saw- he was crying… I've barely spent a proper day with him in months. I thought this would be so much more concrete by this point, but its endless."

McGonagall crept up to the young Minister, "Hermione, this isn't something to carry on your own. Personal relationships. Whatever. Those two are more than your childhood friends- use them, don't let their talents go to waste for the pretense of professionalism."

Hermione hiccupped, "You're right, I haven't been making wise decisions at all…"

"Nonsense!" McGonagall batted away the familiar self-deprecation. She paused, "I have let the school go unsupervised and it's created a mess- that's my wisdom at work you know. I've done little to quell the rumors, or really to acknowledge them at all."

McGonagall thought briefly to her welcoming speech that she would be presenting in -she checked the time, nearing 6AM- little more than twelve hours. There, she would be laying down a draconian behavior code that she was sure would fail.

Hermione was looking at her intently, "Minerva, if we are expanding this circle of intel, I'm willing to help you. Would it suit you to have more people knowledgeable of the situation in the school?"

McGonagall nodded meekly, "A healer preferably. And perhaps Neville Longbottom- I trust him more than Gagnon and his herbology skills would be useful in continuing our experimental medications…"

Hermione smiled, "I wouldn't have a problem with that." She paused, eyeing her professor again, "Would you say that the teachers at Hogwarts are fair?"

McGonagall shook her head, frowning, "No, I wouldn't. Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the Battle or my own biases, but I'm embarrassed to say that it has only been recently that I've truly appreciated the lack of opportunity a certain House is receiving… I'm sure I don't need to name it."

Hermione nodded.

"Did Albus mention something?" McGonagall pried

"He's been fighting a lot on behalf of Draco's son, Rosie's told me as much. But he has trouble with some of his own Housemates as well."

"Yes," McGonagall replied, sadly, "Well I've come to realize the Potter traits supercede their house choices. But he's unhappy and I need to do better."

Hermione patted her shoulder reassuringly, "As you said, we could all use a little help at the moment. And you really should catch some shut-eye before I call in the team- you can stay here if it's easier. And I'll ask to have Ron added at the meeting. I've been dreadful to him. Crying but not telling him why… he feels like he can't touch me."

"Then perhaps this morning will set this all on a better track." McGonagall offered optimistically. A navy, spangled chaise in the middle of the room was beckoning invitingly, and she sank into the soft cushion with gratitude. Before she could completely drift off though, Hermione gazed at her, a dark concern etched into her features,

"Do you think things are happening again? You mentioned an escalation…" she ventured, timidly.

McGonagall was stung. She had truly believed all had been defeated on that bright May day in 1997, but now history was cycling again with attacks and mysterious happenings. She shuddered, the bloated face of her longtime love swimming to the forefront of her vision. She knew who he had been slaughtered by.

"I think we've been ignoring something a little greater than our furry problem." Was all she said.

Chapter Text

"I don't think it's a cold, Harry," Ginny pressed a cool hand to her husband's forehead, noting the lack of fever but also the almost imperceptible wince he gave at the contact, "It could be a migraine perhaps? Prolonged stress I suppose- this holiday hasn't done us any favors."

Harry's eyes shot downward, guiltily, "I'm really sorry Gin. I know I should have talked to him more or tried to work it out better…"

But Ginny gave an impatient 'tsk' and shook her head firmly, "No, no Harry its not only you. It's the casework being assigned, Hermione's requests…. I mean I know from you and Ron that there's been an uptick in suspicious activity, but these recent ones were picked up in the Daily Prophet already. And you know those two have been on edge ever since you worked your way closer into Hermione's confidence…"

Ginny was referring to the abrupt boiling over of Ron's frustrations as Hermione's circle of confidants was obviously growing- against her will Harry had reminded her- but stubbornly excluding her husband. They had heard about a particularly awful shouting match, a rarity for the couple, just the other day as Hermione had forgone seeing her parents for the holidays, citing a fear of bringing attention to their whereabouts and a mountain of paperwork from the recent reports. Ron was resentful towards Harry as well, though considerably less overt.

"She promised me not to tell him, Ginny," Harry grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut as another band of painful tension snapped the front of his forehead, "For what its worth, I think Ron's going to be stressed enough with these reports to worry much about her other plans. It might be nice to not be so overwhelmed…"

"So, your chat about refugees, these are a separate issue from your Auror business? They can't be unrelated, can they?" Despite his headache, Harry grinned at the keenness of his wife, who eyed him shrewdly, " I mean I won't pry to much if its going to hurt the 'professionalism' of it all…"

"No I wish I could tell you, honestly," Harry reassured her, "But you are right. As of now I'd say there are two separate issues occurring… or at least there's not enough information to speculate on a proposed connection, in my opinion."

"Hmm," Ginny mulled over these words thoughtfully as she prepped two gigantic mugs of honey-colored tea, the scent of peppermint overwhelming the more unpleasant medicinal tones of the potion being added in droplets, "Here, it's a fever-breaking tonic so I don't know if it will make a difference, but it can't hurt and perhaps you have the early symptoms of whatever Lily has come down with."

She pushed one of the steaming cups across the counter and set the other on a small tray, which was also occupied by a watery oatmeal soup and Jell-O- a muggle dessert the Weasleys had taken to after Harry and Hermione introduced it.

"At least she's eating now, though that sore throat sounds so painful…" Ginny mumbled, whisking silverware from the kitchen drawers and also calming the simmering coffeepot, holding her energizer for the day, "Did you get her blankets?"

"Yup and changed her sheets too. Old ones in the wash right now with her clothes," Harry took a large swig of the tea and gasped in relief as the aroma of spices opened his airways, slightly lessening his headache.

Ginny smiled approvingly but Harry reddened again, adding, "At least with her I can be a decent parent."

"Oh, do you want to talk about this now?" Ginny was still bustling through the kitchen as Harry finished his tea, but he immediately detected a dangerous lilt coating the question. His eyes drifted warily towards her figure, darting under his sloping brow as if for protection.

"Erm, I…" He checked his watch to make sure he'd have enough time to make the meeting. This was apparently the wrong gesture as Harry was startled to find his wife's abruptly menacing glare when he looked back again.

"Harry I've only been keeping mum about that issue because I know you've been up to your ears in reports and I can guess Hermione's secret endeavors are no less gruesome. And because I know any fighting between us in front of Al is just going to drive him further into himself." She remained matter-of-factly stern even as Harry's headache begin to ebb back viciously, tugging his eyebrows together once more, "But at some time we will be discussing it."

Of course this all made perfect sense now that Harry reminisced on the last days of holiday, where Ginny alone had kept anymore fights breaking out. He chanced another look at his wife, who remained resolutely stony, "Yeah we can talk about it now I suppose."

Ginny's eyebrows raised slightly as she mulled above her mug of coffee, "Well okay, I guess I'd like to start with asking what exactly you told Al about your childhood,"

Harry tried to recall the specifics of the conversation with his son, frowning slightly as he'd spent the last few days trying to push the event to the back of his mind, "I didn't tell him a lot, Gin- he asked if I'd been mistreated and I sort of insinuated as much. But I mostly told him it was not his concern."

Ginny gazed at him and Harry had the odd feeling she didn't quite believe his account. Frustrated, he scoured his memory again, and but in the middle of his pondering Ginny spoke, "Well Al seems to be very worried that the Dursleys might punish Duncan for his magic by putting him in that broom cupboard in their house."

Harry's mouth went slack, "Nah…. Ginny I definitely didn't tell him about that."

Finally, Ginny acquiesced, nodding, "I had the feeling you didn't but it's so specific. I don't know how he's come about it."

Harry grunted, "Maybe he's a legilimens as well. It wouldn't be his first gift." He looked at Ginny resolutely, "I had no intention of mentioning anything like that to any of the kids. I was… I was caught off guard by his questions and I reacted poorly." He finished lamely.

At this, Ginny softened a bit, "I know, but you have to know Al was just concerned for you. And if course, curious to a fault… not unlike yourself at that age."

Curiosity was getting the better of Harry at the moment, "Did he say this to you after we came back? Did he say anything else?"

Ginny pursed her lips, "Yes that was one of the things upsetting him- Duncan- though he's mostly hurt because he feels like you don't approve of his choices."

"You mean his House," Harry sighed, exasperatedly. This wasn't new information that would help him get over whatever barriers existed between him and Al and he was honestly tired of broaching the subject over and over, with no avail in convincing Al otherwise, "Look Ginny I assure you I told him that it makes no difference to me that he's in Slytherin…"

"It's not just his House," snapped Ginny, "But I'd have to agree with him when he says he doesn't believe you dislike it Harry."

"How can you say that when I tell him exactly that?" Harry countered, the heat rising through his cheeks and adding a hot congestion to his throbbing temples.

"Because Harry, you tell him it's fine but then proceed to criticize every aspect indirectly," At Harry's uncomprehending stare, she continued, "You can't interrogate his friends the way you do Harry, or recommend he hang out with Rosie and her mates. It makes it very clear what you think of other children in Slytherin compared to the other houses and of course Al is going to think that you'll be equally critical of him."

Harry sat back, the counter he had prepared dying at the logic of her words. Ginny continued, "Scorpius is a fine boy. He doesn't deserve the amount of caution you've regarded him with. And he and Al do hang around with a surprisingly mixed group of students from all Houses. That's more than you or I ever did for sure, or James. And let's not forget that James also made some mistakes in choosing his friends- that has become abundantly clear- yet I don't hear you trying to micromanage his social interactions."

The headache in Harry's head intensified and moved down through his throat and chest. Yes, he had been unnecessarily unfair to Al and touchy about anything he'd heard from Scorpius. Fixated on his father and family, Harry hadn't even acknowledged how personal his words might have been for the boy he'd never even met.

"I just think you need to allow your son the benefit of the doubt. I hope you have a little more faith in my parenting at least, that he's not going to fall into lies and bigotry just because of what House he chose." Ginny finished fiercely.

Harry looked at her in alarm, "No, Ginny you know I'd never think that…It's… when I do those things, it's only between him and…me."

Ginny smirked, "I guessed as much Harry, but really, you ought to have more faith in yourself then. I'm certain I have three good children because I know I married a good man… a little arrogant and aloof and at times outright thick… but good." She smiled wickedly, "So don't dreg on about your shortcomings, its an insult to me and my good taste."

Harry chuckled, glad to know the conversation was at a close and, unlike his friends, hadn't amounted to shouting on either end. The hour was rounding on eight o'clock and the day was promising some good weather, the skies glowing a soft blue and radiating beautifully off his wife's copper hair. It was perhaps not quite the deep red hue it once was in their youth, but it was no less attractive by Harry's opinion. Rather, he enjoyed noticing the small changes of age as they grew together; the way her freckles gradually multiplied, the roundness of her cheeks deflating to a more angular countenance, all outward indications of the patience, responsibility, and wisdom that matured inside.

"What are you smiling at Harry?" Ginny snatched the now-empty mug from across the counter and waved it into the sink.

"You of course," Harry said quietly. He wanted to say more about how he felt but the new warm emotion was filling his throat, preventing much elaboration. He eyed the tray of breakfast for Lily and, seeing the contents had cooled, took out his wand and uttered, "Focillo!" and watched carefully as the items began to steam once more.

Ginny gave him a friendly glance before grasping the sides of the tray and with some urgency, reminded him of the time.

"Oh yes!" Harry bolted from his chair and hurriedly threw on his cloak. He wanted to review his cases before Hermione's meeting, but time was rapidly dispelling those plans.

Spinning in the fire, Harry caught one last glance of his wife making her way up to their daughter and, for a second, felt the uncertainties of his life disappear. If he'd made any one good choice, he knew Ginny Weasley was it.

The warm comfort of getting through a difficult talk bolstered Harry's confidence of getting some work done as he exited the Floo entry to the Ministry, expertly weaving through the throngs of wizards arriving to work.

He set up a quiet space at an isolated table in front of Tipsy's Café, relishing another relieving hot drink from the House Elf when he'd mentioned his headache.

The extra medicine was needed as the most recent case files were filled with more mysterious but ominous details. A muggle man currently interned at St. Mungo's…. Harry wanted to follow up with that extraordinary decision. Perhaps he and Ron could cover that interview together.

Presently, Harry spotted his friend entering the Ministry from the guest entrance. He checked his watch again- surely Ron had just managed to drop off the kids at the train? A few more seconds of observation revealed a particular energy springing through Ron's purposeful steps and the pointed gaze at the Minister's office indicated his intended target. Remembering their fight, Harry hastily shoved his files into his case and made his way onto the main floor, hoping to head off Ron before he reached Hermione.

Just as the elevators opened to the Minister's hall, Harry spotted the tuft of red hair slipping behind the last door. He half skipped through the rows of previous Ministers, who observed the rather busy activity with interest and was about to knock when he realized the door remained slightly ajar. Pausing briefly, Harry heard three, instead of two, familiar and terse voices inside, propelling his body forward automatically in curiosity.

"Oh my, so the whole family is in on it?" Harry was greeted first by the unexpected voice, the clearly irate Draco Malfoy, "Tell me Potter will your wife be joining us? Will George become our business contact? Round out the whole lot?"

"Malfoy I swear if you don't lose your sneer I'll smack it off you…" Ron was breathing heavily, probably from a mixture of his haste to reach Hermione as well as the additional visitor.

Hermione was equally flustered, though Harry distinctly noted that most of her temper was directed at her husband. Evidently, Ron had interrupted an ongoing meeting. Harry's appearance seemed to sap the intensity from her, as she tiredly slumped into the large chair at her desk and closed her eyes as if to remove herself from the room. The bluish tinge that colored her lids betrayed another night with far too little sleep and perhaps something more.

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes sizing up his next prey. "Took me a few more days mate but I put it together- the cabinet, the Room of Requirement, the 'expert' that mended the blasted thing to kill our Headmaster…"

Far from shrinking at Ron's insult, Draco curled his lip into a thin, unfriendly snarl, his pointed chin drawing higher like the way a cobra rose before striking, "So Weasley you are still the thick one-huh? Getting left behind by your brilliant wife and famous friend?"

He turned to Harry, not even acknowledging the dangerous way Ron's pupils dilated, knuckles cracking, "And how could we not expect Potter to mosey his way into anything he deems exclusive and important. Has it been too long out of the spotlight or are you actually jealous of her calling the shots?"

Hermione stood up from her seat, but Harry shut the blonde man down before she could say anything, "Draco leave it be. If you know anything about what's going on than you surely must know that Ron's been more worried about the toll the situation has taken on his wife more than being left out on the secret. The two became the same thing after Percy and I became privy on the subject. Its hard to offer comfort when you have no idea where to start."

Harry ended with his gaze directed at Ron, who he hoped understood that his intuition had come from some of Hermione's confessions to him. The shadow had lifted promisingly from his brow and he glanced at his wife a bit more softly.

Draco snorted, "Touching, you three."

Hermione ignored him, turning to Ron and, in a voice that pleaded with him to believe her said, "Honestly Ron I was just discussing the possibility of informing you about the situation…"

"And I was discouraging it entirely," Draco finished, sourly, "Though now it's clear the request was merely a cover for your loose mouth Minister…"

"Malfoy shut it, I figured it out myself," Harry couldn't suppress his smirk at the pride buried in Ron's voice, "Just now actually. At King's Cross… with the train undercarriage and the suitcases…"

For a moment, the most incredulous look graced both Hermione and Draco and Harry actually laughed out loud. Clearly the absurdity had convinced Malfoy that Ron's story was utterly ridiculous, but also true.

"What? I….oh fine," The man sputtered, striding up to the Minister's desk and leafing through a small stack of papers, "Well since everyone here knows about the cabinets can I ask why they are suddenly in my office? I was under the impression I was supposed to keep my activities a secret- fixing these things isn't necessarily the quietest task."

Hermione gulped loudly, "Yes well we will find another suitable room for you later today, perhaps in one of the disused courtrooms…"

"Did something happen in the Department of Mysteries?" Draco's eyes searched Hermione as she sighed, annoyed at his intelligence.

"The situation will be discussed in…" She checked her watch, "Fifteen minutes exactly. Why don't we head to those courtrooms a little early, huh?"

Hermione gathered a stack of folders into her briefcase, taking much less care than usual, Harry noted. This didn't escape Ron either, "Do you want me to grab you some coffee? I need to stop by my office on the way down anyhow."

Hermione gave a small smile, "Yes, that would be good. Strong."

Again ignoring Draco's rude expression, Hermione slouched from the room, not even bothering to check if the last two inhabitants would follow. Harry and Draco regarded each other for a moment.

"Al really likes the scarf Astoria made him."

It was funny how out of everything Harry wanted to say, it was the most mundane, polite comments that seemed to tongue tie Malfoy. Perhaps because his usual interactions so often required the defense of a biting retort, "Oh yeah, she's rather good. Good activity when she's feeling tired… glad to hear he likes it."

He hurried hastily from the room, as if the prospect of another kind question was like a ghoul in the attic.

Ron sidled into the seat next to Harry, handing him a large cup of coffee that was sure to make him jittery for the rest of day. And equally large container was resting at the edge of Hermione's podium, set in the middle of the raised benches. They were back in the abandoned courtroom, far below the bustle of the Ministry. When Harry and Draco arrived, the latter made a beeline to the farthest seat in the front and, catching the hint, Harry made his way to another some distance away.

Bill Weasley and a few other people Harry recognized as fellow curse breakers were already there, as well as the Auror teams lead by Oliver Wood and Eagan Tywek. The three men nodded in greeting, but all shared the distinctive sleeplessness he'd seen in Hermione. Above them, three individuals in Healer uniforms sat huddled, whispering animatedly.

Harry sat a short length away from the Auror groups, pondering the mounting suspicion that something had happened over the night that he was yet unaware. Ron's coffee was now making those thoughts race faster.

"Bill too?" Ron whispered and Harry realized he believed the people in the room were all privy to the secrets Hermione had hidden from him, "Oh, er not…"

Percy had just entered the room and the clear surprise written in his features as he spotted Bill, someone he'd hadn't expected to be at the confidential meeting. His brows sailed clear over his horn-rimmed glasses as they traveled to Ron. He pivoted quickly towards Hermione and began talking in low, rapid tones which added to the general buzz of hushed voices emanating through the room.

Harry would have given more effort to eavesdropping on any of the conversations if not for the appearance of a wholly unexpected figure.

"Hi Harry! Ron!" Neville Longbottom briefly broke the whispering with his cheery greeting. He nodded genially at Hermione, who had turned from Percy to wave. Behind him, McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey followed and Harry thought that perhaps the Headmaster beat Hermione in looking the most painfully fatigued. She smiled wanly at the group of wizards, and Harry took in the looks of sympathy and familiarity being exchanged between her and Bill and Oliver.

"Somethings happened hasn't it- has she said anything? Before I arrived?" Ron's critical eye was working overtime as well and Harry was grateful. The shared observations were reassuring his paranoia was rooted in some sanity. He wished the meeting would start soon, ruminating was causing his headache to resurface.

"Y'know she was gone bang early this morning," Ron continued, piquing Harry's interest, "I mean she's always up early, but I definitely heard her leave. Didn't even turn off the coffee pot she'd been brewing, that's how I knew she hadn't had any."

"Yeah mate, I think we both might be a little in the dark if I'm honest."

"Yeah, I… sorry for the last few days," Ron evidently found solidarity in their shared ignorance.

"It's alright. Trust me, you'll understand once you've heard it."

Their boss, Francesca Pesci, entered the courtroom alone and strode meaningfully toward him and Ron, the tight black ringlets of her hair bouncing with anticipation.

"How much of this do you two already know?" She asked as soon as she sat in the row behind them.

"No idea," Ron replied

"Less than I thought," Harry added

She nodded, "And have you had time to read the files I sent over this morning?"

"No sorry, I was sidetracked," Harry answered as Ron nodded sheepishly. Francesca didn't seem particularly bothered, her face scanning the room with interest, pausing on unfamiliar people and resting so long on Draco that he seemed to feel the scrutiny, looking up at the three in agitation.

Two final figures walked into the room, which Harry recognized but could not place.

"Unspeakables." Francesca informed him, a look of confusion spreading about her face as she puzzled the combination of professionals present.

The arrival of the Unspeakables was apparently what Hermione had been waiting for as she stood once they'd settled and cleared her throat, bringing the group into rapt attention.

"First of all, thank you for coming on such short and early notice. I know this has disrupted your very busy schedules…"

Harry's nerves were squealing as he willed Hermione to end the stalling niceties. She looked more awake than ever, through it seemed terror was driving this alertness. He caught a glimpse of Bill's jaw tightening in impatience.

"Yes okay," Hermione breathed, looking down at her notes. As she brought her head back up, the steely resolve in her eyes promised answers.

"My replacement of Ian Atterberry as Minister was an unorthodox choice. I won't pretend that my experience warranted consideration at my age."

Harry could see Draco draw himself up in smugness.

"It was done because of my involvement with exceedingly confidential matters. Ones that have multiplied exponentially since my appointment. Ones that are sure to be connected though I've yet to find the explanation…."

Again, a long breath.

"In the last month of Minister Shacklebolt's term, I was invited on a muggle secrecy mission. A large number of children had appeared on the Hogwarts registry for newly accepted students. There were anomalies; they consisted of pairs of twins and they all shared the same address, one of no known wizard residence."

Harry was carefully studying the expressions of Bill and the Auror teams, which were contorted into looks of bewilderment, confirming his theory that they were privy to something else entirely.

"Though odd, we hadn't expected to do more than a few charms on what we guessed was a small Welsh muggle village. Inform the parents and obliviate what we were sure to be witnesses of odd phenomena. Something like this seemed to require a more diplomatic and academic visit- to understand how so many wizards could pop up so abruptly in muggle families. Hence, no Auror teams were notified." Hermione nodded to the large group, who hadn't slackened their perplexed looks.

"What we were met with was a hostile pack of werewolves, who ambushed us as we neared their settlement. From the few articles left behind, we deduced the pack was controlled by escaped prisoner and former Death Eater Fenrir Greyback."

Shudders vibrated around the room and Draco went so stark white he seemed to glow. Harry knew the next bit of information as the slightest surge of tears gathered at the corners of Hermione's eyes.

"What we also found was our twelve prospective students, just slain as we were caught up in the attack. The offspring of wizards turned with lycanthropy. Artemis Balboa, head of the Creature-induced Injuries Ward at St. Mungo's determined such after extensive autopsy. Just to be clear, what we found was evidence not of children bitten by werewolves, but those born into the condition."

The gravity of the revelation had not been missed by a single person, though the pause came gratefully as everyone let the information sink in. Ron turned to face Harry and he knew that his friend finally understood the conflict Hermione had been wresting with- these were grave matters. Draco broke the silence, "So could you clarify then, was Shacklebolt's alleged mishandling of funds a cover?"

"Yes." Said Hermione, looking almost grateful at the turn of subject, "Kingsley Shacklebolt covertly, and perhaps ill-advisedly, funneled money into searching for the scattered pack. It was everyone's belief that the magical offspring were the eldest of many more children and realizing that they would eventually spoil the secrecy of these groups with their trace, we believed them to be in urgent and great danger. Either these children would also be abandoned or killed or the pack would be traveling abroad to regions with less strict surveillance. Shacklebolt arranged a few teams of spies and informants to look for leads. Soon after, we located two pairs of twins before all trails seemed to indicate that the pack had definitely left Britain, complicating matters more."

"The money mostly went into the expensive care of the children as well as the salaries of freelance informants. Tensions between Shacklebolt and Atterberry were rising, and he decided Ministry bureaucracy would hinder the time-sensitive search of these very vulnerable children."

Draco looked unforgiving but said nothing. It was Bill that spoke up next, "So are these children at St. Mungo's as we speak? Are they healthy? Dangerous?"

From behind the Aurors, a wizened man with leather-tan skin and deep-set, bright eyes stood, "The children were in my constant care for six months, where I was able to study and nurse them to relative health. The complications of their condition are similar to bitten victims. Fatigue and painful transformations, not to mention the trauma of their ordeals in what I would consider a society as savage to its members as outsiders. Nevertheless, both pairs improved to the point where, after conversation with Minerva, we decided that we would allow them to attend school while I would check in regularly."

Tywek jerked and riveted enraged eyes onto McGonagall, "I have three daughters at that school at this moment!" He bellowed fiercely, "Were we never to be informed? Or only after an accident?"

Harry stiffened but Bill already stood, looming over the burly man in a way that cast his deep gashes in ugly clarity, "There's no reason to fear-monger these children Eagan, they are victims of their condition. Monsters come from a moral failure, not a bodily one. And before you speak you ought to remember that I of all people know this difference."

Harry could see Tywek rove over the mutilations on Bill's face before grunting, "Of course. But is the school equipped to handle such numbers of these students, assuming you are planning to find more alive."

Hermione winced at the implication, "In addition to these students, we've discovered three more pairs- considerably younger- which are being housed in the outwardly sealed Room of Requirement. This space is larger and more secure than anything in St. Mungo's though we have been steadily transitioning an equally secure space in the Dungeons of the School. Well away from the Slytherin Common Room and off-limits and guarded from any students." She added as Draco rose in his seat.

Harry too felt a pang of fear at the proximity to his son's dormitory. He knew all too well how he had treated things that were "off-limits" as a schoolboy.

"Why transition at all?" inquired Bill

"Yes that actually segues well with my next notes…" Hermione shuffled a few papers in front of her, "Shacklebolt has been able to gather intelligence of at least nine locations near potential werewolf packs. This has been achieved through extensive espionage, though I will add certain diplomatic attempts have only convinced me of the necessity on this…" She gave Percy a meaningful look and Harry was surprised to see the usually prudish Weasley nod in agreement, "Therefore the travel and extractions of potential children and cooperative families must be untraceable by official Ministry networks…"

Hermione scanned the reactions nervously, though few people seemed to disagree by this point.

"We've managed to procure five sets of Vanishing Cabinets, all constructed before the 'Decree of Magical Regulation in 1986' and therefore, essentially nonexistent. Unfortunately, all are in various states of disrepair and, since they were often charmed on a personal basis by wizards now mostly passed and exceedingly temperamental…" She paused and eyed Draco, "they require a very specific expertise and thankfully, a person of such skill has agreed to fix and reconnect them."

Numerous sets of cold eyes darted to the man in the far corner who, impressively, didn't shrink away.

"You believe you can trust him," Tywek growled and this time, Bill seemed to be in complete agreement.

"Is he really the only one?" Wood added, "You know his father…"

"I don't speak with my Father, Wood," Draco met the room with icy grit, "And anyways, it's been weeks since I've been informed on the project so it's really not a matter of me knowing or not. Though I would have appreciated more detail on these 'refugees'" He cast a stony glare at Hermione.

"Would it have changed your mind," Harry found himself speaking for the first time.

"I…no I…." Draco glared at Harry for the loss of composure, "I don't think so…."

Hermione jumped in, "Draco and I have discussed several configurations and we believe the cabinets can be converted into unidirectional transporters. We intend to target their destinations to the one still residing in one such conformation of the Room of Requirement- therefore evacuation of the room for its repair is needed."

"As for the securities," McGonagall stood up for the first time, "I confess I've been the sole secret keeper at Hogwarts during the last semester of these special cases. And as many of you in the Auror department know, the growing criminal incidences have permeated the already fragile peace between notable Houses and their students. I suspect it will only worsen as they mount and I've been woefully absent on many countermeasures due to this predicament."

Bill looked contrite as he regarded the Headmaster.

"What the Minister and I have agreed on is an expansion of those privy to the situation at Hogwarts. This semester Professor Longbottom and Madame Pomfrey will be assisting me with treatments and well-being of the students and two Healers will be at the school in 24hr capacity."

Two young women seated next to Artemis acknowledged the room. Tywek nodded approvingly, as did several other parents. There was only a minute or two of comfortable silence when Francesca spoke up.

"That's all good and well Minister, but I'm having difficulty connecting these issues to the cases that have been piling up these last months. I mean I'll agree the timing of the discovery is funny as before all this we'd been celebrating the lowest crime in months and now…well…."

Several murmurs of agreement spread through the Auror teams. She continued, "But I honestly can't connect any of these crimes to werewolf activity. No bites or maulings. Attempted kidnappings sure, but these seem weak at best."

Hermione nodded in full agreement, "I don't mean to derive any connections that aren't there Francesca. But I do want to make at least the most experienced Auror teams aware of this activity due to the mounting rumors underlying your cases."

This time Draco did wilt under the stares that were aimed at him, "Are you really giving weight to these, these awful rumors Minister?" He ground out the last word.

Francesca addressed him before Hermione could respond, "She's only considering it as a possibility, one that has been echoed by several of us in this Department. I hope you understand that the people here are most familiar with the details of the cases and not simply the recipients of a convoluted gossip chain. We understand the nuance."

Draco set his jaw and looked down, gloomy.

"As it is, the most recent cases suggest complex but highly unusual dark magic and the simple fact that this signature ties most of our unsolved cases, I've concluded that a single or small group of individuals knowledgeable about the ways of Voldemort's inner circle have been attempting to replicate their methods. Most of the victims are muggleborn wizards and their families- the ideology is unmistakable. However, the methods are much cruder and more eccentric than what we've come to know from other pureblood perpetrators, who usually boast very skilled and traditional training- highly recognizable spells."

She glanced again at Draco, somewhat softly, "I therefore don't believe the perpetrators to be wizards of the old pureblood families and their sympathizers. I've checked and most continue to educate their children at Hogwarts. I'd guess these criminals have received alternative training if any organized education at all."

Harry had sent this statement verbatim to his boss after pouring over the influx of incidences during the last days of his vacation. He was glad to see she whole-heartedly endorsed his assessment.

Hermione spoke up once more, "Yes, and regarding this conclusion, Francesca and I have devised to send our most experienced Aurors to various neighboring regions in the hopes of gathering information on any criminal patterns we might not yet be aware of. While on your missions, we've contacted several individuals who will be briefed about our other situation and we hope you might also try to investigate what you can about rumors or sightings of werewolves. Keeping this all under the radar, of course, as most officials are going to be unfriendly to that matter."

Another round of satisfied voices reverberated through the courtroom, although Draco remained stoic and glaring. As the noise subsided, he cleared his throat, "So am I to understand that this report will also be shared with other departments? I've heard of calls to resume searches of 'suspect' families who may be harboring 'dark objects' despite the fact that sweeping searches have already been done and many of the active members have passed away or been renounced by relatives."

Tywek snarled, "Malfoy are you worried your father needs a warning in advance to hide his treasures?"

"Eagan enough," Francesca cut across the man smoothly, though her features betrayed some shame as she addressed Draco, "I have informed the Head of Magical Artifacts as well as the Wizengamot about the findings. I… I got the feeling the sentiments remained in spite. As you know one of the attacks involved Eliza Burbage."

Harry thought he detected fear flit across the sharp features of Malfoy. He knew why- he himself had experienced a pang of foreboding when he read the judge's case. This attack would only intensify the sentiments of the radically zealous witch, who Harry already considered to be bordering on outright prejudice.

"I'm sorry but will we be moving on to another topic?" Oliver Wood had been drumming his feet to an increasing rhythm, "I feel talking about everything that's happened will help us sort out our priorities as to what are the most pertinent issues we ought to be discussing."

There was some derision in his tone as he glanced fleetingly toward the corner where Draco sat. The man almost spat his reply, "Easy for you to say Wood, you've never been under the tyranny…"

"Minister please inform everyone about this morning!" Wood interrupted Draco with urgency.

Draco looked around the room, affronted and pleading. For a moment his eyes met Harry's and Harry could see desperation being rapidly formed in the presence of callous disregard. But a second later, both men broke away at the sound of another Auror exclaiming, "Yes please, the Room of Death!"

Harry's skin prickled at the sensation of mystery. The meeting so far had only added detail to subjects he already knew, but nothing Hermione had mentioned involved the Department of Mysteries. The two Unspeakables began shuffling papers, eyeing Hermione. Oddly, McGonagall gave an involuntary shudder and paled, looking even more exhausted.

The trepidation that befell Hermione at the start of the meeting had returned, "Yes of course, the final broad subject in which I believe all of you should be informed… well many of you are but…well. We can hopefully provide updates," She glanced nervously at the Unspeakables, who nodded curtly and with ambivalent encouragement.

"In the early hours of the morning today," Hermione began, "Headmaster McGonagall informed me of a disturbance that was, according to intel, originating in the Department of Mysteries, specifically a compartment known as the Room of Death."

"And what was the source of this intel?" Francesca prodded, "Why go to the Headmaster of Hogwarts instead of a ministry official? With all due respect Minerva…"

McGonagall brushed off the comment lightly, "Yes well the nature of this all is…unique as you'll all hear shortly. I was warned by the portraits in my office of this disturbance. There was much agitation and commotion like I've never witnessed. I was directed to contact the Minister at once."

Harry was sure Bill, Oliver and the other Aurors had already heard some of this as only prior knowledge could have prevented their faces from contorting in utter speechlessness as the way his and Ron's face did.

"What kind disturbance could they detect? I thought portraits…"

But Hermione quickly cut across the question, "We are still working out the specific implications of this so I would like to move forward rather than speculate."

She wore a compassionate expression as she continued, "I contacted the curse-breaker team led by Bill and Auror teams led by Oliver and Eagan were present at the Ministry already…"

This seemed to be a justification, Harry thought, of why neither him nor Ron had been called in.

"… A few Unspeakables were present at this time as well and when prompted to check the Department, confirmed the validity of the portrait's warnings. The Room of Death was undergoing a disturbance."

"Could you at least delineate what you mean by that?" Francesca was on the edge of her seat in awe and frustration.

Hermione acquiesced by nodding to the Unspeakables, one of whom, a particularly tiny man with jet black eyes, rose and nodded politely at Hermione and the room, "I am Cetus Seaborn, faculty of the Department of Mysteries for eleven years, specialist in questions regarding the afterlife."

He spoke in a cold, detached tone that contrasted starkly with the endlessly interesting subject Harry considered the afterlife to be.

"The Room of Death is a space which held an object known colloquially as the "Veil". It was a unidirectional passage that transports both body and soul into the realm of the dead, a fatal action to pass through and through which only living things may pass. We believe the substance of the body as we know it changes with passing as charms designed to monitor the movement of a body become undetectable upon transport."

"That sounds like a very disappointing experiment," muttered Ron.

"However other aspects of human production remain, as evidenced by the wide phenomena of people reporting to hear the voices of known deceased friends and foes."

Harry felt a cool tingling crawl down his spine as he remembered the last time he'd entered the Room, retrieving a dark artifact from the collection of the recently boarded Borgin and Burkes. He'd fainted from the onslaught of voices, their closing in upon him. It was, like his first encounter with a dementor, something that uniquely marked some particular damage done to him alone.

"These voices were found to be uncharacteristically tormented this morning. We also detected unusual movement of the Veil. Both these features are significant deviations from any behavior of the object ever observed." Cetus paused, flipping over his notes.

"There was reason to believe the integrity of the Room, and perhaps the entire Ministry, might be in jeopardy. Using several containment charms, we sealed the room with numerous barriers. The presence of the spells contained the… outburst overall."

"I need more descriptions…" Francesca said, turning to Wood and Tywek.

The two men glanced at each other before Oliver continued, "We were in the Atrium when we started to feel rumbling. Bill cast a shielding spell around us but it was like the floor was a being whipped around like rope. I could barely keep my footing."

"And it was so hard to breath, like the air was gone from the room," A small Auror on Wood's team added, clutching her throat at the thought.

Wood nodded, "Then these… um… well I don't know if these two have a more accurate term, but spirits essentially. Wispy white things, a little like a patronus but all were human creatures…." Words seemed to fail him as Bill interjected, quickly pick up the story.

"They were breaking the barriers. The spells were barely slowing them. I didn't see any for myself but the people here who did all swear they looked tortured, in agony…"

Harry caught another shudder vibrate through the usually infallible McGonagall, this one so violent that Neville grasped her shoulder in concern. Had some sort of supernatural disaster almost destroyed the Ministry while he slept soundly and started a peaceful morning with Ginny? Ron looked white and angry, on the verge tears all at once.

"But they suddenly slowed and seemed to be receding back to their point of origin. I'd say it was as though they were forcibly pulled, which I don't believe any of our defenses could do. Cetus and Pilar returned to the Room after all had passed and will hopefully be able to enlighten us more." Bill gestured again to the Unspeakables, where the more brightly featured woman now stood with her partner.

She had more variation in her voice than the demure Cetus, control wrestling with the obvious excitement of their findings, "I will begin by noting that the structure of the Room and Ministry overall were undamaged following this incident. Surprising given… yes er sorry…"

Pilar regained some composure as Cetus cocked on eyebrow, "However the… presentation of the Veil has been altered to a different form of matter. Presently that is all we are willing to conclude but the, we are calling them Bodily Renderings of Spiritual Design, BRSDs…."

"Bloody frickin ghosts…" Ron quipped, "These experts…"

But Harry was turning the information over too intently to give Ron much of a reaction, "Altered how? Was the Veil damaged?"

"No we…we've decided on the term 'changed', 'altered'. These better describe…"

"Are you not going to show us?" Tywek interjected, his fingers curled

Pilar glanced again at Cetus, who flicked open a portal with his wand, revealing another, older man that Harry recognized as Broderick Bode. He was standing in what looked to be the Room of Death, but Harry could now clearly understand the language barrier Pilar was trying to overcome.

"Hello all, as you can see the structure of the space is intact and stable, but we believe what used to constitute the Veil has now become this, well if I'm honest it seems to be a pond." The man let the portal opening survey the expanse.

The Room was now filled at least a quarter way with what looked to be empty, black water, opaque but rippling, despite the calmness of the air. Something in Harry stirred but the recollection was fuzzy from the renewed pounding in his head. He took a long swig of coffee, now room temperature.

"We have been spending most of our time sealing off the entryways to other Department rooms for security in the hours since, but our general agreement is that the surface of this pond likely shares properties with the veil material, in that falling in will be the equivalent to walking through the archway. But other than the increased chance for accidents, we haven't detected much…"

"Is it really that quiet in there?" Harry regretted his question that would surely remind a few people of his last embarrassing trip but was surprised when several of the Aurors actually nodded.

Cetus addressed him, "Yes that… that is the other change. The room has gone silent. It… it's only a feeling but the feeling is that… it is empty where it once was full."

The slightest tinge of disappointment colored the monotoned answer. Cetus looked down before finishing, "We will debrief the Minister of any further developments, but it is our current opinion that whatever has happened has contained itself and will not cause harm to the Ministry structure or inhabitants."

"Have there been other disruptions?" Ron piped up, "At any other locations? Other Ministries?"

Hermione seemed to have not considered this possibility and Harry noted the look of impress she aimed at her husband.

"It is a good question," Cetus replied, "But I wouldn't expect there to be. While all Magical governments are aware of select mysterious objects, it is our understanding that nothing similar to the Veil exists. There is a reason foreign wizards often seek employment in our Department. The Veil was a unique object to study in the understanding of 'On'."

Again, Harry's mind whirred feebly. Something, something about Dumbledore made all this feel… familiar.

"So you mean to say that our Ministry just happens to have something like the Veil lying around?" Ron seemed unconvinced that something so significant could be noticed by so few.

"We don't believe the Ministry location is an accident," Pilar informed him, "The structures of many Department rooms far predate the rest of the building. I'd even go as far as to say that our ancestors may have congregated towards powerful objects such as the Veil, turning it into a place of reverence, which evolved slowly into organized government. There are many primitive accounts that describe the archway, but none attributing its construction."

Despite the overwhelming confusion still gripping him, Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he caught the absorbed expression with which Hermione looked at the Unspeakables. He wondered if that bit of information had been left out of 'A History of Magic.'

"I'm sorry, I can't quite work out how anything has been solved through this," Draco shook the Minister from academic reverie.

"You're quite right Draco…" Hermione replied.

"And quite rude," Ron snipped lowly

"… I have no intentions of making this clearer for you all. I just… I hope that perhaps one of us might have a spark of clarity sometime in the future, something that makes it all make sense," She seemed to be desperately contemplating any possibilities at the moment, "But also to instill, at least in this very limited group, that while we may not have answers… I'm sure that whatever you may think, you all must feel that something is…off."

Faces all around the courtroom were tightening at Hermione's words, Harry's included. He'd long given up fighting the headache that beat in the background of his thoughts- the new information, reminders of cases he failed to solve. It was appropriate for the moment, he mused. For something was very, very wrong.

"I hope you aren't too cross with me for keeping these things from you," Hermione started again, shakily, "I had every intention of sharing these issues at a time when we had more solutions than questions and I've kept my circle of informants as thin as possible due to… well you all can see the sensitive nature of these issues."

"I suppose it goes without saying that the information shared here does not leave this room?" Bill was looking kindly at Hermione and glanced once at McGonagall.

"Yes and I think we ought to set up regular meetings- I plan to meet with department leaders frequently to monitor developments on all fronts but it may be helpful with have another time to gather and perhaps brainstorm what's going on once we've all digested this information."

She began sending folders around the room and procured a parchment and quill filled with swirling purple ink.

"Wha…" The folders were filled with blank pages.

"Yes if you would please sign the parchment. The summary of this meeting will appear in your notes, only visible to those who have put their names here."

Harry watched the blank pages filled with loopy lettering that he recognized as Percy's handwriting. He hadn't noticed him taking notes but could see the man gingerly cracking the knuckles on his right hand.

"Will this also give us pustules if we decide to run our mouth?" Ron teased, adding his signature.

Hermione, grateful for the change in tone, smiled indulgently, "No Ron, I figured we were all consummate professionals."

A few uneasy looks darted back to Draco, who glared determinedly before adding his name and returning the parchment to Hermione.

"Draco if you aren't too strapped for time, I wanted you to chat with the Headmaster about working at Hogwarts in the next months…" Hermione nodded towards McGonagall, missing the nervous expression that graced Draco's face.

"Draco if you would follow me," McGonagall smiled tentatively, "I will take you all for lunch and we can be on our way to school for the Welcoming Feast."

"I'll be present at the next Auror meeting to stay as up-to-date as possible on developments and theories. I know many of you have been working well over twenty-four hours by now so I'll dismiss you." Hermione turned to the largest cluster of people as the Headmaster's robes whipped out of sight. The two Unspeakables silently rose and followed them out throwing, "We will talk soon," over their shoulders.

Tywek and Wood led their respective teams from the room, giving Hermione supportive nods on their way out. Harry and Ron also made to leave but Francesca placed a firm hand on each of their shoulders, "Wait, we've discussed something for you two."

Bill had strode up to the podium and was chatting with Hermione, "Some of these theorized werewolf communities- I know many Goblins with families in a nearby region. I can give you the names of ones I trust… Starcha said she'd be more than happy to mediate if you'd like."

A short Goblin, part of the crew of cursebreakers, nodded vigorously. After a minute that group exited as well.

Now, only Hermione, Francesca, Ron, Harry and Percy remained. The Minister descended the podium in a flurry, suddenly light as the close of the meeting ended peacefully, "That went… so much better than I could have imagined. Of course, I think there is going to be discomfort with the students- I don't think I've heard the last from Tywek- not that I blame him. And hopefully Draco can get the Cabinets working- that's a big 'if' but… but I think overall everyone took it well." she sighed.

"I mean, give it awhile won't you?" Ron nudged her playfully, "I think we're all in shock. Is that really where you were off to this morning? Battling ghosts? It… it never seemed dangerous did it?"

Hermione contemplated the ordeal as Ron's face paled from the hesitation, "I… I don't know honestly Ron. It was all so strange… I couldn't tell you what I suspected. Most of my concentration was getting those damn cabinets out. Bill was ready to mutiny before knowing all of this."

Ron looked like he half wanted to yell but somehow controlled his voice, "Well I'm… I'm happy to be in on all of this now."

Hermione looked taken, "I'm so, so sorry… I'm…"

"Oh not here, it's all said and done. I'm good now- figured out all I could on my own," Ron added, proudly, shoving Harry as he sniggered, "And I'm bursting to hear about this secret mission Harry and I get to go on. Or are you coming too?"

Ron directed a quip at an affronted-looking Percy before smiling once more.

Hermione blanched slightly, "Well um yes… it's, well depending on what you learn there may be traveling but the first order of business is…"

"Well spit it out… " Ron jested

"… talking to Katie Bell."

The clowning on Ron's face slid off in an instant as he sat back in his seat, combing back his hair, "She was taken… she was taken by him right after… did you recover her from?"

Hermione just nodded, procuring two more clipped sheets of paper, "Here is the general background on her condition and what she was willing to share with us so far."

The notes barely made a page, but a small picture of a scratched and bandaged woman was attached.

"As you can see, it's not much. But she has agreed to talk to you two finally." Hermione added with a note of hope.

"How did you change her mind?" Harry scanned the small black and white photo, feeling queasy about how much less familiar she seemed; how much older.

"I mentioned that her missing persons file had made an odd and illegal home at the foot of your desk rather than at the bottom of some bin in storage."

Francesca caught Harry's apprehensive backward glance, "I'm waiving any penalties Potter, as we can all see there are bigger fish to fry. Both of you should spend the rest of day getting your schedules free for tomorrow. Hopefully, Miss Bell will turn this some of this mess into answers."

Finally, Harry thought he could feel his headache subside. At least for the next twenty-four hours, there was to plan something that had to lead somewhere; close open of the open files that lay scattered in his mind. A check off the things he was supposed to be able to do.

He would go over his cases, maybe Hermione and Ron would be free for lunch again, prep a few questions, and buy Ginny some chocolates before he returned home. Tomorrow couldn't come quick enough.

Chapter Text

“Headmaster McGonagall! An honor! A pleasure!” Tipsy nearly tumbled from her seat next to row of large ovens brimming with various pastries, her apron twirling in midair.

She feverishly shook Minerva’s hand along with the hands of the party with her, though giving an audible squeak when she recognized Draco. He, too, seemed shocked by gesture and straightened abruptly, clearing his throat.

Tipsy recovered, turning back to the stately woman, “And how is Headmaster McGonagall these days?”

“Doing just as well, Dear,” McGonagall smiled kindly on the House Elf, “Though I’m not sure we’ve found a suitable chef that can recreate those fruit tarts quite like you yet.”
Tipsy blushed profusely, the knobs of her cheeks swelling with pride, “Headmaster McGonagall is too kind!” She paused before adding, “And how is Kreacher?”

“Ah yes,” McGonagall replied, “He’s still doing well. Prefers to make the menus now instead of cooking them. He’s really grown to like ordering everyone around if I’m honest.”

McGonagall winked as Tipsy chuckled. The Black family House Elf had remained at Hogwarts after the battle, finding the company of other House Elves an unexpected reprieve to the solitary life he’d led. After some questions and welcome from the staff, he also realized that he had been part of a much larger family, chosen as the one among his siblings to serve the Black family. Tipsy was his niece and he’d grown quite fond of her shared love for pasties and desserts.

The House Elf sent over a smattering of these foods to the table of wizards, who had situated themselves in an isolated corner away from the casual gaze. Silence fell among the group as McGonagall shuffled through a sizeable stack of papers of her own. Neville gave Draco a friendly sort of stare but seemed unwilling to start a conversation with the man. Madame Pomfrey only glanced once in his direction before settling her eyes politely to the nibbled tart in front of her. Just as well, Draco thought; he hadn’t been particularly kind to her even before his allegiance had been revealed.

Finally, the Headmaster distributed the stacks of what looked like textbook pages, though upon closer inspection, Draco realized the print was McGonagall’s exceptionally neat handwriting, punctured every so often with equally precise anatomical charts and graphs of what looked to be symptoms based on the lunar cycle and calendar year.

“I’ve highlighted the most promising factors that seem to dictate the time of turnings,” McGonagall’s mouth twitched slightly, “As you can see, most external environmental cues confer little to no effects, although the extreme cold somewhat decreases the duration of the transformation. As it stands, the regularity of turning increases with age, male children are less likely to deviate from the onset of symptoms, and stress overall causes the transformation to be generally more unpredictable in onset, escalation, duration, and severity.”

Draco swallowed but found his mouth had gone dry, “You mean to tell me, Headmaster, that these students not only transform once a month, but that they don’t always follow the moon?” He eyed Pomfrey and Neville, searching for some shared concern, though both kept their faces squarely angled down at the pages.

“Why this one, this one turned almost three days before the full moon!” Draco, traced a line as he began deciphering the charts, noting an especially large gap during the October cycle, “Surely these students cannot possibly be trusted in the same dormitories as the other children!”

Draco noticed the older woman wilt a little, her eyes gliding across the data as she contemplated what to say.

“Which one was it?” Neville had finally looked up from his own stack and he, too, seemed at least understanding to Draco’s tone, “It’s Rowan, right? The Hufflepuff.”
McGonagall nodded, “Miss White, so far, has had the least predicable incident, although if I may add some context to that particular month…”

She eyed Draco meaningfully, continuing as he gave a terse nod.

“Miss White is an athletically gifted student, however her transformations noticeably weaken her performance and she eventually gave up her aspirations to make the Quidditch team. In addition, her twin was sorted into Ravenclaw, and both had been adjusting to the separation and stress of making friends in their respective houses. They had been surrendered to the ministry by their parents and we had also recently informed both of our discovery of their bodies shortly thereafter.”

McGonagall paused, choosing her next words carefully, “It was my assessment that a perfect cataclysmic storm had triggered an unnaturally early and severe transformation in the young girl. When I say that stress changes the qualities of the cycle, I’m not referring to things like an exam or even some teasing however… it is not a lie that these students are dealing with very recent and unnatural trauma for children their age as well and I would not be comfortable saying that ticks like this couldn’t happen again.”

While Draco did appreciate the honesty in the answer, it did little to assuage the nagging in his gut to immediately snatch his son back home. McGonagall seemed to sense as much from him and looked to say more. But it was Poppy that spoke next.

“But the girl has since been very predictable Minerva, no?” She pointed to the later cycles which Draco did admit were all exactly on the full moon.

McGonagall smiled and nodded with somewhat renewed vigor, “Yes, yes! After the incident, Miss White and I talked thoroughly about how we might prevent this in the future. If I may, these students, more than anyone, do not wish to harm their classmates. They take their condition very seriously and if you turn a few pages in, you will find a detailed assessment of what changes in general emotional state contribute to particular changes in the turn later in the cycle. That data is compiled from daily logs maintained by each of the students. Diligently updated, never incomplete, detailed beyond my own instructions. They are children that understand the responsibility they’ve been burdened with.”

Draco could feel the bitterness in his old professor’s voice and looked up to find her eyes conveying a fierce determination.

“Together, Miss White and I have devised a way for the girl to continue to exercise in a safe and secluded manner during her transformation. This seems to increase her fitness leading up to the next cycle but more importantly keeps her mood higher and focused, which has greatly abated her worst symptoms. I will also add that Miss White immediately recognized the onset of her transformation and removed herself to the safety of the dungeons and administered her own wolfsbane vial well before the turn completed.”

Draco still stubbornly frowned, though he nodded at McGonagall to acknowledge that he was at least giving the prospect respectable thought. Neville seemed the most satisfied, perusing pages lower in the stack not printed in the headmaster’s small writing where various lists and diagrams of leafy fauna and fruits seemed to be tailored to his herbology expertise.

Draco’s nose twitched as he skipped to the matching pages, “Are you giving these children experimental medicine?”

At this McGonagall rubbed the space between her brows, “We have a system intact with a doctor at St. Mungo’s. Two adult patients have volunteered to test our modified wolfsbane and a new prophylactic potion that makes the wolfsbane and transformation, more palatable.”

“You’ve managed to find human guinea pigs?” Draco eyed her suspiciously

“Of course, we have Draco,” McGonagall’s response was short-tempered, “the response of the average werewolf to an improvement in their daily lives is valuable in and of itself. This is a miserable condition, and many have sought alternative remedies from less genuine avenues. They have worked to an extent I may add.”

“Fine, yes, okay,” Draco replied hurriedly, unable to meet her gaze but still unable to quell the uneasiness in his stomach.

And when Poppy spoke next, it opened a new bout of fear that was even betrayed in McGonagall’s voice.

“Minerva, if I may,” the older woman started slowly, “we have four students of age in the school and six more close to matriculation. Obviously, the situation seems controllable with these students, but do you have any inkling of the number of children this ‘rescue mission’ might, well, rescue?”

McGonagall paled, “No Poppy, I couldn’t give you even an estimate. We don’t know the absolute size of the pack, much less the number of children or what proportion manifest magic. Nor…” she paused again, “How long those that do remain alive after their abilities are discovered.”

At this, the headmaster looked again at Draco, an air of expectancy in her features, “Well? You’ll do it then?”

Draco sighed, “I don’t know if I like it. And I will be taking the side of student safety should this situation get to there but…” he scanned the faces at the table, coming to rest on Neville. Behind, a younger face of the man stared resolutely from the hideout at Hogwarts. Good people fought for the right thing before they knew they would win.

“Whatever we decide about them can be done once they are safe. They should be safe.”

Albus sat upright as a plate materialized from under his elbows. Across the Great Hall, yelps of surprise followed by an uptick in chatter as small sides began to dot the tables. From the front of the hall Professor Magamus’ booming voice quieted the rowdier students, “Headmaster McGonagall traveled earlier today for a Ministry inquiry. Begin your meals until she returns as we don’t want you up late. Class will begin tomorrow regardless.”

“A Ministry Inquiry?” Quinn whispered, “Do you think it’s about the attacks over the break? What information could a Headmaster possibly have?”

“Obviously she’s spying on students,” A third-year girl seated near enough seethed, “Probably compiling records of ‘problem cases’ so we get tracked before we even do anything wrong.”

“That wouldn’t be true… it would be too difficult? Right?” It was Jade that had suddenly spoke up to Albus’ left even as Quinn looked skeptically at the girl.

Al glanced concernedly toward his housemate. Jade had been brooding silently since the train, barely making conversation even as the hall had filled with anticipation for their Headmaster’s arrival. She wasn’t the type to believe most of the nonsense some of the other students spewed, but something had definitely touched a nerve.

Even Quinn regarded her friend momentarily before responding, “Surely its because the attacks were student’s families Erica. I’ll bet she’s simply there to report on support or safety precautions as they come back.”

“Pfft,” The girl snorted, “Just wait until you find your mail from home opened and your family’s home raided for suspicious items.”

But Quinn almost giggled even as a few more girls nodded, “It’s amazing how little I’m worried then given that nothing in my house even remotely ties me to some stupid supremacist cult. Your parents are pretty daft if they haven’t tossed their treasures anyway- honestly, they deserve to get caught at this point.”

Albus chuckled quietly at the third-years’ affronted faces, turning to Scorpius with a grin.

But like Jade, Scorpius was subdued and barely listening to the conversation. Guessing by the infrequent glances toward Milo and Natalia, Albus figured his friend probably believed the Headmaster’s summons was in regard to the situation of ten werewolf children being in the school. Al himself was inclined to believe this as well- perhaps the parents of the children needed to legally demonstrate their ability to care for lycanthropy or recover themselves. He didn’t have much more time to ponder as McGonagall suddenly swept open the doors at the entrance to the hall, her gait at ease as if she hadn’t arrived almost an hour late.

“My apologies,” She stood briefly at the large, golden podium, broadcasting her voice across the hall, “As I’ve been briefed about several incidences to occur during this holiday break, as well as more than one troublesome conflict between students on the train here, I don’t believe I have to explain much about the tension that many of you may be facing as you leave your families and return for another semester here at Hogwarts.”

Quinn gave a meaningful look around the table, “I told you...”

“There are theories to the nature of these incidences, their motivations.” McGonagall’s voice continued in a harder tone, “One of which is that there may be a new movement to classify the worth of a wizarding family based on the notion of magical blood and history.”

A heavy silence followed the pause as McGonagall extracted a rather large piece of parchment form her robes, “While I hope this particular motivation is proven false. It is indisputable to me that this school has failed in many regards to put to rest old rivalries, and from this, I fear that past, irredeemable ideologies are more than likely to resurface.”

“It is, and let me stress this, a failure of the student body as a whole, that created the honestly shameful atmosphere see in these hallways at the end of last semester,” McGonagall was eyeing a few groups of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who had given the Slytherin table menacing glares.

From his seat, Al could see Gryffindor first-year, Ryan, roll his eyes.

“As such, I consider the antics of last year a clear demonstration of your abilities. And I’ve decided that behavior is woefully behind the standards of this school and if not improved immediately, will be incompatible with the continuing of your education here at all.”

At this, frantic murmuring spread across the hall as students mulled over the threat of expulsion. “This the end of this House!” Erica was barely controlling her voice, “As if we can trust this school to be fair about rule-breaking. They’ll have half pf us gone before the end of the week!”

“In front of you is a detailed list of the new restrictions on student movement as well as the consequences for offenses we will be enforcing.” Next to his plate, a rolled parchment unfolded from the air and glided into Albus’ lap.

The muttering began to swell in agitation as students scanned the contents and even Al was surprised at the austerity.

Students will be expected to adhere to the Hogwarts code of conduct while in class, throughout free periods and lunch hour and during the evenings while on school grounds. This includes refraining from: - Hexes or combative spells deliberately thrown at another student or staff of the school. The nature of the spell being deemed inappropriate will be made by the Headmaster’s discretion
- Vandalism, jinxing, hexing, or other destruction of property of another student or House.
- Grievous taunting or spreading of malicious rumors.
- Attempts to frame another student for any of the above behaviors

“Wow she truly is a step ahead…” snorted Scorpius

Students found to violate the above rules will be disciplined for three offenses.

- The first offense will result in weekly detention for the rest of the semester each Friday and a ban from Hogsmeade visits for the semester if of age.
- The second offense will result in a ban from viewing or participation in any extra-curricular activities. A curfew will be enforced for the student starting immediately after supper, 6pm, every day including weekends in which the student may not leave their Common Room
- The third offense will result in the student having their wand confiscated. Training, non-magick, wands will be provided for classroom use. If the student is in an O.W.L or N.E.W.T. year, they will be permitted two hours each week to practice their spell skills under supervision.
- Violation beyond three offenses will result in expulsion from Hogwarts effective immediately.

“Blimey…” Albus could hear an older Ravenclaw student from the next table over and watched him unconsciously grip the wand in his pocket.

“I should hope that the punishments outlined properly arise a sense of frustration in all of you,” McGonagall’s voice boomed from the podium, quieting the current of rebellion rising from the students, “I can assure you these feelings are dwarfed by what I felt nearing the end of fall with the behavior from too many individuals. These rules have been put in place because in their absence I have lost the faith that you all can conduct yourselves in a manner proper for this school. I will be happy if you can prove me wrong as there are many things happening in the world that require my time and patience.”

The rumblings stopped as McGonagall continued, albeit more tiredly, “As many of you have already heard, a number of attacks that clearly were intended to cause bodily harm, and in some cases did cause injury, occurred during your holiday break to your peers.”

Albus stole a glance down the length of his table but found mostly blank stares from even the likes of Rosier and McIntyre.

“The ideology that seems to permeate the choice in targets is one that has no tolerance in the wizarding world and especially not among you. I’m not naïve enough to ignore that the student body today is composed of children old enough to know the effects of the last wizarding war. You are, however, perhaps too young to understand that there is a lengthy decent into conflict. One that can be prevented by understanding and forgiveness. I am imploring you all to be bigger people, so that you might never truly understand what is at stake.” McGonagall’s voice had become lower during the speech, although she’d successfully rendered the student body silent in the course.

As she returned to a more officiating tone to update changes in schedules and off-limits sections of the school, Albus mulled over the seriousness of the lecture, skimming again the parchment that still lay in his lap.

“She didn’t seem to be referring to our little discovery,” Scorpius muttered, looking concerned, “I mean, it can’t all be a coincidence finding…”

“But I suppose she has that under control,” Al interrupted hastily, somewhat irritated.

“I mean, yeah I suppose,” Scorpius looked slightly taken aback and resumed finishing off his dessert in a gloomy silence.

The rest of the cohort also seemed subdued as they finished their meals and exited the Great Hall. Just as he reached the staircase that led into the dungeons, he spotted Professor Longbottom trotting hurriedly the other way, “Oh I do hope there’s at least treacle tart left…”

Al hadn’t even noted his absence from the feast.

A small commotion interrupted his thoughts as he watched professor Longbottom purposefully push apart two students, Patricia Beauton and Jade.

“Enough!” Professor Longbottom sounded unnaturally angry as he looked between the students, “Did you not just hear your Headmaster?”

“Sorry Professor but it’s hard to ignore…” Patricia started in her falsetto sweetness.

“It’s not hard!” Barked Professor Longbottom, “Your Headmaster is serious about this. I’m serious about this. Ten points from Slytherin and twenty from Gryffindor for believing there’s any excuse! Go!”

Patricia looked to be in shock as a few rubies and emeralds began disappearing from the glasses at the far side of the hall. Jade whisked herself angrily away, sliding between students as she tried to get to the dormitories as quick as possible.

Al trotted up beside her, “Hey.”

“What Al,” her dark eyes looked opaque and ominous.

“I think Professor Longbottom is right. This is going to be enforced and I really don’t think the likes of Beauton is worth getting your wand taken away.” Al leaned back slightly as Jade’s eyes narrowed menacingly.

“I don’t believe for a second that this is going to stop anything. It’s an excuse to clear out students unaligned to the school under the guise of ‘bad behavior.”

At this Al shook his head firmly, “that’s nuts Jade…”

“Oh, is it?” Jade seethed as they reached the Dungeon door that led to their Common Room, “Do you honestly believe the son of a School Governor is going to allow his kid to get expelled? Or a Wizengamot judge? The bloody Minister of Magic?”

“Rose wouldn’t even…”

“That’s not the point! Those rules mean nothing because we all know a good too many students are above them. And I have no intention of backing down when they realize it.”

The Common Room was too dimly lit to make out her features, but Al could sense a distinct pitch in her voice new to the usually unaffected girl.

“Jade, um, did anything happen over your holiday?”

It was unclear whether Jade had purposely evaded Al’s question or simply stormed away, but his classmate left Al confused and alone and much more anxious of the semester ahead.

Draco started slightly as heard footsteps near the door of the secluded tower he was about to make a second home in. From the other side, a knock followed by the appearance of Neville’s round face surprised hi even further, but Draco beckoned the man in.

“I almost missed it but found a few leftovers in the kitchen,” Neville offered him a bowl of treacle tart, which Draco had to admit he couldn’t refuse, even as he eyed his counterpart warily.

Neville smiled pleasantly and took a seat in a small chair facing a slanted table where several diagrams of cabinet parts as well as hastily scribbled incantations lay scattered, “It is impressive how you figured this out even though, well…”

“Well, I had a lot riding on my success,” Draco replied dryly, staring at his shoes.

Neville finished his tart in silence, gazing over the view the tower afforded. It was a rather isolated spire located in the hall just behind the Room of requirement that showcased the Great Lake and further hilly landscape that encircled the school, “I used to see this every day as a student. I come up sometimes just to remind myself…”

He caught sight of Draco’s unfamiliar expression. “Though I suppose you and I had very different views in school to remember.”

At this Draco glanced at his former classmate, though the man didn’t seem to look accusing. In fact, he seemed to flush as he decided on his next words. “Draco if you were still a student and, well, under these new rules,” Neville slowly rambled, toying with the edged of his empty tart container, “Would you have listened to them?”

Draco raised his eyes momentarily, but he already knew the answer, “No. I would have been convinced that no matter what I did, my father would have pulled some strings for me.” “It’s unacceptable though.” He continued, “For parents to excuse this behavior, for children to behave that way in the first place. It was unacceptable when we were kids and the way I treated you.”

This time Neville was the one regarding his counterpart somewhat surprised. “Well, I suppose McGonagall, out of anyone, is someone I trust to not bend to pressure.”
Draco blinked, “I really am sorry for it…”

But Neville cut across him, “I know. I’ve spent a great deal of time with your son and he’s great. You ah, you did a good job.” He rose from his seat, looking somewhat uncomfortable, “Sorry, it doesn’t do me well to think about the past and what needs to resolved. I think us working together in a present is a good, fresh start so can hopefully make sense of some of these things.”

Draco made to let his guest out, nodding anxiously.

“Draco, um,” Halfway out the door Neville stopped again, “What do you make of the Archway and the encounter?”

Inadvertently Draco shivered. If he hadn’t experienced the Veil himself just weeks before, he might have not even believed the tale. In all honesty, he’d been trying to not think about that revelation from Hermione’s meeting as he felt it was out of anyone’s understanding much less control.

“I’ve always thought that maybe the afterlife put people at peace. But I suppose some people might want to return and maybe that incident…”

Draco pursed his lips, “I wouldn’t even have a guess Neville, it might be better to wait for the Unspeakables to come to conclusions.”

But alone, Draco fumbled miserably with that thought. He had become privy to how much a wizard might want to cling to his Earthly life. And perhaps ‘dead’ didn’t mean completely gone.

Chapter Text

Harry rushed down the stairs to grab some leftover breakfast before heading off, only to find his daughter looking expectantly from behind a pile of ingredients meant to make French toast. She’d even procured the vanilla kept in a small, high-up cabinet, which meant she had figured out how to open cupboard doors.

“That’s impressive Lilypad,” Harry marveled at the array of items and scanning the floor for a sign of his wife. Ginny had been subdued since Harry had told her the exciting assignment he and Ron would be following today. And she had not been in bed when Harry woke yet it seemed she hadn’t made it downstairs either.

Harry was about to set the table, plate stacked with glistening toast and syrup, when she meandered into the kitchen. “Oh Harry!” She seemed surprised to find him still in the house, “You didn’t need to indulge her you know; she knows big breakfasts are for the weekends.”

Lily grinned smugly as she added a few chocolate chips on top of her already sugary stack.

“Everything alright?” Harry started fixing her a plate, “And I don’t mind, it is a day for celebration in a way.”

He watched, perplexed, as Ginny seemed to pale. Standing abruptly, she put the tea kettle on manually, as if to create some space between her and himself. Lily gobbled up her plate with gusto and scampered back up into her room, mumbling something about needing a few more things to take to the Burrow.

Ginny sat charily in the farthest seat from Harry, stirring her tea absentmindedly. Harry had no idea how to even begin to describe her expression. “I’m so sorry Harry, I…” She stopped, looking close to tears. Her face slid downwards again.

“Ginny!” Harry was even more stunned, “It’s all right? I’m sure it’s all right erm… what’s wrong?”

Ginny was talking to her reflection more than Harry, “I told you to stop…I really thought she wasn’t… If I had known she was…but you knew.”

She looked up at him as comprehension dawned on Harry, “You always knew she was alive. I thought it was guilt and then madness, but you were right! Here I was trying to just move on while this poor girl was with Fenrir Greyback and his goons all along. No one would have been looking for her.”

“If I may remind you, it wasn’t me that found her.” Harry began, shuffling toward the end of table to sit in front of her.

“But you might have! If someone believed you, if I… I didn’t believe you one bit about this. She was in Wales. You were really close.” Ginny ended bleakly, guilt riddling her features.

Harry sighed, “Look Gin, I didn’t exhaust leads in Wales, I got ambushed and almost killed. It’s not hard to understand why no one believed me by the end of things.”

In all honesty, Harry had felt any frustration in his fruitless search dissipate since the prospect of meeting Katie Bell had become a reality. “Gin, I really couldn’t care less at this point. She’s safe and back where she belongs.”

Ginny gave a watery smile but busied herself with her drink, her eyes drifting away to something through the window. As he rose from his seat, he heard her, barely above a whisper, “We were teammates…”

Harry frowned slightly but the ringing of his wand had just signaled Ron’s imminent arrival. He glanced one more time at Ginny before rushing to don his new robes and shoes.
“Will she come over?” From the staircase, the tiniest voice betrayed the presence of his youngest, who at least looked happy at the idea of Katie returning.

But what state was she in? Harry wondered, recalling the patient image he’d been given in her file, “Of course she will!” He replied after he realized he might have paused too long.

Lily, becoming just as perceptive as her older brother, looked unconvinced.

“In time,” Harry replied, this time honestly enough to elicit some nod of satisfaction.

“You two didn’t have another row?” Ron whispered to Harry as the two strode away from the Potter’s house.

“No not at all. She’s, well she’s overwhelmed about the idea that Katie’s alive and all. Given the whole fiasco and secret trips.”

“I mean you got a hell of a sixth sense for this mate,” Ron nodded, understandingly, “I swear if I had any inkling that she was alive I would have tried harder. It’s-well it’s so good- but so terrible too.”

Harry pursed his lips. Despite his elation, something had been gnawing at him about the prospect of meeting his former teammate. Because he and Ron were meeting with Katie to both welcome her and interrogate her about her whereabouts of the last decade and a half. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to uncover a calamity they couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“This one’s the shop, right?” Ron squinted at the worn-out writing falling off a rather plain-looking, brown door, “Ah yes, here’s the brick.”

They were standing in a completely deserted alley behind a rather busy shopping center in the heart of London. As recognizable Aurors, the two had been instructed to use a more private entrance to St. Mungo’s so as not to cause any rumors about their visit. Most of the St. Mungo’s staff was not aware of the mysterious patient that now took up a private room on the third floor under the pretense of some yet-unexplained fungal poisoning.

Ron whispered a password while tapping a cracked brick near a rusty dented door. Then, after looking for anyone who may have entered the alley, the two of them glided through the door. Harry felt a tug near his navel and tripped a little as he righted himself in a cramped room that seemed to function as a broom closet.

“Bloody hell they really want to keep this secret” Ron was transported too close to a mop bucket and was siphoning off a soapy solution that had caught the edge of his robes. The closet was only dimly lit by a small, frosted window half covered in more cleaning supplies, but suddenly a bright crack of light appeared at the doorway.
“Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?” a muffled voice called in.

“Yep, that would be us,” Ron answered, righting himself near Harry and squinting at the doorframe, “Honestly Artemis isn’t the medical cover enough?”

The bar of light grew bigger as the large figure of Artemis Balboa appeared, clad in long, dark green robes and balancing a small pair of glasses at the end of his curved nose. His eyes also boasted long, bluish shadows, betraying a deep weariness beneath his usually sharply austere features.

“Yes, apologies for the measures.” Artemis seemed almost robotic as he flipped through a series of charts and notes pinned to a clipboard, “But I assure you it’s necessary. I can’t imagine a more disastrous scenario should Miss Bell’s condition slip into public knowledge unprepared.”

Harry watched the bags under the healer’s eyes quiver slightly as he led the two down the narrow, secluded hallway. In the distance, he could just make out the sounds of chatter and a few moans from other patients, though the noise seemed dampened by more than one doorway. He almost collided with Artemis as the man pivoted abruptly to face a blank stuccoed wall, curiously unadorned with doors, windows, or hangings of any sort.

“Artemis Balboa 324, two guests, approved B-78” The Healer stated quietly as he traced a small design on a spot near a fire alarm. The outline of a doorway glowed for a second, and Artemis beckoned slightly to Harry and Ron.

Glancing at each other briefly, the two once again slid into the wall, emerging into a smaller room painted a light blue color with swirls of whitish clouds. Although no windows could be seen, the room was warmly lit by an enchanted ceiling, filled with more rolling clouds that filtered a bright sun. The whole setup was convincing, but Harry was acutely aware of the illusion. Pricks of ice ran through his arms as he stared at the small form propped up on the bed.

The woman looking back at him was Katie Bell; she still had the same small face and large eyes, though those seemed wilder than Harry remembered, the dark brown irises now ringed with a bronzed band. Her hair was shorter and uneven, and Harry could see long scars that rose from her neck and punctured her ears. A thin scar also appeared to run from the right corner of her mouth and across her cheek. Her nose appeared ever so slightly off kilter, as if it had been broken and healed without intervention. She looked otherwise okay, though Harry knew she’d been here for a while and the worst of her injuries had probably been treated already.

It truly wasn’t the remnants of her time with the werewolves that was causing his discomfort. Her face had other lines- lines not caused by scratches or attacks. Simply the passage of time. And it had truly been a long, long time.

“Katie it’s been a while…” similar thoughts must have been going through Ron’s head as he approached the bed, taking a seat in the nearest of two folding chairs that had been placed near a small table. Harry’s eyes drifted over the pictures of a young boy and girl with similar dark eyes and features.

“They aren’t yours, are they?” he blurted out, coming to sit by Ron.

“Mate bloody hell…” Ron slapped his shoulder, but Katie seemed mostly unbothered.

“Not in the way you think,” Katie replied.

The coldness within Harry spread more as he heard her voice, familiar but also sounding older.

Katie didn’t notice his reaction as she grabbed one of the photos, thumbing the faces of the children fondly, “Their parents didn’t want them, and they rarely took care of them. They were always particularly quiet and sweet and soon I just kept them around.”

She turned to Artemis, almost hopeful, “I passed my exams easily this week again Doc., perhaps we could try to get cleared…”

“All in time Miss Bell,” Artemis sounded distinctly less clinical as he glanced from his clipboard, “Though we’ll have another visit soon and can begin discussing relocation.”
It was only for a moment, but Harry caught the slight flash of desperation in Katie’s eyes, as if she couldn’t quite believe that she would be able to leave.

“Harry and Ron, as you know, are top aurors in the Ministry and want to collect some information on your ordeal,” Artemis continued, adding kindly, “You’re welcome to share as much as you want and also stop whenever you need.”

“Right,” Harry began, glancing awkwardly at Ron as he charmed a quickwrite quill and paper to record their conversation.

Ron seemed more about his wits as he smiled gently again at Katie, who still remained sullen from Artemis’ comments as she absentmindedly folded and unfolded a corner of the picture.

“Katie it is so good to see you- I- we cannot thank you enough for allowing us to talk today,” Ron began. Katie seemed to relax slightly, looking over the two thoughtfully and Harry had the distinct notion that she, too, was cataloguing the changes from her memory.

“How did you want to start this?” Ron continued, flipping through some of the files from their briefing, “We can begin with some of the injuries you sustained. It seems you may have gotten them in your escape?”

A look of confusion passed through Katie’s eyes, and she began to shake her head slightly, “No I… I didn’t escape but… but I don’t know why they didn’t come find us again.”
“And by “Us” you mean yourself and these two?” Ron nodded at the children in the photograph.

“Yes, Milo and Natalia,” Katie’s eyes softened once more, “They know your son Harry. They told me over Christmas that they are in the same house.”

Harry couldn’t recall Al mentioning those names but nodded encouragingly. On the inside however, he could feel the odd sense of fear knowing his son was so close to werewolves, and traumatized ones at that.

“Well, I hope he’s been a friend,” was all Harry could say, “Katie, did you mean that you were abandoned by, erm, the community you had been held in? Or these two, were they deemed unfit in some way?”

“We have an understanding that Fenrir may have been disposing of magical children…” Ron paused as Katie spasmed and squeezed her eyes shut, her fingertips twitching at the mention of the Death Eater.

“I’m so sorry,” She whispered after a few moments, keeping her eyes fixed on the sheets in front of her.

“We can cover other topics first,” Offered Ron hesitantly. Harry was glad to have his friend along as he failed to offer any words of comfort; a slow, icy anger rising in his heart.

Katie jerked her head and spoke again in a determined voice, “Yes, they were in the oldest group of children, the first wizards and witches, when he…. When he realized that they were being detected for enrollment at school.”

Harry watched as Katie’s brown eyes blinked repeatedly, her cheeks drained of color, “They um…. I had been caring for them since their parents had died. Their father was vicious, and even more charismatic and Fenrir… he felt insecure of his position. He… disposed of him rather publicly, the children saw, and their mother was so distraught that she ran away, which was also forbidden so they hunted her down too.”

Katie looked up at Ron, who had finally lost the ability to punctuate the silences with pleasantry. Harry hoped he mustered a passable expression of sympathy. In truth he felt so numb that he could hardly feel the contortions of his features.

“I looked after most of children while the pack was out, um, hunting and no one seemed to want to care for them and earn Fenrir’s wrath, so they just started to stick around me I suppose.”

“How did you manage to escape?” Ron inquired gently.

“I was left to find my own food most of time. I’d go into towns and find some of the bakeries. And these two would wait for me in the nearby woods. It was dumb luck we were gone when it all happened and I guess he didn’t bother returning to finish the loose ends.”

Katie paused and closed her eyes and Ron reached out to comfort her, but it was Harry she looked at when her head rose again.
“I saw you once Harry.” The rings around Katie’s brown pupils seemed to shimmer as she searched Harry’s face, “In a town, once. You were alone.”

Her words were the needed cold water that finally jolted Harry out of his trancelike stillness. He leaned forward and breathed for a moment in order to steady his next words.
“Katie, do you remember the town’s name?” Harry struggled to recall the names of the tiny Welsh villages he had swept through during his excursions.

“No sorry,” again, the witch closed her eyes. Harry couldn’t decide if it was determination to remember or shame. He extended his hand in an almost brittle fashion, coming to rest lightly on Katie’s knee, covered in the hospital sheet. It was bony and slightly trembling, but Katie opened her eyes to gaze at Harry again, steadying herself.
“It was on the coast, I think. It… It smelt like saltwater and there were several places to scavenge fish.”

“That’s good!” Ron nodded at her encouragingly, “That’s good Katie, right Harry?”

“Yes… yes Katie I have notes of the villages I went to,” He procured a small pocketbook from his robes and was hastily flipping through the weathered pages. He stopped on a page scribbled with “Seafaring community….legends of monsters….thievery…..and…”

“Solva? Does that seem familiar?” Harry’s own hands now trembled as his fingertips brushed over the date, now almost 5 years ago. However, it would still be months until that fateful trip.

“Maybe,” Katie sighed sadly, “I really had stopped paying attention to names at this point. I usually would scavenge in the morning near sunrise- before humans would wake but after the pack had gone to sleep.”

Katie called ‘humans’ in a way as if to suggest that she herself were no longer included and Harry exchanged a look of pity with Ron.

“Did you try to reach out to me?” Harry ventured softly.

Katie’s eyes widened slightly, the bronzish rim gleaming, “I wanted to, I did. But…” She shook slightly as her breath quickened, “I didn’t look myself Harry, I… I wouldn’t have recognized myself and well he, Greyback, he had a few of the better wizards in the clan bind me from speaking to anyone outside the community. I was mute and dirty and wild…”

She paused to catch her breath. Ron muttered some more words of encouragement, though his eyes reflected a heavy remorse.

“Katie,” Harry began softly, “We can come back if you want to rest. This is of utmost importance and whenever you feel up to it, Ron or I can return.”

“No!” Katie gasped, “No I can do this now. I want, Harry… Ron, I want to get better for…” Katie’s large eyes drifted towards the photograph of the two dark-eyed children.

“I have two of ‘em. Red hair and quite a bit smarter than me. Harry’s got three you know.” Katie blinked rapidly as she turned again to Ron and Harry but seemed to be regaining her composure. Ron glanced at Harry as if to encourage him to proceed.

“My daughter is still at home,” Harry started slowly, “She ah, she asked if we would have you over soon. I hope that’s possible too Katie, soon.”
“They know about me?” Katie whispered, her eyes still saucer-like.

“I mentioned you a lot,” Harry replied, “Not all about you being gone. You played Quidditch with me and Gin of course…”

“Ginny is your wife now?” Katie looked elated, “Oh how she would talk about you in school.” She paused again. Harry felt there was shift into something more comfortable. A belief perhaps that she did belong to the present world she had been so violently ripped away from. Bridges that could be repaired.

“I can continue, thank you,” She regarded the two kindly, “I thought that if you found me, bound from speaking and in the state I was in, that you might bring me to the ministry and send Aurors to investigate. I was alone and I feared that you might not be able to undo the curses and if the pack found out they might hurt the children.”

Harry nodded, pained that Katie’s fear had been eventually realized. His fingers flipped through one or two pages in his notebook, “Katie I mention Solva because I ran into a woman from there who told me she knew of you.”

Katie’s eyes became impossibly larger, “I didn’t think it worked at all, I was so ashamed after I’d done it.” She shook her head, “Was she, the woman, did she end up okay?”

“Ah, yes, yes she was alright in the end,” Harry was becoming engrossed by the information but hurriedly sought to recall what had happened to the woman who had tipped him off those many years ago, “She was so adamant I would find you near Cardiff but when she was questioned further it seemed she had never so much as left her village in decades. And she couldn’t describe you one bit but kept insisting you were a ‘friend.’ She was charmed with false memories in the end and righted and escorted back to the town in time.”

Katie relaxed, “I tried to plant more information, but I couldn’t, and I was afraid to hurt her. The wizards in the pack would use magic at first, mostly to duel. A vicious thing, half wand work, and half brawling. Many wands were broken, and I had snatched a piece of one after a fight.”

Ron looked impressed and Harry hoped his face also reflected some bit of admiration.

“It was so finicky that I barely used it. I couldn’t be detected, and I didn’t want to harm anyone,” She paused again ruefully, “I couldn’t speak to her, and it had been so long since I’d done proper magic that I struggled with nonverbal spells. She was incoherent and I thought I had broken her mind.”

“But she found you and you found me. That’s how you found me.”

“I didn’t find you” Harry said, “Hermione and Kingsley Shacklebolt found you…”

Katie laughed in a humorless high voice, unnerving him, “No, no you came to Cardiff Harry. We had relocated our camp and I had lost all hope that my message would help but I spotted you in the Giant’s fields. I wasn’t the only one unfortunately, though the others hadn’t actually seen you, only heard rumblings from the giants of a wizard in law enforcement visiting their home.”

Harry’s quicknotes quill was scratching away rapidly but his heart seemed to have gone still.

“A lot had happened since I saw you in that village. Greyback had just stopped another coup and we had caught a sickness. Milo was very weak and if he wasn’t better when it came time to travel again, they would, they don’t bother with care much…” Katie seemed to be justifying something and an awful realization was dawning on Harry.
“I needed you to be careful. We needed a plan. But how could I plan something like this? I hadn’t thought out anything beyond getting you there and I realized how selfish and careless…”

Ron reached out a hand to sooth her. Harry wished words of comfort would come but he wanted, needed to hear what Katie would say next.

“Greyback was paranoid at the rumors of a wizard, and I knew I hadn’t any time and if he discovered it was you, Harry Potter, I couldn’t let that happen. I found you in the evening before he planned to investigate, I just stared at you for hours before coming out to you. You didn’t recognize me actually I don’t think…”

A line of tears was precariously balanced upon the lower lids of Katie as she gazed desperately at Harry, “You approached me, of course I couldn’t speak. I needed you to understand so many things, but I thought ‘I just send him back to Ministry with my name.’ That’s all I wanted to do, just one clear command. But I couldn’t empty my head, and I realized I had been gone an awfully long time and thought I heard rustling nearby. So, I did it.”

The last sentence came out in a high falsetto chirp as Katie pursed her lips, staring at Harry. “I tried the same spell as did on that poor old woman, but I knew it had gone so horribly wrong with you. You were muttering and so agitated. I was so sure someone from the clan would appear at any moment. I just sent more and more at you Harry. Just commands to run, to fly away. You did.”

At last, the tears swelled over, running like four rivers down Katie’s frail and sunken features. Harry moved his hand to grip hers. Ron was steadying her by her shoulder. Oddly, Harry neither felt icy or excited anymore; he had guessed where Katie’s story was headed and expected the great reveal to have unlocked some buried memory. But he did not remember speaking to Giants or seeing a woman in the woods. His mind seemed to prickle as if he knew intuitively that what Katie had said was completely and utterly true, but images and memories remained blank, like a word at the tip of one’s tongue.

Katie took Harry’s calmness reassuringly. Did she really think he could be angry at her?

“Perhaps Miss Bell could tell you a bit more about the dynamics of the clan.”
Ron and Harry practically jumped out of their seats as they were reminded that Artemis had never left the small room, though in the intensity of the tale, he had all but melted into the wall behind Harry.

Artemis smiled kindly at his patient, “See Miss Bell, I told you Mr. Potter would not blame you for what happened.”

“No, no of course not, Katie. Never.” In his shock Harry finally found his voice and squeezed Katie’s hand reassuringly.

“She was so afraid to speak to you at first you see.” Artemis continued, “It took a great deal of convincing by Minister Granger that you were still so dedicated to find her. She had to swear to tell you nothing beforehand.”

“Of course,” said Ron matter-of-factly, and for the first time since entering St. Mungo’s, Harry couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s newfound understanding for secret-keeping.
Katie’s face seemed to regain a small bit of color as she settled comfortably in the pillow behind her, “Yes, you came here for information on the Clan and Greyback.”

“Yes we have,” Ron seemed to need to remind himself just as much, “Erm, well if it’s not too much trouble we’d like to learn more about Greyback. Of course, I don’t know how much you may have interacted with him.”

“And if it’s too upsetting, please, we can move on to other things,” Harry added quickly.

But Katie seemed in fair spirits and looked thoughtfully between them, “I was ridiculed in the beginning. Tortured and had spells cast on me for fun. But these clans quickly become power hungry and eventually I was simply a slave to clean up after their hunts and duels. And I cared for most of the children in some capacity. Greyback was quickly more preoccupied with potentially mutinous individuals than me and I suppose he thought I was broken enough.”

She sighed again, “I suppose I was for a while. Until I had the two to look after.”

“Was there a particular discontent or simple werewolf politics?” Harry inquired.

Katie paused for a time before answering, kitting her brows together, “You know by the end it was the burden of the children that drove it but right away it was something else. I… I think he was looking for something.”

Katie was nodding her head confidently, “Yes, we were scouring the coasts for something. He, Greyback would leave for most of the day, sometimes coming back with victims or new recruits but oftentimes not.”

“Dear, does your head hurt too much?” Artemis prodded gently as Katie had brought her hand up to her forehead, grimacing slightly.

“No, no I just can’t remember.” Katie replied, frustrated, “But we would move so much for years… you know he just stopped all of that one day. I thought he must have run into powerful wizards because he made us leave the camp immediately. He was scared, he was scared.”

Harry was glad his notes were writing themselves. His head was swimming with the tantalizing bits of information, dangling just out of reach of his comprehension.
“So,” Ron began after a silence, “He stopped… searching?”

Katie nodded, “We set up a more permanent camp after that. I don’t know where, but it was in the woods and there were waterfalls nearby… We were on the coast when he was searching though.”

“Did he confide in anyone in the clan?” pressed Ron.

“I can’t remember but maybe- the first werewolf to challenge Greyback was a wizard, Alfred Engel. He was close initially with Greyback but he disapproved of moving so much. But maybe it was more… I heard him tell the others that Greyback planned to sacrifice them all when he tried to gain followers.”

“And is this Engel, alive?” asked Ron, though Katie’s eyes gave away the answer.

“Oh no, he was publicly made an example. It was um, beyond anything I want to say.” Katie spoke miserably, “Greyback enjoyed watching others suffer. You know it must be something terrible to rattled him. I can’t believe I didn’t remember- I still can’t remember.”

“This is more helpful than you think,” Harry said, smiling and was delighted when Katie returned a small grin. He now asked a few questions, “Did you ever leave the country?”
“No, we stayed in the south.”

“During his leaves, could he have ever left the country?”

Katie looked thoughtful, “No, I don’t think he was very good at magic. He couldn’t apparate and I doubt he had other means. He was never gone for more than a day.”
“Harry I would have told Hermione if I had any inkling of where he might be.” Katie finished.

“Sorry,” Harry said though Katie didn’t seem accusatory, “Do you think the Clan stayed together after the raid?”

Katie lapsed into her thoughts once more, “I don’t know. He really wanted to kill all the magical children even before the raid. He was restricting wand use and magic already. As I said he wasn’t a great wizard and I think he feared he would lose control of his clan eventually. Others, they wanted to keep the children to bolster their power. Many aspired to overtake towns I think, start a werewolf republic of sorts.”

“She has a list of names of other clan members, if they were wizards, and if they had children.” Artemis offered from his place in the corner. “Mrs. Pesci has the list and is going through the names to look for possible locations these members might abscond to.”

Katie nodded, “I don’t know many unfortunately. Most of the names were early members and so many are dead. I stopped hearing names after awhile as I became less of a… well target.”

Harry possessed both a morbid curiosity about what Katie had been through and complete revulsion of hearing more than her guarded comments. This line of questioning was bound to cause Katie more anguish than useful information however, so he instead changed the subject once more.

“Did you ever see another outsider, magical or non-magical, come into the Clan at any point? An ally of sorts?”

“There were a few muggles that willingly changed,” Katie looked ill as she picked at a few loosened threads in the sheet near her torso, “They were already criminals and fascinated with becoming ‘monsters.’ Of course, they quickly learned they would be pretty low on the hierarchy after. There was one though, I don’t know if he was a wizard or muggle, he met with Greyback, and it seemed he was to return with something.”

Katie drummed her fingers, “They must have known each other. Greyback seemed to expect him within the week, but he never came back.”
“And was this recent?” Harry asked.

“No I… maybe he wasn’t looking for something,” Katie’s voice rose, “This was early, when Greyback still went on excursions. Maybe, maybe he was meeting with this man, or searching for him? He never returned though to my knowledge.”

“Could you describe him?” Ron offered, unsure if this was a useful thread to continue on.

Katie sighed, “I never heard him speak, maybe middle-age or at least 40, brown hair, brown eyes probably… he had a beard at the time. There wasn’t anything that stood out about him. I… he did notice me.”

“How so?” Harry watched Katie’s face become more puzzled.

“Maybe he was a wizard then. He looked at me when he entered our camp and again when he left. I was near the entrance, we lived in a network of caves at the time, when he arrived. He stayed for a long time and by then I had been locked away again, in an alcove to the side of the main hall. But he walked past me as he left and there was no reason, he should have gone through that way to leave.” Katie looked between Ron and Harry, “Do you think this helps at all? I never thought much of it and he’s probably dead anyway.”

“It’s a lead,” said Harry, trying to sound confident even as his head rolled through the conversation with little logic, “If he did recognize you, maybe he’s from one of your auror missions and in that case, he can be traceable. Anything helps really.”

“We really don’t know what will help,” offered Ron honestly, “But having documentation may narrow down leads don’t even know exist yet.”

Katie blinked, “Harry, Ron,” she seemed embarrassed, “You want to find the children of this clan. What will happen to them once they’re here?”

“They’ll be taken care of, assessed. We’ll decide what supports they’ll need I suppose,” Harry’s voice quieted as Katie looked at him in the same unbelieving way as when Artemis promised her leave.

“What if they can’t be helped.” She said flatly.

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, unsure of what to say, “Well they are children- there can be social programs…”

Katie looked unconvinced. It was Artemis who spoke next, sounding somewhat weary, “I’ve assured Ms. Bell that there are measures being taken to provide care and recovery for… “

“How do you recover from this?” Katie shuddered, looking forlorn again, “Tell me you aren’t planning to just lock them away in this hospital. No one knows of them right now do they. Do you really think they’ll ever be welcome here?”

Harry was watching Katie carefully. The emotions of the day had dissipated just enough to let his better senses through. He was coming here after all as an auror. Still, he didn’t want to upset Katie further.

Tentatively, he reached out to grasp Katie’s hand once more, waiting until her eyes finally met his own, “Katie, I assure you that whatever we come up with to deal with these children, it will be because of your testimony. You care for them, don’t you? You want the best for them?”

He waited until her thin face gave an almost imperceptible nod, “I’m not going to promise you that the best for them is complete integration. But they will be safe from harm, given access to medicine, and allowed a chance to make whatever they can with the rest of their life. And most importantly, we can stop this tragic situation from happening again and again. But Katie, please, you can’t hold anything, not a single thing from us.”

If she had more tears to spare, Harry was sure Katie would be crying again, but her eyes, mournful and scared remained reddened and dry.

“Is there anything else you know?” Harry asked again.

It seemed like ages as Katie searched every corner of Harry’s face, traveling to Ron and even back to Artemis. Finally, she spoke, “Yes, I… I’ll tell you everything.”

Chapter Text

Al shivered slightly and looked out at the Hogwarts grounds. He was standing near a tiny trapdoor on a grassy slope that ran from the greenhouses near the castle to Hagrid’s hut below. Beyond that, the Forbidden Forest looked particularly foreboding. Thick evergreens made it impossible to see into its depths even in the winter months, and the bare branches of the other dormant trees stabbed the scenery like blackened bones. Another wind swept through the students and into the forest, producing a high, eerie wail.

“If she’s a minute more….” Quinn chattered uncomfortably, adjusting her earmuffs.

“There’s still a minute to go before the start of class,” Scorpius replied dully, checking a shiny new pocketwatch that must have been a Christmas gift.

Al rather thought that the reason for Quinn’s impatience was less about the cold and more so because the Slytherin’s were sharing their Magizoology class with the Ravenclaws, which included Kiera Thompson.

Kiera was wearing makeup- something most of Al’s cohort had yet to do- and he suspected it was to cover some of her injuries from the attack of her and her father. She looked equally as pained to not be speaking with Quinn as she watched her approach the small door and knock.

“Oh my we have arrived just in time! Well done, well done,” Professor Lovegood emerged from the door looking hardly bothered and scanned the shivering mass of first-years. Al was pleased to find her singsong voice had not changed a bit for teaching. Her eyes, pale and wide, seemed to rest a bit on him as she continued to speak.

“I am pleased to have the blessing of your Headmaster to introduce you young minds to the world of magical creatures. Come! Inside now, one by one and please stay within the green bounds!”

Headmaster McGonagall had long been concerned with the education of ‘Care of Magical Creatures,’ or rather, the associated risks of handling dangerous species by young students. Despite Hagrid’s insistence that the hands-on methods he employed were the only way for a proper education, McGonagall had finally convinced him to split his practical classroom with an immersive but observational one. Luna had returned to England at a perfectly opportune time.

Al looked excitedly into the descending steps, which promised to reveal a vast space below the grounds. Tantalizingly, he could tell the room must be bewitched by light as a pleasant glow emanated faintly below.

The decent was fairly long as Al felt the air change around him from nipping and cold to warm and very humid, like a jungle. In fact, Al could swear he even heard water running and the stone walls around him were sweating small droplets.

“Wow,” Quinn and Kiera both whispered quietly. And for a second, both girls paused, though neither would look fully at the other.

At the end of the stairs, a small green lawn stretched out before diving into five levels of steppes, each adorned with small tables and pairs of cushioned seats. The arrangement was not unlike the divination classroom, but while Professor Trelawney’s room felt cramped and cozy, stuffed with hanging curtains, jewels, and orbs, this room made Al feel impossibly small. The vaulted ceiling gave way to a sky equally parted between dawn, day, dusk and night. Vines crisscrossed the room, climbing from all sorts of exotic trees that grew in a large ellipse. Beyond the trees, it seemed as though a dozen portals opened to various landscapes: deserts, caves, mountains, and meadows. And to the far left, in the direction of the present sunset, a small dock stretched out shortly before an immense ocean, more daunting than Great Lake but glittering a lively ultramarine.

“If you would all kindly find a seat,” Luna brushed through the stunned students airily as she descended the steppes toward a small stage. Presently, one of the branches lowered, extending something that looked like a chalkboard. Metal shepherd’s hooks holding covered cages wiggled slightly as she began writing.

“I’ve never seen them so excited,” Scorpius cautiously gestured to Milo and Natalia, who looked absolutely entranced by the space around them, “do you think…”

“I think they like animals,” Al responded, clipped. For the last few days, Scorpius had tried many times to discuss the subject of their classmates to Al. Al, for his part, was becoming less sure of his friend’s ability to keep their little discovery secret. He heard Scorpius sigh irritably as they took a table in the front.

Al thought the twins looked much healthier since the break, though he supposed the first full moon was still a week and a half away. At the moment, Milo was whispering rapidly to his sister, pointing to various portals. Natalia was nodding and as she turned, caught Al’s eye and smiled.

From the corner of his eye, Al could see Scorpius glumly turning through their textbook, an equally decorated book of anatomical diagrams and holographic landscapes. Behind him, he spotted Martin White with a tall boy, Francis casting furtive glances at their Slytherin classmates.

“Magizoology is a precious calling,” Professor Lovegood’s dulcet tones spread lazily around the leafy atrium. She flicked her wand and the curtains hiding the many hanging cages vanished, revealing an assortment of odd creatures. The creatures seemed to have a range of opinions about their confinement. A few small, stick-like creatures could have easily flitted through the bars of their cage, though they seemed content to lounge. Another cage was rattling dangerously with two rodent-like creatures with what looked like tentacles protruding from their back.

“If you would turn to the first chapter of your textbooks, we will be covering forest-dwellers for the next week of class….”

Behind her, a few colorful pieces of chalk continued to write and diagram features of the bowtruckle and murtlaps’ (the odd rodents) native homes as Professor Lovegood began a meandering lesson.

Al couldn’t see how any of his other classes could compare to this. The only problem was he was having a hard time keeping up with notes as his eyes seemed to wander every few seconds to a rustling tree branch or some skittering in the grasses. Even more astonishingly, larger beasts would pass by the portals, though they seemed to either not perceive or care about the gaggle of young wizards.

Professor Lovegood was now regaling some tale of how she and her husband came upon a covenant- that was word for a group of murtlaps- in Scotland. The small, leafy bowtruckles had become interested in their guests and, to the delighted squeals of a few Ravenclaw girls, were sidling out of the bars of their cages and scurrying towards the students.

“Oh yes- well they are just curious and all but harmless as juveniles.” Professor Lovegood acknowledged the break in attention before directing the students to refer to a particular underground diagram of a murtlap winter home.

Al watched as a slender stick poked its way toward him and Scorpius, and he could almost feel the anticipation emanating from his friend. With some gusto, Scorpius thrust out his hand, and was pleased when the bowtruckle began to walk up his arm after a moment’s hesitation.

Another ten minutes went by where Al and Scorpius lost track of the lesson as they were being friendlily prodded and tickled by the little creature. At last, the bowtruckle slid rather playfully down Scorpius’ robes and wandered over to their left.

Al kept one eye on the little thing as he hurried to scribble down his missing notes before the chalkboard was cleared. The creature stopped across the room, where Jade was curled up, leaning back on the steppe behind her. She started slightly as the bowtruckle began to tug at the laces of her right trainer, peeking slightly out of her robes. Deliberately, she settled her hand nearby, palm up and watched as the creature stepped into it. She brought her hand towards her face, slowly turning her palms as the bowtruckle happily dangled and flipped through her fingers. Her face, though gentle and calm, fell short of a smile.

Al had barely spoken to her after her harsh words after the Welcoming Feast but he was relieved that, despite her protests, not sought out any conflicts with other students. Though they never exclusively hung out together during their first semester, Jade had always brought a certain energy to their cohort whenever they were all together and that spark had been glaringly absent the entire week. Between Scorpius’ wariness, Milo and Natalia, and Quinn’s somber mood, Al realized he missed her conversation, even rudeness, quite a bit.

A small piece of parchment brushed Al’s cheek, startling him from his thoughts.

“And now that we’ve all been properly introduced to our two new friends,” Professor Lovegood had extracted one of murtlaps during Al’s daydreaming and was returning the rather ornery creature to its cage, “A short essay, ten lines, summarizing a most interesting fact of these animals and why. Friday. Dismissed!”

Scorpius looked almost disappointed at the smallness of the assignment as he clearly had loved the entire lesson, bowtruckle interruption and all.

None of the students seemed to be in a hurry to leave and many were taking the chance to wander near the plants and trees at the edge of the green classroom. Malachi and Reggie had even joined a boy named Leon to glance into the shimmering depths of the ocean.

“What!” Leon exclaimed as the rippling water suddenly broke, and a long silver fish weaved through the waves.

“Ah a Ramora,” said Professor Lovegood breezily, gathering her cages to release the animals from the lesson, “Two chapters before marinelife!”

She let out the murtlaps through the meadow-like portal and was placing the bowtruckles on a very wide trunk near the entrance of the classroom. “Oh and here! Another friend we shall talk shortly about!”

“Oh!” Several students gasped as a vine hanging from the lower branches began slithering.

A vibrant green snake with glittering yellow eyes bobbed its head at the students, though Professor Lovegood seemed to pay it no mind.

“Ah!” She said happily, “One you might know of from potion’s class. A standard male boomslang. Their skin is often used as an ingredient and their eyes are thought to ward off gulping plimpies from gardens- though it is much more ethical to simply plant gurdyroots…”

Al thought the snake settled keenly on him as it roved through the anxious faces. “Ssssso many here…jussst like yesssterday.”

“They can talk?” said Al, looking at professor Lovegood.

But the snake answered first, “Sssooo ssshy usually but I sssomtimes can find a friend…”

Al was stunned, “Where do they…” he turned to face the snake directly, “Where did you learn that? I…I’ve met someone like you already.”

The snake blinked slyly, “Why would you assssk me where I learned to ssspeak when it issss you who needssss to ansssswer.”

“What?” said Al, confusedly. He made to speak once more but Leon had suddenly bellowed from near the docks, “Oh come off it! What’s wrong with him?”

As Al looked across the room, he realized his classmate was referring not to the snake at all, but Al.

“I…” Al began but withered slightly from the terrified stares coming from many of the Ravenclaws.

“Oh Albus seems to possess Parseltongue,” Professor Lovegood offered the only friendly smile in the room, “He can converse with snakes and serpents, a most useful skill during travels as snakes are quite intelligent.”

Scanning the room for the first time, his teacher seemed to just now understand the atmosphere of her class, “Why it’s not unexpected, his father has the ability as well. It often runs in families.”

Al looked up at her in horror.

For once, some seriousness passed through Luna’s face, making her cloudspun eyes just slightly sharper, “It is about time you all made it back to the castle- please, nothing dangerous has occurred.”

The Ravenclaws more or less sprinted up the steps in a bundle, and when Al emerged with Scorpius moments later, the cohort was already approaching the farthest greenhouses. He could see the pale roundness of their faces as they cast backward glances.

Scorpius had stuck by Al up the steps, but it was Malachi that broke the silence, “Mate are you telling us you didn’t know? A Parselmouth?”

“No I… I saw a snake at the zoo this summer and something similar happened.” Al mumbled quietly, though much to his chagrin, this made his housemate lean closer towards him.

“And?” Malachi prodded.

“And I thought a snake talked!” Al replied, at a loss, “I thought it was talking to me in English! Not that I was talking to it in… well!”

“So can you not tell?” Quinn, for her part seemed to think this revelation was a happy distraction from her woes with Kiera.

“Can I tell that I am speaking another language that I’ve never learned?” Al was incredulous, “No I… what do I even sound like?”

From his left, Reggie began making a rasping sound.

“That’s awful!” Al exclaimed as Malachi bent over in laughter.

“Well,” Reggie replied, “You sounded smoother. Still pretty awful but sort of cool as well.”

“Yeah. Cool,” Milo suddenly spoke up, giving Al an encouraging half smile.

Soon the group reached the greenhouses, where they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs this semester. Quinn hurried her way towards an open door in higher spirits and the twins followed closely behind. Reggie realized he had forgotten his dragonskin gloves and quickly ascended the steps near the castle entrance, with Malachi tagging along. Each of them gave Al a wide grin.

Scorpius had said nothing throughout the walk back but looked at Al kindly, “Mate, did you tell your dad about the incident at the zoo? Maybe he can explain it better…”

A line of worry crossed his pale features as Al felt his own face contort into something stormy, “Tell him. He saw me- he saw the entire thing.”

“Oh.” Scorpius couldn’t think of anything more to say.

This, even more than the accidental revelation of his special ability was tugging at what little patience Al had reserved for his father. He had felt terrible after that day at the zoo. Felt like his father thought he was a freak of some sort. Why had he reacted so coldly at his child sharing some magical power he possessed himself?

Perhaps, Al thought tiredly, his father was ashamed of this gift. “It often run in families”.  For all he knew of wizarding history, only Slythern heirs consistently inherited this type of ability. Pureblood supremacists and well, Voldemort was the most recent in memory. Maybe this was why his father was so touchy about him being in Slytherin. Perhaps he wanted Al to stay away from his worst qualities as he had…

“Hey, we can talk later,” Scorpius put a gentle hand on Al’s shoulder, releasing him from his brooding. Still, he felt frozen and needed to gather himself before entering the class.

“Yeah- thanks. Save me a seat will ya? I just need a moment.”

Scorpius nodded and headed towards the open glass door.

From Al’s side, Jade moved forward, startling him. He hadn’t realized she’d stayed behind at all. She faced him briefly and wore an odd expression, another unreadable mess between anger and something else.

She looked for a second like she was about to say something but turned quickly on her heel and followed behind Scorpius instead.

Another harsh winter wind blasted the sides of castle and snaked through the hillside, cutting another round of wailing from the forbidden forest. Al shivered as the trees rattled, their disturbance sounding more like soft hissing and raspy voices.

Chapter Text

Ron and Harry hadn’t spoken a single word to each other as they walked through the streets of London returning to the Ministry of Magic. Somehow, both seemed to agree that taking the most meandering route back to an available entrance was also the right call.

“Wot you lookin at!” A group of unkept men swayed outside a shabby-looking tavern, clearly already drunk at just half past noon.

A strong sense of déjà vu washed over Harry and with a start, he realized they had stumbled their way near Tottenham Road. Across the street, a dingy café sign still hung, weakly flickering neon lights indicating that the establishment was still open.

“Gits,” muttered Ron, eyeing the men venomously.

“We apparated here.” Murmured Harry and Ron nodded sullenly.

“Oi sweetheart!” One of the men began an embarrassing growl at a young passerby who had distinctively picked up the pace as she crossed the alley.

Harry stared at the men until Ron tugged him away, “Mate they’re noticing…”

Surely it wasn’t the same group of blokes. Harry could remember faintly that the men that had harassed Hermione that fateful evening were slightly older than the trio that night, while these ‘gentlemen’ were now younger than him and Ron. It was almost sadder, Harry thought, the similarities, the lack of change, the persistence of behavior that seemed to infect again and again….

“Ah!” Harry clutched his temple, his headache returning for the umpteenth time since the holiday break.

“We could get lunch before the afternoon,” suggested Ron, glancing concernedly at his friend and scanning the nearby shops for a promising bite to eat.

Harry nodded feebly, squinting at the bright sky that had decided to open into a sunny afternoon at that very moment, mocking his inner feelings and aggravating his headache even more.

The two found a decently dim and empty sandwich shop, tucked into another alley, though neighboring a stationary store and candle shop, gave the hidden space a cozier feel.

“What’ll it be?” A heavily freckled girl barely looked up from a crossword. Two elderly men emerged from a corner behind the deli and waved amiably to the girl as they exited, leaving Harry and Ron the only customers in the shop.

“Erm a Reuben and…”

“Turkey breast, provolone not cheddar.” Ron offered, scanning the short menu chalked up behind the counter, “And coffee.”

“And two coffees, thanks.” Harry finished and paid as Ron was still rather uncomfortable interacting with muggle money exchange, especially since pocket change was becoming increasingly obsolete to ‘the credit cards.’

They peered into the alcove where the two men had just left and took a seat at a small booth suitably private. Kitschy bookshelves painted a gaudy orange held various flip-through books and ceramic figurines of sandwiches and butchers. Mugs with slightly vulgar sayings printed on them hung decoratively from the walls, as did several framed posters with matching quotes.

Harry and Ron sunk into their seats, staring tiredly at each other.

“That was…”

“Rough.”

“But…”

“I mean it was great to see her.”

“She looked way better than I thought she was going to honestly.”

“She should recover.”

“Of course she will.”

Simultaneously they reached into their cloaks, extracting their notebooks now full of Quicknotes scribbles.

The freckled girl brought the coffees, spilling lightly as she balanced a small wooden carrier of various sugars and cream packets.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” She muttered but Ron brushed her off pleasantly, siphoning away the small puddle once she disappeared again.

Ron leaned over the table, fixing Harry with a serious expression, “Mate, be honest, did you find much of what she said useful?”

“I…I don’t know,” Harry thumbed through a few pages absentmindedly. Katie had eventually told them that ten pairs of children would likely turn eleven in the next year. Three sets of twins were children of two wizards and another four had one magical parent. And it was Harry’s opinion that the remaining three siblings should also be rescued on principle, though there was less of a time constraint regarding their safety. The less exciting news was that many of the parents, though awful, seemed to desire their children at least in the sense that they could be used as weapons.

“It’s considerably harder than what Hermione and Kingsley have already done. We’d essentially be kidnapping these children. They may not all want to leave.”

Ron looked waxy as he listened, frowning into his coffee mug, “We’ve extracted children from bad muggle homes before… “

“Yeah, with warnings, protocols and a documented history of abuse,” Harry finished, “These kids- what Katie says some of them have done- they’re likely brainwashed. I don’t know how many could actually attend school like the current ones.”

“Yeah.” Ron grumbled, looking morose at the thin turkey sandwich that had been placed in front of him, “I’ll go with the Rueben next time.”

Harry snorted and relished the break from talking as they ate their meal in silence.

“And there’s another fifteen pairs between 5 and 9 years old.” Ron began again after a while.

Katie had said there had been a steep downturn in births as the politics of the clan descended into more barbarity. Few aspiring clan leaders wanted children that could be targeted.

“A silver lining I suppose,” Ron quipped as he read his notes, “What do you suppose this visitor was?”

“I dunno,” Harry answered, “And, as Katie mentioned, he could be long dead by now anyway.”

“Do you think so?” Ron gazed at his friend perceptively.

Harry paused, “It’s interesting that Katie thought he knew her.”

“Perhaps from an auror mission as you said.”

“She would have been on so few, and none unaccompanied- she was just a year out of Hogwarts. I would have expected her to remember a target.”

Ron shrugged, “Maybe he was affiliated with one. Or a witness”

“Or maybe it was someone from the Battle.” Harry said slowly.

Ron groaned, “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Why?” Harry said, “I think it’s a very plausible…”

“Because it means you think this is something with Him- with Voldemort-Harry. You do!” Ron looked quickly towards the counter of the shop as he had raised his voice. The girl seemed to be busy with an online order.

He turned back to Harry who proceeded somewhat carefully, “Katie thinks it was maybe just over a year into her captivity when she saw him first. The timeline fits but as I said, he might have died or given up. It seems like an interesting lead moreso because the way she described him as either a muggle or wizard.”

Ron didn’t say anything so Harry continued, “I mean these cases we’ve been getting, they involve some crude non-traditional magic and they also have, in several instances, utilized muggles. Unsuspecting I think, but maybe…”

“I just can’t believe it’s happening again…” Ron interrupted, sounding much shakier than Harry expected.

He eyed his friend and realized Ron had become quite upset, shaking his head as he stared at a stain of some sort stamped into the table, “Mate I don’t think I handle another War over this. It’s been barely two decades! We have children barely in school… I wanted them to go to school without all this… this rubbish!”

He slammed an open palm hard on the table, which did catch the attention of the freckled girl.

“Ah, we could use a refill of the coffees.” Harry stated lamely as she wandered over with a heated glass kettle, looking slightly annoyed.

But Ron was coming more undone, “The last time they… they killed Scrimgeour. Harry, Hermione is the Minister.”

“Ron stop,” Harry pleaded, “I… he can’t have returned. Not in the way he was back then.”

But even as he tried to reassure Ron, Harry couldn’t help but resurface his own paranoid thoughts that had plagued him in the late hours of his home study. Wild theories he didn’t dare put in his reports to Francesca.

Sure, Voldemort was symbolic and seven seemed to be the number he’d settled on for horcruxes. But what if he’d made more once returning? And what if his soul, so unstable, had made more inadvertent half-horcruxes, like Harry had become? Were there other wizards, death eaters even, with fragments of soul clinging to them because they were present at some terrible massacre?

Or, Harry thought even more desperately, what exactly happened to a soul like Voldemort’s; so unforgivably maimed and desecrated that it could never move on.

“On.” The word escaped Harry’s thoughts, sparking a memory. But Ron interrupted once more.

“What?”

“I… nothing,” Harry sighed, “I don’t want to believe it mate but…”

Ron swore, “No one does. Tywek doesn’t, Wood doesn’t. But they all talk around it. We’ve seen it once Harry and I’ll be imprisoned in Azkaban myself before I let it get as far as last time!”

Harry rested hid head on the booth, his eyes wavering over a checkered ceramic burger. His headache was apparently not curable with caffeine.

“Why would anyone want this?” He finally said, half to Ron and half to himself.

“Mental,” Ron breathed, seemingly satisfied that, cryptic as his friend was, they seemed to be on the same page.

They took their time downing the last of their coffees before leaving the restaurant. Harry had left a generous tip on the table waved genially to the girl at the counter, who seemed to have forgotten the rude beckoning for drinks from earlier.

The noon sun had hidden away again in the hour, quickening the remaining walk back to Ministry in order to escape the nippy weather. Almost immediately after materializing from the green-flamed fireplaces Harry was accosted by a persistent paper plane.

“Oi!” Ron was wrestling with his own message, “Ah well, now that we had our own happy little chat, I guess we are ready to debrief the Hermione with the good news!”

He showed Harry his letter, indicating that they were to meet in the Minister’s office at their earliest convenience.

“Francesca is also up there.” Harry beckoned to the glass room above the Atrium, where he could see a tall silhouette with a recognizable sweep of ringlets tied atop the head.

The two hurried through the hallway of portraits, who must have gotten very used to harried visitors happening down it’s corridor. Only a few Ministers looked at the two for more than a glance.

There were more than two voices coming from the office door and when Harry knocked, it was Percy that answered. His wife, Audrey was also sitting in a seat nearby Francesca. Hermione was at her desk and looked to be drowning in mounds of files and paperwork.

“How was she?” Hermione practically stood up as she straightened herself.

Harry let Ron speak, rifling through his notes one last time to organize his thoughts.

“She seems to be doing well all things considered,” Ron began summarizing a few of the key bits of information he and Harry had gone through in the sandwich shop.

To Harry’s disappointment, the four others also seemed dissatisfied with the information gleaned from Katie.

“But did she mention possible locations?” Audrey inquired pointedly. Harry knew her and Percy had been working tirelessly to discretely narrow down possible places abroad that may be near the clan.

“At the end she listed a few places that members might be connected to- Greece, Italy, mostly Mediterranean vacation spots. I suppose there are plenty of remote villages and islands…”

“It didn’t narrow much down from what we already are trying to do.” Ron summarized, acknowledging the frustration permeating the room.

“Well,” Percy replied, “We have excluded Italy from our search on purely diplomatic reasoning. They have been notified of this list of individuals and none seem to have entered the country, and especially not in a large group. I trust their surveillance and transparency.”

Audrey nodded in agreement, “It does seem that the locations brought up in our interviews have very little overlap with our own reports of suspicious activity, unfortunately. I was hoping for more confirmation before we really start seriously talking extraction.”

“Can I ask if there’s a possibility that we might be taking some of these children against their will?” Harry ventured.

“I think that’s a topic for the future.” Francesca cut in before Hermione, who looked like she had considered that outcome, could speak.

She strode up to Hermione’s desk and rifled through a few of the files, snatching one from the middle of the deck, “I want to discuss this before I have to leave.”

Harry squinted at the writing, but it didn’t seem to be one of his cases.

“Wood’s team finally gave me the details of Eliza Burbage’s attack,” Francesca seemed to read Harry’s mind, “As it was in London, they’ve been scrubbing muggle surveillance…”

With a flick of her wand, a grainy hologram rose from the paper. Harry could see a running figure that must have been Eliza and a gigantic snake slithering far too fast in pursuit. A few other videos popped into the screen as Francesca sorted through them.

“It’s a capture from a parking lot that requires voice-activation to enter… here!” Francesca let the video play.

It was a particularly bad visual of a car driving into a ramp, but Harry could hear a few frantic spells being screeched by Eliza as she ran through the corner of the screen, behind the perplexed face of a muggle in the driver’s seat. Confusion turned to horror and cursing as the man spotted the escaped snake in pursuit. But even this wasn’t the point of the video.

Harry felt a chill down his spine as the hissing of the snake grew louder and louder as it crossed behind the trunk of the car.

“It’s chanting something,” Harry looked desperately at each of the faces in the room, “It’s repeating something in parseltongue but I, I don’t know it anymore.”

“We are currently looking for a speaker but it’s difficult given the necessary security around this case.” Francesca sighed.

“I’ve told her that I’ll try my best diplomatically to see if any of our allies have a parselmouth on their payroll.” Hermione said cautiously, looking at Harry.

Harry knew she was remembering what he confessed to her about his son in the summer. But surely, they could find another speaker over the age of eleven? Harry didn’t need Al to be more worried than he already was with the state of the school.

“That’s not all in this video,” Francesca had paused the playback and was artificially winding the time forward. The muggle man was now on the phone, probably contacting police. Suddenly, the snake appeared again behind the truck, this time quite interested in the inhabitant. More swearing as the man quickly rolled up his window. The snake was rising up to the level of the window, where Harry could see the man speaking rapidly until… he wasn’t.

“He goes still and, well we had to enhance the quality but there’s a instance- and it could be a glitch…” Francesca produced a photograph.

It was a close-up of the man, the glare of the window removed, capturing for a few seconds.

“Bloody hell,” shouted Ron as Harry closed his eyes. He wished he could rewind the day to the morning with pancakes and Lily.

The man’s eyes, obviously wide with shock, suddenly twitched for just a moment. But with the enhancement it was clear that his pupils had narrowed into slits. The footage was black and white, but Harry's imagination was coloring in a bloody red hue into the whites. A second later, they returned to normal.

“What happens after?” Harry said, again caught between unbearable curiosity and preemptive revulsion.

“He lets the snake go.”  Francesca said simply, “And then he drives in. Wood tried tracking down his identity, Ansel Baker- he had been laid off from a factory earlier in the month. He jumped in front of a train the next day.”

“And you think…”

“We’ve all been dancing around it for months.” Francesca’s usually austere demeanor finally betrayed the same fears that Harry and Ron had just discussed, “I think we ought to discuss all further cases between teams. It will hopefully make the culprit clear and, hopefully, predictable.”

“Katie described a man that used to visit Greyback soon after she was captured,” Harry started, “I’ll organize the details of the encounter in my write-up but, maybe this…” he gestured to the file, “is something similar.”

“And that could mean that these things have been happening right under our noses for years.” Hermione whispered from her desk. She was leaning forward now, her head resting at an angle on her fist and looked dwarfed by the tall seat and towering papers, “What if they never stopped?”

It felt like ages passed before anyone in the room even dared to look at each other, but finally, Francesca drew herself up and turned to Percy and Audrey, “Well I had intentions of inviting you here to get Potter and Weasley up to speed on potential regions to investigate but I might delay that angle for now. Ron.”

She turned to Ron, “I think I’ll have you accompany Percy to their next target- Poland.”

“And you,” She now turned to Harry, “We need more answers about the happenings of Voldemort’s followers after the War. Maybe, just maybe, one of them might have some explanation of these incidences.”

“You want to tip off a devotee of his?” Harry countered, incredulously, “What happens if they get excited and start to seek him out?”

“There’s a particular family I have in mind. I feel they might be perfect starting points for an inquiry and also unenthusiastic for a return. We also have a fairly easy ‘in’ to their family and leverage for their cooperation.”

“The Malfoy’s.” Harry replied, grimacing as his boss nodded.

“Just talk to them,” Francesca said, “and we’ll see if we have to resort to other methods of intel.”

“I want to decide how public we need this new theory to be.” Hermione spoke as Francesca started for the door, “We will be reconvening the well, group, next Monday and until then, I want to make sure our information is as airtight as possible.”

“Might as well start calling it the ‘Order’ dear, it seems to be going that way,” bemused Ron.

“Well,” Hermione said, only a hint of nervousness in her voice, “I’m happy to say that this Order will have the full support of the Ministry.”

Her words should have been reassuring, but as Harry regarded the room, he was sure he wasn’t the only one who wanted to vomit.

Chapter Text

“Hey ah Al,” Malachi popped his head into the Slytherin boy’s dormitory, “Your brother’s outside the common room with Weasley and ah…”

“Teddy Lupin,” Scorpius finished as he appeared behind his classmate, a small plate of food between his hands.

He set the plate at the edge of Al’s bed, where Al was sitting, fully dressed but turning his wand in his hands. He hadn’t dared enter the Great Hall for supper after the events in Professor Lovegood’s class and had refused to come to breakfast as well. Scorpius had kindly decided to return the many favors Al had done in the previous semesters, sneaking meals into the dorms when Scorpius was hiding from bullies.

“Is he here? Oh,” Milo was also lollygagging this morning and despite the terrible prospect of facing the student body, a small, warm feeling was spreading within Al as he realized his classmates had no intention of facing the school alone.

“Thanks Mate,” Al nodded towards Scorpius as he quickly tucked in the toast and smattering of tarts and orange slices. He scanned the room briefly, where Reggie had now also entered and muttered, “Thanks.”

“Might be good to see what the other houses are saying,” Malachi acknowledged Al’s appreciation bluntly.

In the Common Room, the lake water was churning ominously, a terrible winter storm raging above. Green flicks of light played upon the faces of the four first-year girls.

Al frowned. Vanessa had not been present immediately after the class- she often whisked herself away from her “inferior” contemporaries whenever possible- but had inquired about Al’s ability later in the evening. Al heard Jade had been particularly nasty to her in the moment, though she now sat sullenly on the back of a couch, Quinn and Natalia buffering her from Parkinson.

“Do I have to pay a security fee?” Al tried to sound confident as he neared the girls, though it seemed his small breakfast was swirling like the waves in the windows inside him.

“They’re just outside,” Jade said rigidly, hopping up from her seat and walking briskly towards the door, barely offering Al more than a second glance.

Rose, on the other hand practically tumbled into Al as he entered the dungeon hallway, “Al! I was so worried when you didn’t show up in the Hall yesterday and then we heard from Elena about the snake and…”

She pulled away looking unsure as more of the Slytherins emerged from the dormitories.

“Thanks for coming by Rose,” Scorpius smiled at Rose as he stood by Al. The two hadn’t had much interaction since the start of term, partly because of the incidents over the holiday and partly because Al had been sneaking away to find Rose alone when Scorpius’ werewolf musings had become too much. He now felt a twinge of regret for this in the light of Scorpius’ support. Before he could dwell too much on this though, Teddy brusquely made his way around Rose and James, bending slightly to meet Al’s face head on.

“Al, I don’t have too much time but maybe you could accompany me this evening- I’m doing a favor for McGonagall, and she said I could bring you along,” In addition to his rather frank demeanor, Teddy also looked stricken and ordinary, his natural chestnut hair falling limply around his face. Al didn’t know what to make of the request. Most of his anxiety was centered on the inevitable rumors that would circulate about a Slytherin heir and the coincidental uptick in crimes. Teddy’s features bore worry of something much graver than school gossip.

“I…. sure Teddy,” Al was surprised again when James pulled out a small sack, something one would expect to find marbles or exploding jacks in. But Al intuitively knew that this was James’ invisibility cloak. An odd gesture given McGonagall’s permission…

“Hey,” James seemed to briefly acknowledge Al’s classmates before looking down at his brother. Al noticed he was well out of his comfort zone, outnumbered by students who didn’t particularly appreciate his seeker skills.

“Al- this summer- on Marge’s birthday…”

“Yeah, I thought the snake was talking to me, but James I didn’t realize what was going on or that I….”

James suddenly put his hand on Al’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, stopping his ramblings, “No I know Al- I don’t think you were hiding any of this obviously. I just thought maybe Dad had said something to you?”

Al’s face had obviously given way to a familiar disappointment because James quickly sped on, “No erm okay, well, I think it’s just fine alright? Al?”

Like Teddy, James’ face seemed older with concern. With a sinking heart, Al wondered just how serious some of the talk had been the previous evening. But behind that, strangely, Al felt quite at peace that James had come all the way down to dungeons to check in. He peered up into his older brother’s face, who had the same messy hair and thin features as his father and could almost pretend that it was Harry coming to him with worry and understanding.

“Al?”

“Yeah James, thanks,” Al smiled and noticed James looked relieved before resuming a more serious countenance.

“We should probably head to class before everyone starts leaving,” Rose offered, and turned towards the great staircase.

“Yeah, good idea,” James nodded as the group slowly made their way down the dungeon hall, “Look Al, and honestly all of you.”

He glanced around the Slytherins, who were still appraising him somewhat mistrustingly, “Stay away from Patricia Beauton and Adrian. They’ve been completely mental since the start of term, and this has just sent them into something else. They are going to try to find you… I’ve…”

“James got into a huge row with Adrian,” Rosie interrupted as James’ ears reddened, “Good thing most of the Gryffindors like James a good deal more at this point.”

Al felt another twinge of guilt at the frostiness in which he and James had left each other over Christmas.

“And I told McGonagall what we heard,” Teddy spoke again, tiredly, “So she knows beforehand in case they try making an incident out of this. She seemed hopeful that her rules would still be a deterrent…”

Teddy stopped as a small “Hummpf” was emitted by Jade, who seemed to be glaring at nothing in particular.

“…Anyway, I’ll tell you more this evening, but I’ve got to catch Hagrid before Care of Magical Creatures today. Bye Al.” Teddy bound up the staircase, pausing at the top, “You’ve only got a few minutes before everyone starts heading to their classes.”

“Right,” Rose said, starting up the stairs herself, “Al I thought we could walk together to class anyway and, oh a few of us actually wanted to.”

At the top of the stairs, Aldo, Anya, and Ida stood shyly. Aldo at least managed a small wave at the Slytherins, though his smile broadened when he saw James. Again, Al felt an unmistakable ache as he watched his brother give the three an encouraging nod.

He turned again to Al, “Trelawney’s class is a bit of a walk so I got to go but ah… you know, you can find me at lunch.”

“Yeah, I might.” Al tried to sound bright as James turned away, heading towards the Divination Tower.

A silence settled between the Slytherins and Gryffindors as the group headed up the Great Staircase and onto another set of moving stairs that would take them to the third floor. Defense Against the Dark Arts was to be held in the dueling hall that morning, instead of the regular first-year classroom in the North Tower.

“Sorry to hear about your grandparents house,” Al was surprised to hear Natalia’s voice address Aldo as they waited for a second staircase to align.

A brief note of surprise also registered on the boy’s face before he nodded his acknowledgments, “Thanks, they’ve been getting on in age I suppose- probably would have moved in with my mum and dad sooner or later.”

The softest sniff escaped Vanessa’s lips at the exchange, only to be followed by a yelp and muffled thud as she sprawled out on the floor just as the staircase arrived.

“I swear Huxley if you don’t stop…”

“Or what.” Jade said simply, “Vanessa why don’t you go find yourself a seat so we can all avoid you accordingly.”

Al knew Vanessa hated associating with her classmates to an equal degree, but it was the easy dismissal in Jade’s voice that sent her sprinting up the stairs, her eyes red rimmed and angry.

“You’re not supposed to hex your classmates,” Rose admonished Jade, though she seemed not completely unhappy that Vanessa had left.

“Well good thing I just tripped her the old muggle way.” Jade kept her face trained forward as she ascended the stairs and continued down the corridor, not a drop of remorse detectable in her voice, “The less she knows about us the better in my opinion.”

Al glanced at his housemate curiously, “Has she told you things?”

The other Slytherin boys also leaned closer, interested.

Jade shrugged, “She says a lot of nothing to the older girls to seem important. Obviously she told them about you Al.”

“Most of the stuff is rubbish,” Quinn agreed and eyeing the looks of worry coming from the Gryffindors add, “And as she barely associates with other houses, it’s mostly about her housemates. She’s been going on and on about my parents and now even Jade’s…”

“Right,” Jade suddenly cut in, the stony mask slipping some and eroding her features into something severe, “Rubbish.”

They had made it to the classroom just in time as the ends of the halls were rapidly filling with students on their way to class.

Al lingered near the door and stopped Rose as she entered, “Hey ah, I appreciate it you know.”

Rose smiled, “It’s nothing Al, I can’t imagine how you must have felt. The Ravenclaws, especially given Keira’s ordeal, were probably the worst class to have it happen.”

But she lowered her head conspiratorially as a few more Gryffindors sidled into the classroom, Ryan giving Al a lingering look as he passed. “Al, how has your House reacted?”

“I couldn’t really tell you,” Al said, “I’ve kept to my room mostly. Malachi and Reggie definitely find it cool, but I don’t think they’ve really gone bragging about it to many of the other years.”

“I see,” Said Rose, “I mean, you could brag about it. It might be interesting to see how some of them react.”

“Is this what Teddy wants to talk to me about?” Al’s eyes narrowed slightly. The thought had occurred to him as well, using his newfound inclination to maybe weasel out students that might be interested in the prospects of such a ‘dark’ talent.

Rose frowned, “Maybe… although I think it has something more to do with McGonagall. Something he overheard after one of their tutoring sessions.” She sniffed slightly disapprovingly, “I really don’t understand why you would need that cloak if she actually gave him permission…”

Her voice trailed off as the two meandered into the classroom. Thick midnight blue curtains created a dark canopy on the vaulted ceilings. Some sloped gracefully low, creating the illusion of a deep murky sky though, unlike other enchanted ceilings, cast a heavy, immobilizing ambience. Narrow windows of honey-colored stained glass lined the west and east facing walls, dousing the room in what looked like evening glow, though it was barely 9 AM. Most eye-catching though, were the two figures that stood upon the raised wooden platform meant for duelists. Each wore gray cloaks over smart-looking suits and though one man had a rather full beard while the other a simple goatee, they seemed to be identical.

“They look like Ministry employees,” Rose whispered, nudging Al towards the congregation of students, who had gathered haphazardly at the center of the platform.

The two men were engrossed in what looked to be important tasks. The bearded one was reading thoughtfully through a small green notebook while his twin turned a series of small silver objects, which looked like metal nutcrackers in his palm. Neither acknowledged the students as they approached.

“Yes sorry!” Professor Gagnon burst into the classroom with a bit of a flourish, his own beard and mustache bristled. For a second, his eyes settled on Al before he continued to hastily introduce the guests, who were in fact from the Ministry.

“I want to welcome Aurors Jasper and Jolyon Baskens. Brothers that I had the joy of teaching my first year at Hogwarts who now specialize in crimes using curse offensives. Excellent duelists themselves I can never remember which one eventually bested the other…” Professor Gagnon looked fondly on the brothers, who did acknowledge their former teacher politely.

“Professor Gagnon asked us to explain some of the types of cases we work with professionally. At the moment, given the climate at the school, he thought it appropriate to inform you all about the lifelong effects even a schoolyard hex can have and the consequences all perpetrators will face eventually.” The measured words Jasper spoke clashed with his voice, forceful and accusatory, as if he’d been interrogating a suspect without a doubt of their guilt.

In front of him, Jade stiffened slightly, and Al willed her to remain quiet, not wanting any word of a defiant and angry Slytherin to make it into Ministry gossip.

Jolyon must have been the good cop of the pair as he picked up his brother’s words in a mellow, slow tone, “Of course we hope our demonstration today will only teach you necessary mindset should you find yourself defending against an attack.”

In a great arc, he released the trinkets in his hand, casting them towards the front of the class. Students gasped as the small metal toys grew into life-sized knights, that staggered themselves across the length of the platform, bobbing slightly on their rounded joints. Each possessed two wands, fused to each of their plated hands.

“Now,” Jasper rasped once more as he stomped towards the closest of the figures, “These are reciprocorps. For every spell cast against them, they will return within the minute with equal force up to a threshold of lethality.”

He whipped his wand forward, shouting in a cold, crisp voice, “Stupefy!”

A spout of red sparks erupted from the tip of his wand, sending the unfortunate knight careening backwards, crashing into another almost 15 meters away. A sizable dent was visible in the breastplate though only for a moment. As the knight settled, the metal seemed to go molten, swirling a little and glowing at the edges of the dent like magma peeking out from ash, before warping back into the smooth surface seen before the attack.

“And now we wait,” Jasper’s eyes were alert, his wand at the ready, watching the knight.

For several seconds, the knight just stood impassively, perhaps adjusting slightly on the axes of it’s joints. But then, in another lava-like fluid motion, the left hand of the knight mirrored Jasper’s motion and an identical gust of red sparks shot back at the auror.

Deftly, Jasper flicked his wand across his own body, a fuzzy blue glow visible at the tip, just as the spell reached him. Stunningly, it seemed to come in contact with an invisible shield, angry sparks grinding against the friction of the force. Still, the auror was pushed back about five feet himself.

“Well,” He barked, steadying himself, “What was the incantation used to block my spell?”

Al and Scorpius looked at each other. They had only just learned ‘Expelliarmus’ in the fall, though the motion the auror displayed was very different.

Unsurprisingly, Rose’s hand was in the air, “Sir, was it ‘Protego’? The shield charm.”

For the first time, Jasper looked somewhat enthused, “Quite right, Miss…”

“Weasley sir.”

“Oh!” Jolyon exclaimed quietly, nodding in quiet recognition.

From the corner of his eye, Al caught Jade setting her jaw.

Professor Gagnon cleared his throat, “Now the Protego charm is rather tricky in the motion, and it’s hard to know just how effective your spell is without something to block, therefore, we will be practicing simple attack spells with the reciprocorps and blocking those.”

“With the idea that you will all limit yourselves to attacks you are willing to field,” Jasper added menacingly.

“I suppose Gagnon brought them here to scout out future targets,” Jade muttered venomously as the students were herded towards one side of the class. The knights descended in unison from the platform, spreading out around a small area.

“Two to three students to a reciprocorps!” Professor Gagnon shouted as he roamed around the space.

“Could I practice with you two today?” Rose turned to Al and Scorpius, though her smile faltered slightly as she faced them.

Turning, Al saw Jade looking just as unsure before she quickly turned to find Quinn and Natalia. Unfortunately, Vanessa had already joined their group, looking aloof and disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to work alone.

“Jade why don’t you and I practice together?” Al looked apologetically at Rose, who returned an understanding nod. Scorpius also looked understanding and maybe a little pleased, to Al’s amusement.

Jade said nothing but did wait near an open knight as Al approached her. For the next ten minutes, the aurors and Professor Gagnon instructed on the wandwork required for the charm.

Once, well into practice, Al thought he saw the hint of bluish glow come from his wand. Impressively, he saw this glow emit easily from Jade within just a few tries. Even Rose hadn’t seemed consistent yet.

“That’s really good.” Al ventured.

Jade gave only the slightest inclination she had heard.

“What are you doing to get it so strong?” Al continued, undaunted.

“Mindset!” Jolyon’s voice startled Al as the auror approached the two from behind.

“Go ahead Miss?”

“Huxley.” Jade responded, coolly, not happy with the attention.

“Everyone stop for a second and observe Miss Huxley’s charm!” Joylon motioned for Jade to begin.

Jade took a small breath and Al thought for a second she might refuse or… was she stage-fright? That emotion on his classmate seemed foreign.

But in another breath, Jade righted herself before drawing her wand in a confident, controlled arc, speaking clearly, “Protego!”

An even more pronounced glow hovered about her wand and Al could even see some semblance of a shimmering wall being drawn across her dark features.

“Brillant! This is ready to be put into practice!” Jolyon clapped his hands merrily, motioning for Jade to stand about three meters from the reciprocorps.

Al could see Professor Gagnon move closer to Jasper, looking less cheerful and whisper something to the auror.

“Now, just a simple attack. You probably don’t want to use ‘Stupefy’ of course, probably not your level yet. Perhaps ‘Rictumsempra’ or something similar…” Jolyon stilled as Jade once again raised her wand in a furious flourish.

“Flipendo!”

 A snakelike stream of purple light twisted through the air, impacting the knight in the right shoulder and sending the contraption spinning.

Immediately, Jade assumed a defensive position, however Jolyon stepped in front of her as the knight rebounded the spell, blocking it with some difficulty as he was so close to the knight.

“Cast spells only strong enough to practice!” Jolyon’s voice was now just as severe as his brother’s. Jasper was looking on with a calculating stare that set Al on edge.

Strangely the animosity had calmed Jade, and she simply nodded before sending a much tamer “Rictumsempra” towards the knight.

Within a few seconds, the spell came back from the right wand and Jade, now more deliberate than ever, cast a wide shield charm.

The spell vibrated off the barrier she had made, though somewhat imperfectly as a small tingle ran up her arm, causing her to grin slightly.

Or perhaps she was just pleased to have intimidated a real auror, Al thought uneasily. It didn’t make sense to Al why his classmate would both be paranoid about bias in authority wherever she went yet choose to stand out in this way given the chance to impress.

“Right… erm, good.” Jolyon reluctantly praised Jade before quickly moving towards Aldo, Anya and Ida.

Al was about to question Jade when she looked back at him brightly, happier than he’d seen her since the Fall. It puzzled him more and clearly his emotions had been written on his face because Jade’s elation quickly disappeared into a more businesslike countenance.

“Did you want a go?” She turned away and Al could have sworn she looked almost disappointed.

Near the end of class, Al had also successfully produced a shield charm of decent strength. Scorpius had also followed shortly after Jade in yielding an effective spell and seemed delighted when Rose actually asked him for tips. Of course, she too had quickly improved and earned the praise of Jolyon before the two aurors recaptured the knights, reducing them to the little toy trinkets and returning to the raised platform.

“Now before we leave, if I could ask you all to stay a few extra minutes to hear some words from our Ministry friends,” Professor Gagnon clapped to quiet the class, who had started to make their way to the door, “As you have a short break between now and Divination.”

Jasper and Jolyon waited as the students reformed a small group in front of them.

“As you have heard in our rounds,” Jolyon began, “Mindset and Motivation play perhaps undoubtedly the most important role in competent spell-casting.”

“This is critical to understand when learning of the Dark Arts,” Jasper finished harshly, scanning the room in a hawkish manner, “One cannot simply, unless under a powerful curse, cause harm by use of a spell unless they have full intention of imparting that harm.”

He continued, starting to pace across the platform, “This is different from a poorly cast spell, different from accidental wandless magic that causes damage. We have seen in our tenure as Aurors the same spells inflicted a thousand different ways. The state of the victim tells a great deal about the perpetrator.”

“Now, why are we telling you this?” Joylon tried to change the tone as more than a few students had started to back away under the intensity of his twin, “Well, we shall be joining you for a few more classes, teaching you other defensive spells, but also demonstrating the damage of jinxes, hexes and curses in the hope that you rethink the cavalier culture that we hear has happened in this school.”

“Dark Arts are not to be tolerated at any stage in a wizard or witch’s development,” Jasper cut in again, “And youth, in particular, can care a great deal about perceived slights and respond in an equally unreasonable fashion.”

His eyes slid toward Jade as his voiced dropped impossibly lower, “It is the opinion of the school and Ministry that you understand as early as possible how your magic reflects the most intimate parts of your mind, your values, even the things that you otherwise hide.”

“Just something to keep in mind before our next class.” Jolyon nodded towards Professor Gagnon, who beckoned a dismissal.

In the hall, Al reconvened with Rose and Scorpius.

“Rather intense don’t you think?” Scorpius whispered, “Do you think it’s a good idea to show students how to hurt their classmates more?”

“Well I suppose they are getting at the idea that you can’t just say some of those more nasty things and actually produce something,” Rose countered, “Unless of course you truly meant it which I can’t imagine anyone…”

Her voice waned as Jade came near to Al, evidently wanting to head towards Divination together.

Her eyes twinkled subtly as she watched Rose look away, “Maybe they’ll come with us to observe Professor Trelawney reveal more about our innermost being.”

“Why would they need to do that when you’re perfectly glad to show it off in front of them willingly?” Al was annoyed at the sarcasm that dripped from her comments.

Again, rather than biting back, Jade simply fell silent as the group wandered toward the Divination tower.

“Do you think it’s really all because of our behavior?” Scorpius said after a while.

Rose shook her head determinedly, “No, I overheard my Mum talking about it over break- or she mentioned some sort of tutelage from the Ministry itself.”

Al raised his eyebrows, as did Scorpius in shared interest.

“I’ve been discussing it in our House- sorry,” She seemed to acknowledge the small downcast glance Al had given, “Teddy seems to think that the Ministry is very seriously taking stock of these threats and wants to both teach us advanced magic and keep an eye on us.”

Jade had been skulking on the fringe of the group, but now acknowledged Rose in agreement.

“So do they think we’ll be attacked?” Scorpius inquired, looking pale.

“I mean haven’t we been attacked already?” Rose countered, smartly, “Look, Hogwarts is one of the most powerfully magic places in Britain. It goes without saying that, if the rumors are true, any organized movement would want it under their control. And to take the castle, you almost need some support and participation from the students themselves.”

“Do they really think there is an organized movement?” Al said, disbelievingly.

Rose sighed, “I wouldn’t have thought so except I know my Mum has met with McGonagall increasingly and knows something that she can’t even tell Dad about.”

Her last words were bitter, “I’ve never seen them so stressed, and it can’t be over nothing. Teddy sees things too when he visits McGonagall. She’s cancelled a great deal of his tutoring lessons abruptly and sends quite a few letters via ministry owls…”

Scorpius had gone quiet and seemed concentrated on the floor in front of him, “You know my father also wouldn’t tell my grandmother about his new appointment. She was pestering him quite a bit over the holiday, thinking he finally moved departments. He seemed almost angry that she found out about it at all.”

“Something in zoning could explain some of the incidents maybe!” Rose said excitedly and lapsed into some thought about the new information. Scorpius, for his part seemed beyond pleased to have contributed some useful information and contentedly let Rose ponder until they reached the tall, narrow steps leading up to the Divination classroom.

Al wondered if Scorpius might ask Rose to partner today as they went over tea readings. Of course, that would leave Al to partner once again with Jade and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the prospect.

He dawdled a bit outside the class, a strong scent of burnt herbs and tea already wafting from the room. Scorpius and Rose disappeared, but Jade remained nearby, quietly watching the Slytherins and Gryffindors sidle on by.

“Do you think magic really shows what we are,” she said finally, as Malachi and Reggie passed them with a friendly nod.

“I don’t know,” Al said, with some surprise, “I mean, it makes sense with the intention and stuff. You almost knocked that auror off his feet you know.”

“You toppled the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team at the start of semester.” Jade answered, though not argumentative.

“Well to protect my brother,” Al said, somewhat unsure of where her train of thought was going.

“I heard he couldn’t do the same.”

“Well, he’s not too practiced in jinxes…”

“You didn’t do a jinx.”

“What are you trying to say,” Al said tiredly.

“I,” Jade did seem to choose her next words carefully, “Do you think he just doesn’t have it in him to actually do what you did? Not by skill, but… mindset.”

Al stuttered in his response, “I…. well… what does that mean? That he’s got good intentions so he can’t cast a spell?”

“Yeah,” Jade replied, “what do you think of that?”

“I truly don’t know Jade, really- maybe,” Al could feel his voice becoming smaller as he admitted a rather personal fear.

“You really believe that you aren’t a good person Al,” Jade looked stuck somewhere between cross and pitying, “Really you? The only one that isn’t quaking near Nat and Milo knowing- oh I know you know! Let me finish,” She breathed hastily, “You, who checked on Scorpius every day last term, defended your brother as you said, tell me off when I’m rude…”

Al searched Jade’s features, which seemed more animated that he’d ever seen. He had the feeling this had been stored away since yesterday or maybe even the start of term. But he couldn’t quite place why all of this was happening now.

“Al are you ashamed that you can talk to snakes?” Jade whispered, eyeing him with as much intensity as Jasper commanded.

“What! I would never use them to attack anyone!” But even Al knew he had evaded answering directly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No, I know, I- I’m not sure Jade. I didn’t think for a second that when it happened over that that I could somehow use that to hurt someone but it’s so… well it’s a thing that has been used very badly right. Right?” Al watched helplessly as Jade’s expression solidified into something unforgiving.

“It’s what I feel right now Jade,” He said, reticently, “I can’t say I’m proud of it.”

“Well, I hope you change your mind, because I am.”

Something pricked inside Al’s head as he took in her words. She was proud of him? But as Jade’s robes disappeared into the doorway, Al suddenly recognized the scratchy sound around her pronunciation, perhaps because he was actually hearing it from another person for the first time.

“Oh Miss Huxley please sit down quickly, and is Mr. Potter behind you?” The singsong voice of Professor Trelawney echoed into the hall.

“He’s just behind me, Professor. He shouldn’t be long,” The clarity of the English with which Jade spoke had never been so evident.

In a way, Al felt something close to elation that someone else also spoke parseltongue. And yet, there was something else underneath it that tugged at Al. He didn’t like many of Jade’s choices but there was an unmistakable similarity growing between them.

And that realization did not help Al answer Jade’s initial question one bit.   

Chapter Text

“Harry are you sure you’re alright?” Ginny pointed her wand for the second time into the cup of caramel brown coffee sitting just above a scatter of notes on the kitchen table. After a moment or two, a wisp of steam rose again from the rewarmed liquid.

“I can’t guarantee it won’t taste stale.”

To the right of the mug, a square piece of toast with black currant jam and a boiled egg laid equally neglected.

From the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of red hair pausing at the end of the stairs. Sighing inwardly, he pushed his work notes aside and began on his breakfast, “Hi Lilypad, care to join me?”

“Sure,” The tone was muted and careful for a ten year old and Harry watched his daughter contemplate the many files he hastily tucked into folders, frowning.

Lily was becoming increasingly perceptive about the tension between the many adults in her life and Harry wondered if Molly and Arthur could be more careful about voicing their concerns in the presence of their young grandkids. He had heard Percy’s youngest, Lucy, had thrown a fit when he and Audrey had set out again for their latest trip into Poland with Ron, somehow convinced they wouldn’t come back this time. Still, the two had provided so much care over the past year it seemed hardly appropriate to complain. And, Harry realized with a sinking dread, the Weasley family, bigger and more wonderful than ever, had a lot to lose in the uncertain future.

Ginny placed a small bowl of cereal in front of Lily and sat down beside the two, picking at her own half-eaten plate. Harry smirked as he returned the favor, steaming her mug of tea to a comfortable temperature.

“Will you see Katie again today?”

Both Ginny and Harry paled as their daughter spoke up. Harry had informed Ginny about Katie as he returned home that day, exhausted by the prospects of the meeting. It hadn’t occurred to him until his wife had questioned about how Katie was, health wise, that he also wasn’t completely certain of her chances at recovery. A lot had happened during the interview and a lot of it was deeply informative, but now Harry really did have the time to reflect on the state of his former classmate. Katie had been thin and looked much older than he predicted, but this was all understandable given the circumstances of her captivity.

But Ginny had been especially upset when Harry mentioned Katie not knowing they had been married with children.

“My God Harry the world has just gone by her… I can’t begin to imagine.” Her eyes were on the cusp of tears, “I don’t know if I could handle coming back and knowing what I missed.”

Harry now wondered if it wasn’t her physical health that kept Artemis from releasing her.

“Dad?” Lily now looked up at Harry with some concern that made him ache even more.

“Sorry Lil, no I’m not going to see her today, but you will be the first to know when we invite her over.” Harry tried to smile.

In truth, he would have preferred to visit Katie again over his current assignment. Running into Narcissa at Draco’s home in the New Year felt like a splash of cold water and Harry already knew interacting with Lucius would be worse.

“It’s strange to separate you and Ron, no?” Ginny said evenly, revealing just the slighted bit of worry in front of their daughter.

Harry had only mentioned that he and Ron had been assigned different tasks in the next month. He hadn’t figured out how to bring up the senior Malfoys to her, mostly to avoid stirring his own feelings of loathing whenever he saw his wife flinch at the mention of Draco’s father.

“I’m to work with Hermione this week,” Harry lied, “And there’s been some sentiments about her working so closely with her spouse…”

“So, her best friend will obviously do,” Ginny finished, but looked satisfied with the answer.

Lily, looked less convinced and continued to watch her parents as the conversation meandered off.

“And what are you going to be up to today, Lilypad?” Harry asked after watching his daughter look so intensely at his stack of paperwork, he feared she might summon a classified document or two.

This almost seemed to startle her, “Oh um we have arithmetic workbooks today and maybe grampa will let us help him in his workshop.”

“Oh what’s he fiddling with now?” Ginny mused, smiling into her cup of tea.

“Radios mostly. And a bicycle! But it’s got five wheels at the moment…”

Harry finished his breakfast in a much better mood.

Alas, within the next hour, Harry found himself far away from Ginny and Lily, and back in a dour state as he finished his preparations for his visit with the Malfoys. Most intriguing had been a map of Malfoy Manor; blueprints constructed after the War of all the secret rooms and false walls within the Mansion, which had been completely scoured by Aurors. Harry was to extract all he could through polite conversation with the Malfoys, and was also tasked with releasing a dozen small, insect-like devices to wander through the premises to see if any new activity might be occurring.

Charming the various devices was proving difficult. The insects looked like spiders, beetles, and gnats so to not raise too much suspicion if multiple were discovered. Each form had its own challenges with motion and noise and needed specialized navigation charms. It didn’t help that the inventor was a poor job at writing coherent notes on troubleshooting- this of course being Harry himself.

Funny enough, he’d come up with the idea after Arthur had showed an old muggle spy movie for the kids a few Christmases ago. Leaning back, he surveyed his desk, his eyes already feeling like they’d been open for many hours. More and more files were beginning to create a sort of castle along the edges, stacked and organized and reorganized as his mind wandered through new potential connections between cases. A small holographic card deck of menacing faces reminded Harry of each individual suspected, prosecuted, released or otherwise escaped from the Second Wizarding War. In the courtyard of the files, a few lamps illuminated the array of espionage tools, which rather promisingly, were beginning to whir into life. A few personalized sneakoscopes and simple magnifying glasses made the arrangement look quite a bit like a muggle clockmaker’s workbench.

Muggles. Harry pulled a file near the top of a stack and skimmed the contents. It was the file that Ron was following up on with Percy and Audrey. A mysterious muggle vagabond that seemed to be roaming everywhere from Germany to Albania and loosely connected to a string of grisly murders. Only one victim had been a witch, a young girl on her way to Durmstrang, which had piqued the Romanian Wizarding Consortium late in the summer. She’d been a runaway, a half blood from what seemed to be an unhappy home. The muggle mother convinced she’d been cursed with a demon, the father in complete denial of his own magical ancestry despite an easy search into Durmstrang’s attendance records.

Harry was thinking about his nephew, Duncan. Dudley had called twice more after Christmas, asking for perfunctory advice about raising magical children. Harry couldn’t read him, though he supposed inquiring about magical enrichment was a good sign. Camille had tried to reach out to her brothers, which might have been why the calls had stopped recently.

“Argh” Harry groaned, leaning his head into his hands. He procured a small syrup Ginny had taken to preparing from his pocket and sipped it gingerly, as a sharp aroma of spices filled his nostrils.

It was the third day in a row that he hadn’t made it to noon without a splitting headache. He pressed his thumbs around his temples, moving carefully toward his forehead. Breathing shallowly, he applied pressure on his faded scar, concentrating on the feeling. It didn’t seem like the pain was concentrated there, but the worry, like work, Duncan, and a million other things was making the back of his mind look an awful lot like his desk.

The last few spiders were beginning to coordinate their limbs in a more natural manner and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, scribbling more terrible notes before tucking away the instruments into his cloak. There was no remaining excuse to not start on his way to the Malfoys.

Turning, Harry glanced through the window across the atrium to Hermione’s lonely office. He could see her pacing near the window, which probably meant she was entertaining someone else. Sure enough, another figure fuzzily moved behind her, noticeably shorter. Harry wondered whether it was Cetus, the Unspeakable, perhaps giving an update on the newly submerged Room of Death. Yet another drumming worry that was crowding his mind.

He crossed the Atrium with purpose, though wasn’t so tunnel visioned that he noticed McGonagall appearing from one of the many fireplaces, looking just as tired as she had a few weeks ago. Hopefully Hogwarts was improving its student culture- he heard two men on Tywek’s team were sitting in on a few DADA lessons.

Harry willed his mind quiet as he apparated, the aromatics of Ginny’s medicine coming back up as he was squeezed. Coughing, he surveyed his landing spot, a small country road just above a sprawling lawn powdered with a sheet of snow. The air was quiet and peaceful here and Harry felt an unmistakable resurgence in resentment, thinking about how he, for the third time in his life was barreling down the potential of turmoil and chaos, while Lucius and Narcissa enjoyed this quiet luxury.

The Manor was visible from the hillside, but disappeared behind tall, manicured hedges as Harry descended towards the high wrought-iron gates positioned halfway between the roadway and house. Two Great Grey owls were perched haughtily on marble statues stationed on the ends of the gate. As Harry approached, one flew up and towards the house entrance, vanishing soon after crossing the gate as if it had glided into a vertical column of water. Harry recognized the concealing charm he’d become deft at during his year of horcrux hunting and bit his lip. He would need more control of his anger now than he did during that fateful year.

“Harry Potter?” An anxious voice materialized just beyond the gate, though Harry could not perceive the speaker. Still, he recognized Narcissa’s voice and was surprised that she had come to greet him herself. The Malfoy’s had lost the privilege of having house elves, and perhaps the couple had not warmed to the idea of replacing them with servants that required humane treatment.

“Yes ma’am, sorry for the surprise visit. If you could invite me in I’d be most grateful…”

“Something hasn’t happened to Draco has it?”

Harry shook his head rapidly, “No, no. He’s erm… He’s doing well, I think. I was hoping for some help actually, with my work.”

For a moment, Harry thought Narcissa might have turned and left for the voice on the other side of the gate fell deafly silent, the barrier not falling. But then, the owl returned to its perch, plucking a small agate stone inset in the statue, and the solid iron in front of Harry shimmered. He walked through the gates like smoke and likewise felt his body move through the invisible barrier just beyond, coming face to face with the small form of Draco’s mother.

The Manor stood similarly to the illusion projected towards the outside world, however the lawn was much more alive. Pale pink and white flowers hung from a tree that Harry did not recognize, clearly happy to bloom in the cold winter temperatures. About a dozen white peacocks strutted in the snow and observed the unexpected visitor with interest.  Small bulbs of light seemed to twinkle in and out of the trees and Harry realized they were fairies, flitting about the foliage.

“They are here voluntarily,” Narcissa followed Harry’s narrowed eyes, “We let them house here and they do all they want with the upkeep.”

Harry could now see several doors and windows inlaid into the wood of several trees, emanating with soft glowing light.

Narcissa led Harry towards the entrance of the Manor without much more to say, wrenching the large carved doors open, which echoed into the mansion.

“Did you want to speak to both of us?” Narcissa had quieted her words as they crossed the enormous entryway, a vaulted space of more white marble and green serpentine accents. With stone staircases curving upwards to the second and third floors. Heavy silver curtains dropped from floor-length windows and shimmered with the breeze that entered with Harry and Narcissa. Large wintery baubles were hanging from an oak chandelier, a charmed whirl of snow orbiting around in a loop. Despite all of this, the place seemed empty and for just two people, Harry supposed most of house was empty most of the time.  

“Yes, I would,” Harry returned in a quiet tone.

“He’s in the back parlor, if I may just speak with him before you come in.” Narcissa waited for a nod from Harry before quickly scampering down the large arched entryway that led deeper into the house.

Calmly, Harry took out the small pouch containing his various insect devices beneath a handkerchief. Pretending to wipe his brow, he surreptitiously allowed the critters to walk up his cloaked sleeve, feeling each one take it’s position along his arm.

“At large.” He whispered, and to his relief felt three small detachments as the first insects began their journey into the crevices of the house.

“What dear?” Narcissa had reappeared rather quickly at the archway, looking somewhat bedraggled.

“Oh I was just admiring your décor,” Harry pointed to the baubles, “It really must be a job filling up this large space.”

Narcissa nodded somewhat sadly, “Well that’s sweet of you. He will see you.”

She was quite stiff as Harry followed her into the hall, which opened to several rooms that seemed to be pantries, baths, or simply filled with statues and furniture with no discernable purpose. To the left, the hall finally opened to a stone floor that was the kitchen. This room it seemed, looked lived in, with clean but clearly used countertops and a copper kettle humming quaintly on a gas stovetop. A few small herbs were growing out of a small rectangular garden set against another large, arched window. A warm hearth was burning in the opposite corner, where a small semi-circular bench, lined with cream cushioning faced the fire. A small table was set in the middle, and two deep blue mugs still sat upon matching crystal coasters.

“In here if you will.” Narcissa beckoned Harry to the right, where the stone gave way to a mahogany floor. More large windows cast the room in a severe white light, as the snowy landscape reflected upon the light-colored chairs and ottomans. The tables and furniture were a matching opaque wood that balanced more crystal insets, which were shining in the whiteness of the outside. And sunk into a far chair in the corner of the room, Harry spotted another pale form, his hair now devoid of even the faintest blonde, his skin translucent as if he'd avoided sunlight despite being bathed in it, his slate grey eyes glimmering like crystal.

Even Lucius’ robes were a mix of beige and white, with only emerald cufflinks providing any relief from the ghostliness of his form.

“What could you possibly want?” Lucius’ voice was smaller and weaker than Harry last remembered. He didn’t rise from his seat to greet Harry, but it seemed his body had also shrunk from memory.

“Just to have a conversation,” Harry kept a measured tone as he steadily stared at Lucius, watching the man almost imperceptibly wilt at the sound of his voice.

“Please, take a seat,” Narcissa nervously flitted into the parlor, patting a chair a healthy distance away from her husband, “I could brew a pot of tea if you’d like.”

She motioned toward Harry’s handkerchief and Harry nodded, mumbling a thanks. It was the exact thing he would have expected Molly to do, though perhaps with more gusto.

Narcissa quickly set about the kitchen and Harry heard the tinkling of silverware and glasses on the counter. Lucius had fallen silent, studying Harry with a look similar to the Great Greys guarding the Manor.

“I want to be short with you Mr. Malfoy,” Harry began after the muteness began to grind on his nerves, “I come without any warrant or formal open investigation. This is a matter that has yet to be covered by the prophet or really widely within the Ministry.”

Harry detected the smallest gleam of interest as Lucius listened, though he made no movement indicating his cooperation.

Harry paused just as Narcissa returned with a trio of crystal cups, brimming with a honey-colored tea, and garnished with a sprig of evergreen.

Nodding his thanks, Harry let Narcissa settle in a seat near her husband before continuing, “I come to ask you about Voldemort, please!” He raised his hand as both Narcissa and Lucius recoiled.

“Get. Out.” Lucius spat venomously. His bottom lip quivered as if to say more, but no further words came out.

Narcissa however, covered Lucius’ hand with her own, “Now dear, he’s not accusing us- you’re not accusing us- of anything, right.”

Harry shook his head, looking apologetic, “No sorry, erm. I was maybe too quick to bring it up. I… we… there are a few cases my team has come across in the recent months that bear some ideological hallmarks of the Death Eaters.”

“We don’t associate with anyone,” Narcissa cut in quickly, “It would be a violation of our agreement and… well I can’t say we have been approached for help.”

She looked imploringly at Lucius, “Right?”

Lucius stared angrily at Harry, “Is that what you want? To turn this place over for the hundredth time?”

“No,” Harry replied, evenly, “No I was wondering if you were ever approached after the War…”

He watched again as the couple shuddered, “By anyone you knew to be well connected with Voldemort. Fenrir perhaps…”

“Oh that awful thing,” Narcissa almost bared her teeth at the mention, “No Harry please I couldn’t bear to have his kind anywhere near us. That year, with him in the house- I never…”

“Yes okay,” Harry moved on quickly. Lucius was now comforting his wife and Harry had the distinct feeling he was again close to throwing him out, “Perhaps others, even initially. Even if you haven’t heard from them since.”

“None that you haven’t caught.” Lucius rasped, “None.”

“Erm, okay,” Harry took out a small pad, ostensibly mumbling a few notes, “News, none, allies a no-go…”

At ‘no-go’ four further insects crawled out of his sleeve, marching up the sofa behind him, out of view of the Malfoy’s.

“I really don’t see this as a good use of my time,” Lucius seethed in his chair.

“How do you spend your time these days Mr. Malfoy?” Harry perked up, trying a different approach.

This seemed to irk Lucius even more, “Oh son I don’t do much at all you see! I just follow what new scandals plaque each passing administration, your little mud-“

“Don’t you dare,” Harry was even surprised at the strength of his words, “Don't you dare, Lucius.”

“Dear, perhaps we can tell Harry about your gardening…”

But Harry no longer could stand the façade. The fragility with which Narcissa cradled her forsaken husband as if the last two decades had been completely out of their hands, when even the smallest bit of help was apparently too much for him to bear.

“I believe he’s coming back,” Harry stated, plain and loudly, watching Narcissa freeze and gaze at him in utmost horror.

“No, you couldn’t possibly think, no!” She shouted, standing from her seat and coming towards Harry, “It’s not possible!”

Harry looked at her, absolute fear cracking her elegance, “Do you know this for certain?”

Narcissa’s eyes bulged further, “I wouldn’t think he… you think think we saw him create… more…”

“Horcruxes,” Harry offered.

Narcissa quavered violently, “Oh please don’t reminding me of those awful…”

“They weren’t awful enough to be kept out of your hands before… if I may,” Harry finished lamely as Narcissa rounded on him, her eyes now burning in fury.

But within a moment, the rage seemed put out and she wilted back into her seat, “No, I suppose they weren’t. Harry, we didn’t know… he never told us anything.”

“Both of you?” Harry again turned to Lucius, who had resumed his stony stare through Harry.

“Sweetie?” Narcissa prodded in an unbearably saccharine voice.

Lucius only seemed to soften as he locked eyes with his wife before answering, “I never saw him make one I swear. I didn’t know what they were called…”

“But you did know he planned to come back, didn’t you?” Harry pressed, unforgivingly.

Lucius finally seemed to consider his question thoughtfully, “I only thought it was possible if he wasn’t killed outright. I thought he had made himself invulnerable in battle- something like that. When he attacked you I… I thought he had been obliterated.”

“And you never were aware of signs?” Harry inquired.

“This was so long ago,” Lucius covered his head and hunched forward, looking similar to how Harry remembered Kreacher in Grimmauld Place.

“Please Mr. Malfoy, please try to remember.”

“There was a trip we took near Brighton, do you remember?” Narcissa tried to coax her husband back into a sitting position.

“Oh yes…” Lucius voice had waned once more.

Narcissa paused for a minute, but after Lucius failed to elaborate, she continued, “We took Draco to a different beach every summer, he really loved just exploring the shore. We stayed in a tent that year on a hillside and you got the most awful feeling remember? We didn’t stay the night. Lucius acted like he saw a ghost.”

“Well he was a phantom of some sort.” Harry pressed.

But Lucius was shaking his head again insistently, “No, I didn’t see anything! I just-I could feel it, a great abomination, lurking about. I can’t remember I don’t… I don’t want to.”

Harry appraised the elder Malfoy, whose withered face now rose to meet his again, “I never wanted a war Har… Mr. Potter. I never wanted him to come back.”

“What did you want then?” Harry bit out bitterly, but Lucius only gazed again at his wife with a pitiful expression.

Narcissa seemed out of sorts with concern, “Oh perhaps you could come again. It’s late afternoon and he’s been under the weather…”

“With all due respect Mrs. Malfoy, I haven’t found this conversation to be useful yet.” Harry said slowly.

For a second Narcissa looked mutinous, but slowly nodded her head, “Harry please, you have to understand how much we, I appreciate what you’ve done for our family since the… the war.”

Harry started to feel queasy as Narcissa continued, “Surely you mustn’t think that we would repay your generosity by plotting behind your back! We… don’t have the same friends… connections… that we did before you see?”

Lucius was graying at his wife’s words, glaring at Harry, “I know when I have a chance to impose my will Mr. Potter. And I know when that power left this family as well.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Harry sighed, resigned.

“We could help if you need anything else,” Narcissa said encouragingly, nudging her husband.

Lucius was sullen for a while, staring out at the snowy landscape.

“What makes you think he’s back? I need specifics.”

Harry gave the two a brief overview of the case details Francesca had allowed him to share. To his dismay, Lucius did not seem impressed by the evidence.

“So this is blood purity, Mr. Potter, the Dark Lord was neither the first nor the last wizard to hold those beliefs, if that is all…”

“There is more,” Harry said, still deciding to divulge the last bit of information, “During one attack, we captured what we think was a ‘passage’ between a snake and a muggle.”

He described the security footage to the couple. This time, Lucius was rapt in attention.

“I suppose I could ask you if you saw specific interactions between Voldemort and snakes. He obviously kept Nagini quite close to him.”

Lucius hissed under his breath, “He said terrible things about her, perhaps he flitted into her- I’m not sure how exactly he did it.”

“It’s been a mystery to us whether she required special preparation to be a living horcrux…”

“I wouldn’t know! I was never there!” Lucius spat again.

“Right, okay,” Harry grumbled, “Do you know anyone that was?”

“My sister,” Narcissa offered, “Rabastan, Rudolphus… they are dead.”

“And you believe no one else knew.”

“They wouldn’t have stayed if they did!” Lucius squealed from his seat, “I wouldn’t. It was twisted stuff what he was doing. He was a slippery thing, saying what we wanted to hear.”

“What you wanted to hear was just a vile Mr. Malfoy,” Harry gritted, staring daggers at the man until he looked away again.

“Harry please,” Narcissa pleaded, “We don’t have many artifacts from that time anymore. The house was raided after the War and we… we don’t dabble in those things these days.”

‘Dabble’ Harry thought, like a hobby.

“Did your sister ever divulge any details to you about those meetings?” Harry gathered himself together once more.

“I didn’t want to know honestly,” Narcissa disappointed him once again, “She was rather mum about it all as well- I do think it is an awful thing to behold.”

“You know, he Him, you know,” Narcissa started timidly, “He was abroad quite a bit. Interested in other Ministry’s- I thought it was to expand his influence- but he always brought that snake with him.”

She continued, “My sister hated the thing- I swore she was jealous of it. But I- this is just me, rambling really- I never thought it was just a snake.”

Harry scratched a few notes in his book absentmindedly, frustrated with the half answers that he really believed to be the extent of the Malfoy’s knowledge.

“If it isn’t too much, could you bring me about the places where Voldemort resided in here?”

“Oh he never stayed the night,” Narcissa shook her head, “He never seemed to sleep at all or need to. He didn’t eat in front of us…”

“Did he occupy any room privately?”

“You people already searched this place more than once!” Lucius grunted again, impatiently.

“Would you mind if I looked around one more time?” Harry asked, “If you could accompany me…”

Lucius looked more than willing to bade Harry a frosty good riddance, but Narcissa nodded before he had the chance to say more.

“Why of course we could, if you would follow me.”

She guided Harry out of the parlor, back into the main hallway. Harry looked back once to see Lucius stricken in his chair, a palatable fear broadcasted on his features.

“The meetings were held mostly on the second floor, here” Narcissa had brought Harry up the right marble staircase, which had opened into a long room that could have served as a dining space or a dance hall. It now sat bare and empty of anything, the Large stone fireplace so pristine it was clear it had not been used in years.

“We don’t spend too much time in this wing,” Narcissa seemed to read Harry’s mind as they passed through the hall.

The next room was equally spacious, and Harry did recognize the second living room he, Ron and Hermione had been transported to after they had been captured. A gaping space where another chandelier once hung remained empty and again, the fireplace here was clean.

“We often were here to deal with the prisoners during that time,” Narcissa looked sickly herself as she gestured toward a small staircase that Harry knew led to a prison.

“He interrogated many in here,” They had entered a slightly smaller room just off the living room.

This room had no curtains or any furniture, save for a small wooden stool in one of the corners, “Most of the things in here were taken for investigation.”

The small room was the first of many down a narrow hallway and Narcissa hastily pushed open each door.

“This is where my sister would stay when she was around, here was Draco’s old room…”

A large canopy bedframe stood at the far wall of this spacious room and a single Slytherin banner clung desperately to the wall by one corner. But, like the other rooms, it was stripped and bare. Harry remembered walking into Sirius’ old bedroom and feeling the odd sense of his presence within the things he cherished and left behind. It was fitting in a way how little Draco had left of his own childhood, not unlike Harry, though under very different circumstances.

“We stayed in the room next door, of course we moved to the top floor of the house these days…”Narcissa was growing ever more anxious as they wandered down the hall.

“Did you ever consider leaving entirely?” Harry asked.

“Oh well this home was Lucius’ crowning joy,” Narcissa said breezily, “My father gave it as a wedding gift- we haven’t been a family outside of this home…”

Harry couldn’t understand her reasoning at all and chose to stay silent.

“Someday Draco may want to return of course. Or Scorpius when he decides to settle down.”

“I’m happy your grandson can be friends with my son,” Harry said, sincerely and watched Narcissa calm again, looking almost motherly as she gazed along the hall.

“Albus was very nice. I always thought you and Draco could have been friends- he was so much like Scorpius… of course you surely disagree, but I know him better than anyone. He was always trying his best.”

Harry really had nothing to say to this and Narcissa didn’t seem to expect an answer, “I do hope whatever they’ve got him working on comes with a promotion. He barely has time for me to stop by these days. I don’t even know if he sleeps in his own bed half of the week.”

She glanced at Harry imploringly and Harry had to look away so as not to give any indication that he was aware of Draco’s responsibilities.

“But I suppose it’s another secret,” She suddenly became frantic, eyeing Harry seriously, “You’re not using him to bait out allies of this new… group… are you. He truly wants nothing of it- surely, he’s explained he doesn’t see eye to eye with Lucius now days.”

“No, no, I’m sure he’s not being used for anything like that,” Harry said quickly, “I’ve only just come to you as an initial inquiry. I don’t even believe Draco would be aware of this… theory as of now.”

“Of course, why would he know anything important,” Lucius scowled at the end of hall, startling Harry and Narcissa, “Are you finished with this little tour?”

“Just one more room dear,” Narcissa crooned, pointing to the door at the end of the hall, “He would talk to certain followers privately in here and sometimes spend time alone.”

“Before you ask, it wasn’t us at this time,” growled Lucius, “It was to dispatch those that participated in his bidding. We were not trusted with anything but keeping house.”

“Severus would meet him here,” Narcissa offered.

“Bella-“

“Please dear we don’t need to say it!” Narcissa looked pained and again, Harry noticed Lucius actually display genuine concern.

“Sorry dear, her sister and the Lestranges, Pettigrew of course, and Greyback, Yaxley… the more important pieces I suppose.”

“And they just talked in here?” Harry pushed open the door.

Whether the Malfoy’s had answered, Harry couldn’t haven known because the air seemed to change immediately as he stepped into the final room. A blistering white noise buzzed in his ears and his headache seemed to split open once more. Again, he grabbed his forehead, tenderly rubbing the small lighting bolt. It neither intensified nor weakened the pain.

Harry grimaced, hating the ambiguity of his condition. The wavering answers that wouldn’t confirm or deny his ever-growing gut feeling that something terrible was coming closer.

At some point Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them, it was like he was seeing a vision plastered on the blurry features of the room. A great still water, stretching into a heavy darkness.

“Did Voldemort ever enter the Department of Mysteries?” Harry asked suddenly.

He’d frightened Narcissa, who had come to his side in concern.

“You mean to find the prophesy? No, he sent others, Nagini…” Lucius was studying Harry intently.

“He was never in any other room in there?” Harry pressed.

“I…I don’t know,” Lucius’ voice was a mere wisp in the room.

Harry brought his eyes toward the elder Malfoy, shock forming into horror as time passed.

“What do you suspect?”

“He… he mentioned something once. A place where you could speak to the dead. Surely…”

But Harry’s face must have said it all.

Chapter Text

Albus waited quietly under the Invisibility Cloak as Teddy chatted with McGonagall at the foot of the Headmistress’ office. Clearly, Teddy had not ultimately informed her of Albus’ accompaniment for whatever he had planned this evening.

“And I’ve told Hagrid many, many times, Centaurs have a very different view of the world than us. If they are concerned, it is vitally important you ask about measurements of time. Generations to us are mere moments in their eyes. I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I need to be certain about what exactly they have foreseen.” McGonagall looked like she hadn’t slept in days, but her voice seemed strict as ever.

“Will do Min- Headmistress.” Teddy nodded seriously, “I do hope it’s nothing…”

“Oh I’m sure,” McGonagall did try to look reassuring, “And it will be a good experience for your N.E.W.T.s if anything. Centaurs are one of the most cooperative magical beings and Aurors that can keep their respect are highly regarded.”

“How have you been feeling, Mr. Lupin” McGonagall looked pointedly at Teddy’s chestnut mop of hair.

“Oh just fine, you know- these exams are coming up.” Teddy grew red and looked away, “And just the prospect of the world these days seems uncertain.”

“Oh my Dear!” McGonagall looked wounded, “Please don’t worry so much, there’s nothing….”

But she trailed off, looking sadly into the distance, which meant right through Albus. He caught a glimpse of some dread within her.

“Ah Teddy m’boy!” The friendly roar of Hagrid gratefully punctured the somber exchange, “Jus’ need to grab my crossbow from the hut and we can be on our way.”

“Great! Ah goodnight, Headmistress.” Teddy scrambled after Hagrid, leaving McGonagall smiling sadly.

Albus paused as he watched her procure a letter from her robes, which he realized had been signed by his Uncle Ron. A small piece of paper floated out of the folds, which Al realized was actually a grainy photograph. Two young figures were skulking in the alley of an unidentifiable cobblestone street. Perhaps it was his inside knowledge, but Al already knew the figures were likely twins.

“Headmistress?” Another voice called from the corner of the hallway, cautious and waiting. Albus couldn’t match it to any of his teachers but it sounded so tantalizingly familiar.

“Oh please we don’t need that formality Draco,”

Scorpius’ father materialized from the shadows, causing Al to gasp and promptly cup his mouth beneath the cloak.

Luckily McGonagall had whisked her own robes in a flourish as she bent to pick up the photograph, masking any audible sound Al may have produced. Even more confusingly, she handed Draco the letter and photograph.

It was tempting to stay and understand this completely unexpected turn of events, but McGonagall beckoned towards the staircase to her office without saying much more, obviously planning to hold a more private conversation. Al briefly considered his chances at finding a way to slip into the office, but it seemed more prudent to catch up to Teddy and Hagrid.

Al’s thoughts were spinning as his bounded down the grassy slope towards Hagrid’s hut. Draco, Scorpius’ father, knew about the werewolves and was taking calls with the Headmistress at Hogwarts? In a rush, he forgot that the hillside was now riddled with widows into Luna’s underground classroom and tripped on a frame, noisily tumbling the last few yards into the dim lantern light surrounding the wooden dwelling.

“I was wondering where you’d gone off to,” Teddy chuckled as Albus’ scuffed face emerged from the invisibility cloak, “Here, Spiraer Caldus!”

A stack of hot air whistled out of Teddy’s wand, drying the dampness that Al had accrued on his clothes in his fall.

“Gotta remember tha’ one the next time I check on the grindylows,” Hagrid mumbled genially, “Hallo Al, nice to see ya.”

“Yes you as well!” Al hastily stuffed the cloak into the small duffle James had provided.

“Oh no, yer going to be wearing that all evening,” Hagrid pointed at the bag, “I told Teddy, if Minerva doesn’t know about it, I’m not taking any chances in the forest.”

“Right okay,” Al pulled the shimmering fabric back out, pausing, “You don’t mean the Forbidden Forest?”

“I absolutely do.” Hagrid nodded gravely, “And fairly deep into it as well, we are headed for Centaur Territory.”

“And what exactly does this have to do with… me?” Al treaded carefully, unsure if Hagrid even knew about his newfound ability.

To his dismay, the giant man patted him consolingly on the shoulder, “Now, now, there’s no reason to be ashamed of it. It’s related to something they’ve uncovered, well, hopefully.”

Teddy also looked supportive as they headed into the Forest, lifting the cloak over Al’s head as they were swallowed up into the darkness.

Hagrid’s crossbow  and lantern clanked as he made his way down a well-worn path, adding to the myriad of sounds coming from the forest and making Al exceptionally grateful that he was obscured under the invisibility cloak.

Pinpoints of light also twinkled in the darkness, some glinting off of snow-covered leaves and others, more ominously, looking like eyes without bodies.

A faint azure was visible just above him, and Al was happy to see it was from Hagrid’s lanternlight catching Teddy’s hair, which was bouncing in a lively way, newly colored in excitement.

“So, there is Bane, Sulla, Ronan and Magorian,” Teddy was chatting with Hagrid as they ventured further still into the forest.

“And Firenze, can’ forget him. The younger ones too- Acadia, Demogorn… they're his apprentices. I reckon they’ll be right important in jus’ a few years’ time.” Hagrid stopped at a point in the thicket that seemed to fork into two paths, “They’ll be near tha lake this night I believe, with the new moon and all.”

  “And how do you risk not offending them?” Teddy asked.

“Well it’s quite easy- don’t refer to them as common domesticated creatures, don’t believe they serve human purposes in any way. Mind you, they’ve tolerated much more since the War, but they are their own kind and expect an observance of that.” Hagrid started down the right path more carefully, as it became harder to distinguish safe footing amongst the overgrown moss and leaves.

 The trees now grew so close that the snow had yet to reach the forest floor, and the darkness seemed to be actively fighting against the light coming from Hagrid’s lantern, now feebly flickering.

Other sounds were coming more pronounced now as well. Skittering and scratching of claws on bark, the echoing howls that made it impossible to tell which direction they originated from. And a layer of sounds that felt were whispers just below his comprehension.

‘ssssurely I will bring itttttt”

“I will be ssssso rewarded.”

Al froze again, his eyes darting downward, searching for the source of the parseltongue. Yet no movement seemed near the path.

“Teddy,” He hissed, “Teddy I can hear the snakes in here!”

Hagrid and Teddy stopped so suddenly, Al ran into the calf of the former.

“See!” Teddy whispered, finding it hard to keep his voice low, “I told you it was snakes! The Centaurs were right- they thought the animals were changing.”

Hagrid looked more morose, his black eyes narrowing, “The Centaurs don’t trust the serpents, Teddy. I don’t want to scare them with a child that seems aligned…”

“Fine then he can stay under the cloak,” Teddy still looked optimistic, “Al, can you make out what they’re saying.”

Al listened again into the darkness, but the voice had faded into the distance, “Well I thought I heard him searching for something… but I don’t know Teddy, he could have been just hunting for food.”

Teddy only looked slightly deterred, “Well, it’s no matter, just keep your ears open and whatever you hear is what it is.”

“We oughta be close by anyway,” Hagrid mumbled as he brushed away a few large fern leaves, “Watch ya footing here, the roots are hidden,”

The forest foliage had become almost claustrophobic at this point, but suddenly gave way to a spacious expanse. Here the trees were significantly taller, with wide canopies and complex, gnarled root systems. They looked ancient and if Al let his imagination roam, almost as if they were trying to pull themselves out of ground. Stunningly too, the branches waned just ahead of Al, right where a gleaming pond sat, reflecting the star patterns above in its mirrorlike surface with perfect clarity.

“Hagrid,” A deep voice bellowed from the other side of the pond, and Al gasped as more large figures emerged from tops of roots and behind the wide tree trunks, “We have been awaiting your reply.”

The Centaurs seemed unsurprised that Hagrid had come tonight, and Al wondered how useful his cloak actually was in hiding his presence. But as a few individuals approached them, they gave no indication, or maybe did not care, that they detected him.

“Oh erm, right,” Hagrid suddenly looked uncomfortable and glanced quickly at Teddy and Al, “I’m afraid I hav’ to disappoint you Magorian, you see I come to hear more of your readings.”

He gestured to Teddy, who jerkily bowed, “This here is a young student, Theodore Lupin- he’s a sort of apprentice of mine and aspires to be an Auror someday. One that might act in a diplomatic way between magical folk…”

The Centaurs did not seem particularly pleased with this introduction and muttered between themselves.

“We welcome young Theodore, but do not believe this is the time for youth in this forest,” A ruddy Centaur with thick red hair finally spoke.

 “You are Ronan?” Teddy spoke in a much braver voice than Al could have done under the gaze of so many fearsome figures, “I have a great interest in learning more about your knowledge in the stars and I believe I can help you communicate with the right people.”

“Does this foal know him?” Ronan did seem more amendable to Teddy even as he eyed Hagrid. He even managed to lower his head in his direction.

“He does Ronan yes, erm, I was wondering if we could set some facts straight again, you know, before we discuss that matter.” Hagrid stammered, eyeing Teddy apologetically.

A dark, severe-looking Centaur bristled behind Ronan, “There is no more to be revealed! We do not ask favors of the humans often. Surely you must realize the urgency of our request!”

“Bane, I understand completely, jus’ help me with the details again,” Hagrid scanned the faces of the Centaurs, “If Firenze…”

“Firenze is occupied tonight with his apprentices!” Bane drew himself higher, looking terrifying, “You can trust that we all are capable of communication!”

“Hagrid, I thought we were asking about the prophesy…” Teddy treaded back into the conversation the way one might dip their toes in icy water.

“A prophesy!” Ronan now looked murderous, “What we have foretold is not the alignment of the stars! It requires intervention.”

Al shivered under the cloak, feeling the meeting was both unreadable and futile. He gazed behind the gathering of Centaurs towards the small body of water. Near the edge, a ripple disturbed the perfect expression of the sky above. It was moving too, very unlike the motion of a fish breaking the surface. Closer and closer it got to the shore and to A’s amazement, the ripples turned into the slithering form of a long, black snake, which darted up between the tangle of roots.

As quietly as possible, Al slipped away from Hagrid and Teddy, who were still negotiating some incomprehensible deal with the Centaurs. A few minutes later, he thought he had completely lost the snake and also was not confident on the exact way back to the group.

“Nothingsss… nothingsss….”

Al heard the unmistakable sound just ahead of him and crept further into the forest. It was eerily quiet in this part of the woods he suddenly thought, fear gripping him at once as he failed to hear the chirpings and growls that had otherwise filled the silence. He froze, concentrating on the parseltongue still murmuring close by.

A large, long body descended into the path in front of him, moving at a frightening pace and Al willed his reluctant legs to keep up.

“Nothingsss….it is not here… oh he will be dissspleassed…”

Those words did not sound like hunting, Al thought to himself. The snake seemed large but not aggressive and Al was deciding whether to reveal himself when it suddenly swiveled its head, its bronze eyes fixed on the exact spot where Al stood.

“A ssstranger is here but I cannot ssseee…” The snake opened its mouth as if tasting the air, revealing two long fangs.

Al, once again, was catatonic, “Please, I…. I’m a friend.”

“Master?” If snakes could look elated, Al guessed they would look like this one, “Master I have waited, I have heard your whisssspersss.”

Was there another parseltongue hiding out in the Forest? Al shivered at the thought and his mind grew ever darker as the rumors in the school flooded his mind. He desperately needed to get back to Hagrid and Teddy.

“Master?”

“Have you found it?” Al blurted out, hoping he had understood the snake’s bemoaning correctly.

It seemed so, as the serpent recoiled. Dissipated hissing followed before it answered, “I’ve tried master, I have but it isss a large foresssst and sssso many dissturbances. If I only had a clue what it looked like… do you know master?”

“No of course not,” Al tried to sound irritated, “I must tell you that I need…it soon.”

“Are you that ssstrong, Master!” The snake exclaimed, “I musssst tell the othersss. They must ssssee you!”

“Fetch them!” Al said

“They are ssso close if you follow me…”

His feet felt like lead but as the snake slithered a few feet ahead, he began to slide them backwards, hoping to mask any obvious sign of a walking human. Dread was inching through every vein in his body however, and once he heard another whisper of ‘Master?’, Al simply turned and ran headlong in the opposite direction.

For how little or how long he ran, Al couldn’t have said, but at some point he knew he had hopelessly lost direction and had to stop, peering frantically at the treetops to see the stars. Had Orion’s belt been to the north? Al made a note to pay more attention in Astronomy if he ever emerged from the forest again.

“Imposssster!” The snake language was livid and to Al’s horror, coming from many different voices.

The roots of the elder trees cast curving blackness in the night but now many seemed to writhe into motion as at least six snakes descended towards Al.

Now it didn’t matter where he was running as long as it was away from the snakes. Al could feel the fringes of the invisibility cloak whip high around his legs, likely exposing his feet to the snakes in pursuit. He couldn’t care, they probably smelled him already.

“Sssssneak!”

“Sssssly liarsssss!”

The ground was becoming rocky and Al felt himself slide more than once on slick stone. He didn’t dare look back and couldn’t tell if the rustling just behind him was his own footsteps echoing or…

Something hit the back of Al’s neck just as a high whistling noise sped past his ear. He hit the ground hard and lay splayed out and half covered by the cloak in shock.

Shrieks rang out as more whistling zoomed above him. The hissing continued but seemed to be getting father away. Al gingerly grasped the back of his neck and pulled his hand back to his face. It was dark and he was wet from sweat and the fall, but he couldn’t discern any redness that would indicate a bite. Feebly he stirred and held himself up by his elbows.

The great snake was twitching a mere meter from his foot and Al drew his legs back quickly.

Bronze eyes still shimmered murderously at him, but Al realized the snake would be dead soon, succumbing to an arrow that had impaled it just below its head and pinned it to the ground.

“Himssss again! He knowsss, he knowsss!” The snake seemed to be lamenting to some other invisible being and Al instinctively tugged the cloak back around him, “ohhh time issss of the esssssence!”

“You!” A strong voice accompanied by the familiar sound of hoofs made Al cry out in both fright and relief.

He turned and saw a young-looking Centaur, not one that had initially greeted Hagrid and Teddy, with thick, braided hair that mixed with the night sky.

“Hi,” Al sputtered, positively shaking as the cold rattled through his body, now pouring sweat from adrenaline, “I’m lost.”

“Not far from the other humans,” The Centaur stated factually, little sympathy for Al’s state coming through.

“What’s your name?” Al tried as he wobbled to his feet, folding the invisibility cloak on his arm. He noticed the Centaur keenly fix upon it.

“Demogorn.” The Centaur replied, “Is that your possession?”

“You’re Firenze’s apprentice?” Al gripped the cloak tighter, “It’s shared in my family.”

“You know us then,” this seemed to calm the Centaur some and Al realized his unannounced presence in the forest had probably frightened the Centaur as much as himself.

“I’m friends with Hagrid and his apprentice Teddy. They’re here tonight too and I need to find them.” Al hoped some of the strain in his voice might communicate how desperately he wanted to leave.

“You are friends with Hagrid,” the Centaur was weighing his words with a numbing lack of urgency.

Finally, he nodded and simply said, “Come.”

Al had to walk fast to keep pace with the centaur, but eventually got his wits about him as the forest started to look more familiar, “Thank you by the way. I don’t know how I would have outrun those snakes- it was stupid of me to leave.”

“Why did you seek them?” The Centaur almost sounded conspiratorial as he lowered his head towards Al.

“I… I heard them,” Al spoke slowly, “I can understand them.”

“Who are you?” More emotion flooded the Centaur as he studied Al’s face.

“Demogorn I’m disappointed you do not recognize him.” Another, deeper voice materialized in front of the two, “This is Albus Potter, son of Harry Potter.”

Even in the darkness, the platinum blonde hair of this Centaur was easily visible, “Albus Potter, I am Firenze, a teacher and friend of your father.”

Al could feel his hand being gripped tightly in a handshake as the elder Centaur smiled at him, by far the friendliest encounter Al had experienced. Behind him, another young Centaur watched closely.

“Are you Acadia?” Al nodded at the second youth, who seemed to share the same warmth as his mentor and smiled.

“Firenze, they allowed a serpent-tongue into the forest.” Demogorn seemed shaken as he backed away from Al.

“Only that he is but the youngest foal that I will chastise our friend Hagrid.” Firenze waved as if to calm his apprentice, “I do not detect mal intent in him.”

“No,” Al stammered breathlessly, “No I’ve only just discovered it, and I could hear it everywhere. They attacked me.”

“Why?”

“Because I tricked them. They were speaking as if I was their master.” Al shuddered once more.

“That is what they called you, young one?” Firenze’s calm voice was the only thing keeping Al from falling into another panic.

“Yes. They were looking for something and I tried to find out what, but they discovered me.”

“Most brave and reckless,” Al could have sworn Firenze was chuckling, “You are of the most brave and reckless blood.”

This seemed to sober the Centaur, “Come, child- Hagrid and his young companion are worried.”

“How long have been gone?” Al hoped he hadn’t scared Hagrid and Teddy too much.

“Longer than the course of their conversation,” Firenze offered, “But not so long for you to wander beyond our reach.”

Al guessed this was supposed to be helpful.

“Albus son of Harry Potter,” Firenze seemed lost in thoughts, “Albus Potter namesake of Albus Dumbledore.”

“It’s a lot to live up to, believe me,” Albus said.

“You will,” Firenze said plainly, looking up at the sky so he missed Al’s shocked expression.

At the top of an embankment, he paused, looking almost unsure of his next words.

“Albus Potter, may I ask of your help?”

“Anything,” Albus wasn’t expecting this request, nor did he know if he could fulfill it, “You’ve saved my life.”

“Albus Potter, I need you to tell your father that he must return to these grounds. There is great evil emerging from other worlds. But this we know, he must return. For he has saw Death in this forest and walked away. He must do what only he can repay.”

Those words did not sit well with Al and he cursed himself inwardly as his shaking became more violent. Acadia seemed to notice.

“Mentor is it wise to ask this of him when Hagrid refuses? Ask this of his son?”

Firenze again drew his hand toward the young centaur, “It must happen. These grounds must see the return of Harry Potter. Only then does fate realign-I’ve seen it so.”

“What type of evil?” Al spoke after a minute.

“The type of evil that does not rest,” said Firenze mournfully, beginning to descend once again, “The type of evil so unbound from order that it mutates and destroys.”

“People are being attacked,” said Al quietly.

“As we have foreseen.”

“They think Voldemort has returned.”

“The one who crept into this forest,” spoke Firenze solemnly, “Walked in many bodies. This evil has been unbound from bodies. It shifts the stars in ways beyond human capability… it is unnatural…”

“Firenze has found the foal!” the gravelly voice of Bane shouted as his large form appeared behind a tree. Just beyond, Al could now see the small pond where they had met the herd.

“Al!” Teddy screamed as he rushed forward and to Al’s remorse, saw his face was tear-streaked.   

“I’m so sorry,” Al could feel cold tears spilling from his eyes as well.

“You brought a mere child into the forest,” Firenze sounded much more severe as he addressed Hagrid and Teddy, “You brought him disguised and unannounced. This is disrespect.”

“Al, were you attacked?” Teddy looked impossibly more shamed as he examined Al’s bruised face, siphoning off the dampness on his clothes for a second time this night.

Hagrid was nodding under the further accusations and Al’s guilt was growing to an apex, “Please, I was just supposed to stay close. I left on my own.”

“This foal is a serpent-tongue,” Firenze turned to Bane and Magorian, who actually rose on their haunches.

“Does he…”

“No,” Firenze shifted in front of Al protectively, “He only understands, he does not command.”

“Then we shall escort him from this forest, as it is not safe for someone like him.” Bane replied, though his eyes glittered suspiciously.

Al had never been so happy to see the glow from the windows of Hogwarts as the Centaurs bade them farewell at the edge of the Forest, their forms melting into the trees as they retreated. Only Firenze stayed behind, watching.

“Albus Potter,” He called, before also disappearing, “Please consider.”

They clamored into Hagrid’s hut and Hagrid basically strongarmed Al into a puffy, overstuffed chair near his fireplace, “Al you are your father’s son, you are,” He muttered as he threw something that looked like a biscuit on the flame and began a pot of tea.

“Did Firenze ask you to tell your father to return here?” Teddy took a seat across from Al, looking bleak and forlorn.

Al nodded weakly, shrinking into the pillows, “It sounded like he needed to… to die…”

“Ruddy bastards,” Hagrid swore into the fire, procuring the now warmed biscuit and setting it on a plate, offering it to Al, “I told ‘em, I’m not telling Harry nothing unless they can give me something more. I’m not leading him to slaughter again!”

They sat in silence as Al carefully nibbled on the biscuit, which was still quite hard.

“Al, did you find more snakes?” Teddy looked at him expectantly, “The Centaurs have been hearing them whisper more and more and we thought they might be prophesying. I’m so sorry they attacked you, they usually run from us.”

“I provoked them,” Al said, “I heard them talking about finding something and spoke to one.”

He recounted how the snake initially believed Al to be his ‘Master’, watching similar horror wear itself plainly on both Teddy and Hagrid.

“…but they didn’t tell me anything.” He finished, stewing in his own frustrations.

“Well I think this has told us a great deal!” Teddy exclaimed, gazing thoughtfully into the crackling embers before them.

“They thought you were a ghost for one and… well we do know he was once something like that. So, we have strong evidence that there is something bodyless that is giving commands in parseltongue.”

“Fairly short list of suspects there,” Hagrid looked unhappy by this as he splashed hot liquid into mismatched cups, “But I don’t think it’s enough Ted. Not enough to jus’ bring him ‘ere without precautions.”

“I think it’s enough to tell McGonagall and let her decide!” Teddy insisted, “Hagrid it’s been barely a year since you said the Centaurs came to you and we might have…”

He kept his voice just audible, “Voldemort floating about the forest! At the school!”

Hagrid shoved a mug roughly into Al and Teddy’s hands, dragging a tiny wooden stool near the fire and taking a long swig of his own drink. He didn’t say anything for what felt like hours and Teddy didn’t dare speak again.

“I saw him drop dead Teddy, dead.” There was a desperation under all the gruffness and Al could see the same dread in Hagrid’s eyes as he saw in McGonagall’s lifetimes ago before he had set out in the forest.

He ran his finger along the smoothed wood of his mug, “Firenze said something to me about an evil that was mutating. That it had been unbound from a body.”

“And what the bloody hell is tha’ supposed to mean.” Hagrid mumbled, “It’s no good, these astrological predictions….”

“What are the signs they are talking about?” Al wondered if the explanation would be more or less discernable than his average divination class.

It did seem like the latter as Hagrid and Teddy both sighed.

“They say the stars are disappearing, that they are out of alignment and their herd’s measurements have never been wrong in a thousand years but now are failing.” Teddy looked to Hagrid and received an affirmative huff.

“Yep, basically that,” The giant man shook his head, “They can’ make heads or tails of the future, be it a century or next week. Not that they will share their methods or nothin’.”

Hagrid had added something into his tea from a small metal flask. The three sipped their drinks in an uneasy silence, unable to form new ideas. At some point, all three had dozed off and Al only awoke when Teddy had grasped his shoulder.

Despite the awkward position, Al felt immensely well-rested but started as realized it had clearly been several hours. A faint yellow hue spotted the cabin from the stained glass windows.

“It’s still early, don’t worry.” Teddy assured him as he placed the mugs in a little sink. Hagrid was leaning against the wall, snoring regularly.

“We should go, it’s really been a night, and I hope McGonagall didn’t stay up waiting.” Quietly, the two exited the hut, Al once again throwing the invisibility cloak around him as they made their way up to the castle.

The smells of breakfast hash and pastries filled Al’s nose as they crossed the Great Hall, the kitchens just below.

“Al, you’re sure you weren’t hurt at all?” Teddy took at seat in a secluded alcove and Al sat beside him, shrugging off the cloak.

Other than a small bruise on his chin, the scratches on his elbows and knees weren’t visible and didn’t hurt too much.

“I’m so sorry for not warning you.”

“Well I did run off, Teddy.”

“And I know exactly how you are, Al- I should have been more responsible.” Teddy’s hair had returned to a limp, washed out brown.

“Teddy, should I tell my dad. Is it bad to break a promise with a Centaur?” Al could see Teddy shudder as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Let me tell McGonagall what we heard. I’ll find a way to explain the snakes without telling too much…” he trailed off, an odd, childlike expression on his face.

“Al I don’t know what I would do if your Dad…wasn’t around.”

Teddy’s voice was small and distant, “I don’t know how he did it. I’m about to come of age this spring and I can’t fathom… he had lost Sirius and Dumbledore by then.”

Al did not know what to say.

“I couldn’t imagine a world without him or Ron or Hermione. McGonagall… doesn’t she look so tired to you?”

Al nodded numbly. It bothered him, seeing Teddy come apart with the very fears he himself held- Teddy, who was older and didn’t get afraid of little changes and problems.

“Sorry Al, I… I just… and Victoire is becoming so serious about us. Same with Roxanne, they talk about it constantly these days. It feels like they are in a different world from me and if I leave her how could I come back...”

“Teddy you are always going to be part of our family!” Al felt confident enough to at least say that much.

“And this Auror stuff is just going to be more of last night… catching ghosts and unclear futures… I just, I try to see myself five years from now and I can’t. And I don’t know what it means.”

“I think you’ll be great Teddy. Last night, you were so calm handling the Centaurs. I couldn’t…”

“Oh, you could Al, believe me.” But Teddy did seem to be in better spirits, “It’s just been a rough year is all. It’s the first time in my life that these things actually bother me… that everyone’s making these choices that are going to affect everything…”

“And no one really knows what’s going on,” Al replied, heavily.

“You really did help us. I hope you know that.” Teddy said, before getting up and checking the halls for Filch, “That ability is going to come in handy.”

For the first time since Luna’s lesson, Al didn’t feel like his talent was some kind of curse. It was going to be awhile, maybe a lifetime before he could feel proud about it, but at least he longer wanted to completely excise it from himself.

But other mixed feelings rose inside Al as he crept back to the Slytherin dormitory. It was mind boggling that Teddy would feel so alienated by the only family he knew, especially given that he hoped to follow right in his Dad and Uncles’ footsteps.

But an answer bubbled quietly into his thoughts as he could imagine his father saying every word of Teddy’s admission.

Chapter Text

Harry burst into in his office in a flurry, throwing his cloak on a cabinet near the door and scrambling his way into his chair. Leaning forward, he let his forehead touch the cool wood of the desk, feeling some relief from the throbbing and dizziness that engulfed him since leaving Malfoy Manor. He was shaking on purpose because he was terrified of what might happen if he let himself be still. It had been more than a year since his last catatonic episode, at least one that required intervention.

His breaths were too shallow and rapid, and Harry felt a constriction start deep in his stomach, twisting around his intestines and crawling higher along his spine. He closed his eyes and willed a familiar montage of memories that the Healer who often treated him suggested. But now he was seeing other visions besides his own sunlit kitchen, the burrow, his children walking happily in Diagon Alley. Set on top of them like poorly developed film, he was watching sickly dark water lap up and down stone, and some muddy path snaking through tree roots. He was rushing down that path, falling headlong into the water…

“NO!” Harry shot up from his position with such force that his chair nearly toppled backwards. Thankfully, in his clamber to regain balance, he’d shook off the worst of his symptoms, the knots in his abdomen untangling.

Harry had always suspected a Giant had bested him or perhaps Fenrir had laid a cursed entrapment. Katie didn’t know exactly how much damage her spells had done, and Harry had no intention of telling her. Naively, he had expected that his attacks might have come to an end once the source had been known. But knowledge didn’t heal that way, he thought ruefully, and he was getting pretty tired of knowing so much and solving nothing.

Narcissa had insisted he stay at the manor until the very moment he recrossed the enchanted gates and apparated back to the Ministry. Lucius had followed her every step but had said nothing, looking too afraid for himself to give much more attention for Harry.

They were quite the pair, the Malfoys. Harry massaged his temple as he remembered the last time he’d seen Draco’s father.

“I swear I had no wand during any part of the attack on that school!” Lucius’s cold gray eyes seemed wild, bluish specks cracking through the irises as if reflecting the mounting pressure clearly building in the old man.

He was seated in an equally cold slate chair. And while he flailed his arms with passion, his ankles were fastened tightly to the legs. This was the first trial of the day. Or rather, it was yet to be determined if it would become a trial, based on the information Malfoy was ready to give up for his freedom. 

Harry was sitting next to a mid-career Auror, who would one day be his boss. She had large box braids that swooped down her shoulders and wore hefty gold earrings that looked like discs punched into her earlobes. She had acknowledged Harry kindly when he had taken a seat but unlike most other wizards, did not exclaim some frantic recognition, to which he was grateful.

“Is it really necessary to withhold me this way?” Lucius made an effort to look particularly uncomfortable has he adjusted in his seat.

A venomous swell of muttering swept through the courtroom and silenced the pale man, who seemed to shrink and scan the room for a potential ally.

But long gone were the days that Lucius would hope to see a friend in any position in the Ministry. Mafalda Hopkirk was scribbling furiously just in front of Malfoy and gave him a withering glare. She was planning to retire only after every Death Eater and adjacent alliance had been prosecuted. To her left and right were Eustace Hamline and Isaiah Myers, the remaining Aurors of Mad-eye Moody’s elite crew, and while they usually kept their faces devoid of emotion, the loss of Tonks to their ranks was clearly on their mind as they glowered at Lucius like an invasive pest.

There were more of these all throughout the Courtroom, Minerva McGonagall-new Headmistress of Hogwarts, parents of children that attended the school, newly graduated students filled into Ministry positions because of the sheer loss of the workforce. And seated in a high booth raised just above Mafalda, Kingsley Shacklebolt observed him passively. This was the first Minister since Lucius started his own career, that he hadn’t invited over to dinner before they had assumed the position. He tried to swallow the large lump that had rolled itself in his throat but found his mouth had gone quite dry.

“He’s only just realized how alone he is,” Harry wasn’t sure if the Auror next to him was speaking to herself or starting a conversation.

He gave a small nod, “Hopefully he’ll be quick about spilling his secrets then, save us all some time and embarrassment.”

“How much information do you think is worth his freedom?”

“I don’t care,” Harry said, “About the numbers of names or anything. I want him to tell us everything no matter what everything is.”

The witch didn’t immediately answer and when Harry turned to her, he realized she was looking at him with all her quiet intensity.

“That’s an interesting answer.” She said finally, though it looked like a much more thorough dialogue had passed, unsaid.

“Erm, thanks,” Harry looked down at his knees to escape her scrutiny, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Francesca Pesci. I work alongside Colin Dornish. Lost half our group in the year leading up to the Battle.”

“Oh,” Harry shifted in discomfort, “Listen I’m sorry if I offended…”

“Oh no no.” She waved her fingers nimbly, “It’s a good answer. I was surprised it came from you.”

“Let’s settle down and begin.” Kingsley’s booming voice brought the chattering to a halt, “Mafalda are we good to go?”

“Yes Minister,” Mafalda squeaked with vigor, “Charges are as follows: Bribery of ministry officials, sedition third degree, providing cover for illicit illegal groups, providing assistance for illicit illegal groups…”

“They’re relatively weak charges,” Francesca had turned to Harry again, “He got very lucky that many Death Eaters openly mocked him during Voldemort’s rule. His wand was taken, his house more or less invaded. He has a favorable case to plead coercion by threat of death or bodily harm.”

“Then why confess here?” Harry replied, “He escaped persecution by less last time.”

“Because” Francesca said, “He has a vested interest in putting a great deal of those Death Eaters away for his own safety. And I suspect, he hopes his cooperation will win him some status back under this new administration.”

“Not likely,” Harry muttered, watching Mafalda all but spit as she finished listing the charges.

Again, Francesca looked at Harry, “I heard a rumor that his wife granted full clemency by effect of an anonymous testimony. It must have been quite the inside information to have resulted in that generous of a pardon.”

Harry gulped. He could feel her eagle eyes gouging into his temple, as if his mind had already alluded that he was the anonymous tip, and she was extracting this confession.

“I think the Battle really showed where a lot of loyalties lie.” He mumbled evasively. Though, in the back of mind, he wondered just how long the memory of the Malfoys’ lasted and whether it was wise to gamble on their loyalty.

“The defendant may now present the court with any and all information he believes will lead to the identification or location of known Death Eaters or individuals aligned with them. Equal deference will be given for information on individuals that were cursed, threatened, or otherwise coerced into aiding and abetting Death Eaters or individuals aligned with them.” Kingsley boomed again, and leaned forward in his seat, “You may begin, Mr. Malfoy.”

As if charmed by the locomotor spell to the mouth, Lucius began prattling off name after name of every individual that had stepped into his homes over the past year. Two, including the late Pius Thicknesse and an unfortunate courier who had already been cleared, were identified as Imperiused.

Harry felt an odd sense of déjà vu as Mafalda, Kingsley, and about three other judges quickly checked the information with their own findings. Lucius eyes bulged at the mention of each name already caught and processed, his bargaining chips disappearing like smoke before his eyes. He remembered watching Igor Kakaroff in the memory of Albus Dumbledore and his heart squeezed painfully tight at the reminder of his Headmaster. History was repeating itself before his eyes.

“I…I have more locations,” Lucius seemed to whimper as the cross checking slowed. Kingsley didn’t say a word but raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

“I have a summer cottage just outside of Avon-on-the-sea. I never officially held any activities there but there were many in the innermost circle that would have known its existence, and it is equipped with the standard anti-detection charms.” He said this slowly, as if mulling over the possibility of someone hiding there.

“Have you visited this location yourself between the Battle at Hogwarts and your arrest?” Kingsley spoke calmly, but Harry could detect the slightest ounce of intrigued in his voice.

“No, no we haven’t gone there for years,” Lucius answered, the slightest glimmer of hope now shining from his own eyes as he, too, detected the smallest amount of positivity.

“And you’ll provide a full description of any protection…”

“Yes! Yes!” Lucius attempted to leap from his seat, only to be reminded of his position as the restraints rattled loudly.

“Is there anything more you would like to share?” Kingsley said after Mafalda and the other judges indicated the completion of their notes.  

Lucius seemed to regain some of his shrewdness. Scanning the room, he paused before continuing, “I suppose there’s more. If you ask me anything I can certainly provide…”

“You will provide everything you know Mr. Malfoy. We do not inquire about information for the purposes of avoiding misleading or untrue comments or chancing the reveal of our inquiries to unfriendly confidants.” Kingsley spoke rather impatiently, reciting his earlier instructions and making it clear he did not enjoy repeating himself.

“Quite right, quite right,” Lucius said quickly, shrinking under his gaze and the newly arisen mutterings around the courtroom, “Okay…”

Almost another hour had gone by once Lucius stopped speaking, having revealed more codenames, associates, locations and even standing targets. He’d implicated the heads of five pureblood families as being directly involved in the most severe of crimes- crucial because the ringleaders had all done a good job of hiding their direct involvement in the most heinous actions.

“So, has he met your expectations?”

Harry had zoned out during the rambling, only half hearing the details of the crimes. He’d been focusing on the facial expressions of Lucius. Not once had he seen something close to remorse flit across the pale features. Relief maybe, but mostly a hideous hybrid of desperation and arrogance was worn for most of the performance. And it had been a performance, Harry was sure. Somehow, he believed that Lucius had, in fact, spilled every secret from his consciousness, but the feeling Harry thought he’d have was not there.

“I don’t know.” Harry replied after a time.

“Reconciliation is not something you come across in this line of work often,” Francesca placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You should meet Colin. We need all the help we can get at the moment regarding the structure of Voldemort’s regime. I have a feeling you may know more than most of us.”

“I would be more than happy to help,” Harry looked at her, surprised, “But I don’t know what I could provide. I’ve already talked to McGonagall about what I witnessed.”

“She has already briefed us on your account, which we found insightful,” Francesca waved her hand amicably, “She also mentioned your intention to perhaps become an Auror.”

Harry let out a small, mirthless laugh, “I couldn’t tell you if I plan to even return to school much less…”

But Francesca cut him off, “We are already discussing apprenticeship arrangements for students in your year and the year below. Please.”

She fixed him again with another omniscient stare, “I think you’ll find this meeting fruitful in more ways than one.”

He’d started his career off the last interaction with Lucius and Harry wondered what this current meet up would soon bring about. It seemed the Malfoys were always the canary in the coal mine for big things to come.

With his panic subsiding, he checked over his notes from the meeting with the Malfoys, hesitating at the end of the paragraphs, which included detailed conversation and character observations until just before his vision in the east wing room. Francesca should probably be informed. He had divulged his particular weakness to Voldemort’s Legilimency when he started his Auror training and his boss knew about his teenaged visions, but it had never been an issue in his decade and a half of service.

Harry swiveled his head to look out his office window. The Atrium was dark as most wizards had wrapped up their jobs and gone home for the evening. But there was a faithful glow coming from the Minister’s office that promised both understanding and advice.

Harry knocked on Hermione’s door and was surprised when she opened it in quite the hurry.

“I take it you were expecting someone else?” He quipped, seeing her slightly crestfallen face, “Taller, red hair?”

“Oh Harry! Oh…no, I mean he is due to arrive this evening but not yet…” Hermione looked out of sorts and Harry remembered he had seen McGonagall rushing through the Ministry earlier that day.

“Are the… students okay?” He queried.

“Yes, oh you saw Minerva I bet, really don’t miss anything do you?” Hermione ushered Harry into her office.

He spotted two empty cups of tea on a small table overlooking the atrium, perhaps from the Headmistress’ visit. Then again, he had seen another visitor in the office as well.

“And how is the ah… lake at the bottom of our Ministry doing?”

Hermione almost laughed, “Harry, I swear you ought to be in higher intelligence I don’t know why you won’t take that promotion.”

She laughed nervously but seeing that Harry hadn’t taken to her stalling, shrank a bit as she leaned on her desk, “I’m not going to tell you much because you’re supposed to hear it along with everyone else on Monday but,” she paused, her lips pulled into the thinnest line, “Cetus is uncertain that the… body… will stay inert as initially described.”

“So it’s changing?” Harry’s stress from the day was whipped off him from sheer curiosity.

“Well, sort of…” It was rare to see Hermione struggle this much with an explanation, “Either that or they’ve just tuned their instruments in just the right way but… they believe they’ve detected voices again.”

“But that’s all I’m comfortable telling you!” She raised her hand warningly as Harry made to ask further questions. She finally took a good look at him and her brows knit in concern.

“Harry, are you alright? Why did you come up here?”

“Oh, right,” Harry now spent a few seconds deciding on how best to broach the subject, “Hermione I want to tell you something and I’d like some advice. And tell me I’m mental if that’s how it sounds.”

“Harry you’ve been mental millions of times at this point, and it’s rarely lead you astray,” Hermione was clearly thinking of Katie, “But I’ll listen.”

“I went to the Malfoy’s today to talk to them about possible reemergence of either Death Eater ideology or… well Voldemort himself.”

Hermione gasped softly, “Oh that’s right! I was expecting Francesca to brief me about it tomorrow. Did it not go well?”

“Well it… they don’t know anything Hermione,” Harry replied, “Narcissa would rather avoid all talk of it and Lucius, he’s… a shell of his former self.”

Hermione looked doubtful but nodded for him to continue.

“I asked Narcissa for a tour of their home, ostensibly to survey for artifacts or hints of recent magic, and we came to this tiny room that they described as a sort of private meeting room between Voldemort and his inner circle and…” Harry finally let his voice run into nothingness. Part of him wanted to tell Hermione a lie and figure out his predicament alone, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a plausible cover.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice was sharp and cut through his thoughts.

“I stepped in this room Hermione, and I swear it felt like my head was splitting in two and I… I had a vision, I think. Like I did before…”

“Oh Harry!” Hermione leapt up and grabbed his shoulders bracingly, “And you’re sure you saw it? It wasn’t an aura or a spell by the Malfoys?”

“No I don’t think so,” Harry replied weakly.

Hermione studied his features as she concocted more questions, “And what did you see?”

“A great dark lake, Hermione…” Harry had hoped she would look excited, but instead her face looked even more uncertain, “A path that looked like the Forbidden Forest as well that maybe lead to water but I’m unsure now if it’s the same lake…”

“And you know it’s the Forbidden Forest?” Hermione squinted at him.

Logically, these were the necessary questions Harry needed to make sense of what he saw, but he huffed irritably all the same, “I mean, it was dense and looked like the forest and I felt like I was recognizing it as I saw it.”

But in truth, Harry realized he did not have clear evidence of the clarity of his vision. Hermione seemed to have moved on however as she tilted her head, “So you were seeing yourself in first person?”

“What? Oh yeah like I always do,” Harry backed away from her and sat down on a seat near the window. He really should have organized his thoughts later.

“So…” Hermione started more gently as she walked to the window, looking out at the dim atrium, “How are you moving during these visions?”

Harry thought for a moment. He had been moving quite fast through the scenery, as if gliding or maybe slithering, “It was a lot like the snake that attacked Arthur.” He said finally.

“So, an animal?” Hermione pushed.

“Yeah, or a ghost. I was well above the ground at one point, over the lake…” Harry watched a pained expression cross Hermione’s eyes.

“Harry I don’t think… we’ve never heard him.” Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose, “Okay, I’m going to tell you something Cetus has been working on, but I swear Harry you can’t tell a soul!”

Harry watched Hermione pace in front of him, wringing her hands, “Cetus has been combing some of the most ancient libraries looking for accounts of the veil or whatever it’s turned into now. He believes he’s found a source that describes some sort of fluid portal between the living world and the dead and potentially uses for this type of object.”

She looked at Harry meaningfully, “He’s having a hard time with the translation- he thinks it’s Illyrian but mixed with something else that he cannot recognize at all. It’s a very old language, and he believes the author is a witch,” she paused again, “From Albania.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “That can’t be a coincidence.”

Hermione did not seem to like this answer, sighing forlornly as she continued to walk back and forth, “No, it can’t. He must have found something there last time. Or maybe he needed something there. It’s incredibly unclear and I feel stupid for not dedicating more time to this.”

Despite himself Harry snickered, “How Hermione? By dedicating only two hours to sleep a night?”

“I should have told someone sooner, delegated,” Hermione continued to chastise herself, ignoring Harry.

“Hermione please, we are doing the best we can…” But Harry stopped short as he noticed a slight glistening leaking out from under his friend’s eyes.

Hermione sniffled softly, “I hated Fudge when all of this happened last time. But now… I mean I don’t want it to be true and our evidence is so… peculiar.”

Harry nodded, “I think we need to think less like Ministry officials and more like Dumbledore. We are so used to patterns and order, but magic isn’t like that- not naturally. Honestly, I think our eleven-year-old selves might have a better sense of what could be happening than we can now.”

Hermione looked at him mournfully, “You sound more and more like him you know, Dumbledore, Minerva says so too.”

The sentiment was so sweet it hurt, and Harry simply looked to his feet, “And I’m still coming here for advice I suppose.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t mentioned your vision in your notes.” Hermione looked at him knowingly, “Francesca knows about everything Harry…”

“I just don’t want her to think I’m breaking…”

“What?” Hermione sounded incredulous, “No Harry I think she’ll be more likely to believe you. Put it down and describe the scenes with as much detail as possible. Maybe Percy and Audrey will be able to narrow down the location.”

For the first time that day, Harry felt some sort of control, “There was something different about them this time around. It was almost like they fell on top of my own thoughts, like they were transparent. Maybe he’s weaker.”

“For now, at least,” Hermione intoned anxiously, “If he came back as he did last time, we have dozens of venom-imbued blades waiting here, fiendfyre orbs complement of yourself…” She nodded at another of Harry’s inventions, “But what if he’s something else entirely, something we have to understand again. It took Dumbledore years.”

“Maybe we should learn from him again. Minerva has his notes on Voldemort somewhere in her office, right?” Harry suddenly felt silly for not thinking of this sooner, “Maybe we should check his travels with our own and see if there’s overlap.”

Hermione looked elated, “I think that’s brilliant, I could them by tomorrow. Of course there must be something there!”

Harry hoped as much was true, but another thought had crept into his mind, “Hermione, if we do suspect Voldemort was at least seeking out similar objects like the veil, are we positive the Ministry…”

Hermione was nodding, “I’ve told as much to Cetus when we meet. Only him, Garder Bode, and Pilar are entering the room and there are immediate defenses should something occur. Of course,” she sighed heavily, “It’s difficult to prepare for an attack that has possibly never occurred before.”

Harry nodded, frowning, “It feels like the ground might literally fall right under us.”

At that moment another knock came persistently at the Minister’s door.

“I think it’s still to early for Ron…”

“Minister?” Harry and Hermione glanced at each other in surprise as they recognized yet another Malfoy voice.

“Minister, oh,” Draco practically tumbled into the office as Hermione opened the door. Draco observed Harry for a second before deciding his presence was permitted, continuing, “I’ve got them working- the two originals. Safe, silent. And a third is very promising…”

“Oh!” Hermione looked absolutely thrilled, turning to Harry and back to Draco, “Excellent! It couldn’t be better timing!”

She strode quickly to her desk, rifling through a few files, “Ron sent me this just yesterday. They’ve found another isolated pair of twins, at least nine or ten years.”

Harry had almost forgotten this other facet of Hermione’s many objectives. He wondered how anyone but her could possibly keep track of this multitude of tasks.

Draco seemed happier than Harry had seen him in a while. He wondered if he should wait until tomorrow to ask him about his parents, but the pale man turned to him, looking somber, “I heard you saw my father today. And that you had a reaction.”

Schoolboy Draco had taken great joy in ridiculing Harry for any perceived weakness. The man before him displayed no trace of this cruelty, only a deep, desperate fear that looked eerily similar to the wordless catastrophe that played upon Lucius’ face as Harry had apparated away.

Chapter Text

The Headmistress’ office was buzzing to a familiar frenzy. The shrivelfig potions were constantly bubbling, making one corner of the space glow in warm magenta. Twelve owls now hooted contently on their perches, an expansion given the sheer amount of discourse between Minerva and Hermione, Artemis, and now a few Auror and Cursebreaker teams that liked to personally update her on suspicious findings that seemed to pop up nearer and nearer to Hogwarts.

Hagrid had also informed her of the odd request by the Centaur herd that roamed the Forbidden Forest that required Harry Potter to return to the school. Minerva had rushed at once to Hermione to discuss this new, ominous development and decided to keep this request out of Harry’s awareness for the time being. It seemed these days that good practical magic was little use against this looming bodyless threat and McGonagall and Hermione had spent a good hour reluctantly coming to the conclusion that understanding the events around them was going to require a talent more in the realms of Divination and the like.

At the moment, she was sifting through a small ornate cabinet tucked behind her desk, one that she hadn’t opened in years. Inside there were a few beaten-looking notebooks, an impressive feat considering their dragonskin bindings, that had belonged to her predecessor. One might think that Albus Dumbledore would have had an enormous collection of notes on his work. In truth, he seemed to only write down the things he could most confidently say he knew, which was quite a bit less than Minerva expected. She haphazardly rifled through the pages of one such tome, full of bullet points of loopy cursive.

Riddle. Local. Symbols Hidden.

Tunnels? See dates Jun2-5.

Soul split? Spell? Need host.

McGonagall had been severely disappointed when she had uncovered these parsed, cryptic notes. They had proven to be little help in finding additional Death Eaters and seemed to be solely fixated on understanding Tom Riddle. Perhaps Harry and Hermione might find the tacit statements more meaningful.

A single index card was tucked into the cover of the current book she sorted through, “Open to anyone ready to converse.”

“Hmmph,” she grumbled, sorting the books into a neat pile and wrapping them securely with a flick of her wand, “Probably you Augustine.”

She secured the package to a large Eagle Owl, a new acquisition for bulkier transport, carefully assessing the weight, “To the Burrow, topmost window.”

“Minerva?”

McGonagall smiled as she heard Draco call her by her first name. It had been an adjustment having him subtly roam the school for the last month. She had barely talked to him in school outside of chastising his behavior and poor class performance. The year he had returned to Hogwarts had been even worse; though his grades had improved immensely, he had retreated so far into himself that McGonagall could hardly recall a single word spoken by him.

“I’m here Draco. More good news on the cabinets?” She had whisked him off to Ministry yesterday when he had run jubilantly into her office, proclaiming a huge breakthrough in a few of the cabinet connections.

But as she turned to meet him, McGonagall frowned slightly, scrutinizing his visibly disturbed features.

“Has something gone wrong with them?”

“No, nothing’s wrong with the cabinets,” Draco said quickly, “Hermione wants to begin extraction of a pair as soon as possible actually.”

Draco had recently begun to refer to his old classmate by name, rather than ‘the Minister,’ something that McGonagall approved of greatly.

“I ah… ran into Potter at the Ministry yesterday after he returned from my parents house.” Draco shuffled near the doorway, his voice unsure.

“Did something happen?” McGonagall remembered Draco mentioning something about his mother contacting him yesterday. The conversation had ended with her badgering Draco to reveal his ‘new position’ in the Ministry.

“They’re fine. I’m sure my father is annoyed at the intrusion. My mother seems to think I’ve volunteered to be a double agent in a new blood supremacy plot.” He smirked, but McGonagall could see more than a hint of shame under it.

“I actually wanted to ask you about something I heard you have,” Draco continued, “My mother led Harry through a few rooms of the house, rooms used by Voldemort during his time with us.”

He shuddered involuntarily, “And, well according to my mother, he had a bit of a fit when he entered this room that was often used by Voldemort…”

Draco seemed to trail off, squeezing his eyes tightly as if the light of room was distracting him from something important.

“Dear?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Draco shook his head, “You see, it’s this room that my mother says was used for private meetings between Voldemort and a few of his closest followers but I don’t think that’s true.”

Minerva had crossed her office and was studying Draco closely, “I’m not sure what you mean, Draco, and I’m not sure how I can help.”

“Sorry it’s complicated,” Draco looked quite a bit like his son as he contemplated his next words, “Let me just begin again.”

He described Harry’s visit to the Malfoy’s, his vision in the room, and subsequent revelation about some mysterious ‘Room between the living and dead’.

Minerva paled as she recalled the horrific early hours at the Ministry. She had returned to her office and harangued the portraits, begging any of them to explain what had just occurred. Nothing but “an imbalance” or “a shift,” was given, though Albus had kindly offered to do all he could to relay information as it became clearer. He had long been absent from his portrait since.

“The thing is, Narcissa said my father almost said something to Harry. He knew about the room. But when Harry pushed further, he couldn’t answer anything.” Draco turned to Minerva, “As in, he couldn’t answer despite wanting to.”

“Do you think there was a spell placed on him?” Minerva asked. She felt a growing sense of foreboding as Draco nodded.

“I think we all were,” He began pacing agitatedly, “because… if you ask me what that room was for, I’ll also say it was for meetings but… but I feel like I’m lying.”

“Does that, sound like something you’ve seen before?”

McGonagall wondered if she’d sent off Dumbledore’s notebooks just a minute too early. Her background in transfiguration seemed woefully inadequate to dealing with complicated curses. But she was almost certain of one fact.

“I can’t say I do Draco. Perhaps some of the Auror teams might have come across something like this.” She paused, “But if it was a curse, usually magic like that is broken…”

“Once the wizard who has cast it dies. I know.” Draco all but whispered the last words.

McGonagall could only let that terrible implication settle between them for so long, “But you thought I might have something to help you?”

“Oh yes,” Draco stammered, somewhat relieved, “Harry said you still had a Pensieve- something I could see my memories in?”

“I do,” McGonagall waved her wand towards a far wall adorned with stained glass and mirrors. The panels in the wall opened fluidly and a small stone basin hovered slightly above the platform that appeared. The edges were carved with complex runes, but it was the contents that intrigued Draco the most. It looked as if a storm was swirling in the watery contents, yet the surface lay still and serene.

Draco looked unsure again, “How do you use it?”

“You extract memories. It’s a finicky charm but I can help you practice. I’m rather good at it if you trust me.”

“Of course,” Draco still hesitated, “But how can I find a memory that I can’t remember?”

“I think we can try extracting the false memory first, perhaps try to think of that room during… that time. Maybe if you can remember Voldemort walking toward it or if it was open.” Minerva offered.

“Okay, give me a second to think.” Draco pursed his lips as for a second, somewhat resigned.

McGonagall looked over at the Pensieve, swirling unbothered and unaware of the memory about to be emptied into its depths. What did a false memory look like? She glanced over at the vacant portraits of Albus and Severus, sighing.

“I have something, it’s my aunt heading into that room…” Draco peeped open an eye, “If that helps you find it.”

“It’s a little different from Legilimency,” Minerva said, “You have to willingly give over the memory and I merely receive what you allow.”

“Oh, good,” Draco smiled. McGonagall was glad he had closed his eyes again because she knew the unmistakable look of pity was riddled on her face.

“Okay, I’m going to place the tip of my wand near your temple and you might feel an iciness but nothing should hurt. You should retain all your memories as well- this is merely a recreation.” Slowly, she brought her wand towards Draco’s face.

He shivered slightly as the tip of her wand glowed a brilliant, frosty white.

“You have it at the front of your thoughts?” McGonagall had performed this spell more than a few times and it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Perhaps it was too vague of a memory or the trauma of that year prevented Draco from recalling it correctly, “Perhaps… try a different time.”

Draco’s face fell, “Okay… it’s hard to really recall a specific moment. It was always there but never really at the focus of my memories. Wait.”

He opened his eyes, “I… try again.”

This time, Minerva felt an immediate attachment to something, an almost magnetic force that tethered the tip of her wand to an emerging memory.

She wound the thin tendril slowly, watching the threadlike crystal light stretch from Draco’s forehead. He winced.

“Does it hurt?”

But at that moment, the single line of memory began writhing, fraying and tugging Minerva’s wand from her grasp. It flew nearly across the room, landing just in front of the bubbling cauldrons of shrivelfig.

“Minerva!” Phineas Black looked terrified in his portrait. His long pale fingers pointing towards Draco.

And she knew why in an instant. It was like Draco had become a marionette, his feet just barely touching the ground and his posture stretched and disjointed. He was gasping rapidly though she couldn’t hear the breaths. The tendrils of memory were snaking back into him, moving across his eyes under his skin, which was a sheer bone white. As one thread passed behind his pupil, McGonagall watched in paralyzing horror as the eye dilated and then narrowed into a slit, a bloodshot red blooming in Draco’s grey irises.

They fixed her with a chilling consciousness and the gasping stopped. Three words were spoke. Three words that all but confirmed the curse bringer. Hissing, rasping Parseltongue escaped the limp, gaping mouth of Draco, as if the man was speakerphone.

Quickly, McGonagall scrambled toward her wand, shakily gripping it. She hadn’t the faintest idea what spell would release Draco of this… she hadn’t seen anything like this in her life.

“Professor…I know…”

Minerva whirled around and almost screamed in delight as the familiar pale eyes of Draco had returned to their sockets. But that was all he said as she drew closer, a terrified expression now coming from those eyes. They seemed to look down at his mouth, which, in renewed horror, McGonagall realized had disappeared. A black cordlike tendril turned in and out of the skin that should have been Draco’s lips, as if sewing them shut before the whole visage vanished.

Whatever Draco knew was lost. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and before Minerva had time to react, he crumpled to the floor in a sickening thud.

“Oh!” Minerva gasped and knelt beside him, cradling his head in one of her hands. He was limp and unresponsive. She swished her wand once, then again.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A whisp crackled from her wand weakly at first and McGonagall gasped again as she spotted a thin fracture running from the tip, damage from her attempt to extract the clearly cursed memory.”

“Expecto Patronum!”

This time, the figure of a cat danced into existence.

“Get Poppy. And the apprentices”

She watched as it bounded through the office door. Draco hadn’t stirred and McGonagall couldn’t tell if he had a heartbeat. Her own was pounding in her ears and pushing at the limits of her fingertips. She had never had composure when it came to healing and what little strength she had was already spent every moon cycle watching the transformation of her half dozen werewolf students.

If Draco wasn’t okay, they would lose whatever progress they had on solving both the extraction of the twins, as well as whatever the Malfoys had hidden in their heads. McGonagall chastised herself- Draco was also a father. A father to a boy that already had a very sick mother. His face was beaded in sweat and looked almost peaceful and McGonagall could now see how the years wore on him, much unlike his father. At least until Voldemort returned.

His mouth twitched. Then the quietest words came out, “I’m sorry it’s…”

“Oh Dear! It’s more than okay, please don’t strain yourself.” Minerva finally swallowed the lump in her throat. Shifting Draco’s head higher, he twitched again.

“It’sa s-sigil.”

Chapter Text

“Maybe I won’t be the only one up for a promotion in the future!” Harry was sitting across from Ron at Tipsy’s café in the Ministry, “Located two in record time. I was expecting you to be gone all month!”

Ron only smiled as a large omelet made its way to the table, “Thanks Tipsy you really didn’t need to.”

It was very early at the Ministry and the two were seated in the café well before the usual opening time, but the kind elf had spotted them and insisted on preparing a breakfast. Ron was taking as much time as possible to make his way through his meal, lethargically chewing his food and keeping his eyes trained on his plate.

He had arrived at the Ministry much later than the meeting between Harry, Hermione and Draco. So much later, in fact, that Draco and Harry had been able to have a chat about Harry’s incident at the Malfoy Manor. Harry had recounted the feeling and vision that had come upon him when he entered the tiny room at the end of the East wing and seen Draco pale, his cheeks so taut he looked hollow.

“I got visions when Voldemort returned in school,” Harry explained, “And they seem similar but much less, enveloping, I suppose.”

Draco only blinked in response.

“So I guess I’m unsure if it’s the same thing at all, I mean it’s been almost two decades,” Harry rubbed his temples, tired and starting to feel his headache return, “And I just wanted to eliminate any other potential explanations, like perhaps a silencing or disorienting curse that might have been cast on the place. Your parents did indicate that it was used for sensitive meetings between only a few most trusted followers.”

This seemed to startle Draco, “Meetings? No….”

But the man trailed off in a funny way; his eyes still looking alert and matter-of-fact, as if he were still conversing, but his mouth was eerily still.

“Sorry I… was that incorrect?” Harry said, scrutinizing Draco.

Draco paused as if first realizing he had said nothing, “I… what did I say?”

“Not much,” Harry said softly, his eyes roving around his counterpart’s face, searching for some magical sign or remnant, “You seemed surprised that your parents said it was for ‘meetings’ between Voldemort and his followers.”

Again, Draco looked positively dubious, but this time, he did not object.

“What did you think you said?” Harry pressed, after more than a minute passed.

“I can’t think of it,” Draco replied carefully, “There is something telling me that it was a meeting room…”

Again, Draco fell silent, his grey eyes solidifying as he willed himself to continue, “I feel like someone is telling me to say it was a meeting room.” He finished, struggling to even say this vague answer, “But it’s not… I feel like I saw something…different.”

“Draco can you describe exactly what you are feeling right now?” Harry had approached the taller man, who was beginning to look just as spooked as his father.

A few moments passed where Draco seemed to struggle to answer this, but he finally said, “It feels like I’m looking at a film, like a performance in my memory, but that I need to go behind the curtain…sorry I want to say other words but I can’t be more direct. They just won’t come to me.”

“Do you remember him cursing you?” Harry whispered.

Draco shook his head, “I couldn’t tell you Harry. He did a lot of things to us. Memory charms so we would forget things he made us do to each other. Spells that would make me pass out. He was free in the house Harry; he could enter all of our rooms at will. He was already in our heads…”

This was where the conversation with Lucius had ended. His small epiphany about potentially the Room of Death had quickly crumbled into half-sentences and mumbled nonsense. Harry now was unsure if it was even real; he had planted the idea into Lucius when questioning him and he knew Francesca would be doubtful, Hermione had voiced just as much. Harry had hoped Draco might also volunteer a similar revelation, but none had come.

Still, it unsettled Harry how effective this curse seemed to be the three Malfoys. There was the possibility that perhaps Voldemort did not cast it- Antoin Dolohov and Yaxley were the most powerful Death Eaters still alive and rotting in Azkaban. And then of course, Fenrir was roaming around the continent and perhaps had cast some rudimentary magic.

But deep inside, Harry had already committed to the last implication. Voldemort’s magic had persisted on the Malfoy family for years after that fateful Battle when it was common knowledge that spells died with the caster.

He didn’t die. The throbbing in Harry’s head sounded a lot like those words now. Dumbledore had said as much in his ethereal trip to King’s Cross as Harry watched Voldemort’s mutilated and infantile body writhe at the crossroads. Something neither dead nor alive. Something beyond our help. In the instance that it could persist and even grow, was it also beyond control?

It was Draco’s turn to gently nudge Harry as his watched the man still as if he had gone into a trance. Hermione had mentioned some affliction he had acquired during an Auror mission. He could see how time had chiseled and eroded Potter, perhaps much more visibly than himself. That thought bothered him; there was the aura of Harry Potter that persisted even beyond the Battle. An enlightened Auror, an inventor in his own right, a person that half of the wizengamot would go to for counsel on tough moral cases. But all of this amassed knowledge and leadership seemed to weigh on the man like the world on Atlas’ shoulders, leaving him looking so diminutive.

Or perhaps, Draco thought, Harry had never been a particularly tall or imposing figure. He had intensity but not charisma, wizened but not handsomely charming. Perhaps, it was himself that expected to see a legend when it had always been just a man, plain and simple.

“I would like you to speak with McGonagall.” Harry said suddenly, drawing out of his thoughts as seamlessly as he had sunk within them, “She has a device that might help with whatever this is. It allows you to watch and analyze your own memories and I believe it will be able to at least show you if a memory has been tampered with.”

Harry eyed the main Ministry entrance subtly as Ron continued his meal, avoiding conversation. Draco was always early to work on days he wasn’t stationed at Hogwarts, but he had mentioned the breakthrough in the Vanishing Cabinet project so perhaps he would show later.

“Draco told Hermione that he’s got two cabinets up and running and a third very close.” Harry finally offered to his sullen friend.

He watched Ron’s frown deepen as if the news was extremely unwelcome. Tipsy came back to the table with two large mugs of coffee, smiling brightly. Ron and Harry thanked her.

“Well I know you’re capable of speech mate, c’mon,” Harry looked concernedly at Ron as the latter seemed eager to regress back into his brooding, “If it’s something you want off the books, consider it never said officially.”

Ron sighed, putting his hand up and taking a long swig of coffee, “It’s something I’ve got to be diplomatic about that’s all.”

Another short silence followed as Ron contemplated his next words, “I think we should talk to Katie about these two. I’m sure the ones at Hogwarts are fine but these feel, different to me.”

“The children?” Harry questioned, “They’re under eleven, aren’t they?”

Ron looked guilty, “Yeah Harry I know they’re young and it’s tragic but they’re not… Katie described the two that she took care of as outcasts and seeking comfort. These…well you’ll hear it anyway… look Harry, we watched them kill someone.”

“What?” Harry whispered, despite the echoingly empty atrium.

Ron nodded, his freckles standing out starkly on his white face, “It’s not like they’re hunting per se. But they act, for lack of a better term, kinda wild and feral. And people notice and distrust them. I suppose it goes both ways with these two, they’re extremely suspicious- I was sure they spotted us straightaway.”

Ron looked pained as he continued, “My working theory is that the clan might be hunting them, anyway, this muggle sort of followed them and, well I guess they weren’t luring him in but when it was clear he was following them specifically, one split from the other, and, well, they attacked him from behind and just… they killed him, brutally.”

“They weren’t trying to change him you think?” Harry said.

“No, I mean, they are scared- that much is obvious,” Ron paused again briefly, “It’s just, we saw the whole thing and they were efficient, practiced.”

“They’ve done this before.” Harry finished soberly, “It was normal to them.”

“Yeah,” Ron breathed, looking somewhat more at ease as Harry seemed to understand his feelings.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea to talk to Katie about them. It might even help if we know more about them and their history.”

“For sure,” Ron said, but began to be more contemplative, “Harry, I want to request to have them transferred into the Ministry… not the school.”

“Ron the Room of Requirement is…”

“I don’t care Harry; I know it doesn’t make sense. Harry, I don’t want those children to be near the students.” Ron looked sheepish as Harry clearly read ‘Rosie’ underneath the broader ‘students’.

 “I don’t know if we will be able to find a place that avoids detection and is that secure should something happen, Ron.” Harry tried to speak measuredly, watching Ron’s face twitch as each of his words.

“I think it’s worth discussion.” His friend ended bluntly.

“Potter. Weasley.” Francesca’s voice came from behind the two as the witch stepped away from the café counter, a gigantic mug of her own steaming in her hands, “Good to see you both so early, I believe we have a lot to cover regarding the trip. Ron,” she gave him a small smile, “Excellent work.”

Harry and Ron made their way up to Francesca’s office about an hour later. Percy and Audrey were already waiting near the office door. They turned to the two as they approached.

“Is she in a meeting?” Harry asked, motioning to the closed door.

“No, I don’t think so,” Audrey replied, “We were supposed to brief her before you two arrived, not that it matters if you hear the report from us or her.”

“That’s quite unlike her,” Harry was about to knock again when he spotted the figure of his boss striding quickly down the hall.

Francesca had seemed in good spirits during their run-in at the café, but Harry could see something had happening between then and now. Her face was severe as she curtly greeted the group, apologizing to Percy and Audrey for her tardiness. As she unlocked her office door, Harry caught a glimpse of a paper that looked like another status report from St. Mungo’s and he hoped it wasn’t something involving Katie or the werewolves just when it seemed like this arm of their complicated affairs might reach a breakthrough.

“Well come in then,” Francesca's voice was clipped and impatient as she turned to the four of them, wavering near the door, “We have a lot to discuss.”

She didn’t sit as the others found chairs and dragged them into a semi-circle around her desk.

“What’s happened?” Harry was surprised as Percy broke the silence rather urgently, “Is it a no-go?”

“We are going to act like everything will occur on schedule,” Francesca sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “All apparent protections are place, I’ve gotten permission from the Minister and I’ve already decided on the Aurors to perform the extraction. I want the smallest group of expertise and it’s going to be you two…” She nodded brusquely to Harry and Ron, “Wood and Tywek. I’m not going to mess around with less experience.”

“Well, that’s all good and well- why are you being so cautious? Sorry Pesci, I just have shared my concerns before that I think another diplomatic mission, should we lose the location of this pair, is going to start to raise some suspicions.” Percy prodded relentlessly.

Audrey nodded, “I agree, the behavior of the two and their estimated age so close to eleven- I think there might be an open conflict if we don’t extract them soon. They’re too violent and clearly expecting violence against them.”

Ron was nodding fervently next to Harry.

Francesca waved her hand, “I’m not arguing for a delay, please. Just let me share this news with you and tell me what you think.”

She shuffled the papers from St. Mungo’s in her lap.

“Yesterday at 23:41, Draco Lucius Malfoy was admitted to St. Mungo’s Hospital: Janus Thickney Ward following the reemergence of a latent curse of unidentifiable origin. Minerva McGonagall accompanied Healers and gave the following account of the injury:

“’I attempted to extract a memory from Draco to be placed in a Pensieve in my office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The memory was one that Draco struggled to perceive clearly from the year 1997. I placed a standard charm to pull the memory from him using my wand, which was handed over to Auror Oliver Wood upon questioning and the spell verified. During the extraction of the memory, there was resistance from the memory itself. It seemed to fray and receded back into Draco. Upon reentry, it traced itself around Draco’s mouth, as if sewn together. This caused Draco pain and distress, he failed to speak and began seizing, eventually falling unconscious and failing to revive. Before falling unconscious he did manage to speak the word ‘Sigil’. As sigil is a broad term for many charms and curses- I do not know exactly what he was referring to.’”

“Bloody Hell.” Ron swore as Francesca paused, “This happened at the school?”

“In her office. Minerva believes that the ‘sigil’ is a latent curse designed to prevent the victim from divulging a true memory.” Francesca now turned to Harry, “She mentioned Draco came to her after a conversation with you. She wanted to keep this information out of the report, that Draco came to her in the first place because he felt he was being prevented from telling you the ‘truth’.”

Her left eyebrow gracefully disappeared into the curls dipping onto her forehead, “Is this related to your visit to his parents’ estate?”

“Yes,” Harry felt his mouth answer automatically as his brain was swimming in shock. He had never heard of a curse that attacked someone trying to recall their own memories and judging by the appalled tone of his boss, she had not come across this either.

“Excuse me, what in the bloody hell is a curse that… well it… how do you attack someone for a memory?!” Ron said everyone’s fears aloud.

“The Unbreakable vow is the most powerful form of actable persuasion that doesn’t require the caster to continually apply the spell. But even it cannot bind a person’s thoughts or make them perform the desired task.” Harry mumbled, “The Imperius Curse will wear off after time and needs constant reaffirmation. There’re curses that wipe memories, but I’ve never encountered one that allowed the cursed to be aware of the action. And never ones that would try to… kill someone over recall.”

He was at a loss and it seemed no one else in the room had much else to say. Guilt was roiling in his stomach as he felt ignorant for simply telling Draco to explore further, knowing full well how ominous his own visions had been. He should have seen all the marks of dark magic…

“How is his condition?” Harry asked after a moment.

“Right,” Francesca, readjusted the papers in front of her, “As of January 29^th 8:04 AM, Draco Malfoy remains unresponsive but with stabilized vitals. Healers were notified of the nature of the curse, but none have reported visible trails or tracing on the face since admission. Draco will remain in the ward for observation. If arousal does not occur within twenty-four hours, attempts to revive through intervention will be performed. Until such event, two Healers have been assigned individual care and will attempt to find evidence about the nature of this curse or charm.”

“They’re the two Healers at Hogwarts already briefed about this situation.” Francesca gestured vaguely towards Percy and Audrey, indicating the werewolf extraction that had been suddenly forgotten.

“But we had good news regarding the cabinets, right?” Harry said, with little enthusiasm. There was a chance the curse was still working through his colleague at this very moment, and Harry was imagining a snake sliding through Draco’s brain, devouring more and more.

“Draco told us he fixed two cabinet connections and was close with adding a third. Obviously, we only need two for this extraction. Unfortunately, Draco was supposed to demonstrate this to the Minister and I this morning and, as is clear, this won’t be happening until he can wake up and if nothing permanent has been done to his cognition.” Francesca replied quietly, “I believe it may come down to trusting his work without verification. He has detailed notes- which may be useful should something acute occur during extraction.”

A pit seemed to drop in everyone’s stomachs. Even if Draco was right in his assessment, there would always be the risk that something might go wrong, either from unforeseen troubles or if the extraction occurred under distress. Draco was irreplaceable, and it wasn’t even clear if he would wake up.

Ron grumbled darkly, “We should have given him an apprentice.”

“The Minister seems to have been given frequent updates and explanations of the fixes,” Francesca added, “And McGonagall reports that Draco was also in close communication with Neville Longbottom though he seemed less confident. Still having both present could mitigate…”

She trailed off, looking stony. Harry knew she was weighing the consequences of a disastrous first attempt at rescuing the children. He honestly did not know what course of action was right and mostly hoped that Draco would somehow recover soon.

“I think we should choose the final day we are willing to wait for Draco’s recovery and make an alternative plan should that time pass.” Francesca said finally.

Nods of agreement went about the room.

“I don’t want to wait more than 48 hours.”

“I don’t know if that gives him any time to recover Francesca,” Harry looked up sharply at his boss, “Surely you’d want to run some tests and that would mean he’d have to wake by the end of tomorrow.”

Percy and Audrey, despite their previous urgency, also looked surprised by Francesca’s proposition. But his boss was already flipping to another file, her jaw set.

“This brings me to another aspect of our objectives,” Harry could tell that this piece of information was somehow the real reason her mood had shifted so dramatically and he wondered what could possibly be worse than their keystone cabinet engineer being incapacitated.

“I ran into Eliza Burbage this morning, in the Minister’s office.” Francesca spoke in a strained tone, “She’d been recovering from her attack last month and, as expected, wants to enact some frankly illegal measures that I unfortunately believe might have just enough support to be started.”

Ron groaned audibly, “I’d gotten used to her being away.”

“I thought you sympathized with her,” Harry shot back, somewhat defensively.

Ron glared at him, “That doesn’t mean I want to deal with her wrath mate, and besides,” he looked sheepish, “The situation has obviously changed since the summer. Even when I agreed with her I knew she would be bloody mad if in charge.”

“Right, let’s all get on same page,” Francesca gave Harry and Ron a stern glance, “I do not want Eliza privy to our actions regarding Fenrir or the possible possessions of muggles.”

“This, unfortunately will be difficult as I assume she will be at our door shortly to inquire about our progress on her case.”

“Right,” Harry groaned.

“I want you to turn in a write-up of your observations and exclude anything about possession. I will be handing her an alternative lead which I’ve already devised with Wood. If she questions you further, my advice is to act ignorant.”

“You want to create a false report?” Harry looked into the impassive face of his boss.

Francesca nodded firmly, “When Eliza spoke to Hermione and I, she more or less told us that she plans to enact a judicial state of emergency when she returns fully.”

“That can’t be possible,” Ron sputtered, “She’d need a supermajority in the Wizengamot.”

“She might have it,” Francesca replied, “And if this occurs, we will most likely be assigned judges to report to, background checks, almost constant supervision.”

“And if we don’t look cooperative,” Harry added sullenly, “They can vote to have us removed can’t they.”

“Absolutely, I’m glad you understand the gravity of this,” Francesca looked solemn, “This power was given to the Wizengamot to prevent another Ministry takeover by the executive officers but I fear that while we now are in check, this power has the potential to make Eliza even more powerful than the Minister… if it passes.”

Percy looked grave and Harry realized this might be the second time the man had a front row seat to a crumbling government, “And of course, you wouldn’t recommend even talking to the other judges to see about their allegiance.”

“No.” Francesca nodded, “I don’t want there to be any indication that we oppose what’s going on. It will only move our department higher on the list to undergo supervision and inspection. As of now, I am only informing you about what’s going on. There will be no intervention.”

“So,” Harry said, “I take it she’s coming back quite soon then.”

“Next Monday.” Francesca replied, “The Minister wants to move the reconvening meeting to Saturday in order to prepare everyone for this potential action. Which, if we wait 48 hours…”

“It would only give us another 48 to extract the two.” Harry finished.

“I’d rather start today.” Ron said, looking nervous, “Two days doesn’t give us much room for error.”

“That’s why I’m sending four elite Aurors,” Francesca said gripping the files in her hand bracingly and eyeing Ron and Harry with meaning, “Ones I trust to complete a task of such nature.”

“I’ve notified the Healers to inform me immediately should Draco’s condition change. Until then, you and Ron do need to complete one necessary task in preparation. I want you to get any information you can from Katie Bell about this pair. Once that’s done, consider yourself on standby for starting extraction.”

“Francesca,” Ron spoke carefully as his boss finished instructions, “I was wondering if there was any chance that an alternative location would be possible to receiving these two.”

Francesca seemed to understand Ron’s implication and had some decency to look understanding. But her answer was resolved as she replied, “Even before factoring in Eliza’s return, Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement was by far the most secure space to send the children to. I assure you that I and most of the aurors on your teams will be waiting in the room for your return. Even a multitude of werewolves would not be able to escape our forces and, as you know, I will personally render the cabinet unusable if it is clear that the passage has been compromised.”

“Right.” Ron picked up the finality in her answer.

The rest of meeting proceeded under the stress of Draco’s condition and the possible implications of Eliza Burbage’s return. Percy and Audrey summarized their meeting with the Polish officials, which had yielded some information regarding a muggle man suspected of multiple killings.

“One of the Aurors believes the Union is suppressing their findings and has offered to have us look over their evidence. After looking at the footage from Eliza’s attack, I feel it might be a similar situation.” Audrey surmised.

“Although, our source said the attack in question happened on the night of December 28^th.” Percy added.

“But Eliza was attacked just a day before.” Harry said.

“Right. It would certainly change our understanding if they do end up being connected.” Percy replied.

Harry had little time to ponder the implications of Percy’s assessment. He and Ron found themselves facing Artemis Balboa only a few hours later, again in the broom closet of St. Mungo’s. The Healer seemed to be informed about Draco’s admission as well, greeting them and informing them immediately of his status.

“We’ve unfortunately detected no change in his arousal but in situations like these, the lack of a decline might be very promising.” He seemed to wince at his own words as they very conspicuously left Harry and Ron stricken.

“Ms. Bell is doing quite well.” He offered, almost as an apology, “I do believe you’ll notice the improvements right away.”

Katie’s room was definitely different from their last visit. The bed was now in the corner and a desk and table had been placed closer to the door. The enchanted sky was no longer perpetually warm and sunny. Today it was reflecting the slight drizzle outside, reflecting reality to the inhabitant.

“Hi Harry! Ron!” Katie’s voice sounded about a decade younger than the last encounter and Harry had to swallow the lump in his throat before replying.

She was still pale, but there was a rosy glow to Katie’s face and light in her eyes that overtook the impact of her scars on her appearance.

Ron grinned broadly at Katie, taking a seat in one of chairs around the table. Katie got up from the bed and joined him. She no longer wore a gown but instead had matching joggers and a crewneck sweatshirt.

“How have you been?” Ron started encouragingly, his smile widening as Katie perked up even more.

“Great actually,” she replied happily, “Just two days ago a young man came to visit- Zheng?”

She looked inquiringly at Artemis, who nodded adding, “Ollivander’s apprentice. I recommended fitting her with a wand so she can begin practicing magic again. I think it will help her path to independence along very nicely.”

“That’s incredible Katie,” Harry said, a warm feeling spreading about him for the first time since arriving to work. Progress, even if it was in something small, was more than most of their plans at the moment.

“Are you here because you’ve found something?” Katie asked, her eyes traveling to the papers sitting in Ron’s lap.

“Yes, we’ve actually found a set of twins and want to ask you about them.” Ron rifled through the file and procured an impressively clear photograph of the twins.

“Oh,” Katie said quietly.

Harry studied her face carefully but couldn’t get a good read on her emotions.

“We’ve been surveilling them and believe they are on the run,” Ron continued after Katie said nothing more, “They seem very capable but don’t use much language and are particularly suspicious of people noticing them- muggle or wizard.”

“That would make sense,” Katie nodded, “These boys are called Tomas and Andreas. Their father was a werewolf and wizard who went by Fernando. I believe the family name was Hildago or something similar.”

“Do you know how old they are?” Ron asked.

“They are probably ten, almost eleven. I suppose that’s why they’ve run away- they’re hiding right?” Katie looked at Harry and Ron.

“We think so.” Ron said, “They are more… I don’t know how to put it.”

“Vicious.” Katie finished plainly, “Fernando was a fierce leader in the clan. Until he and Fenrir had a falling out, the two worked together closely. He left the clan before you found me though- I didn’t think they would be in danger unless Fenrir was trying to reunite the pack.”

“So they’re also magical?” Ron inquired. Katie nodded.

“Definitely, both parents were. They seemed more levelheaded about the potential for discovery when the children became of age. I assume you found them out east?”

“Yup,” Harry replied, “To go back to Fernando, do you know why he and Fenrir fell out?”

Katie thought for a second, “It could be related to Fenrir’s frequent visits that I mentioned. And of course, his children were magical and therefore a target. He was… not unkind to me.”

Harry looked at Ron as Katie paused again before continuing, “He never went out of his way for me but, well I think he found me useful in terms of caring for the children. When Fenrir was away, he would be in charge and I was always fed more.”

The sunkeness of Katie’s visage threatened to overwhelm the better disposition she had initially presented as she looked at the picture of the twins again, “I am surprised they are alone. Their parents wanted them and were training them to be leaders. If they are on the run… I think something awful must have happened to Fernando.”

“Something more than infighting?” Ron pressed, though a look of concern graced his features as Katie seemed increasingly serious.

“Unless something changed in the dynamics of the clan, I couldn’t name another werewolf that could oppose him. He was popular too- among the wolves that wanted to keep the magical offspring. He took maybe four or five families when they split off.”

“You knew he’d go ‘out East’, does Poland have any meaning to him?”

Katie blinked, “No, one of the families had ties to Bulgaria though.”

“And when did this faction break off again?”

“A while ago. Maybe two years- Honestly, I thought Fenrir was relieved when he left. The other two I mentioned, Madsen and Irina, were not as strong or popular.” Katie was clearly controlling her emotions but in a testament to her therapy, was much more calm than their first meeting regarding upsetting information.

“We are hoping to bring these two back to Britain and begin rehabilitation as soon as possible.” Harry explained, watching Katie carefully, “I’ll be blunt with you in saying that Ron has already witnessed their brutality firsthand and it is likely they will receive much more intensive intervention than the children we already have.”

“You wouldn’t imprison them, would you?” Katie looked at Harry wide-eyed.

“Not punitively, no,” Harry shook his head, “We honestly don’t have a proscribed course of assessment even, but if they are magical, the goal would be to get them some training should they prove to be cooperative.”

“Not at Hogwarts though,” Katie read between the lines.

“Katie I saw them kill a man,” Ron said gently, reaching out a hand to comfort Katie as she recoiled.

“They would have to pass a fairly rigorous test to see if they would be a danger to the other students,” Harry explained, “But theoretically, they could join the greater wizarding society.”

Ron was having a hard time covering his doubtful expression and it didn’t escape Katie’s notice.

“Could I… see them once they are returned?” She said timidly, looking around to Artemis and back again at the two, “I think they would respond well to me. They are probably not the worst.”

Harry could practically hear Ron’s thoughts as he struggled to connect how children capable of killing were also ‘not the worst’ to expect.

“Katie,” He began, “I think the more we know about these two, the better we can handle their arrival and began whatever is necessary to return their lives to normalcy.”

“Of course,” Katie replied after a pause, “They’re close, those two. They were always the leaders in their little cohort, even when they weren’t the oldest. Received preferential treatment- I always thought they would be excluded from persecution because Fenrir even seemed to mentor them as youngsters.”

“When he and Fernando were allied you mean.”

“Yes, they definitely know how to fight and hunt and… oh they aren’t biting people are they?” Katie looked slightly sick as she glanced up.

“We didn’t observe any offensive violence from them,” Ron offered, “They do seem comfortable resorting to violence when they are threatened though.”

“Okay,” Katie paused, “I… okay, Fernando was against overexpansion of the clan until they established themselves to put it broadly.”

“So you think they aren’t motivated to turn other people.” Harry ended her thoughts, “That’s promising to hear.”

Katie smiled wanly, “They never had to be overly cruel to get attention in the clan. But I wouldn’t say they’re like Milo and Natalia for instance, you know, happy to be out of the community. They fit into the structure very well- but if their parents are in danger or…” she trailed off, “They might want to escape as well.”

“So we need to keep an eye on them,” Harry summarized, “because they come from a place of privilege and won’t respond well to ridicule or disrespect.”

Katie nodded.

“Would you know the name of their mother?” Ron was moving down a list of prepared questions.

“Saoirse. I wouldn’t know her maiden name. She did know the parents of the other pair at school. The ones that ran away.”

“Okay good,” Ron scribbled away, “Right, I guess the next question would be whether you think the current pairs would respond well to these two.”

Katie frowned, “I’m really not sure. They weren’t cruel but… I don’t know. Please if you do bring them, please just let me talk to them.”

Ron looked up at Harry.

“Promise me.”

“Okay,” Harry said, “We will.”

A light glowed from Katie’s irises, making them shine almost white and it was only after a moment that Harry realized something had materialized in the room. A silver fox swirled in front of Artemis before a disembodied voice cried out, “Sir come quickly, he’s awake.”