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Chapter Text

Harry woke up to heavy rain and a headache, letting out a soft groan. After the catastrophe that was the Quidditch World Cup, it was officially the end-of-the-summer-holidays. Groggily, he nudged Ron awake and got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would get changed to their school robes on the train.

They met the twins on the kitchen, where he barely registered a breathless Mr. Weasley with his robes the wrong way front talking to a head in the fireplace. It is far too early for this, Harry thought while biting into his toast.

Apparently, a man named Mad-Eye Moody of all possible names, had his home broken into the night before. Charlie commented he was just getting paranoid in his old age, after retiring from his position as an Auror. “He used to be one the best Dark wizard catchers, he filled almost half of the cells in Azkaban. Some say it got to his head, started seeing dark wizards everywhere. It makes sense considering all the enemies he’s made but still.” 

After breakfast, Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King’s Cross station; Percy, apologizing generously, said he needed to get to work. Mr. Weasley had braved the telephone at the village post office and ordered three muggle taxis to get them to London. With the six heavy trunks, Crookshanks and the owls, it was an uncomfortable ride to say the least. When they finally arrived at the station, it seemed the weather had followed them all the way. The rain was pouring as hard as it had back at the Burrow, by the time they crossed the road carrying their trunks, they were soaked to the bone.

They walked through the barrier between platforms nine and ten in groups; Harry, Ron and Hermione went first; they leaned against barrier and slid sideways through it. The steaming scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express welcomed them, billowing heavy steam into the platform. Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon flapped his tiny wings excitedly, joining the hoots of the other owls throughout the station.  The three of them set off to find a compartment to stow their luggage, after that hopping back into the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie.

Fred, George and Ginny were already there, badgering at Mrs. Weasley about something she wasn’t telling them. But before Harry could ask, the shrill whistle blew across the air, and they all hurried to hug each other good-bye.

“Thanks for having us stay, Mrs. Weasley” said Hermione, as they climbed on board the train, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to continue the conversation.

“Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley,” added Harry.

“Oh, it was my pleasure, dears,” said Mrs. Weasley, looking up at them through the steam. “I’d invite you for Yule, but… well, I expect you will all want to stay at Hogwarts, what with… one thing and another.”

“Mum!” said Ron irritably. “What do you lot know that we don’t?”

“You’ll find out this evening, I expect,” she answered cheekily. “It’s going to be very exciting – mind you, I’m very glad they changed the rules –”.

“What rules?” said Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny together.

“Oh, you’ll hear all about it. Don’t worry. Who know, I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it…” said Bill, his eyes twinkling.

“Now, behave, won’t you? Won’t you? Fred, George?” said Mrs. Weasley, raising her voice in order to be heard through the loud hissing of the pistons as the train began to move.

 “Tell us what’s happening at Hogwarts, and we’ll consider it!” Fred bellowed as Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie took a step back to watch them leave. To all their frustration, she only smiled and waved. Before they knew it, the train rounded the corner and she, Bill and Charlie disappeared from their sight.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back to their compartment. The thick rain still splattering against the windows made it impossible to see through them. Ron opened his trunk, pulled out his maroon dressing robes, and threw them over Pigwidgeon’s cage, muffling his excited hoots.

“My own mother,” he mumbled, taking a seat. “won’t even say what the fuss is about. Wonder what –”

“Shh!” Hermione whispered suddenly, grabbing his arm. She pointed towards the compartment next to theirs. Focusing, the three of them heard a familiar drawling voice, drifting in through the open door.

“…Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man is such a Mudblood-lover – and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school that far away. Father says that Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do…”

Hermione, tired of Malfoy’s rambling, stood up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out his voice.

“If he thinks Durmstrang would’ve suited him better…” she muttered angrily, “I wish he had gone, that way we wouldn’t have to put up with him.”

“Durmstrang’s another wizarding school, then?” asked Harry. Add it to the list of things I don’t know.

“Yes,” Hermione sniffed, “and it’s horrible reputation precedes it. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis into the Dark Arts.”

“I think I’ve heard of it,” said Ron, scratching his nose, “Where is it? What country?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? No one knows.” Said Hermione.

Harry raised his eyebrows, “Er – why not?”

“There’s traditionally always been a lot of rivalry between the magical schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons prefer to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets.” Said Hermione as she undid her trunk to pull out a thick tome.

“No way,” laughed Ron, “Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as Hogwarts, how’d they keep that a secret?”

“But Hogwarts is hidden,” said Hermione, raising her eyebrows, “everyone knows that… well, everyone that’s taken the time to read Hogwarts, A History.”

“Just you then.” Joked Ron, smiling at her and making her blush.  

“Bear with us, Hermione,” said Harry. “How do you hide a place like Hogwarts?”

“Well, it’s bewitched. If a Muggle looks at it, all they will see is a mouldering old ruin with a warning sign not to enter.”

“So Durmstrang will look like a ruin to an outsider too?” Ron asked.

“Not necessarily, or it might have Muggle-repelling charms,” she shrugged, “And to avoid outsiders it must be unplottable as well.”

“Come again?”

“Well, you can enchant a building so it’s impossible to plot on a map, can’t you?”

“Er… if you say so,” said Harry. 

“They have fur capes as part of their uniform, so it must be far up north, don’t you think?” said Hermione, making Ron grin. 

“Can you imagine? Think of all the possibilities,” he sighed happily, “pushing Malfoy off a glacier and making it look like an accident…”

Somehow, the rain became heavier as the ride progressed. The skies were so dark, the lanterns were lit by midday. At some point, Neville came in to greet them and stayed as they chattered on about the Quidditch World Cup. Soon after that, Hermione became engrossed in the book she had on her lap, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

“Gran didn’t want to go to the Cup Match,” said Neville miserably, “she refused to buy tickets. It sounded amazing though.”

“It was,” said Ron, “we even saw Krum up close. We were in the Top Box –”

“For the first and last time in your life, Weasley.”

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway, Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him, looming massively.  They walked into the compartment, making themselves comfortable.

“I don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy.” Said Harry coldly.

“Manners, Potter. But I reckon I’m asking for too much, coming from you.” Malfoy drawled, before his eyes focused on something in the corner. A smirk pulled at lips. “Weasley… what is that?” He asked, pointing at the dress robes covering Pigwidgeon’s cage.

Ron made to stuff them out of Malfoy’s sight, but the blonde boy was faster, grabbing hold of sleeve and pulling.

“Look at this!” He exclaimed gleefully, the mouldy lace cuffs dangling in his grasp as he showed the robes off. “Crabbe, Goyle, would you take a look at them? Weasley, you weren’t thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean, they were very fashionable in about 1980 but I reckon the critters from whatever filthy store you bought them from are trying to eat them back –”

“Eat dung, Malfoy!” snarled Ron, his face the same shade as his hair, and snatched the robes from the Slytherin’s grasp. Malfoy howled with laughter, Crabbe and Goyle joining in a second late.

“So, are you going to enter, Weasley? Try and bring some glory to the family name? There’s a money prize involved, I figured that’s incentive enough to get you and your brothers moving. That way you might be able to afford some decent robes…”

“What are you talking about?” snapped Ron.

“Are.You.Going.To.Enter.?” Malfoy repeated slowly, as if talking to a child. “I suppose you will, Potter? Since you never miss a chance to show off.”

“Either explain, or leave, Malfoy.” Said Hermione, glaring over her book.

Malfoy’s smile grew even longer.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” he said, his voice full of delight. “You’ve got a father and a brother at the Ministry and yet, they haven’t told you? Perhaps they don’t even know themselves. My father told me about it ages ago, he heard it from Cornelius Fudge, the Minister himself. Associations are everything, you know. Your father’s probably not important enough to have access to that information. They probably won’t even speak about it in front of him.”

The three Slytherins laughed once more, before another boy appeared in the doorway. He was a stringy boy with rabbity features, hair combed back and a bored look in his grey eyes. He looked familiar, but Harry couldn’t quite place him.

“Malfoy, Parkinson is looking all over for you.” Said the boy, not looking at the other occupants in the compartment.

“Of course, she is. Tell her I’ll be right there, Nott.” Malfoy told him smugly over his shoulder, still shaking with laughter.

“Am I suddenly your messenger? Tell her yourself.” The brown-haired boy told him before leaving.

“Well, come on then, Crabbe, Goyle. The stench on mould in here is making me sick.” Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.

Ron got to his feet and angrily slammed the compartment door closed with so much force, the glass shattered.

“Ron!” Admonished Hermione, as she pulled out her wand and promptly fixed the pane in the door.

“Arrogant prick… making it look like he knows everything, and we don’t. ‘Your father’s probably not important enough to have access to that information’… Dad could’ve got a promotion anytime… He’s just happy where he is…” Ron grumbled, slumping on his seat.   

“Of course, he is! Don’t let Malfoy get to you –”

“Him? Get to me? Of course not!” said Ron, grabbing the offensive robes and throwing them gracelessly unto the seat next to him.

Ron’s bad mood carried on for the rest of the journey. As they neared Hogwarts, they changed into their robes in silence and prepared to leave the train once they reached Hogsmeade station.

The weather had not improved at all once the doors opened, thunder rumbling over their heads. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron threw his dress robes once more over Pigwidgeon’s cage as they left the warmth of the train, rain falling heavily over their heads.

Harry barely saw Hagrid’s gigantic silhouette waving at him with his lantern in the near-pitch-darkness that surrounded them, lifting his arm to wave back.

“Hey, Hagrid!” He yelled over the downpour.

“All righ’, Harry?” Hagrid hollered back, still waving his lantern. “See yeh at the feast if we don’ drown!”

“Oh! I wouldn’t fancy crossing the lake in this weather,” said Hermione from behind him, shivering as they made their way towards the horseless carriages. There, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed together into one, sighing gratefully to have escaped the rain for the moment. The door shut with a snap and the carriage started with a lurch, splashing its way up the track towards Hogwarts Castle.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. It was much warmer in here, noted Theodore gratefully. After leaving the carriages, the fourth year Slytherins had barely avoided Peeves throwing water balloons at unsuspecting students. They did manage to notice one red balloon landing in Ron Weasley’s head, to Malfoy’s delight. As they sat down at their table, he noted Blaise Zabini next to him narrowing his eyes at the staff table.  

“What’s got your attention?” Asked Theodore, running his hand through his hair, shaking off some of the rain.

“It seems we’re missing our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Blaise answered. “Unless Professor Snape finally succeeded in getting the post, then we’re missing the Potions teacher.”

Theodore looked up and scanned the table carefully. There was Professor Flitwick, sitting next to Professor Sprout, who was talking to Professor Sinistra. On Sinistra’s other side was Professor Snape, his usual frown on his face. Next to Snape, was an empty seat, probably Professor McGonagall’s, followed by Professor Dumbledore. The seat to his right-hand side was empty as well.

“Look at his face, there’s no way he got it.” Theo muttered back at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. At the rate they were going, Snape wouldn’t get to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts until Dumbledore retired. Clearly, since the headmaster was willing to even hire a werewolf before considering the Potions master.

“Maybe they couldn’t get anyone?” Tracy Davis asked, leaning over the table.

A fork of lighting across the ceiling made them stop their conversation to look up. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, but Theo had never seen it look so stormy, black, and purple clouds swirling ominously.

Before they could say anything else, the doors to the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the top of the Hall to begin the Sorting Ceremony. If the regular students looked wet, the first years looked like they had swum across the lake.

“I’ll bet at least one of them fell in,” Malfoy snickered on his other side.

McGonagall placed the stool on the ground, and, on top of it, the extremely old looking hat. There was a long silence, while everyone stared at it, until it finally opened the tear near his brim and broke into song.

Theodore tuned it out, it was always along the same line, some history, details about the houses in rhyme. He didn’t focus on the sorting either, clapping softly whenever his housemates did.

Finally, ‘Whitby, Kevin’ was sorted into Hufflepuff and the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

Professor Dumbledore got to his feet, smiling around at the students, arms open in greeting.

“I have only two words to say to you: Tuck in .” He told him, his deep voice echoing around the Hall.

After they had finished their meal, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The chatter that had filled the Hall died immediately, only the muted sound of rain and thunder could be heard.

“So!” he said, smiling around at them all, “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.” It was the usual announcements: new additions to Filch’s infamous list of forbidden objects, the Forbidden Forest was once again, forbidden, and Hogsmeade only available to third years and above.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.” Soft mutters broke out at this, but quickly ceased as Dumbledore went on. “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking much of the teacher’s time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –”

He was interrupted by a deafening crack of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall slammed open.

An ominous figure stood in the doorway, leaning upon a large staff. Lowering his hood, and shaking out the rain from his hair, the man limped forward, his long cloak dripping onto the floor. A dull clunk echoed through the Hall with every other step, and another flash of lighting illuminated his face, making Pansy Parkinson gasp and several students shiver in horror.

The man was disfigured, scars marred what seemed to be every inch of his skin and was missing a good chunk of his nose. He had two mismatched eyes, one dark, one electric blue. The blue eye was moving incessantly without blinking, independent from the other one. It rolled in every direction, even rolling right over, staring back into the man’s skull, leaving only the white of his eye visible. Theo barely suppressed a shudder.

“I don’t believe it! It’s Mad-Eye Moody!” whispered Zabini in shock.

As Moody reached Dumbledore, he stretched out his hand. Dumbledore shook it, muttering a soft greeting and gesturing towards the staff table, to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

“May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody.” A deafening silence followed, only Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped – everyone else seemed to be stunned by his appearance. Snape regarded him warily as the man took a swing from his hip flask.

“As I was saying, we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred Weasley loudly, from the Gryffindor table.

The tension that had built from Mad-Eye Moody’s entrance broke that, as nearly everyone laughed at his interruption. Dumbledore smiled appreciatively.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. Now, some of you may not know what it entails, so I hope that those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation. The Triwizard Tournament was first established…” Theo once more turned the headmaster out and looked around the Slytherin table.

Most of them, if not all, were already aware of what was going on. Zabini, Parkinson, Davis, Crabbe, Goyle and him all had to listen to Malfoy go on, and on, about everything his father had told him, including the prize and the significant death toll.

“What do you think, Theo?” Davis asked him, snapping him from thoughts.

“I think you’d have to be a fool to risk death for such a lousy prize. A thousand Galleons? Forget it.” Said Theodore.

“Don’t forget eternal glory, ” said Daphne Greengrass, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “I don’t think many Slytherins will be participating.”

“The Gryffindors are probably dying to enter,” sneered Malfoy. “At least, we could be getting rid of one…”

“…And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” Dumbledore sat down again and began talking to Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as everyone got up and began pouring out of the Hall.

The walk to the dungeons was mostly quiet, with just a couple of the older students discussing whether it was worth entering at least one name from their house. Though most were talking about who would be dumb or desperate enough to enter.  

The storm had greatly subsided by the next morning, though the skies were still quite gloomy. Theodore had gone to breakfast with Davis and Zabini and were currently reviewing their timetables. Malfoy was sitting a couple seats along, ignoring whatever Parkinson was saying next to him in favour of talking to Crabbe and Goyle.

“How boring,” said Zabini as he stirred his tea “History of Magic with the Ravenclaws, then Care of Magical Creatures with the bloody Gryffindors. And then Double Divination this afternoon.”

“It’ll be Arithmancy for me.” Theo muttered as he tried to keep his eyes open. He had barely gotten any sleep last night.

“I can’t wait to drop Divination,” groaned Tracey, “what an absolute waste of time. Trelawney’s a joke. I should’ve taken Arithmancy with you.”

His grogginess had passed a decent amount by the time they made it to History of Magic, only to return full force with Professor Binn’s monotone lecture about the Goblin Rebellions. Still, he made an effort to take notes, seriously considering going to the library after his last class to review whatever material he managed to get down. There was no way he’d remember any of it in this state.

After what seemed like an eternity, he was startled by a booming bell echoing throughout the castle, signalling the end of the lesson, not that Binn’s noted until Michael Corner pointed it out. The class then separated, the Ravenclaws heading down to the dungeons for Potions, and the Slytherin’s heading out towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest. As they left the castle, Theo enjoyed the crisp breeze, feeling far more awake than he had inside.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, with one hand on the collar of his black dog, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, with Fang whining and writhing, trying to get close to them to investigate them further. Most of the Gryffindors had already arrived and were gathered around him.

As they drew nearer, a rattling sound reached them, punctuated by what seemed to be minor explosions.

“…On’y jus’ hatched!” Hagrid was saying, “So yeh’ll be able ter raise ‘em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project of it.”

“And why would we want to raise them?” asked Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling appreciatively behind him.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

“I mean, what do they do? What is the point of them?”

Hagrid opened his mouth, but nothing came out; a few seconds passed before he answered roughly, “Tha’s next lesson, Malfoy. Yer just feedin’ ‘em today.  Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ‘em on a few diff’rent things – I’ve never had ‘em before, not sure what they’ll go fer – I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake – just try ‘em out with a bit of each.”

 “First pus and now this.” Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor, muttered woefully.

“Any takers?” Zabini asked them with a smirk, none of the Slytherins had moved towards the crates. Some of the Gryffindors were still warily looking at the creatures; of course, Potter, Granger, and Weasley were already trying, picking up squelchy handfuls of frog liver to throw in.

“It’s too early to deal with this.” Said Davis, crossing her arms. “I’ll just watch.” Theodore nodded in agreement.

“Ouch!” Another Gryffindor, Dean Thomas, yelled after the first ten minutes. “It got me! Its end exploded!”

Hagrid worriedly hurried to him.

Thomas angrily showed him the burn on his hand.

“Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off.” Hagrid nodded. Blast off? Theo thought anxiously. Absolutely not. He took a couple of steps back into what he considered a safe radius from the bloody things.

“Eurgh!” said Lavender Brown, “Eugh, Hagrid, what’s that pointy thing on it?”

“Ah, some of them ‘ave got stings” said Hagrid enthusiastically, making some of the students quickly withdraw their hands from the boxes. “I reckon they’re the males… The females’ve got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood.”

“Well, I can certainly see the appeal of trying to keep them alive.” Said Malfoy sarcastically, “who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, bite and suck your blood all at once?”

“Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean they’re not useful” Granger snapped at him. “Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you?” At this, Potter and Weasley grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a small smile in return. Theo raised an eyebrow, he thought that didn’t exactly answer the question, but decided it wasn’t worth it to join in.

Though considering it, it wouldn’t surprise Theo if Hagrid did want a dragon for a pet. After hippogriffs last term and now these Blast-Ended Skrewts, it was probably best not to underestimate Hagrid’s love for creatures in the Ministry’s ‘XXX’ Category, competent wizards only, and above.

Thankfully, the class ended without further accidents. As they walked back to the castle for lunch, the Slytherins chattered amongst themselves.

“How big do you reckon those things might get?” Parkinson asked with a grimace.

“This is Hagrid we’re talking about; they might end up being the size of his hut.” Said Zabini.

“That’s it. Mark my words, if this ends up being a whole-year-project, I’m dropping the class. I’ll take that T before getting burned to death by those disgusting Skrewts.” Said Davis, as they sat down at the Slytherin table. Hang on.

“Wait, if those things explode. Why were they being kept in bloody wooden crates?!” Theodore asked, horrified. Nobody had an answer.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Theodore separated from the other Slytherins to make his way to the seventh floor, where Professor Vector’s class took place.

As he arrived, he noted Granger and a couple of Ravenclaws were already there. He nodded to Terry Boot in greeting, as he sat down on the seat next to him and behind Granger. Arithmancy could very well be his favourite class, seeing as there was barely any confrontation between the students. The subject was hard enough to waste time on petty squabbles, and (mostly since Theodore was the only Slytherin there) classes went on without a hitch. Partnering was not an issue either. Normally he would work with either Boot or Anthony Goldstein, but he wasn’t averse to joining Granger; they had exchanged notes for last term’s final, to which he attributed receiving an O.

A couple more students trickled in, Ernest Macmillan entered in a hurry and dropped his books messily next to Granger; and Padma Patil entered the room giggling with Lisa Turpin. No other Hufflepuffs came in, which meant Hannah Abbott and Sally-Anne Perks had probably dropped the class. Once they were all seated, Professor Vector welcomed them before diving into the curriculum for the year.

The class went on, with no interruptions. As Theo took notes, his thoughts wandered on to whether Professor Trelawney would’ve already predicted her first death already and who the poor sod was. Probably Potter , he thought amused, before focusing on the number chart Professor Vector was currently explaining.

Before they knew it, class was over as the bell rung once more. Professor Vector bid them all farewell and joked that, it being the first day of term, they wouldn’t have homework for the next class.

He met the other Slytherins in the entrance hall, which was packed with students waiting for dinner to begin. Malfoy was cackling as he held a copy of the Daily Prophet, quoting it to Crabbe and Goyle.

“… can’t wait until Weasley shows up. Oh!” His eyes lightened as he saw Potter, Weasley and Granger reach the entrance hall together. “Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

Weasley turned, grinding his teeth as soon as he saw who it was. “What?” He snapped.

“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley! Listen to this: ‘the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley’ – imagine them not even getting his name right, what a complete non-identity he must have –” Malfoy crowed loudly, making sure everyone in the hall heard.

“‘Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers over some highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody’s heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.’ And there’s even a picture!” said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up.

Potter moved to stand defensively by Weasley’s shoulders, who was shaking with fury.

“A picture of your parents outside their house – if that can even be called a house! Your mother could do with losing some weight, don’t you think?” Oh boy, Theo thought, nothing good could come out of this when mothers got involved.

“Get stuffed, Malfoy.” Potter snapped, holding onto Weasley’s shoulder.

“You were staying with them this summer, right Potter?” said Malfoy maliciously, “is his mother really that pocky or is it just the picture?”

By now, both Potter and Granger were holding on to Weasley’s robes to stop him from lunging at Malfoy. All the Fourth Years were listening, as well as a few others in the hall.

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” Potter snarled back, “that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

Malfoy’s face went slightly pink.

“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.”

“Keep your fat mouth shut then.” Said Potter, as he turned to walk away. Immediately, Malfoy’s hand went into his robes, drawing out his wand and sending out a white-hot jet of magic that just barely missed the Gryffindor’s face.

A roar echoed throughout the entrance hall.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!” Another jet of magic hit Malfoy, who turned into a pure white ferret shivering on the stone-flagged floor at the Slytherins’ feet. Theo whirled around in horror, careful not to step on ferret-Malfoy.

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase, his wand out and pointing right at Malfoy. There was a terrified silence as he approached, nobody but Moody was moving a muscle.

Moody focused on Potter, “Did he get you?” He growled; his voice low.

Taking advantage of this, Crabbe leaned down to pick up Malfoy. But before he could grab him, Moody interrupted whatever Potter was saying and shouted. “LEAVE IT!” Making Crabbe freeze immediately, apparently his magical eye could see through the back of his own head.

Moody began to limp towards the group of Fourth Year Slytherins, making ferret-Malfoy give out a terrified squeak and take off, streaking towards the dungeons.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at him again – Malfoy flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upwards once more. Parkinson gasped horrified, covering her mouth with her hands.

“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back is turned.” Growled Moody, as Malfoy bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…”

Ferret-Malfoy flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. Theo could only watch in horror.

“We need to get another teacher…” Zabini whispered to him.

“Never – do – that – again –” said Moody, saying each word as Malfoy hit the floor and bounced upwards again.

“Professor Moody!” said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall, thank gods, was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall.” Moody greeted her, making ferret-Malfoy bounce even higher.

“What – what are you doing?” she asked, following the bouncing ferret’s progress with her eyes.

“Teaching.” Said Moody nonchalantly.

“Teach – Moody, is that a student?” Professor McGonagall shrieked, dropping the books in her arms.

“Yep.” Said Moody.

“No!” Cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a snapping noise, Malfoy had turned back to his normal self, lying in a heap on the floor with his blonde hair falling over his brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet wincing, and hurried back to the Slytherins, huddling himself in between Theodore and Zabini.

“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said McGonagall weakly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore must have mentioned it to you.”

“He might have mentioned it, yes.” Grumbled Moody unconcerned.

“We give detentions! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

“I’ll do that then, get over here!” Said Moody, looking at Malfoy with great dislike.

Theo looked over at Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, he could barely mutter a “my father” before Moody interrupted him.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I know your father of old, boy. I know all of your little friends’ fathers. You can all them Moody’s keeping a close eye on their children… You tell them that for me… Now, your Head of House’ll be Snape, will it?” asked Moody quietly, limping towards them.

“Yes.” Malfoy answered resentfully.

“Another old friend. I’ve been looking forward to having a chat with old Snape… Come on.” Said Moody, reaching in between Theo and Blaise to grab Malfoy’s arm, marching him off to the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, before clearing her throat.

“Very well, then. Mr. Zabini, Mr. Nott, will you two fetch my books for me?” Said the professor, tucking her wand back into her robes. Theo and Zabini looked quickly at each other before hurrying up the stairs and lifting the books into their arms. After handing them back to McGonagall, she thanked them before entering the Great Hall.

Tracey Davis had her arm around a wailing Parkinson, as the other students quickly dispersed into the Great Hall, looking forward to dinner.

“Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m not excited for his class anymore.”

Chapter Text

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, have him detention. Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

“You know why Snape’s in such a foul mood, don’t you?” said Ron to Harry, as they watched Hermione teach Neville the Scouring Charm to remove the toad guts from under his fingernails.

“Yeah,” said Harry, “Moody.”

It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted the Dark Arts job and had now failed to get it for the fourth year in the run. Snape had disliked all their previous professors, and shown it – but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever Harry saw them together – at mealtimes, or when they passed each other in the corridors – he had the distinct impression that Snape was avoiding Moody’s eye, whether magical or normal.

“I reckon Snape’s a bit scared of him, you know?” Harry added thoughtfully.

“Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad,” said Ron, his eyes shining with excitement, “and bounced him all around the dungeons…”

The Gryffindor Fourth Years were looking forward to Moody’s first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

“Been in the –”

“Library. We know,” Harry finished the sentence for her. “C’mon, quick, or we won’t get decent seats.”

They hurried into three chairs right in front of the teachers desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited. The other houses had settled down as well by now, the Slytherin the last to come in, slowly filling out the chairs closer to the back and the windows. Everyone was unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and the entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could see just his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk, and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

They returned their books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled grey hair out of his face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing on each student’s face as he or she answered.

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures – you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind – very behind – on dealing with curses.” Said Moody. “So, I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercourses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to teach you what illegal Dark courses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by Wizarding Law?”

Several hands rose slowly into the air, including Ron and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron.

“Er…” Said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one… Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes.” Said Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.”

Moody got to his feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Inside were three large black spiders, scuttling around. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him, Ron hated spiders. Reaching into the jar, Moody took out one of the spiders, holding in the palm of his hand so they all could see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Imperio!”

The spider leapt from Moody´s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs, then did backflip, breaking the thread and landing on a desk, where it went on to do what was decidedly a tap dance.

Almost everyone was laughing, the loudest laughs coming from the front rows.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost instantly.

“Total control.” Said Moody. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats… Years back, there were a lot of wizards and witches being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, figuring out who was being forced to act and who was acting of their own free will.

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” He barked, making everyone jump in shock.

He picked up the dancing spider and threw it back into the jar.  

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand shot up in the air, and, to Harry’s surprise, so did Neville’s.

“Yes?” Asked Moody, his magical swivelling around to finally settle on Neville’s face.

“There’s one – the Cruciatus Curse.” Neville answered, his voice small but distinct.

Moody was looking at him intently, with both of his eyes this time.

“Your name’s Longbottom?” He asked, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. As Neville nodded, Moody added nothing more, instead reaching into the jar for another spider. He placed it in the desk where it remained, too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse. Need’s to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea.” He said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!”

The spider grew, looking even bigger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretence, Ron pushed his chair backwards, as far from Moody’s desk as the space behind him allowed.

Moody raised his wand once more, and pointing it to the spider, muttered, “Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent into itself, rolling over and twitching violently. Moody continued pointing his wand at it, and its writhing became even more intense.

“Stop it!” Hermione exclaimed shrilly.

Harry looked around at her. She wasn’t staring at the spider, but at Neville, whose hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.

Moody lowered his wand, the spider relaxed but continued twitching every couple of seconds. “Reducio!” He muttered, before picking it up and lowering it back into the jar.

“You don’t knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse, that one was very popular once too…

“Now… anyone know any others?”

Harry looked around again. From the looks on some of his classmate’s faces they were wondering what was going to happen to the third spider, others were shrunk in their chairs, looking down at their empty desks. Hermione’s hand shook slightly as she raised it in the air for the third time.

“Yes.” Said Moody, looking at her.

“Avada Kedavra.” Whispered Hermione.

Several people looked uneasily around her, shifting in their seats.

“Ah, yes. The last and worst.” Said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse.”

He put his hand into jar. As if it knew what was coming, the third spider jumped frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to escape Moody’s fingers. He caught it eventually and placed it upon the desk. It began to scuttle towards the end of the surface, but before it could reach it Moody had pointed his wand at it and roared, “Avada Kedavra!”

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air – instantaneously, the spider rolled into its back, untouched but unmistakably dead. Several stifled cries were heard; Ron had thrown himself backwards and hit the desk of Dean Thomas behind him.

Moody swept the dead spider unto the floor.

“Not nice,” he said calmly, “not pleasant. And there’s no way to counter it. There’s no blocking it. Only one person has ever survived it and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

Harry felt his face redden and both of Moody’s eyes settled on him. Feeling everyone else’s eyes on him, he focused on staring at the black board, but not reading what was written in it at all.

So that was how his parents had died. Just like the spider. A blinding flash of green light and the rush of speeding death before life was wiped from their bodies. Had they been unmarked and unblemished as well? He forced himself to focus on the present.

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it,” Moody was saying, “you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I’d doubt I’d get as much as a nosebleed. But I’m not here to teach you how to do it.

“If there’s no countercourse, why am I showing you? Because you need to know. You’ve got to know what the worst is. You’ve got to appreciate what you’re up against. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” He roared, and the class jumped again.

“Now, those three curses – Imperio, Crucio and Avada Kedavra. The Imperius, Cruciatus and Killing Curse. They’re know as the Unforgivable Curses, the use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. And you need preparing. You need arming. You need constant, never-ceasing vigilance.”

The rest of the lesson was spent taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang – but when Moody dismissed them, and they had left the classroom a torrent of talk burst forth.

They were talking about the lesson, Harry thought, as though it had been some spectacular show, but he hadn’t found it very entertaining.

“Some lesson though, eh?” Said Ron to Harry as they set off for the Great Hall. “Fred and George were right; he really knows his stuff. When he did Avada Kedavra the way that spider just died –”

The moment he saw Harry’s face he fell silent and didn’t speak again until they reached the Great Hall.

Later that night, Harry and Ron were in the Gryffindor Common Room working on their Divinations homework.

“And on Wednesday, I think I’ll come off worst in a fight.” Said Ron, writing excitedly on his piece of parchment. Harry sighed.

“Ah, I was going to have a fight! Alright, I guess I’ll lose a bet.”

“Yeah, you bet I was going to win that fight.”

The portrait hole opened, and Hermione climbed into the common room, carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and rattling box in the other.

“Hello, I’ve just finished!” She spoke.

“So have I!” Said Ron, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laying the things she was carrying on an empty armchair, before pulling Ron’s predictions towards her.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up?” She asked sardonically as she skimmed the parchment.

“How dare you!” Ron exclaimed in mock-outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“It was just an expression.” Added Ron hastily. Harry put down his quill, having just written down death by decapitation.

“What’s in the box?”

“I’m glad you asked.” She answered proudly before opening it. Inside were about fifty badges, all different colours but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

“Spew?” asked Harry, picking one and inspecting it. “What’s Spew?”

“It’s not Spew!” Said Hermione indignantly. “It’s S.P.E.W. It stands for Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I’ve just started it.”

“Oh, yeah? How many members have you got?” Said Ron, throwing a badge up and down in the air.

“Well – if you two join – then three.” She answered.  

“And do you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying ‘Spew’?”

“It’s not Spew!” Said Hermione, taking the badge from Ron’s hands before he could throw it in the air again. “I’ve been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can’t believe no one’s done anything about it before now.”

“Hermione – open your ears,” Ron said loudly, “They.Like.It. They like being enslaved.”

“Our short-term goals” She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, “are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term ones include but are not limited to changing the law about non-wand use and trying to get an elf into the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because frankly, they’re shockingly unrepresented.

“We first start by securing members. I thought two Sickles to join, that pays for the badge and the rest can go to funding. Ron, you’re treasurer – I’ve got you a collecting tin upstairs – And Harry, you’re secretary, so you might want to write down everything I’ve been saying so far as a record of our first meeting.”

As Hermione beamed at the two of them, Harry was torn in between exasperation at her and amusement at the look on Ron’s face.

Back in the Slytherin dungeons, some of the Fourth Years were gathered on a table near the fire, papers and charts strewn all over the surface.

"Do you think Moody could potentially get in trouble for showing us those curses?" Tracey Davis asked, twirling her quill around her fingers.

"I think, legally, yes, he could. However, he does have Professor Dumbledore on his side…and you know Dumbledore's influence. His decisions are usually the final say in everything." Theodore pointed out.

“Whatever. I just want to finish my Divination’s homework and go to bed.” Said Blaise, trying to focus.

“I don’t understand how the sun’s position relative to the constellations at the time of your birth somehow affects your personality, not to mention predict the future.” Said Daphne, resting her head on Tracey’s shoulder.

“Just make it up, that’s what I’m doing.” Blaise shrugged. “Did it last term as well, Trelawney’s too much of a joke to notice… Ugh, I can’t believe I still have the Ancient Runes homework to finish after this.” He added, eyeing Theodore’s finished work close to his elbow; unfortunately for him, the other boy noticed.

“Touch my work, and I’ll hex you all the way to next Thursday.” Theo warned him, looking up from his Arithmancy textbook, Blaise’s hands went up as his eyes widened.

“Oh! That’s a good one! Killed by a stray curse meant for Zabini.” Said Tracey gleefully as she wrote it down. “That makes one, how many do we need?”

“I think it’s just for this coming month.” Daphne answered before frowning slightly. “You don’t think he has it out for us, do you? With the way he talked about the Imperius Curse and how some claimed to have had it cast upon them?”

Theo closed his book softly, “When the whole Malfoy incident happened, he said he knew all of our fathers. With what happened at the Quidditch Match, and him being an ex-Auror… I don’t think it was just a slip of tongue.”

“Even if he has it out for us, he can’t really do anything, now can he?” Tracey asked. “We share the class with the other Houses, he can’t not teach us what is in the curriculum.”

Blaise cleared out his throat. “Besides, if anything happens, we just go to Professor Snape. He’ll take care of it. We could even just throw Malfoy at Moody and hope he distracts him enough for us to make a run for it.” Even with his attempt at a joke, the air remained tense as they all focused on their work once more.

The next couple of weeks went by without problems, though their lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding. To their displeasure, that day Professor Moody had announced he would be putting the Imperius Curse on all of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

“But – but you said it’s illegal, Professor.” Said Granger hesitantly, as Moody used a spell to clear away the desks, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. “You said – to use it on another human –”

“Already cleared it with Dumbledore. If you’d rather learn the hard way – when somebody’s putting it on you so they can control you completely – fine by me. The door’s that way.”

Theo looked at Zabini, there was no way he was leaving in front of the entire year, but he wasn’t keen on having the curse cast on him in public. They slowly inched towards the back, obscured by their peers. Greengrass and Davis joined them almost immediately. Malfoy, he saw, was also near the back, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The other Fourth Years were slowly gathering in a circle around Moody.

One by one, he beckoned them into the centre, casting the curse on them. Dean Thomas hopped around the room, singing the national anthem. Ernie MacMillan imitated a squirrel. Terry Boot took off his shoes and put them in his hands. Neville Longbottom made a series of acrobatic jumps that would be impossible if it had not been for the curse. Not one of them was able to fight it and they recovered immediately after Moody had removed it.

“Potter.” Moody growled. “You next.”

Potter moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space Moody had cleared of desks. Curious, Theo leaned forward, enough so he could watch him from a space between a couple of Hufflepuffs. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Potter, and said, “Imperio!”

Potter’s body immediately relaxed, standing peacefully in the centre for a couple of seconds.

“Jump onto the desk.” Said Moody. Potter’s knees bent slightly ready to comply… but didn’t do anything else.

“Jump onto the desk.” Moody repeated louder. Still nothing. “Jump. NOW!”

Potter didn’t jump exactly. He smashed headlong against the desk closest to him, knocking it over and hit his kneecaps on the floor. O for effort, Theo thought, that was the furthest he had seen anyone resist the Imperius Curse.

“Now, that’s more like it!” Growled Moody, lifting the curse. “Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention – watch his eyes, that’s where you see it – very good Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

Moody insisted on putting Potter under the curse four times in a row, until he could throw it off completely. If you asked him, he thought as he watched Potter’s eyes glaze over once more, as far as lessons went that one wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected it. Potter’s eyes were terribly green as well, he thought before shaking his head.

Later during the Transfiguration lesson, even the Ravenclaws joined the Slytherins in groaning at the amount of homework Professor McGonagall had just assigned.

“You are now entering a most important phase of your wizarding education!” She told them, her eyes glinting behind her square spectacles. “Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer, and you will all need all the preparation you can get.

The Arithmancy teacher, Professor Vector, had them composing both number charts and essays, alternating each one by the week. Professor Babbling, who taught Ancient Runes, had assigned them the translation of the entire Elder Futhark runic alphabet. Professor Bins had them writing weekly essays about the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape had them researching antidotes, which they took seriously since he had hinted at poisoning one of them by Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Besides, it didn’t take much for them to take Snape seriously. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three additional books in preparation for their Summoning Charm lesson.

Even Care of Magical Creatures was an extra weight; the blasted Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable rate, despite no one figuring out what they actually ate. Of course, Hagrid was delighted and as a “side-project” he suggested they periodically visit him to observe the Skrewts and make notes on their behaviour. Malfoy had tried backing out of it with poor results. Theodore had just made sure to not wear his newer robes to that lesson in particular, he had owled to his home asking his house-elf Whilbie for one from the previous term. He didn’t mind it being a bit worn, especially since the Skrewts had a tendency to scorch his sleeves.

When they arrived, the Slytherins found themselves unable to enter the Great Hall due to the large crowd of students congregating there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.

“What’s going on?” Tracey asked, trying to see over the many heads. Blaise, the tallest of them, tried standing on tiptoe to see if he could catch a glimpse.

“I can’t see anything, thanks to those stupidly tall Weasleys. All I saw was red hair!” He grumbled.

Malfoy shared a glance with Crabbe and Goyle and the two began pushing their way into the crowd, with the blonde boy close behind them. The remaining snakes followed suit, eager to find out what the fuss was about.

Soon enough they reached the staircase, to the displeasure of the other students who grumbled as the two enormous Slytherins pushed them aside.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND

DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O’CLOCK

ON FRIDAY THE 30^TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL

END HALF AN HOUR EARLY.

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS

TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT

OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE

THE WELCOMING FEAST.

“Brilliant!” He heard someone say somewhere behind him. “It’s Potions last thing Friday! Snape won’t have time to poison us all!”

“It’s only a week from now.” Blaise muttered. “I wonder if anyone from Slytherin has made up their mind to enter.”

Said week turned out to be an absolute chaos. The castle went through an extra-thorough cleaning. The grimy portraits had been scrubbed, suits of armour were gleaming and moving without squeaking and Filch had sent a couple of first year girls who had forgotten to wipe their shoes into hysterics. Even the ghosts had helped it seemed, at the beginning of the week the Bloody-Baron had taken it into his hands to warn off Peeves from dirtying the newly cleaned castle. So far, Peeves had yet to re-emerge from wherever he had gone into hiding.

Other members of the staff were oddly tense as well. Snape had been, for once, treating the students equally without minding their House. That didn’t mean he had somehow been exorcized and was suddenly treating everyone in the way he usually reserved for Slytherins. The man had instead been unusually cruel to the Slytherins themselves, constantly berating them for wearing their robes improperly and forcing them to be on their best behaviour.

It’s just like being back home, Theo thought as he watched Snape threaten Crabbe and Goyle with detention if they didn't stop acting like ‘half-brained baboons’.

Even other students were becoming unbearable, even Granger, who he had always counted as one of the more decent members of their Arithmancy study group, was getting on his last nerve. She had taken to bringing a box full of badges to their meetings, badgering on about her newly formed group for the rights and well-fare of house-elves. It wasn’t like they needed it, he thought, Hogwarts house-elves had some of the best working conditions he had seen. Others were not so lucky, he mentally grimaced, remembering how the Malfoys had treated their own elf when he and his father had visited them a couple of years ago.

As it was, most members had only bought their badges so she would sit down and study, so they could finally get their work done in peace. ‘Spew’ was such a horrible name, he thought as he stared as his badge one night, throwing it to the back of his trunk before any of the other boys saw it.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each representing one of the Houses. Slytherin’s looked beautiful, green with a silver serpent. Behind the staff table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation that day. Nobody was particularly attentive in their lessons, preferring to speculate about their expected guests, the tournament and what the tasks would be. Even Potions went by smoothly, Longbottom for once managing to perform decently under Snape’s sneer. When the bell rang early, the entire class hurried out to their respective common rooms. The Slytherins quickly descended to the dungeons, deposited their bags and books as instructed, pulled on their cloaks and hats, and rushed upstairs to the entrance hall.

“I can’t believe we have to wear this stupid hats.” Malfoy sneered as he tried to put it on without messing his hair. “I find hard to believe they were ever fashionable.”

“Just put it on.” Blaise grumbled, “with the amount of gel you wear, a storm could pass by, and not a single hair would be out of place. I’m the one having trouble here.” Since his hat kept sliding off his head.

“Like you can talk,” Theo shot back at him. “My hair is curly; it won’t fit under this hat properly. You only have a centimetre of hair to worry about.” He complained, trying to push an errant curl away from his forehead.

“Would you three stop complaining?” Tracey said, catching up to them. “And Theo, stop pulling at your hair, it looks fine like that.”

“Besides, there’s nothing you can do to improve your appearance at this point.” Said Daphne, her blonde hair perfectly in place under her hat.

As they made their way out, Snape kept barking orders at them. “Stop slouching, Crabbe! Are you a wizard or an orangutan?”

“With that brain-power, definitely the latter.” Daphne whispered to Tracey, who snickered.

“Silence, Ms. Greengrass, Ms. Davis. Everyone straighten your hats. Parkinson – wipe whatever that is off your face before I wipe it off for you. Nott, for once in your life, stop fidgeting. Goyle, you disgusting brat, wipe that mud off your shoes.” Goyle grunted before wiping his shoe on the back of his leg. Snape muttered a curse under his breath before muttering ‘Scourgify!’ and waving his wand at him.

“Kindly, refrain from getting more dirt on yourself or I will have you cleaning the leeches’ tank this week-end.” He threatened, turning around on himself, cloak sweeping dramatically behind him, and moving on to terrorize the first years who were talking amongst themselves.

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling, and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

“It’s almost six, where are they?” Pansy whispered, looking around. The sun was setting, and it was getting colder by the minute. Theo curled his cold hands into his sleeves, trying to repel the cold through sheer force of will.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row, where he stood with the other teachers.

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

Something large was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the tree-tops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle’s windows hit it, they saw a gigantic powder-blue, horse drawn carriage, the size of a small manor, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen Abraxans.

A boy wearing the same colour of blue jumped out and unfolded a set of golden steps, standing back and bowing respectfully. A black, high-heeled shoe emerged from the carriage, followed by the largest woman Theodore had ever seen, perhaps even bigger than Hagrid. A few people gasped.

Dumbledore started to clap; the stunned students following his lead, broke into applause. Some of them standing on tiptoe, trying to catch a better glimpse at her. The woman walked towards Dumbledore with a relaxed smile, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, tall as he was, barely had to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” He said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dorr” Said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you” Dumbledore answered.

“My pupils.” Said Madame Maxime, waving one of her hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen boys and girls, all around their late teens, were emerging from the carriage. They were shivering, unsurprisingly, since their robes seemed to be made of silk and were not wearing any cloaks. A few of them had scarves and shawls wrapped around their heads and were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks of their faces.

“’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” Dumbledore told her. “Would you like to wait here and greet him, or would you prefer to step inside and warm up”?

“Warm up, I think,” she said, “Ze ‘orses –”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures professor will be delighted to care of them. I assure you he will be well up for the job.” Smiled Dumbledore. “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other – er – charges.”

“The Skrewts.” Theo muttered to Blaise, making him swallow back a laugh.

“Very well,” Said Madame Maxime, bowing her head. She turned toward her students, “Come.” She said imperiously and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

They stood, shivering now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Theo could swear he could see his breath in front of him, he had never been good with the cold. Most people were gazing hopefully at the sky.

“Can you hear something?” Blaise said suddenly.

Theo ignored his chattering teeth and tried to listen, he could faintly hear a rumbling and sucking sound. “The lake!” He whispered back.

At the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool was forming and from its heart, what seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly.

“It’s a mast!” Tracey said excitedly from his right.

Slowly and magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. Finally, with a sloshing noise, it emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and gliding toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the tell-tale sound of the anchor splashing against the shallows and a plank being lowered.

People began to disembark; unlike the Beauxbatons students who wore no cloaks, they were wearing heavy fur cloaks. The man who was leading them, wore a sleek and silver fur, just like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he climbed up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff.” Said Dumbledore, shaking his hand once he was close enough.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, glancing up at the castle and smiling, but Theodore noticed his smile did not extend to his eyes. “How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… You don’t mind, do you Dumbledore? Viktor here has a slight cold…”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students, but before Theo could get a good glimpse at this face, he felt Zabini tugging insistently at his left arm.

“Theo! Theo! Look – it’s Krum!”

Chapter Text

“I don’t believe it!” Said Ron in a stunned voice. “Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!”

“For heaven’s sake, Ron. He’s only a Quidditch player.” Said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

“ Only a Quidditch player! Hermione – he’s one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still in school!”

As the Hogwarts crowd followed their visitors back into the Great Hall, many of the students were frantically searching their pockets for quills or any other writing material, even lipstick in some extreme cases, to get Viktor Krum’s autograph.

They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron was careful to sit on the side facing the front door, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, unsure where to sit. The Beauxbatons students had already made themselves at home at the Ravenclaw table, and were looking up at the ceiling glumly, clutching their shawls and scarves as close to themselves as possible.

“It’s not that cold,” frowned Hermione. “Why didn’t they bring cloaks?”

“Over here!” Ron hissed under his breath. “Come sit over here! Hermione, budge over, make space –”

“What?”

“Too late.” He sighed dejectedly, making Harry focus again on the Durmstrang delegation.

They had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Of course, out of all the students sitting there, Harry thought, they just had to sit across Malfoy. He could only see the blond boy’s back as he leaned forward to talk to Krum. Idly, he noted the same brown-haired boy from the train was currently sitting next to Krum, a bored look on his face once again.

“Yeah, that’s right, smarm up to him, Malfoy.” Ron sneered. “Bet Krum can see right through that… bet he probably has people fawning over him all the time… Hey, where’d you reckon they’re going to sleep? I wouldn’t mind giving up my bed…”

Hermione snorted.

“At least they look happier than the Beauxbatons lot.” Said Harry.

The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the ceiling with impressed looks on their faces; a couple of them were picking up their golden plates and inspecting them with interest. Under their coats, they were wearing deep blood-red robes; Harry thought he had never seen so much red at the Slytherin table.

By that point, all of the students had entered the Great Hall. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Igor Karkaroff. As the other two headmasters sat down, Dumbledore remained standing, and silence fell.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast.” Said Dumbledore. “For now, I invite you all to drink, eat, and make yourselves at home!”

As he sat down, the plates in front of them filled with food as usual. Harry noticed there was a greater variety than usual, with several foreign looking dishes.

“What’s that?” Asked Ron, pointing at what looked like shellfish stew.

“It’s Bouillabaisse, a French dish. It’s quite good, I had it once over summer holiday.” Hermione answered him. It seemed Ron had finally met his match foodwise, Harry mentally snickered, as he saw the redhead give up on that dish in particular.

After a moment, a voice said, “Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?” It was a girl from Beauxbatons, her long silvery-blonde hair fell to her waist as she tilted her head slightly, waiting for an answer. She had wide deep blue eyes and white, even teeth.

Ron immediately went purple. He opened his mouth to answer but only a gurgling sound came out.

“Go ahead.” Harry said, jumping in before Ron choked on his tongue.

The girl picked up her dish and carried it gracefully to the Ravenclaw table. Ron’s eyes followed her until the moment she sat down, as if he had never seen one before. Harry finally laughed, the sound of it breaking Ron out of his stupor.

“She’s a veela!” He told Harry, his voice hoarse.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Hermione snapped. “Do you see everyone staring at her wide their mouths wide open like you?”

But she wasn’t completely right about that, thought Harry as he looked around. Most of the boys sitting around the girl with the silver hair were still staring at her, with the same lost look in the eyes Ron had until a moment ago.

“Seriously, Hermione. That’s not a normal girl!” Said Ron, resuming his eating. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!”

“I reckon they make them alright at Hogwarts.” Said Harry without thinking, his eyes locking on Cho Chang, sitting a couple of seats away from the blonde girl, and Cedric Diggory at the Hufflepuff table behind them.

At one point during the feast, two men had arrived, taking their place at the staff table. Once the golden plates had been cleared, Dumbledore stood up once more. Harry felt a shrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fred and George lean forward, staring at Dumbledore in concentration.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore said, smiling down at them. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last couple of months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Madame Maxime, and Professor Karkaroff on the panel that will judge the champion’s efforts.

At the mention of the word “champions”, the attentiveness of the students listening sharpened. As if sensing this, Dumbledore smiled as he said, “The casket then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who until then had been lurking in a far corner of the Hall, made his way toward Dumbledore, carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels.

"There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, which will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess—their daring—their deduction—and their ability to cope with danger. As you well know, there will be three champions, one from each participating magical school. The one with the highest marks after the third task will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

No one seemed to be breathing at this point. Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times on the casket. The lid slowly creaked open. Dumbledore reached inside and pulled out a large wooden cup, filled to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. He set the cup down over the now closed casket.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as a champion must write their name and school on a slip of paper and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions will have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged worthy to represent the schools. I will place the goblet in the entrance hall where it will be accessible. To ensure no underage students yield to the temptation, an Age Line will be drawn around it. Nobody under the age of 17 will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion is selected, they must follow through to the end. Placing your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. Once chosen, there can be no change of mind or heart. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

“An Age Line!” Fred Weasley said, his eyes gleaming as they left the Great Hall. “An Aging Potion should take care of that, shouldn’t it?”

George bumped his shoulder into him, “Once your name is in the goblet, it’s done! The goblet can’t tell if you’re seventeen!”

Hermione scoffed, “As if Professor Dumbledore hasn’t probably thought of that. Besides, I don’t think anyone under seventeen stands a chance. We just haven’t learned enough…”

“Speak for yourself,” said Fred. “George and I are only a couple of months away from being off-age. What difference will that make?”

Harry was distracted from answering when Ron bumped into him, “Where are they? Dumbledore didn’t say where they were sleeping, did he?”

“Are you still going on about them?” Hermione groaned.

His query was answered as Karkaroff led his students through the doors. “Back to the ship, then.” He was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine?”

One of the other students hurried to the front. “Professor, I vood like some vine.”  He said, hopefully.

“I wasn’t offering it to you , Poliakoff.” Karkaroff snapped. Harry was quick to step to the side, making way for them to pass.

“Thank you,” Karkaroff said carelessly, glancing at him before freezing. He stared at him as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the other Durmstrang students also halted, staring curiously at Harry.

“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter.” A gruff voice said from behind Harry.

Karkaroff spun around and his face went white with fear and fury. "You!" Mad-Eye Moody was standing behind the Weasley twins, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring at Karkaroff.

"Yeah, me," Moody returned grimly. "And unless you’ve got something to say to Potter, move. You're blocking the door." He was right, half of the students were now waiting behind him in the Hall, some standing on tiptoes to try and see what was happening.

Karkaroff swept away, waving his group with him. Moody watched him leave with an expression of intense dislike. But really, what was so unusual about that? Harry thought, it seemed that for half the people Moody met, he decided to develop an animosity towards them.

As the next day was Saturday, it was common for the Great Hall to be near empty early in the morning. Theo could testify to that, as he normally went for breakfast early to avoid the crowds. However, he was not alone this time. Not only had Zabini and Davis woken up much earlier than normal, so did a surprising amount of students. About twenty people were milling around the entrance hall, all watching the Goblet of Fire. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

Theodore sighed inwardly, all he wanted at the moment was a strong cup of tea. But the Slytherin table was on the edge of the Great Hall, which meant that they would have to brave the herd to get to the table in the first place. Sticking close to the walls, the three Slytherins stumbled their way into the hall, having to shove slightly some of the students who were to busy staring at the stupid goblet to move.

His antisocial self let out a sigh of relief that he didn't know he had been holding as he sat down on the wooden bench. From where they sat, they had a clear sight of the Goblet of Fire and who entered the Age Line to put their name in.

"Has anyone put their names in yet?" Tracey asked an upperclassman close to them.

"All of the Durmstrang lot, Poliakoff just dropped his."

Just then, the Weasley twins and their friend, Lee Jordan, hurried into the Great Hall, looking extremely excited. They paused by Potter and his friends and began whispering to them. One of the twins, Theo had no idea which one, their mother probably couldn’t even tell them apart, he consoled himself, pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and walked right up to the edge of the line.

He tapped Blaise on the wrist, keeping his eyes on the imminent disaster waiting to happen. The other boy hurriedly put down his pumpkin juice as he in turn nudged Tracey.

With the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall, Weasley took a great breath and stepped over the line. For a split-second it seemed to have worked – the other Weasley twin certainly thought so, as he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after his brother – but the very next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle. They landed painfully, around ten feet from the goblet, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise and both of them sprouted identically long white beards.

"I did warn you," Said a deep, amused voice. Professor Dumbledore stepped into the Great Hall, eyes twinkling madly. He didn't sound angry, though – more like incredibly amused. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is currently tending to Ms. Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little, too. Although, I must say, neither of their beards is as fine as yours."

The Great Hall was howling with laughter, but the twins didn't seem to mind. In fact, they laughed right along, and went up to the hospital wing, still chortling at each other. Zabini was laughing like mad he was close to tears. Theo and Tracey were still snickering loudly.

After a while things had calmed down, a Gryffindor Theo recognized as one of their Chasers, walked up to the Goblet and put her name inside. Many people were clapping and cheering loudly for her. She blushed and smiled, going back to the Gryffindor table, and sitting down.

The Beauxbatons delegation was coming in at this point. Madame Maxime led them all in a single-file line in order to put their names into the goblet, at the front was a girl with long, silky blonde hair – she was admittedly pretty, Theo thought, but he wasn’t overly impressed, girls were rarely interesting enough for him.

 “What do you think she is?” Daphne Greengrass asked as she sat down next to them. Blaise shrugged.

“Veela blood? No matter how pretty you are, you don’t get as many people to stare at you on looks alone.”

By then, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had joined them as well. “Charm is part of a Veela’s magic, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Draco added. “But I don’t see what’s so great about her. Lots of people are just as good looking, if not more.” He sniffed, before buttering his scone.

“You’re a jealous albino ferret.” Blaise snickered as Malfoy dropped his knife.

“We agreed not to talk about that again!” He hissed angrily, blushing bright pink.

"What do you think the people who don't get chosen will do?" Tracey asked. "Will they stay or get sent home?"

"Most likely stay," Daphne answered. "Their headmasters have to remain as judges, don't they? They’ll probably stay as spectators."

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

The rest of the day passed by quietly, Theo spent most of the morning outside reading by the lake. He had found some books about Ancient Nordic Runes in his father’s library and had sneaked them away in his trunk before leaving. After lunch, he joined the other Fourth Years in the Slytherin Common Room, alternating between playing chess with Davis to watching the others playing Exploding Snap.

By half past five they decided it was time to get ready for the Halloween feast – and, more importantly, the announcement of the schools’ champions. Their high expectations seemed to make the feast go by twice as-slowly, though it might have also been due to it being their second feast in as many days. Finally, the golden plates cleared, and Dumbledore stood up.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision.” He said. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champion’s names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” – he indicated the door behind the staff table – “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and extinguished all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins, plunging them into semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting, and anticipating the Goblet's first decision.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Everyone snapped to attention. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned blue-white once more.

"The champion for Durmstrang” he read, “will be…Viktor Krum!"

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Theo saw as Krum rose from the Slytherin table and made his way towards Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more and shot out another paper, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The at least part-Veela girl got to her feet and flounced gracefully over to the staff able. There was some applause as well, though Theo noticed her selection was actually met with much disappointment from the Beauxbatons party – two of the girls who had not been chosen were loudly and visually sobbing.

Now only the Hogwarts Champion was left.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

Some of the Slytherins looked very disgruntled. "We can't have a Hufflepuff champion," Theo heard an upperclassman grumble.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"

But suddenly, the fire in the goblet turned red again. Sparks flew, and the flames shot up again, bearing another piece of parchment. Professor Dumbledore robotically reached an arm up and caught it. He held it out and stared at the name written on it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out –

“Harry Potter.”

“Of course, bloody Potter. Figures. Saint Potter. Couldn’t bear not being in the spotlight for one year.” Malfoy snarled.

“Look at his face, though. He’s pale as a sheet.” Davis pointed out, making Parkinson snort.

"Who else would put his name in?" Daphne asked.

"Well, he does seem to be attacked at least once a year," Theodore mused, "Could it have been a set up?"

They all watched as Potter got up and went through the door.

“Well, no way out now,” Blaise said nonchalantly, “we all heard Dumbledore. It’s a binding magical contract, he’ll be participating whether he wants it or not.”

Malfoy groaned miserably. “Potter this. Potter that. It’s always about Potter."

Chapter Text

People, Theo thought, seemed quite set on ignoring the obvious. Monday morning, everyone went back to classes still talking about the champions. The general consensus was that Potter had put his name in himself. Only the Gryffindors seemed pleased. Theo thought the idea in itself to be quite ridiculous. To be able to fool Dumbledore’s Age Line? There was no way Potter did that, so that left two possibilities, either Potter asking an older student to do it for him, or someone doing it without his consent.

On one hand, Potter did seem to be foolish enough to try the former, but his face when his name was called out didn’t fit with his theory. Not to mention how adamantly the Gryffindor had denied submitting his name every time the subject was brought up. And Potter was generally a horrible liar.

So that left only one option, someone else had done it without Potter’s knowledge. Something always seemed to happen to Potter every year, so it wasn’t a stretch of logic for this to happen. That left the question, who did it?

Of course, just because Theo believed Potter's innocence didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. Care of Magical Creatures was the first class in which he crossed paths with the Gryffindor Fourth Years. He noticed, when they came down, that Weasley and Potter seemed to be putting as much distance as possible between them.

"Ah, look boys, it's the champion, " Draco said to Crabbe and Goyle when they arrived at Hagrid's cabin. “Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now because I doubt he'll be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed like the sycophants they were, but Malfoy had to stop there because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin carrying a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To Theo’s horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason why the skrewts were killing each other was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk.

“Take these things for a walk?” Malfoy repeated with disgust, looking at one of the crates. “And where exactly are we supposed to secure the leash? Around the sting, the blasted end, or the suckers?”

“’Round the middle,” said Hagrid, demonstrating. “Er -yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus’ as an extra precaution… Harry – you come here an’ help me with this big one…”

As Potter walked away with Hagrid everyone stood still, eyeing the boxes with trepidation. Finally, a couple of Gryffindors walked towards it, prompting the others after Hagrid cleared his throat loudly.

The skrewts were now over three feet long and looked extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colour-less, they had developed a thick, greyish, shiny armour. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs – but still without recognizable heads or eyes.

“I’ll distract it, while you fix the leash?” Blaise asked with a grimace.

“We should have dropped this class when we had the chance.” Theo mumbled, putting on his gloves and grabbing a leash.

Blaise promptly lured one of the skrewts out of its box with snake grass, the moment it stopped walking, Theo passed on of the ends of the leash to him and hurried to secure its other end around the skrewt’s middle. He didn’t get too far, the moment he finally had it fixed properly the bloody, disgusting, skrewt’s end exploded, sending Theo back railing to avoid the flames, landing on his back on the grass. The skrewt went flying propelled by its end, dragging Blaise along.

“Let go! Let go!” Theo yelled as Zabini landed on his front, still clutching the leash in his hands. He hurriedly got up and rushed to the other boy’s side.

Blaise promptly let go before the Skrewt took off, barely avoiding getting dragged off. As Theo helped him up he looked around the lawn. The class was all greatly scattered, and the cause was obvious, their Skrewt wasn’t the only one whose end had exploded. Several students were on the ground, a couple hadn’t let go of the leash in time and had been dragged along their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.

Crabbe and Goyle had dirt all over their shirts and Millicent Bulstrode’s robes had caught on fire briefly.

And Hagrid was still talking to Potter, Theo thought with a groan. Typical.

The next few days kept getting progressively worse, the Houses were even more divided than usual. With the Gryffindors rallying around Potter and the other three Houses around Diggory. Malfoy, as expected, had become utterly intolerable, spending every waking moment either taunting Potter or planning on how to taunt Potter.

That day before double Potions, Malfoy had personally given a badge to every Slytherin he could find in the Common Room. They would’ve matched Granger’s equally horrible S.P.E.W. badges, but they had luminous red letters in them that read:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY

THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

He’d made sure most of them were wearing them before heading out towards Snape’s dungeons. By the time the Gryffindors arrived, all Slytherins were wearing them, though Blaise had almost convinced Theo to chuck theirs at Malfoys head when his back was turned.

Speaking of the ferret, Malfoy was bouncing on his feet the moment he saw Potter appear.

“Like them, Potter?” he said loudly. “And this isn’t all they do – look!”

He pressed his badge against his chest, and the message upon it banished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed bright green.

POTTER STINKS 

Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode and Parkinson all burst into laughter, pressing their badges as well. Theo slapped Goyle’s hand when it came close to him in an attempt to press his badge. Blaise shrugged before pressing his.

Granger made a face at them. “Oh, very funny. Really witty .” She said sarcastically. Weasley leaned against the wall across from them but didn’t join Granger in defending Potter.

“Want one, Granger?” Asked Malfoy, holding out a badge to her. “I’ve got loads, but don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood slimming it up.”

Everyone scrambled towards the walls as Potter drew out his wand. Theo and Blaise hurried away from Malfoy, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

“Harry!” Said Granger, not walking away.

“Go on, then, Potter” the blonde taunted, drawing out his own wand. “Moody’s not here to look after you now – do it, if you’ve got the guts –”

For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes, then, at exactly the same time, they acted.

“Furunculus! ” yelled Potter.

“Densaugeo!” screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in mid-air, and ricocheted off at angles – Potter’s hit Goyle in the face and Malfoy’s hit Granger. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were showing up – Granger was whimpering as she clutched her mouth.

“Hermione!” Weasley hurried forward to see what was wrong with her. Theo leaned behind Crabbe’s back to catch a glimpse as Weasley dragged Granger’s hand away from her face. Theo winced at the ugly sight, her front teeth were already larger than average, but now they were growing at an alarming rate. She kept looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated past her bottom lip and towards her chin.

“What is all this noise about?” said a soft, deadly voice Theo recognized as their Head of House.

The Slytherins rushed forward full of explanations; Snape pointed a long finger at Malfoy and said, “Explain.”

“Potter attacked me, sir –”

“We attacked each other at the same time!” Potter interrupted.

“– and he hit Goyle – look –”

Snape examined Goyle, who looked like something out of a fungi book.

“Hospital Wing, Goyle.” He said calmly.

“Malfoy got Hermione!” Said Ron. “ Look! ”

He forced Granger to show her teeth, though it wasn’t necessary, they had already passed her collar. Parkinson was doubled up laughing silently, even Daphne and Tracey were swallowing back their giggles.

Snape looked coldly at Granger. “If she must.”

Granger whimpered and ran all the way up the corridor, out of sight. Snape let out a long breath, “Now, everyone inside. I want no more interruptions, or I will be handing out detentions.”

As they entered, Malfoy turned back to face Potter and pressed his badge once more. Potter slammed his bag on the table as he glared back, his green eyes shining brightly. Theo shook his head as he sat next to Zabini, Tracy and Daphne behind them.

“Antidotes!” Said Snape unpleasantly, “You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…”

Theo internally rolled his eyes, there was no way Snape could get away with that and he knew it. Though by the look on Longbottom’s face, the boy did think Snape could. Before the Potions Master could go on, a knock on the dungeon door interrupted him. It was a small Gryffindor, who walked up to Snape’s desk at the front of the room.

“Yes?” Asked Snape curtly.

“Please, sir. I’m supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs.”

Snape stared down at the boy. “Potter has another hour of Potions to complete; he will go upstairs when this class is finished.”

The Gryffindor fidgeted nervously. “Sir – sir, Mr. Bagman wants him. All the champions have got to go. I think they want to take photographs…” Blaise snorted.

“Very, well. Very, well.” Snaped Snape. “Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote.”

“Please, sir – he’s got to take his things with him.” The boy squeaked. “All the champions –”

“Very well! ” said Snape. “Potter – take your bag and get out of my sight!”

Potter didn’t waste another second; he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. Snape cleared his throat before continuing.

“As I was saying, you will all be brewing your antidotes. I expect you all…”

Always exciting Potions, Theo thought.

At least he was able to skip Potions, Harry thought, as he ate alone after the wand weighing. Hermione was nowhere to be found, probably still getting her teeth fixed with Madame Pomfrey. When he returned to the Gryffindor Tower after supper, he came across Ron.

“You’ve got an owl”, he said brusquely. He was pointing towards Harry’s pillow, where a barn owl was waiting.

“Oh – right” said Harry.

Ron left without another word. Harry deeply considered going after him – whether to talk to him or hit him over the head, he wasn’t sure, both sounded appealing – but the lure of Sirius’s letter was too strong. Harry strode over to the barn owl, took the letter of its leg and unrolled it.

Harry –

I can’t say everything I would like in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted – we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one ‘o’clock in the morning on the 22 nd of November?

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to harm you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would’ve been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose.

Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22 nd of November as soon as you can.

Sirius.

The prospect of talking to Sirius was the only thing that kept him going for the following days. By now, the shock of being selected as a fourth champion had worn off, with a feeling of cold fear creeping in. He was uncomfortably aware of the first task drawing nearer with each passing day and felt woefully unprepared.

In the meantime, life became even harder for Harry within the confines of the castle. Rita Skeeter had finally published her article about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly coloured life story of Harry. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of him; the article had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions had been squashed into the last line of the piece, and Cedric wasn’t mentioned at all.

Said article had been posted ten days ago, and Harry still got a sick, burning feeling of shame in his stomach every time he thought about it. Rita Skeeter had reported him saying a whole lot of things that he couldn’t even remember saying in his life. And she had interviewed other people as well, he recalled with a grimace, thinking of Collin Creevey and how he had tied him and Hermione together.

From the moment that article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people – Slytherins, mostly – quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. Hermione had also come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too. Harry was full of admiration for the way she was handling the situation.

“Ignore it,” she said in a dignified voice, as they passed Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode’s sneering comments at them after Charms, “Just ignore them, Harry.”

But Harry couldn’t ignore it. Ron hadn’t spoken at him at all since he had mentioned the owl in the Gryffindor dormitory. Hermione was furious at both of them; she went from one to the other, trying to force them to talk to each other, but Harry was adamant: he would talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling him a liar.

“I didn’t start this,” Harry said stubbornly. “It’s his problem.”

“You miss him!” Hermione said impatiently. “And I know he misses you –”

“ Miss him?” Harry interrupted her. “I don’t miss him…”

But this was an outright lie. Harry liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn’t the same as Ron. There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, and Harry wondered what he was up to. Was he studying? Was he looking for information that would help him in the first task? Hermione often complained about him being there – not that he ever bothered them – but because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy on him from behind the bookshelves.

It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time a bit, it has a habit of speeding up instead. The days until the first task seemed to slip by as though someone had fixed the clocks to work at double speed. Harry’s feelings of barely controlled panic followed him wherever he went, as ever present as the side-comments about the Daily Prophet’s article.

On the morning of November 22nd, he ran into Hermione, Ron and Ginny down by the Great Lake. Tempted as he was to talk to Hermione and Ginny, Ron’s presence was deterrent enough for him. He could faintly hear Hermione and Ron bickering, until she made her way over to him.

“Harry! Um – Ron would like me to tell you –” She glanced back nervously at him, “– that Seamus told him – that Dean was told by Parvati that – that Hagrid’s looking for you.”

“What?” Harry asked her.

“Please don’t ask me to repeat that. I – wait.” She muttered, running back to Ron and whispering to him before going back to Harry.

“He wants you to meet with him at midnight, by his hut.” Harry nodded.

“Well, you can tell Ron that –” Hermione stared at him irritably.

“I’m not an owl, Harry! Just… be careful and don’t be late for Sirius.” She snapped before heading back to the castle, Ron at her heels. Ginny gave Harry a small wave before following the other two.

The rest of the day went by far too quickly for Harry’s liking. At half past eleven that evening, Harry, who had pretended to go to bed early, pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and crept downstairs through the common room. Quite a few people were there, the Creevey brothers were hard at work, trying to bewitch a stack of Support Cedric Diggory! Badges they had found into reading Support Harry Potter! instead. So far, the badges were stuck on POTTER STINKS! Harry crept past them and waited until Hermione opened the portrait hole from the outside for him, as they had planned earlier. He whispered a quiet thank you as he passed her and set off on his way.

The grounds were terribly dark, he thought, as he made his way down to Hagrid’s. The inside of the Beauxbatons carriage was lit up, casting shadows on the lawn, and Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as he knocked on Hagrid’s door.  

“You there, Harry?” Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked as he pulled down the Cloak off his head.

“Got summat ter show yer.” Hagrid said, as he slipped out of the cabin. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke on his buttonhole and it looked like he had attempted to comb his hair, Harry could see the comb’s broken teeth tangled into it.  “Come with me, keep quiet, an’ keep yerself covered with that Cloak. We won’ take Fang, he won’ like it…”

“Listen, Hagrid. I can’t stay long…” Harry started. “I’ve got to be back at the castle by one o’clock… What’s with the flower? And you combed your hair?” he asked incredulously.

“As a matter of fact, I ‘ave. Ye should try fer yerself every once in a while.” Hagrid grumbled under his breath as he led them away from his hut.  

“’Agrid?” A voice called, as light suddenly flooded the lawn. Harry hurried to cover his head with his Cloak as Madame Maxime exited the Beauxbatons carriage.

“Bon-sewer, Olympe.” Said Hagrid, beaming up at her and offering her his arm.

“What is it you wanted to show me, ‘Agrid?” She asked, as they set off around the edge of the paddock containing her giant winged horses.

 “Yeh’ll enjoy this,” Hagrid said gruffly, “worth seein’, trust me. On’y – don’ go tellin’ anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh’re not s’posed ter know.”

“Of course, not.” Said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.

Harry grew more and more irritated as he was forced to jog behind them to keep their pace, checking his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some hare-brained scheme in hand, which might make him miss Sirius. If they didn’t get to wherever they were heading to soon, he was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leave Hagrid and Madame Maxime to their moonlight stroll.

 But then – when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight – Harry heard something. People were shouting up ahead… then came a deafening, ear-splitting roar.

Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry hurried up alongside them – for a split second, he thought he was seeing bonfires and men darting around them – and then his mouth fell open.

Dragons.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing into their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting – torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths. At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Harry looked up, high above him and saw the eyes of a black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat’s, bulging with either fear or rage. It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream…

“Wan’ a closer look?” Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly. The pair of them moved as close as they could before a wizard came running at them.

“Keep back there, Hagrid!” He yelled, coming to a stop next to them. “They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I’ve seen this Horntail do forty!” Another dragon, a green one it seemed, shot fire into the sky, illuminating the wizard’s face enough for Harry to recognize him, it was Charlie Weasley.

“What breeds you got here, Charlie?” said Hagrid, gazing at the black dragon with reverence.

“The black one’s a Hungarian Horntail. There’s a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one – a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-grey – and a Chinese Fireball, that’s the red.”

Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling away around the dragons, as close as the other wizards would allow her, gazing at the dragons.

“I didn’t know you were bringing her, Hagrid.” He said, frowning. “The champions aren’t supposed to know what’s coming – she’s bound to tell her student, isn’t she?”

Hagrid shrugged in answer. “Jus’ thought she’d like ter see ‘em… Four – so it’s one fer each one o’ the champions, is it? What’ve they gotta do – fight ‘em?”

 “Just get past them, I think.” Said Charlie, shaking his head. “We’ll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don’t know why… but I’ll tell you this, I don’t envy whoever gets the Horntail. Vicious thing it is. Its back end’s as dangerous as its front, look.” Charlie pointed towards the Horntail’s tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-coloured spikes protruding along it every few inches.

Harry had had enough. Trusting that Hagrid wouldn’t miss him, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he turned silently and began walking back to the castle.

He didn’t know whether he was glad he’d seem them beforehand. What if the first time he saw them on Tuesday, he ended up passing out cold in shock? In front of the entire school… He was going to be armed with his wand – which now felt like a dainty strip of wood – against a gigantic, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it. How?

He was so lost in thoughts that he barely avoided crashing into Karkaroff near the edge of the forest. The man stared suspiciously into the dark, before starting to edge forward to the place where the dragons were. Very slowly and very careful to not make any noise, Harry set off again as fast as he could, hurrying towards Hogwarts. Karkaroff was clearly trying to find out what the first task entailed, and with the sound of voices in the distance he would no doubt find out what was in store for the champions.

By the looks of it, Cedric would be the only champion who would be facing the unknown on Tuesday.

Harry checked his watch and swore under his breath. He ran the rest of the way without a care, he had less than five minutes to get up to the fire…

His lungs burned as he reached the Common Room, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and threw himself into an armchair in front of the fire. As he tried to catch his breath his eyes fell on the Support Cedric Diggory! badges the Creeveys had been trying to improve. They were now stuck on POTTER REALLY SUCKS. Harry looked back into the flames and jumped. Sirius’s head was sitting in the fire.  

His face broke into the first smile he had worn for days, as he scrambled out of his chair and crouched down by the hearth. “Sirius! – How’re you doing?”

Sirius looked different from Harry’s last memory of him. Gone was the gaunt, sunken look, surrounded by long, black, matted hair; his hair was shorter now – and cleaner – and his face was fuller. He looked younger, like the only picture Harry had of him, from his parents’ wedding.

“Don’t mind me, how are you?” Sirius asked.

“I’m –” for a second, Harry tried to say ‘fine’ – but he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he had in days – about how no one believed he hadn’t entered the tournament of his own free will, about Rita Skeeter’s article, about how he couldn’t walk down the corridors without being sneered at – and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron’s jealousy…

“– and now Hagrid’s shown me what’s the first task. It’s dragons, Sirius. I’m a goner.” He finished desperately. Sirius looked at him, his eyes full of concern. He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interrupting.

“Dragon’s we can deal with, Harry. I’ll tell you about them in a minute – I haven’t got long here… I broke into a Wizarding house to use their fire, but they could be back soon. I need to warn you about some things.”

“What?” Harry asked, surely there could be nothing worse than dragons?

“Karkaroff.” Sirius said. “He used to be a Death Eater. He was caught and used to be in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I’d bet everything that’s why Moody’s there, Dumbledore wanted an Auror around to keep an eye on him. Mad-Eye’s the one who caught him in the first place.”

“He got released? Why?” said Harry, trying to wrap his mind around it.

“He made a deal with the Ministry.” Sirius said bitterly. “Said he’d seen the error of his ways and then he named names… he put a lot of people in Azkaban, he’s not very well liked there, I can tell you that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who put your name in the goblet. Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry –”

“– you and everyone else.” Harry interrupted bitterly.   

“– and reading between the lines of Skeeter’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know it was another false alarm” he said hastily, seeing as Harry was about to speak, “but I don’t think so, somehow. It’s just too much of a coincidence. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. See, the Death Eaters seem to be more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, someone set off the Dark Mark. And a Ministry Worker, Bertha Jorkins has gone missing. She disappeared in Albania of all places, that’s where Voldemort was rumoured to be last… and she would have known about the Triwizard Tournament, don’t you think?”

“You don’t reckon she’d have walked straight into Voldemort, do you?” said Harry.

“Listen, Harry, I knew Bertha Jorkins, she was an idiot. Very nosy, with no brains at all. A horrible combination, I’d say it wouldn’t be hard at all to lure her into a trap.”

“So… so Voldemort could have found out about the Tournament? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?” Harry said tentatively.

“I don’t know…” Sirius mused. “Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort could protect him… But whoever put your name in the goblet, did so for a reason. And I can’t help but think it would be a good way to attack you and make it look like an accident.”

“Well, it looks like a really good plan from where I’m standing.” Harry joked bleakly. “Just let the dragons do their job.”

“Right – these dragons…” Sirius shook his head, speaking rapidly. “There’s a way. Now, don’t be tempted to try a Stunning Spell – dragon’s are strong and too magically powerful to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you’d need at least half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon. But you can do it alone, there’s a way and a simple spell’s all you need. Just –”

But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him.

“Go!” He hissed at Sirius, scrambling to his feet. “Someone’s coming!”

He heard a tiny ‘ pop’ in the fire behind him and knew Sirius had gone. Harry watched the bottom of the staircase, who had decided to go for a stroll at one o’clock in the morning, stopping Sirius from telling him how to get past a dragon?

It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pyjamas, he stopped dead facing Harry from across the room and looked around.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked.

“What’s that got to do with you?” Harry snarled. “What are you doing down here at this time of the night?”

“I was just wondering where you –” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Never mind. I’m going back to bed.”

“Just thought you’d come down nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew Ron hadn’t walked in on purpose, but he didn’t care – at this point he hated everything about Ron.

“Should’ve realized you didn’t want to be disturbed.” Said Ron, his face reddening with anger. “I’ll let you get on with practicing for your next big interview in peace.”

In fury, Harry grabbed one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges from their place in the table and threw it as hard as he could. It hit Ron in the forehead and bounced off.

“There you go!” Harry said. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. Maybe it’ll even scar now if you’re lucky! That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Harry strode across the room towards the stairs; he half expected Ron to stop him, but the other boy just stood there in his too-small pyjamas. Later that night, Harry laid awake in his bed for a long time afterwards and didn’t hear him come back up to bed.

It was the worst couple of days Harry had had in quite some time. Monday sped by without him noticing, scouring in the library with Hermione in search for the spell Sirius had mentioned. But no luck.

Tuesday wasn’t going better by any means. He had warned Cedric about the dragons, so at least all the champions were on slightly equal footing, and Moody had talked to him about ‘playing to his strengths’, which led to him asking Hermione for help with the Summoning Charm to get his firebolt to him. He was best at flying, after all.

They didn’t have supper. Hermione dragged him to an empty classroom near the dungeons.

“I talked to a classmate of mine from Arithmancy. He said he would help us get a classroom for us to practice in, never mind the short notice. Well – I did imply we would be doing some Arithmancy work but I’m sure he’ll come around…” She trailed off as they stopped in front of an open classroom. “Oh, good. He’s here already.”

Harry leaned in and saw a boy reading in one of the desks, his green robes shining under the light.

“A Slytherin, Hermione? Have you lost your mind?” He hissed under his breath.

Hermione sighed in answer.

“It was the only way I could get us an empty classroom, Harry. Besides, we’ll be fine. He’s civil with me in the classes we share. If it weren’t for his robes, he could pass as a mean Ravenclaw.”

“Slytherins don’t like me as a general rule, Hermione”. Harry scoffed, making Hermione shoot him a look.

“Well, this Slytherin doesn’t like anyone. Period. You’ll be fine.” The girl fixed her robes before entering the classroom, Harry followed her hesitantly.

“Nott. Thank you for meeting me.” Hermione greeted. “Harry, this is Theodore Nott. Nott, this is Harry Potter.” The boy looked up from his book and turned in his seat to face them. It was the boy from the train, Harry realized. Mousy looking, with light brown hair and grey eyes; he had high cheekbones and a slim jaw.

Nott sighed, his eyes unfriendly. “What is he doing here?” Bloody Slytherins.

“Is he always so charming?” Harry asked with a grimace. Nott rolled his eyes at him before staring at Hermione with a bored look.

“This wasn’t the deal.” He said. Hermione sighed in exasperation at them both and took out some papers from her bookbag.

“I know, but I thought we could compromise. You let us practice here and I’ll lend you my Arithmancy notes from today’s lesson, I saw you were dozing off. You’ll need them for the homework Professor Vector just assigned. I’ll even answer all your questions regarding the subject. Just bear with us while we practice, you’re the one who has permission to use this classroom.”

Nott glanced at her considerately. “Deal. Hand them over. Don’t mind me, I’ll just work here and judge your attempts in silence.”

Harry watched as the other boy gathered Hermione’s notes and settled down in the professor’s desk. Maybe there was such thing as a non-horrible Slytherin? He reserved judgement for later.

For the rest of the following hours, Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. He was still having problems. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping like stones. He especially struggled when Nott lifted his head from his parchment to stare at him.

“Concentrate, Harry, concentrate…”

“What d’you think I’m trying to do?” said Harry angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason… Okay, try again…”

They kept practicing until past midnight. When Nott finally finished going through Hermione’s notes and his Arithmancy homework, he leaned back on his chair to watch. Offering unhelpful comments every once in a while.

“Have you tried visualizing it flying towards you?” He said, after staying quiet for close to half an hour, watching Harry practice like a hawk.

“What?” Harry asked, lowering his wand as he turned to stare at him. Hermione perked up behind him.

“Imagine it flying across the room and landing in your hand.” Nott said, flicking his nails.

“That might work, Harry!” Hermione enthused. “We’ve gone through the theory many times, but maybe you need a different approach.” She took out a bright red book and laid it on the floor near the wall. “Visualize it, Harry. And try!”

Harry breathed in, he imagined the red book soaring through the air and himself catching in his wandless hand. “ Accio!” He yelled, pointing his wand at it.

The book rose into the air and flew cleanly towards him, landing in his outstretched hand. Hermione clapped in delight. “You’ve done it! That was a perfectly cast Summoning Charm!”

Harry turned towards Nott to thank him but got distracted by the fact the other boy wasn’t wearing the badge he had now come to associate with Slytherins.

“You’re not wearing your Support Cedric Diggory! badge, you were wearing it the other day in Potions.” He stated. Nott raised one of his eyebrows in response.

“Do you pay that much attention to everyone’s wardrobe?” The Slytherin said in a low voice. His voice was slightly raspy, Harry noticed. “Malfoy sprung them on all of us that day, I wore it so he would shut up about it.”

“Speaking of badges, why aren’t you both wearing your S.P.E.W. ones?” Hermione asked, indignation clear in her voice.

Harry quickly excused himself with needing to practice the Charm further, leaving Nott to the hurricane that was an incensed Hermione Granger. He snorted under his breath as he heard Nott telling Hermione he had probably lost it since he couldn’t find it anywhere in his dormitory.

At two o’clock in the morning, Harry stood near the door, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs and desks, Nott’s and Hermione’s bookbags, and Nott’s tie which he had discarded some hours before. Hermione and Nott were sitting across the room, discussing S.P.E.W. and whether house elves were really in need of a revolution.

“Granger, as noble as this house-elf protection thing is, have you looked at it from their perspective? You might consider it slavery, but they consider it an honour.”

“How could anyone think of that as an honour?" Hermione gasped.

"The house-elves get gratification, it’s their way of life" Nott told her.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, what do you think about the house-elves punishing themselves for every little thing they get wrong? That's not fair!”

"That is an issue," Nott agreed. "However, not every family uses that method. Maybe you should focus your efforts on the abused elves only, rather than trying to free all of them. You need to understand the situation before barging in ranting about social change. Understand wizarding culture first, and then considering changing what you don’t think should be taking place. If you go all-out without knowledge and understanding, no one will listen to you.”

"I see your point.” Hermione sighed. “Would you wear your badge if I reworded our aims?” She asked with a small smile.  

Nott turned to look at Harry with a dead look in his eyes. “Potter, get her away from me.”

Harry laughed happily and raised his wand once more. “ Accio Dictionary!”

The heavy book soared from Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.

“Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” Hermione said delightedly, standing up from her seat besides Nott.

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell.” Harry said, throwing the dictionary back at her. “Lock me in a room with a Slytherin for six hours and threaten me with a dragon. No offense, Nott…”

“A dragon? That’s what they’re putting you up against?” Nott asked incredulously. Harry winced, in his exuberance, he had forgotten only Hermione knew.

“Listen, you can’t tell anyone. The secret will be out by today’s afternoon.” He hurried to say. Nott shrugged, getting his face back to its regular bored look.

“It’s not like I care. We should all get some sleep,” The Slytherin said as he checked his watch. “It’s quite late.”

“Right. Just as long as the Charm works tomorrow. The Firebolt’s going to be much farther away than the stuff in here. It’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there in the grounds…”

“Shut up.” Harry immediately stopped his rambling to glare at Nott.

“It doesn’t matter.” Said Hermione firmly. “Just as long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come. Now, Nott’s right, Harry. We’d better get some sleep… you’re really going to need it.” They quickly gathered their things and straightened the classroom.

“Are you going to make it alright to the Slytherin Common Room?” Harry asked, he had forgotten that while he and Hermione would be safe under the Invisibility Cloak, they couldn’t take Nott with them.

“Why do you think I chose this classroom? There’s a passage that’ll lead me straight to the entrance.” He nodded at them before turning around and leaving.

Harry stared at Nott’s back until he could no longer see him in the dark, before pulling the Cloak over his and Hermione’s heads.

Chapter Text

Harry had been focusing so hard on learning the Summoning Charm that evening that some of his blind panic had left him. It returned in full measure on the following morning though. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all of the students plenty of time to get down to the dragon’s enclosure – though of course, they didn’t yet know what they would find there.

Harry felt oddly separated from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

He barely noticed a ball of paper roll itself unto his desk during History of Magic. Seeing as Professor Bins was calmly droning about that day’s subject, he carefully rolled it open.

Be the last to leave the Transfigurations classroom later. Urgent. -TN

‘TN’? Theodore Nott maybe? He didn’t really remember knowing any other ‘TN’ in Hogwarts. Still, what did Nott want? He looked toward where the Slytherins were seated, but Nott wasn’t looking at him. He was reading what seemed like the same book he had the day before, with Zabini sleeping on his desk next to him.

With the meeting with Nott adding to his panic, the rest of his morning lessons went by in a blur. When Transfiguration was over he told Hermione he would meet her at the Great Hall before taking his time putting everything away in his book-bag. By the time everyone had left, he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Now what?

As he stood up from his desk he heard the door close gently behind him. Turning around, Harry saw the Slytherin boy scan the classroom quickly before making his way towards him.

“Potter.” Nott said in greeting, placing his book-bag on the desk before Harry.

“Nott, what did you want?” He asked uncertainly, watching the taller boy rummage in his bag before taking out a small vial with a blue liquid inside it. He instinctively took a step back, making Nott sigh in exasperation.

“Seriously? It’s not poison, nor will it explode. It’s a Fire-Protection Potion, it provides protection from most magical fires, so I suppose it might work against dragon fire.” Nott told him, holding out the glass vial.

“I brewed it this morning, it’s for you.” What? Harry mutely grabbed the vial offered to him with caution.

“Why would you – when did you even learn…” Nott rolled his eyes at him.

“We learnt it in second year, Potter. And since you so kindly decided to grace me with the knowledge you’ll be facing dragons armed only with a Summoning Charm, I brewed it to alleviate my conscience.”

“We barely knew each other before yesterday, why would I take a potion you brewed for me? For all I know this is one of Malfoy’s tricks.” Said Harry, he wouldn’t put it past the Slytherins to somehow poison him before the first task.

“Whether you drink it or not, is none of my concern.” Said Nott, shouldering his bag and smoothing down his robes. “If you get burnt to a crisp due to not drinking the potion, it’s on your own head. I’ll be able to sleep perfectly at night even if you die.” He turned on his heel and walked primly out of the classroom, pausing after opening the door. After a few seconds, he turned slightly to look at Harry over his shoulder.

“And Potter? Good luck.”

With an exit worthy of Snape, he turned sharply, his robes billowing behind him, leaving Harry still holding the vial with the blue potion awkwardly. Slytherins, he mentally scoffed, pocketing the vial and leaving the classroom.

The moment he entered the Great Hall he hurried to the Gryffindor table, immediately spotting Hermione’s hair, and sat at the empty seat next to her.

“What did Nott want?” She asked, putting a bread roll on the plate in front of him. Harry took out the vial and handed it to her.

“He gave me this, said it was a Fire-Protection Potion.” Said Harry, ignoring the bread roll in favour of some pumpkin juice. He really didn’t feel capable of stomaching solids at the moment.

“Ah, we learned that one on second year. It does look like it.” Said Hermione, inspecting the liquid carefully. “How did he get it? And why would he give it to you?”

“He said he brewed it earlier. So that if I got burned to a crisp thanks to the dragons, he wouldn’t have it on his conscience. D’you reckon it really is a Fire-Protection Potion?”

Hermione sighed, placing the vial gently on the table. “It really does look like the one you drank in our first year, remember? And I don’t believe Nott would deliberately poison you hours before you began the first task. It’s your choice, Harry. I’m sure you’ll do great with or without it.” She smiled gently at him in reassurance before looking toward the staff table.

Harry turned his head and saw Professor McGonagall hurrying over to him, he hurriedly pocketed the vial. Lots of people were watching.

“Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now… You have to get ready for your first task.”

“Okay” said Harry, standing up. The bread roll was still sitting sadly on his plate.

“Good luck, Harry.” Hermione whispered. “You’ll be fine!”

“Yeah,” Said Harry, in a voice he barely recognized.

He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn’t seem like herself; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Now, don’t panic,” she said, “just keep a cool head… We’ve got wizards standing by to control the situation if his gets out of hand… The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any worse of you… Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Harry heard himself say. “I’m fine.”

She was leading him to the dragon’s enclosure, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees from where it could be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected. Its entrance was facing them, screening the dragons from view.

“You’re to go in here with the other champions,” said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky voice, “and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there… he’ll be telling you the – the procedure… Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Said Harry, watching her walk away. She had left him at the entrance of the tent.

Harry closed his eyes before breathing in deeply. Reaching into his robes, he felt the cold glass of the vial. Nott had helped him the day before… was on civil terms with Hermione… had sat down and talked with her about house-elf rights of all things… Surely he wouldn’t poison him…

He could faintly hear voices coming from the tent. Sod it, he thought. He opened the vial and drank the contents, grimacing as he felt it settle on his empty stomach. It felt as though ice was flooding his body.

Figuring it was about time, Harry went inside the tent.

Despite his best efforts, Theo was nervous. It wasn’t as though he was exceedingly nervous, but he was nervous nonetheless. If only Potter hadn’t mentioned the bloody dragons, he wouldn’t be in this position, he thought scathingly as he watched Crabbe and Goyle compete in seeing who could finish an entire pudding bowl first. Brewing the potion that morning had helped, at least. If Potter decided to be an idiot and not drink it, well, Theodore had done his best.

He was brought out of him musings by Parkinson’s shrieks as Goyle, in his haste to finish his pudding bowl before Crabbe, choked on his spoonful and knocked over his goblet, spilling pumpkin juice over her robes. That’s lunch done then. He though disgustedly as droplets of pudding mixed with Goyle’s spit landed on the table. Rolling his eyes, he stood up from the table and exited the Great Hall. Earlier he’d told Zabini and Davis he’d meet with them down by the grounds after lunch, seeing as he had no idea how receptive Potter would be to the potion.

Plenty of students were making their way down the stone stairs, chatting amongst themselves about what the champions were supposed to do for the first task. Theo felt sick to his stomach. He tried to reassure himself that the professors would be there, along with the dragon handlers, he hoped, but the tournament’s death toll weighed heavily on his mind.

“Theo!” A voice called, before an arm wrapped around his shoulders. It was Blaise, who had jogged to his place next to him, with Tracey not far behind. “You took your time. I was about to tell Tracey to wait for you so we could get some decent seats. It seems like more than half of Hogwarts is already on their way down.”

“What do you think the first task is? It’s the opening act, it must be impressive.” Said Davis, as they walked towards the edge of the forest. From their current place, they could see what appeared to be the back of several stands surrounding a great space of ground, next to a small tent. “I’ll bet you 5 Galleons we get to see some blood.”

“Are you daft? I’m not taking that bet, thank you very much. I’m not keen on losing my money so easily.” Zabini laughed, “Where’s Greengrass by the way?”

“She should be waiting for us inside, I think.” Said Tracey with a shrug.

As they neared the entrance they could see a blonde figure with green robes waiting near a couple of students.

“You certainly took your time, didn’t you?” Daphne asked them, linking her arm with Tracey’s the moment they were close enough.

“We were waiting for Theo, blame him.” Said Blaise nonchalantly, pushing Theo forward with the arm still around his shoulders. Greengrass turned her stony stare to him instead.

“And what’s your excuse, Theodore?” Theo sneered at her half-heartedly, she knew perfectly well he disliked being called by his full name.

“I had an errand that took longer than expected, and then I attempted to have lunch, but ended up sitting in front of Crabbe and Goyle.” His housemates grimaced at the mention of the pair, their eating habits were well known to the other snakes. How Malfoy managed to eat with them was a mystery no one particularly cared to unravel.

“Should we sit near the bottom?” Tracey asked, looking around the structure.

“No,” Said Theo hurriedly, even if they had magical barriers in place he wasn’t sitting that close to the ground and the dragons. “Maybe around the middle, that should be alright.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you know that we don’t?”

Theo internally sighed. “Well, it’s our best bet. What if whatever the task is, it involves flying somehow? If we sat at the bottom, we would be craning our necks for the entire task.”

Tracey pulled Daphne toward the seating area. “Let Theo keep his secrets, Daph. The next time we hear any interesting rumours we’ll just let him find them out by himself.” She said, her short hair bouncing as she pulled the other girl up the steps.

“Well, that’s not quite fair. One rumour should be enough, don’t you think?” Said Blaise as they took their seats.

“One? There should be no penalty at all.” Theo complained, wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck. “I’m not hiding anything.”

A strong gust of wind stopped Daphne from retorting, as the four of them shivered and huddled together, trying to keep warm. A few cries from other students were heard, and they could see a couple of hats swirling around, caught in the wind. Zabini cackled delightedly at a student running behind his scarf.

“Did any of you remember the jar I asked you to bring?” Daphne asked, burrowed in Tracey’s side.

“Here,” Theo answered, taking it out from his book-bag, along with a spare scarf. He looked around as he passed them to her, making sure there were no professors in sight. “All’s clear.”

Drawing out her wand, Greengrass muttered the incantation for bluebell flames, containing them inside the jar. She then wrapped it in the scarf, making sure the insides couldn’t be seen. They took turns holding it while waiting for the task to begin. During that time, Theo couldn’t help but wonder if Potter had taken the potion or not. He was a decent flyer anyway, hopefully he wouldn’t need to find out.

The rest of the stands filled quickly, as the students finished their lunch and made their way to the grounds. Most of them were wrapped in their cloaks, huddling together to avoid the wind. Their group quietly snickered at some of the Beauxbatons students who sat close to them, they had wrapped themselves in their shawls and scarves to the point only their eyes and the tip of their nose could be seen.

It didn’t take long for the judges to appear, they sat in raised seats draped in gold, across from what seemed to be the entrance to something. If he wasn’t wearing gloves, Theo thought, his hands would be clammy from his nerves.

Eventually Dumbledore stood and began his introductory speech. The moment he mentioned the champions would be attempting to retrieve a golden egg from a dragon, he could feel three glares directed at him from both sides. Dumbledore went on to explain how the egg was necessary to obtain so that the champions could proceed unto the second task.

“‘I’m not hiding anything’, my arse Nott. You utter betrayer.” Zabini muttered, bumping his shoulder. Davis sniffed in indignation, hogging the bluebell jar.

“Let him keep his secrets, you said. Nicely going, Tracey.” Daphne muttered as they watched Ludo Bagman gesticulate wildly. “Holding out the next couple of rumours isn’t going to cut it.”

Theo openly sighed, no point in claiming ignorance now. “I’ll buy you whatever you lot want at the Three Broomsticks on the next Hogsmeade outing. Just quit your whining.” He buried his nose in his scarf. “And quit hogging the jar, Davis!” He hissed, reaching for it.

“ Excuse you!” Said Blaise, turning to his stare at him. “Us Zabinis, do not whine.”  

“The Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes.” Said Daphne, leaning over Tracey and grabbing her shoulder for support. “And you don’t get to complain,” she added the moment she saw Theodore opening his mouth to object, “your dress robes cost more than we could possibly spend there.”

“Like yours don’t,” Theo mumbled glumly, accepting his fate. Blaise, his indignation at his friend forgotten, took the jar from him happily.

“No shame in having good taste.” He said, relaxing at the feeling of warmth from the jar, “Mother had my measurements sent to Italy to have them custom made. I don’t believe any Slytherin will be caught dead in something from Madame Malkin’s –”

“ Shhh ! It’s starting!” Tracey interrupted him, straightening in her seat.  

Theo’s attention was immediately directed to where half a dozen wizards were leading a silvery-blue dragon, with long, pointed horns, snarling and snapping at the wizards. They placed a crate with the golden egg, and what seemed to be some normal ones, at its feet before retreating to the side-lines. He could hear Bagman saying it was a Swedish Short-Snout as Cedric Diggory stepped through the opening across the judges.

Diggory proceeded to, for some reason, transfigure a rock on the ground into a dog. It was a pretty impressive show of Transfiguration. It was soon clear he intended the dragon to go after the dog, and it seemed to work, as the dragon got distracted, and cleared his way to get to the egg. Unfortunately, just as Diggory grabbed the golden egg, the dragon decided it didn’t quite want the dog as much as the wizard close to him and promptly showered him in flames. Theo winced as he saw Diggory barely dodge most of the fire, only part of his robes on fire. The other wizards rushed to restrain the dragon, one of them hurrying to help Diggory put out the fire on his robes, the boy was clutching half of his face with the hand that wasn’t holding the egg. He got a fairly decent score before being rushed back to treat his burns, the most probable explanation for his point deduction.

Next up a smooth-scaled green dragon was led inside, writhing and stomping with all of his might. And out came the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour. As Bagman began his commentary he indicated the dragon she was facing was a Welsh Green.

To the crowd’s amazement, the witch casted a spell at the dragon, placing it into what seemed a deep trance. Over the cheers, she walked over to retrieve the egg; but the moment she turned, the dragon let out a loud snore and a great jet of flame shot out, landing right on her skirt. Quickly, she doused herself with a stream of water from her wand as Bagman lamented on the obvious incoming point deduction. Fleur ended up placing just under Diggory, to Tracey’s fury.

“How is that fair? Diggory got burnt much worse than her and they scored him even higher!” She fumed on her seat as they watched the French witch leave the grounds.

The wizards were now leading a red dragon with an odd fringe of fine golden spikes around its face, it was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air as it walked. Almost everyone cheered the moment Krum came out, his wand already out and pointed towards it. Bagman barely had a moment to introduce the dragon as a Chinese Fireball before Krum shot a spell that hit it directly in the eye, making it roar in pain and rear back.

Right into the eggs.

Zabini cursed loudly next to him. “That’s going to cost him.” He said with a grimace.

Krum hurriedly grabbed the unscathed golden egg before the dragon recovered from the spell. It was still shaking his head and shooting fire clouds on all directions by the time the wizards had made their way to it. He scored the highest so far, Karkaroff blatantly giving him a 10.

Daphne snorted. “Well, that isn’t favouritism at all.”

Only Potter was left, Theo thought as he watched the red dragon being led away. Of course, the bloody Gryffindor had to go last.

He immediately went pale the moment he saw the final dragon. It was a gigantic black one, more lizard-like in features, and had long, bronze-coloured spikes protruding along its tail every few inches. So, it was deadly from the front, and the back. Fantastic.

Bagman announced it was a Hungarian Horn Tail, as Potter came into view. The dragon was making a great deal of noise, hunching protectively over the eggs, and trashing its spiked tail back and forth, leaving yard-long gouge marks on the hard ground.

Potter raised his wand toward the castle. Theo could only imagine him casting the Summoning Charm over the screams of the crowd as the dragon snarled at him. Please let it work. Theo thought desperately as Potter waited for his broom to appear.

It soon did, soaring through the air and stopping dead in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount. Bagman was shouting something that couldn’t be heard over the crowd’s screams, as Potter swung a leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground.

Potter dived, the Horntail’s head following him closely, and pulled away just as the dragon let out a stream of fire, barely grazing his face. He seemed to be fine, no burns for the moment. Had he taken the Potion?

“Great Scott! He can fly!” Yelled Bagman over the gasps of the crowd. “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?”

Potter soared higher in a circle and plummeted just before the Horntail opened his mouth, but he was less lucky this time. While he had managed to avoid the flames, Theo clenched his hands as he watched the dragon’s tail graze the Gryffindor’s shoulder. The crowd screamed and groaned as Potter flew higher, out of its reach.

He began to switch directions while flying, making sure the dragon followed him closely with its eyes but staying far away from the reach of its flames. Potter, the stupid show-off, was increasingly annoying the Horntail making it stretch its neck to snarl at him.

And then the dragon reared, spreading its leathery wings; Potter dived immediately, speeding to the ground and reaching for the egg.

“He’s got it!” Tracey yelled from beside him, clutching his arm painfully. The crowd was screaming and cheering loudly. Theo let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.

“Look at that!” Bagman was saying, though he could barely be heard over the cheers. “Well, will you look at that!”

As the crowd calmed down, the judges began giving out their scores. First went Madame Maxime, who displayed an elegant eight in the air above them. Next went Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch, both shooting nines into the air. The crowd cheered even harder.

Finally, Karkaroff raised his wand and shot out his score. A four?

“Seriously?” Zabini groaned. “The only one who deserved a high score in Karkaroff’s eyes was Krum. What a joke.”

“That means Potter and Krum are tied up for first place.” Theo said as Potter walked away from the grounds, the golden egg held under his arm. Next to him, Tracey put out the jar of bluebell flames.

“Well, not bad for Hogwarts. A tie for first place, and second place for Diggory. That’ll teach those snobbish Beauxbatons brats.” Said Daphne as they got up from their seats.

“And Potter’s not dead. That’ll annoy Malfoy for sure.” Laughed Blaise.  

They walked in companionable silence back to the castle.

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. To Theo’s chagrin, the castle was always drafty in winter. He hated the cold. To make matters worse, they were still tending to the horrible skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures. There were only ten left, thank Merlin; apparently their desire to kill each other hadn’t been exercised out of them. They were now approaching six feet in length and were frankly the most repulsive thing Theo had ever seen. And considering what his father sometimes kept in Nott Manor, that was saying a lot.

“I’m not sure whether they hibernate or not,” Hagrid was telling the shivering class, “Thought we’d jus’ try an’ see if they fancied a kip…we’ll jus’ settle ‘em down in these boxes…”

The class stared dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

“We’ll jus’ lead ‘em in here.” Said Hagrid. “an’ put the lids on, we’ll see what happens.”

Turns out, the skrewts did not hibernate. Nor did they seem to appreciate being forced into pillow lined boxes and nailed in. The skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, the remains of the boxes were smouldering, strewn around the grounds. Hagrid was running around yelling, “Don’ panic, now, don’ panic!”

“Absolutely not.” Malfoy said next to him before fleeing towards Hagrid’s hut.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Malfoy, but I’m out.” Said Blaise, turning around to follow him. “Every man for himself!” Theo wasn’t going to argue with him and followed both boys into the safety of the cabin.

The other students were quick to catch on, and soon enough most of them were barricaded inside. However, some of them – all of them Gryffindors of course, Theo noted – remained outside trying to help Hagrid, Potter and his two friends among them. Potter and Weasley seemed to have fixed whatever their problem was ever since the first task was finished.

Together, they had managed to somehow restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, at the cost of what seemed like numerous burns and cuts; eventually, only one skrewt remained, the evil beast , Theo thought scathingly.

"Hey, look," Zabini called to Theo near the end of class. "It's that reporter, Rita Skeeter." Skeeter was leaning on the garden fence in a garishly bright purple coat, quill at the ready.

“Is that a crocodile-skin handbag?” Daphne asked from behind them, leaning on Theo. “Has she ever heard of the term ‘class’? Just look at that coat.” They watched as Skeeter began talking to Hagrid.

"That's going to be trouble," Theo said.

"For Hagrid, at any rate," Daphne agreed. "And possibly Potter."

"Is Potter smart enough to tell her to begone?"

They watched as she only said a couple of words to Potter, seeming to focus on Hagrid.

"What do you suppose that's all about?" Said Blaise.

"She's just trying to stir up trouble any way she can," Said Theo. "Hagrid's a good target. Just look at the state of the Gryffindors outside."

Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson. The students slowly exited Hagrid’s hut, making sure the coast was clear before they left its safety entirely.

“Nott,” Hagrid called, “wait until ev’ryone has left. I need to speak w’you.”

Zabini laughed beside him. “Maybe he wants you to take a Skrewt for another walk.” Theo elbowed him sharply.

“Don’t even joke about that. And don’t think I forgot about how you just left me behind, you traitor.” He said, watching enviously as the other Slytherins left.

“House’s motto, we always save our own skin. I’ll save you a seat for lunch if you haven’t been eaten alive by then.” Waving, the taller boy jogged to catch up with Davis and Greengrass, who both shrugged at him before continuing their way back to the castle.

By that moment, everyone had left, and Hagrid was nowhere in sight. Theo groaned under his breath and turned to look for him, letting out a startled breath as he found Potter right behind him, his hand raised to touch his shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

“Potter.”

The Gryffindor seemed at loss with himself, quickly lowering his hand and sticking it in his pocket. “Hey, Nott. Um… I asked Hagrid to keep you behind, I figured you’d appreciate the privacy…”

Theo lifted one of his eyebrows. “Subtle. I’m impressed. I didn’t think you Gryffindors were capable of that.”

Potter glared at him, his eyes shining brightly under his glasses. “Are you going to be an asshole this entire time? If so, just tell me and I’ll leave.”

“I’ll behave, I promise,” Said Theo, “now what did you want?”

Potter seemed to deflate at this, raising a hand to run it through his hair, messing it up even further. “I-I wanted to thank you… for the potion – I mean. I ended up drinking it and it turned out to be a good thing… I barely dodged the first jet of fire the dragon sent at me, and I could feel the flames slightly touch my face – but they didn’t burn me. So… thanks for not poisoning me, I guess…”

Theo smirked slightly, tilting his head to the right. “Are you doubting my honour, Potter?” He asked, leaning back on the cabin’s wall.

Immediately Potter lost all of his nervousness, squaring up right in Theo’s face. “Would it kill you to just say ‘you’re welcome’, Nott?”

“You’re welcome.” Said Theo, waiting for Potter to back away, which he did soon after, letting out a shaky breath. “Anything else?”

“That’s it… I guess you Slytherins are not all that bad.”

“Well don’t go spreading that around, I have a reputation to maintain.” Theo pushed himself away from the wall, shouldering his bag. For the first time in who knows how many weeks, his robes had actually made it to the end of the lesson without getting damaged in some way.

“Like I would ever go around saying there’s a Slytherin who might actually be a decent person.” Potter scoffed as he passed next to him, crossing his arms.

Theo turned to stare at him as he walked. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Potter.” He said, before turning on his heel and making his way towards the castle. Lunch awaited.

Chapter Text

 “Mr. Crabbe, would you leave your eating for dinner so that the rest of your housemates are able to hear something other than your jaw at work?”Snape drawled irritably at Crabbe. He reluctantly stashed his pumpkin pasties in his robes. Earlier that day, the Potions Master had had the prefects call a house meeting, so the entirety of Slytherin House was assembled in their common room.

“Now then – as you all very well know, the Yule Ball is approaching. It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for you all to socialize with our foreign guests. The ball will be open only to those in fourth year and above. However, younger students may attend if they are accompanied by a student who meets the requirements – Parkinson, will you cease making that infernal noise.”

Pansy Parkinson, to everyone’s displeasure, had begun giggling shrilly.. Daphne was quick to elbow her in the ribs, her face working furiously as she tried not to roll her eyes at the other girl. Parkinson looked around until her eyes settled on Malfoy, and blushed as she pressed her lips together to keep quiet.

“Dress robes will be worn properly,” Snape continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Yule, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now, I expect all of you to behave in a manner befitting of your House. I will be most displeased if a Slytherin student embarrasses the school in any way.

“To ensure that your ballroom dancing is adequate, your prefects and I will be holding lessons tomorrow afternoon. You will all be required to attend in order to settle whether or not you require further instructions, even if you are not going to the Yule Ball; you may consider it practice for future events. If you do not have a partner to practice with, one will be provided for you. Any questions?”  

Not while your face looks like that, Theo thought as he took in his professor’s sneer. It appeared the rest of their House thought similarly, even as the younger students seemingly vibrated in their seats.

Dismissing them, Snape left with a sweep of his cloak. The moment the entrance closed behind him, the silence was broken by students eager to discuss the upcoming event. Theo and Blaise were quick to claim four armchairs near the bookshelves, as they waited for Daphne and Tracey to brave the crowd and join them.

“Have you given any thought to who you’re going with?” Zabini asked, as the girls finally arrived and took the free seats.

“We have. And so, we have a proposition for both of you,” said Daphne, turning to her friend so she could explain.

“We go together, the four of us. Theo will escort me, and Blaise will escort Daphne, but we’ll switch later on. It’ll be more fun that way, don’t you think?” said Tracey with an excited smile.

“Is that meant to be a proposition? Why, Daphne, I had no idea you felt that way,” Blaise teased, fluttering his eyelashes at her. Daphne scoffed at him.

“I changed my mind, I’m taking Theo,” she said, leaning back into her armchair.

“Absolutely not! I called Theo!” Tracey complained, “Zabini will be busy staring at his reflection in his plate anyway.” Blaise gasped in outrage.

“Well, now I’m going with Theo! You two deserve each other anyway.”

“At this rate, Theo will be going by himself!” Theo interrupted them, honestly. “We’re sticking to your plan, Tracey. Don’t mind him.”

“Nott, you break my heart,” said Blaise, placing his hand over his chest emotionally and standing up with a flourish. “Allow me to rectify this myself. Heiress Greengrass, will you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the Yule Ball?” He bowed slightly as he offered her his hand.

“Well, Heir Zabini, I would be most honoured,” replied Daphne, placing her hand in his and giggling as he placed a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“What about me? Don’t I get a formal proposal, Theo?” Tracey turned to him with wide eyes, leaning forward.

“ You should be asking me. This was your idea, after all,”  Theo said, teasingly pushing her shoulder back into her armchair. She gasped in mock outrage.

“Rude! Shockingly rude!”

The rest of the week went by quickly, even with Professor Snape’s ‘dancing lessons’. On Tuesday morning, the list of students with non-desirable dancing skills was posted on the notice board. Most of the fourth years had managed to go by them unscathed, except for Crabbe, Goyle, and shockingly, Millicent Bulstrode.

“I would’ve thought Bulstrode knew how to dance better. Her family always attends the Malfoy’s annual gala,” said Tracey as they sat for breakfast.

“Oh, please. She has two left feet,” Daphne responded as she sipped her pumpkin juice. “I pity whoever ends up being her partner.”

Tracey laughed happily. “Who would you rather go with? Goyle or Bulstrode?” Theo grimaced in answer.

“I think I’d rather go stag.”

“How come Crabbe isn’t an option?” Blaise asked, leaning over the table. “Same attributes as Goyle, and you get constant snacks throughout the night.”

“Snacks touched beforehand by his grubby hands!” Tracey mock shuddered as the owls came in with their mail. A barn owl landed in front of Theo with his copy of the Daily Prophet, and picked at Zabini’s oats before flying away. “I’m scared to know what his robe is filled with on a daily basis.”

As Theo scanned that day’s news, he came across the newest article from Rita Skeeter. Zabini leaned to read over his shoulder, “Hey, isn’t that Potter and Granger in the picture?”

Theo folded the paper to read more comfortably. “‘Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache –’ well now,” he raised his eyebrows in alarm, “I wonder what Granger did to piss Skeeter off like this. Listen: ‘Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the –’” Theo broke off to snicker. “Sorry, sorry. ‘– is none other than the Bulgarian bonbon Viktor Krum. No word yet on how Harry Potter’s taking this latest emotional blow. However, it might not be Miss Granger’s doubtful natural charms that have captured these boys’ interest. “She’s really ugly” – says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth year student –’”

Daphne interrupted him with a snort. “Pretty? Parkinson and her pug-face?” But Tracey quickly shushed her, motioning for Theo to continue.

“As I was saying: ‘“but she’d be well up to making a Love Potion, she’s quite brainy. I think that’s how she’s doing it.” Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.’ As if Dumbledore would bother to pay attention to whatever gossip Skeeter writes,” said Theo, as he put down the paper.

“D’you reckon Granger has read it already? I would be pissed to be referred to as ‘plain but ambitious,’” Tracey added, buttering her toast.

“We have Potions today with the Gryffindors, right?” Theo asked, pausing in adding sugar to his tea.

The other three Slytherins groaned in unison. 

“You don’t think we can hide today’s paper from Malfoy and his cronies, do you?” Tracey asked in despair. They all quickly turned towards where the blond boy was sitting, sighing sadly as they saw an excited Parkinson shove the Daily Prophet into Malfoy’s greedy hands.

History of Magic and Transfiguration went by quickly, with Malfoy keeping his head down. Theo thought he was probably coming up with whatever he wanted to sneer at Potter later.

Unfortunately, the time for Potions inevitably came. The Slytherins were the first to arrive, with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle standing in a huddle outside the classroom with Parkinson and Bulstrode. As the Gryffindors began to appear, Parkinson peered excitedly around Goyle’s broad back with the paper clutched in her hands.

“There they are! There they are!” She giggled and threw the paper at them. 

Granger grit her teeth and didn’t bother reading it. She probably had a subscription herself, Theo thought, so odds were she’d already read it. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.   

Theo, Blaise, Daphne and Tracey headed for a table near the front of the classroom as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients for that day’s potion on the blackboard, Theo glanced behind them to where the Gryffindor’s were seated. 

He wasn’t the only one staring, most of the Slytherins were. Granger gave them all a sarcastic smile and a wave. Theo grimaced as he turned in his seat and began unpacking the ingredients he would need for his Wit-Sharpening Potion. 

As he and Zabini worked over their respective cauldrons in silence, he could hear a faint chattering behind him. He felt more than saw Snape walking down the classroom and winced in sympathy for whoever was talking. 

“Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger. I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Seeing as it was them who were in trouble, Theo chanced turning back once more. Snape had snatched the paper from their desk. 

“Ah… reading under the table as well? A further ten points from Gryffindor… oh, but of course…” Snape stopped for a second as he skimmed over Rita Skeeter’s article. “Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings…”

The dungeon rang with the Slytherin’s laughter, and Snape began to read the article out loud. 

 “‘ Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache’... dear, dear, Potter. What’s ailing you now?” Potter’s face was flushed deep red with embarrassment. Snape was taking his time reading the article to Malfoy’s delight. The other boy was grinning from ear to ear, proudly flashing his ‘POTTER STINKS’ badge. 

“‘... Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.’ How very touching,” sneered Snape, as he folded the paper in half. “I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, next to Miss Parkison. Potter, switch with Mr. Zabini. Move. Now.”

Theo turned to stare miserably at Blaise as the other boy packed his cauldron with a grumble. Why Snape decided to inconvenience the Slytherins was beyond them. 

Soon enough, Potter arrived and began to violently unload his ingredients, making Theo scramble to keep his scarab beetles from rolling off the table. 

“Do you mind, Potter?” he hissed, gathering the beetles into a pile. Potter begrudgingly sat down with a grimace. 

“Sorry, Nott,” he said, as he finished mashing his scarab beetles. He began cutting his ginger root but his hands were trembling so much he couldn’t manage the  clean cut the potion required. Theo sighed.

“You’re ruining your ginger root. I’ll cut your ginger root and mine if you grind my beetles. I hate the smell they exude when pounded,” he offered, extending his hand for the ginger. To his credit, Potter only hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Deal,” he said, passing the ginger root and taking the beetles from their pile on the table, along with the offered mortar.

They worked in silence for a while, until Potter cleared his throat. 

“So... the Yule Ball is coming up… Have you asked anyone yet?” he asked awkwardly, staring intently at the beetles. Theo blinked at him in shock before shaking his head slightly. 

“I’m going with Davis I suppose, but we’re really going as a group, along with Zabini and Greengrass,” he answered, focusing on making the cuts as precise as he could.

“Oh, that’s cool, going as a group. I didn’t know Zabini was interested in Greengrass.” Theo paused in his cutting.

“He’s not? Where did you get that idea from?” 

Potter was still not looking at him, instead he was holding up a measuring cup to check if he had poured in the correct amount of armadillo bile. 

“Well, they’re going together, aren’t they? Like you and Davis, I guess I also didn’t know you were seeing each other.” He shrugged, glancing at Theo quickly before focusing again on his bile. Theo spared a glance to ensure Snape wasn’t near them, luckily he was across the dungeon terrorizing Longbottom.

“Potter, you’re aware it’s alright to take friends, right? It doesn’t mean anything. You could take Granger or Weasley and no one would bat an eye. In our case, Greengrass and Tracey will probably dance a couple of songs together, like I might do with Zabini. No one cares as long as you don’t trip,” Theo said, measuring his own armadillo bile carefully. “Who are you going with?” 

Potter blushed as he mixed in his ginger root. “I haven’t asked anyone yet. It’s like everyone travels in packs these days, if you can’t get someone alone how are you supposed to ask them?” 

Theo hummed noncommittally as his potion turned a nice blue colour. He mixed the ground beetles, grimacing and scrunching his nose at the smell. Potter continued talking as he remixed his potion, adding more armadillo bile.

“I also hadn’t considered going with Ron. It might end up being fun, so who knows. I’ll have to ask him later what he thinks about it -” Theo grabbed his arm before Potter could add more ginger root to his potion. 

“Your potion’s dark green, Potter! You’re not supposed to stop stirring until it’s yellow. Then you add more ginger root.” Potter flushed again as he put down the ginger root. 

“Thanks. I didn’t read that part.”  

Theo cleared his throat before continuing with his potion. “Ask Weasley later, now focus on your potion. I want to end this lesson without your cauldron exploding next to me.” 

They didn’t talk much after that, preferring to work in silence. Though Theo kept sneaking glances to Potter’s potion to make sure it stayed on the correct colour scheme. With how the ground beetle smelled, he definitely did not want to end with a failed potion all over his nice robes. For a moment, their potions turned a bright green, looking very similar to Potter’s own eye colour. 

When the bell rang, both boys collected their things carefully. 

“See you around, Nott. Thanks for the idea,” Potter said, as he gave him a small wave and hurried to catch up with Weasley and Granger. 

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Yule. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve evergreen trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and near the entrance, a Yule Log was already burning with black fire.

Theo awoke early on Christmas Day to the usual presents from his father. Ignoring them, he got up to wake up Blaise before grabbing three wrapped packages and heading toward the Common Room to meet Tracey and Daphne so they could all exchange gifts. Both girls were already waiting for them near the fireplace. 

He had been careful with their presents this year, for Zabini he’d gotten a golden griffin brooch with an emerald on its eye and a diamond on his beak, it had the advantage of heating up whenever its user was being lied to; for Davis he’d gotten a book on the healing properties and uses of crystals she’d been talking about for the last couple of months; and for Greengrass, an elegant silver-green Mokeskin pouch. 

In turn, Blaise had gifted him a magic silver pen-knife with hidden attachments for any locks or knots, Tracey had somehow found an early edition of Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages, and Daphne had gotten him a new golden wizarding-chess set.

They spent most of the morning in the Common Room, where everyone was enjoying their presents. Malfoy had been gifted an obscene amount of sweets as usual, and he generously brought the gigantic package down with him when he, Crabbe and Goyle joined them near the fireplace. Eventually Bulstrode and Parkinson joined them for a while, before they all went to the Great Hall for lunch. To Crabbe and Goyle’s excitement, it included at least a hundred turkeys and puddings, and large piles of Cribagge’s Wizarding Crackers. 

They spent the afternoon in the dungeons, playing Exploding Snap and taking turns with Theo’s new chess set. Theo was feeling rather vindicated after defeating Malfoy three times in a row, much to the other boy’s frustration. Eventually the girls retreated to their rooms to get ready for the ball, and the boys remained for another hour before deciding they might as well get changed.

Zabini’s robes, Theo noted, were a deep dark purple, and contrasted nicely with his skin tone. He was also rather happy with how his hair had behaved that day, with a stray curl brushing his forehead. He straightened his navy blue robes in front of the mirror before following Blaise back into the Common Room to wait for Tracey and Daphne.

Both girls joined them a quarter to eight; Daphne was wearing a stunning ice-blue dress and had her long blonde hair in some complicated twist, and Tracey had on a silver shimmery flowing dress, her hair was gently curled away from her face.

By that time, Malfoy had already come down as well, he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar. Parkinson, clad in a pink frilly dress, was hanging from his arm, smiling widely. 

The six of them left the dungeons together, seeing no one else from their year in the Common Room. The entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around waiting for eight o’clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open.  Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. 

Finally, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the students were ushered in. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. 

They settled on a table relatively close to a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting down. Bulstrode, looking sullen in a mossy green dress, joined them eventually, along with Crabbe and Goyle.. 

Once everyone was settled, Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall, followed by the champions and their respective partners. As he stood up to clap, Theo noted that Potter had ended up with Weasley as his partner. Potter was wearing some rather nice bottle green dress robes, Weasley on the other hand‒

“Good Hecate, I had forgotten how dreadful Weasley’s robes were,” said Malfoy, scoffing at the redhead. 

Theo had to agree with him. Back when he’d seen Weasley on the train, he had only managed to catch a glimpse at some frills, but his robes now looked depressingly frayed. Both Gryffindors seemed to be having fun at least, as they held back laughter on their way to the top of the Hall. 

“Is that Hermione Granger with Viktor Krum?” Daphne asked. Theo quickly focused on the other champions. Granger was indeed walking down the Hall with Krum, she looked quite pretty, Theo thought, in her periwinkle dress. Parkinson and Malfoy, with their stunned silence, seemed to think so as well. 

“What a change, I guess she can look nice when she bothers to try,” Tracey said as they all sat back down. 

The first part of the ball went smoothly. They talked as they ate, carrying on with their conversation from earlier and chattering about who went with whom, and what they were wearing. When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. 

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to a wildly enthusiastic applause. They picked up their instruments and struck up a slow, mournful tune. The champions opened the ball, walking onto the brightly lit dance floor and beginning the waltz. The Slytherins laughed openly when they saw Potter and Weasley dancing together, their faces were stuck in a state between laughter and pain everytime they stepped on each other’s feet. Soon enough, other couples joined in, among them Dumbledore with Professor McGonagall and Madame Maxime with Hagrid. Daphne and Tracey shot out from their seats giggling, with Tracey leading Daphne by the hand onto the dance floor. 

“Hey! You’re both our dates!” Zabini called at them, as they began to dance among the other couples. Malfoy laughed at them both as he led Parkinson to join the girls. 

“I’ve never felt so betrayed,” Theo deadpanned, leaning back on his seat. 

“Well, look alive, Nott. I did not put on these robes to sit around all night,” said Blaise as he stood up and straightened his robes. “Will you do me the honour of joining me for this dance, Heir Nott? I’ll lead of course,” he added, as he offered Theo his hand.

Theo raised an eyebrow and glared at him half-heartedly. “We’ll switch.”

“ I’ll take that.”

After a while, the Weird Sisters picked up a new song, with a faster beat. Zabini inhaled suddenly in excitement. 

“My turn!” he said as they switched so he could lead. They were careful to avoid one of the Weasley twins and his partner, who were dancing so exuberantly other students were backing away in fear of injury. They also steered clear of Mad-Eye and Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg. 

Since it appeared that Tracey and Daphne had disappeared to Circe knew where, Blaise and Theo spent the rest of the night alternating in between dancing and hanging around the older Slytherins hogging one of the drink tables. When the Weird Sisters finished playing at midnight, everyone gave them a last, loud round of applause and started to wend their way into the entrance hall. 

As they left the Great Hall, they could hear faint screaming. Zabini whistled slowly. 

“Oh look, Granger is screaming at Weasley.”

Screaming was an understatement, Theo thought. Weasley seemed to be complaining about how Granger shouldn’t have gone with Krum, and Granger was going on about how if Weasley truly cared about who she went with, then he should’ve asked her from the beginning… or something along those lines. Potter was just awkwardly standing beside Weasley. Theo winced when he remembered he was the one who told Potter to take Weasley with him. 

As they gave them a wide berth for their screaming match, Theo briefly caught Potter’s eye as the other boy seemed to be staring at everything but his friends. He shrugged slightly at him before following Zabini back into the dungeons. 

 After the Yuletide, things seemed to slow down for a while. As their lessons started again, the Daily Prophet published a scathing article, written of course by Rita Skeeter, about how their Professor of Care of Magical Creatures was a half giant. Hagrid had not shown his face since, and Professor Grubbly-Plank had taken over his lessons. Words couldn’t describe the relief Theo felt when she announced they would be taking a break from the Blast-Ended Skrewts, but he may have teared up a little.

As the Second Task drew nearer, he noticed Potter was looking more and more frazzled. More than once he wondered if the other boy was leaving his preparations for the last minute, just like he had the time before, but he dismissed the thought promptly. He had no reason to approach Potter and ask him how he was doing with his training. 

The day before the Second Task found Theo in the library, finishing up an essay for Snape. He was being extra careful with the details, since their Professor had been on a mean streak for the last couple of days. It appeared like someone had broken into the Potions Storeroom and stolen some of his ingredients. 

He could feel his eyelids growing heavier with each page he read. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly in a while and it was slowly affecting him. Last Saturday he had fallen asleep while reading outside under an oak tree and by the time he had woken up it was already dark out. 

When he noticed he had been reading the same line for over five minutes, he decided a quick rest wouldn’t hurt him, as he leaned his head over his arms and closed his eyes. 

Harry was going mad. Maybe if he had a full-blown panic attack they would allow him to skip the following day’s task. 

Hermione and Ron had been called to McGonagall’s office and he had been left alone in the library with no idea how to be underwater for over an hour and stay alive. He paced the rows of bookshelves muttering under his breath, as he tried to think of something that could help him. He was about to turn around and check again the books Hermione had picked out when a soft snore distracted him. 

He peered into one of the desks and found a Slytherin student sleeping there. He would’ve left if he hadn’t noticed the book peeking out from the student’s bookbag. It was Nott’s book, so then this student was Nott, he was the only fourth year Slytherin with that hair anyway. 

Harry crossed his fingers and prayed to whatever deity was listening that Nott would somehow be able to help him. He had done so last time, so with luck he would do it again.

“Nott! Hey, Nott!” he whispered, shaking the boy’s shoulder. Nott blinked owlishly as he took in Harry’s face. 

“...Potter? I don’t have time to kill you right now, come back in a couple of hours…” he mumbled before burying his face in his arms. Harry shook his shoulder harder.

“Nott, wake up! I need your help,” said Harry in a louder voice.

With a groan, Nott finally lifted his head from the desk and rubbed his eyes. “ What , Potter?”

“I need to be able to breathe underwater for an hour or I might be dying tomorrow,” Harry said quickly. Nott stared at him for a moment. 

“I just woke up, I’m going to need you to repeat that slower. And explain yourself while you’re at it,” he said, shaking his head gently.

“For Tomorrow’s Task I’m going to be underwater for an hour, and I need to somehow survive that,” said Harry. “Do you know anything that could help? Or help me find something in any case?”

Nott sighed at him, getting up from his seat. “Do you ever not procrastinate serious tasks that could cost you gravely? What have you got so far?”  

Harry led him to where Ron and Hermione had been helping him pour over several text books in search of something that might help. “We were looking for some kind of charm that could help me but we didn’t find anyone, and now they had to go find Professor McGonagall because she apparently needed them for something-” 

“Potter!” Nott snapped at him. “Do you ever stop talking? Focus.”

They searched for a couple of hours without success. Harry was close to ripping his hair out. 

“Your friends had a copy of ‘Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs’ out, they might have been onto something,” said Nott as he rummaged over what could very well be their sixth pile of books. 

Harry groaned into his hands, “That’s about plants, Nott! How are plants going to help me with this?”  

“‘Magical Water Plants’, Potter. Do you ever pay attention to details? Oh! Here, look!” Nott stood up excitedly with the book in his hands, showing it to Harry. He pointed towards a section near the end of the right page. 

“‘ Gillyweed resembles a bundle of slimy, grey-green rat tails. It can be used in a great variety of potions. When eaten, it gives the consumer gills, allowing them to breathe underwater, and webbing between the fingers and toes, allowing them to swim underwater with ease’ that would solve your problem, you only need to ingest the right amount,” Nott said, closing the book with a triumphant exhale. Harry just stared at him incredulously. 

“Nott, that solves nothing! How am I supposed to get Gillyweed before the Task? Where could you even get it? I can’t run off to ‘The Highland Lochs’ to find some,” he said, throwing his hands into the hair. “This is how I die, drowned because I couldn’t find some stupid weeds in time.”

“Stop being dramatic, you’re going to get us kicked out. It said Gillyweed could be used in Potions, maybe Professor Snape has some.” Nott shrugged. 

“You’re telling me all we need to do is break into Snape’s classroom to find some?” Harry asked with a spark of hope in voice. Nott’s eyes widened.

“Absolutely not. There’s no we. I helped you find a solution to your problem, you do the rest.” Nott turned around toward where his things were, with Harry close to his heels. 

“You’re a Slytherin! You know where he keeps those!” Harry said, grabbing Nott’s essay before he could put it back in his book bag.

“ Careful with that! Don’t wrinkle it! And everyone knows where the ingredients are kept, if you paid attention in Potions class, you would too! Now give me back my essay,” he snarled, holding out his hand. Harry quickly folded the essay away inside his robes.

“Well, I don’t! I need you to come with me.” 

Nott scoffed. “Find one of your dim-witted Gryffindor friends, maybe they’ll be foolish enough to break into Snape’s Potions Storeroom with you. I’m going to bed. Keep the essay, I can just write it again.”

Inspiration struck Harry like lightning. 

“Either you come with me or I’ll post Hermione’s SPEW members list on the Great Hall’s bulletin board.” Harry watched with enjoyment as Nott stopped dead on his tracks. 

“You don’t have that list.” 

“I’m secretary, of course I have it. So what will it be? Suicide mission or being a public member of SPEW? Imagine when Malfoy sees it,” Harry teased with a wide grin.

Nott sneered at him. “I despise you, Potter. How do you suggest then, that we make our way to Snape’s classroom? The professors have probably already begun their patrolling.”

Hermione was going to kill him after this, Harry thought as he pulled out his Invisibility cloak from his robes. “With this.” 

Nott stared at him, befuddled, before answering. “A piece of fabric? Are you going to throw it at the head of whoever finds us as we run past them?”

Harry rolled his eyes before pulling the cloak over his shoulders, watching as Nott’s eyes widened in shock. 

“I’ve never seen an Invisibility cloak before. How did you manage to get one?” he asked, stunned, as he stared at Harry’s floating head. 

“There’s no time. Let’s go, it’ll cover us both.” 

Whether from excitement at getting to touch the Invisibility cloak , or in a hurry to get this stupid plan over with, Nott quickly shouldered his book bag and stood right besides Harry. Harry felt Nott shiver at the cool feeling of the cloak settling over their heads.

They walked quickly toward the dungeons, only running into Mrs. Norris as they neared the Tapestry Corridor. 

“I could just kick her right now, and there’s no way Filch would ever know,” Nott whispered to him as they watched her turn the corner, making Harry snort.

“Who’s the one not focusing now? Come on, the coast is clear.” They quietly entered the Potions Classroom, locking the door behind them. Nott quickly led them to a cabinet near Snape’s desk and pulled out his wand. 

“ Specialis revelio! Well, hopefully there’s no wards active then. Alohomora! ” he recited. Harry could hear the lock clicking as it was unlocked and the doors swung open, revealing dozens of glass jars and other containers. 

“How did Gillyweed look again?” he asked as Nott anxiously stared at the door. 

“Slimy, grey-green rat tails … Doesn’t Snape have his ingredients labeled?” 

“Well there’s a lot of ingredients here! Switch with me, I’ll keep watch while you search.” 

He neared the door and tried to tune out the clinking of glass as Nott searched the cabinet in order to listen for footsteps or voices. After a couple of minutes, the clinking stopped. 

“Found it!” Nott called back at him. “Snape’s also curiously low on boomslang skin, I wonder what that’s for.” Well that sounded familiar, Harry thought as Nott locked the cabinet once more and walked over to him. “I just grabbed a bundle, you can look over how much you need to ingest before the task.”

“I think boomslang skin is used for Polyjuice Potion,” said Harry, without thinking. Nott narrowed his grey eyes at him, handing over the jar with the gillyweed.

“And you know that, how?” Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts and shrugged. 

“Hermione. Now hurry up, we need to leave.” Nott quickly got under the cloak once more as they left the classroom. However, as they neared the steps, Harry’s foot went through a faulty floorboard, creaking noisily. As he lost his balance, the glass jar slipped from his fingers, rolling away before he or Nott could catch it. 

“ Don’t move!” Nott hissed as he hurriedly ducked from under the cloak and gave chase to the rolling jar. Harry was about to call back that he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, when he suddenly heard Peeves singing in the distance. Nott had heard him as well, going by how tense he went all of a sudden. The Slytherin boy quickly turned back into the classroom as Peeves neared the corner. Harry tried to stay as quiet as possible as he heard noises come from behind the door. 

Peeves gleefully followed the noise and, after a moment, Harry watched in astonishment as Nott came out of the classroom unfazed and hurried to where he was still stuck in the floor.      

“Potter?” Nott whispered, as he tentatively reached out towards him with his free hand. Harry quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him under the cloak once more, before Peeves came out. With Nott’s help he managed to free his foot, and they left the corridor in a hurry. 

“How did you manage to avoid Peeves?” Harry asked breathlessly as they stopped near the Slytherin dungeons. 

“I made a ruckus from inside Snape’s office and Peeves got excited, he may be throwing cauldrons around as we speak. Snape’s not going to be happy when he sees it tomorrow.” Nott grimaced as he tried to catch his breath. “I think I can make it back safely from here, there’s a passage that will lead me straight to our Common Room. I trust you will make it back with no problems thanks to that cloak of yours.” 

“Sure,” Harry said, “Hey, Nott. Thank you - again - for helping me. I really appreciate it. If you ever need anything, just let me know.” 

Nott perked up at that. “Let me borrow that cloak for a night, then.”

“Absolutely not!” Harry replied immediately. 

“You said anything, and you blackmailed me into helping you tonight. I’m borrowing your cloak .” Nott called as he headed down the corridor. “You can’t take it back now!”

Harry grumbled in annoyance as the Slytherin walked out of his sight. He walked carefully  back to the Gryffindor Tower, and only relaxed once he entered the Common Room and made his way up to the dorms. As he threw himself on his bed with a sigh, his eyes snapped open as he heard the tell-tale sound of crinkling parchment. 

Shit, Nott’s essay.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Theo woke up before the rest of his roommates. As usual, it had been a restless night for him. Shaking the remnants of his dream from his mind, he got dressed and wrote a note for Blaise to meet him in the Entrance Hall after breakfast. He left the note on the other boy’s bedside table, and left the dungeons with a book in his hands, heading for the Clocktower. I was early enough that if he read his way through breakfast, he would finally be able to finish it. He’d made up his mind to skip breakfast anyway, after his dream he didn’t feel he could stomach it.

Theo settled himself behind the clock face, angled so he could see the skyline when he looked up from his book. He read calmly for a while, enjoying, for once, the cool wind brushing against skin and through his hair. Seiðr was something he’d been interested in since before attending Hogwarts, due to his family’s heritage. His mother had encouraged it when he was younger, helping him draw basic protective runes and going over ancient chants with him before she became confined to her bed. 

He had originally taken the Ancient Runes elective in hopes of deepening his understanding of the subject, but he was disappointed to realize that it  only received a passing mention. But he’d found plenty of books on the subject in the darker parts of Alaric’s library over the summer . His father usually didn’t mind when Theo went over his journals and other objects, as long as he stayed out of his way. However, he certainly didn’t appreciate him taking out anything the Ministry might consider ‘dark’, so Theo, with Whilbie’s help, had sneaked away a couple of books without his notice. He’d transfigured their covers before term started; he wasn’t going to take any chances.  

The book resting on his lap was a transcript of the Poetic Edda, which referred to the immanent magical attributes that the runes themselves possessed and how they work in particular ways regardless of the intended uses to which they’re put by their writer.

Unfortunately, Theo only got an hour of peace and quiet before the door leading to the stairs was slammed open. He snapped the book shut, silently mourning having lost his place, and turned around to face the perpetrator. Of course, he mentally grumbled.

Bloody Potter was standing in the doorway. 

“Really, Potter? First the library and now here? Are you stalking me?” Theo said, standing up. Potter glared at him as he rummaged through his robes. 

“Sod off, I was looking for you. I forgot to give you back your essay yesterday, and with the task later today, I wasn’t sure when I would be able to talk to you again.” He pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment with a grimace. “I’m sorry it’s wrinkled, I sort of laid down over it by accident. Reckoned you might prefer transcribing it over having to start all over.” 

Theo grabbed what used to be his essay gingerly. It wasn’t too bad, he supposed, and it truly beat having to write an entirely new essay. 

“Thank you, then,” he replied, storing the parchment in between the pages of his book. He noticed Potter was lacking his usual two shadows. 

“You’re alone,” Theo pointed out. “You’re never alone these days. Did you lose Granger and Weasley?” 

Potter’s face fell instantly. “I can’t find them. Professor McGonagall called them to her office last night and I haven’t seen them since. We were meant to go over what I could be facing in the second task. Something about recovering what they took…” 

Inwardly sighing, Theo braced himself for whatever Potter insured drama he was about to dive into. And this time it was his own fault, he was far too curious about finding out what the other boy was talking about. 

“Who’s they? Who was it that took it?” he asked Potter, who only then turned to look at him. 

“The merpeople! I’m supposed to go into the Black Lake and look for something they took, something I'll miss most… That’s why I needed to breathe underwater for over an hour.” 

Something they took, Theo mused, something Potter will miss most… His mind immediately went to the missing Gryffindors. 

“Something, or some one ?” 

“What do you mean?” Potter asked, his glasses askew. 

 “Think about it, why wouldn’t your friends be with you at a time like this? The only reason I can come up with is because they can’t,” Theo told him excitedly. “Which means that one of them, or both who knows, is what you need to recover from the merpeople!” 

“Why would they endanger someone like that?” Potter’s eyes were dangerously close to the manic look they’d held the night before. 

“I’m sure they’re not in any danger. Knowing Dumbledore, he must’ve cast some advanced spell to allow them to safely breathe underwater until you find them,” Theo hurried to add.

That seemed to calm him, and Potter breathed in deeply. “Alright, alright. Getting back Ron and Hermione, no big deal. I should be going. Thanks, Nott. You’ve really been a big help.”

“Hey, before you leave. About the cloak...” Theo said before the other boy left. Potter turned around, rolling his eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I just helped you, again. I’d say I deserve a night with it.”

“Fine, Nott. I’ll meet you here tonight before dinner starts. You get a day with it,” Potter told him seriously. Theo smirked at him, leaning on the wall behind him and taking a look at his watch, it was almost time for the task to begin.  

“A pleasure doing business with you, Potter. Try not to die in today’s task, I really want to take a good look at your cloak.” Potter smiled bashfully at that, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“Is that your newest way of wishing me luck? It sucks.” 

“It’s my newest way of telling you to get a hint and be on your way, the task will be starting soon,” Theo told him, rolling his eyes.  

With a start Potter checked his watch, his eyes widening as he saw the time. 

“See you later, Nott!” the Gryffindor boy called as he turned and hurried down the stairs, leaving Theo alone. 

He figured he might as well make his way down, since Blaise and the girls would have probably finished their breakfast by the time he made it to the Entrance Hall. 

He wasn’t wrong. The three of them were waiting near the marble steps. They waited until he had reached them to begin making their way toward the grounds. 

“Did you ditch breakfast just to have some quiet reading time?” Tracey asked him as they walked. Theo smiled gently as he looped her arm with hers. 

“If I read in the dormitories I get distracted, there’s too much noise.” 

“I don’t blame you,” added Blaise. “I wouldn’t be able to focus with Crabbe’s snoring.” 

Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Luckily none of the girls snore, but you should both be thankful you don’t have to put up with a cloud of Pansy’s perfume every morning. I hope she runs out soon.”  

Tracey hummed in agreement as they reached the Black Lake. 

Along the pier were several small boats, which students were using to reach the seating structures located in the middle of the lake. Carefully, the four of them boarded one and sailed toward the seating area without incident. 

It was almost nine-thirty, which meant the task would be starting soon. Most of the seats were taken, but they managed to find a place near the bottom of the stands. As they sat down, Theo noticed the four champions were already standing in one of the lower structures, closer to the surface of the lake. The judges were seated at their usual gold-draped table; Ludo Bagman pointed his wand to his neck. 

“Welcome to the second task! Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions. A treasure, of sorts. These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake. In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough, right? Except for this, they will have one hour to do so, and one hour only. After that, they’ll be on their own. No magic will save them.”

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start at the sound of the cannon. On the count of three, then. One… two… three!”

Delacour, Diggory and Krum all dived gracefully into the lake the second the cannon went off. Theo winced as Potter stuffed his mouth with what could only be the gillyweed they had stolen the night before and jumped clumsily into the lake. After a moment, the water’s surface stilled.

Blaise groaned next to him. “Is that it? Do we have to spend an hour just staring at the lake?” he asked in disbelief. 

Theo just sighed and opened his book to try and find the last page he had read. “Let me know if something interesting happens,” he told Blaise, getting comfortable on his seat. Maybe he would be able to finish his book that day after all.

Half an hour passed without a hitch, and most spectators were talking amongst themselves. Theo could faintly hear his friends debating on whether or not they would’ve been able to see the contestants swim through the lake from their common room. He was currently engrossed in a particularly riveting passage on the differences between the Ogham and Theban alphabets and their relation to the Elder Futhark Rune symbols, but before he could finish he felt Blaise’s sharp elbow dig painfully under his ribcage, making him gasp in pain.

“Seriously?” he groaned, massaging his throbbing side. “I said ‘let me know’, not ‘maim me.’”  Blaise snorted at him.

“Oh, please, I barely nudged you. Now, look!” Theo looked back at the structure closest to the lake, where Fleur Delacour was currently being pulled out of the water. 

“The time’s not up yet, did she finish already?” Tracey asked, straining to see what was going on below them. 

“Oh! She’s trying to get back in!” Daphne pointed out. Indeed, the Beauxbatons champion seemed to be arguing with the wizard who was currently leading her away from the edge of the platform. The further away they got, the more panicked her movements became. After a couple of minutes of arguing, she desisted and sat down in a nearby chair, looking distraught.

“You nearly broke my ribs to watch Delacour’s meltdown. How will I ever thank you enough, Blaise?” Theo drawled, lowering his eyes to focus on his book once more. 

“I didn’t nudge you that hard!” Blaise complained. “I didn’t nudge him that hard!” he said to Tracey and Daphne. 

“We know, Blaise,” said Tracey. “Theo just loves complaining.” She teased before changing the topic to how the champions must be facing some of the Grindylows of the Black Lake. 

Theo tuned them out, focusing on the last pages of his book. Soon enough he reached the end, and snapped the book closed in satisfaction. Most of the spectators, his three friends included, had gone quiet, staring intently at the lake’s surface. With no Potter in sight yet, Theo checked his watch. The hour was up.

One minute after the hour had passed, Diggory resurfaced with a spluttering Cho Chang in his arms, causing the crowd to break into applause. Theo barely dodged Blaise’s second nudge with a scowl; the other boy had been so focused with his staring he hadn’t noticed Theo was done with his reading. 

A couple of seconds later, Krum - or what appeared to be Krum, it was a human torso with the head of the shark - resurfaced with Granger. Tracey groaned at the sight of him. 

“W-what - why? What has he done to himself?” she complained as they watched him get out of the water. Blaise gagged as they took in his entire body, it seemed like something straight out of a nightmare.

“A partial Transfiguration,” answered Daphne with a grimace, “makes for an awful sight, doesn’t it?” 

“I will never be able to look at him in the same way, after this,” Blaise moaned in despair as Tracey mockingly patted his head. 

Theo scanned the water with apprehension, where the hell was Potter? The judges were staring at each other now, and Bagman was looking awfully tense as they all waited. 

After what seemed like an eternity, three heads emerged from the water. Theo let out a relieved sigh as he spotted Potter’s dark hair and his mercifully normal face. Blaise turned to him with a smirk.

“Were you worried about Potter, dearest Theodore?” he teased in an unbearably sweet tone. Theo sneered at him.

“Of course, Zabini. And I’ll be having tea with Longbottom later. Sod off,” he told him, rolling his eyes at Blaise’s snicker.

“Oh, look!” Tracey interrupted them, pointing to where Dumbledore was crouching at the platform’s edge, deep in conversation with a merperson. “I didn’t know Dumbledore spoke Mermish.” 

“It’s Dumbledore, are you really surprised?” Theo asked, as they waited for the scores to be given. After the headmaster had finished conversing with the merperson, the judges conversed amongst themselves. Theo supposed that this time, unlike with the first task, they would be giving their scores as a group, since they hadn’t discussed anything the time before. Over one end of the platform, he could see Madame Pomfrey tending to the champions and their respective hostages. 

After a while, the judges finally finished their discussion and Ludo Bagman raised his wand to his neck once more. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftaness Murcus has informed us of exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows… Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by Grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

“Well, she’s completely out of the running now, isn’t she? She placed last once more,” Tracey commented, receiving a nudge from Daphne for her troubles. “Shh!” the blonde said. 

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers erupted from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to arrive with his hostage. We award him forty points.” The Durmstrang students roared in approval, with Karkaroff clapping violently.

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.”

Theo rolled his eyes. Of course, Freyja forbid Potter forget his Gryffindor tendencies for once in his life. 

“Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a particularly nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However… Mr. Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

The Gryffindors, along with several students from Beauxbatons, burst into cheers. That meant Potter was now tying for first place with Diggory, Theo mused as he clapped gently. 

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.” 

The rest of the day was filled with theories about what had taken place underwater, since none of the students on the stands had been privy to the events. Soon enough, it was time for his meeting with Potter. With a new book in his bag, Theo made his way from the dungeons up to the Clocktower, making sure to arrive earlier than they had agreed on. 

As he neared the top landing, he could hear the rain pouring heavily. He was tempted to sit down to read while he waited for Potter to appear; storms were his absolute favourite background noise. 

To his surprise, Potter was already there, inspecting the mechanisms on the back of the clock face. 

“Did you know it’s an astronomical clock?” Theo surprised himself by breaking the silence first, making Potter turn around suddenly. He noted the Gryffindor boy had faint welts on his neck and lower face. “It tells not only the time, but shows the month, the sign of the Zodiac, and the relative positions of the moon and sun.”

Potter relaxed at the sight of him. “Oh,” he said, turning around to continue his study of the clock. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“I’ve heard the older students use it in Astronomy class,” Theo added, walking over to Potter’s side. “Well done on the task today.” He cringed internally at how awkward he sounded. 

Potter scratched the back of his neck, turning to stare at him. “Thanks. The gillyweed worked like a charm.” He laughed lightly. 

“I suppose you brought the cloak then?” Theo asked, staring resolutely at the clock. Potter huffed next to him.  

“Of course, you jump right onto that. Would you ever help someone if there wasn’t something in it for you?” 

Theo scoffed in protest, turning to stare at him. “You were the one who offered something in return in the first place, Potter. And for the record, I do help people even if there’s nothing at stake.” 

Potter’s face softened at that, making Theo’s face feel hot all of a sudden. “I guess you do. Even if you need a little blackmail to motivate you.” 

“I expect that list to never make an appearance, Potter,” Theo warned, happy to fixate on other things rather than the soft smile that adorned Potter’s face. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find other ways to convince you,” Potter said cheekily, as he dug through his bag. He eventually pulled out his cloak and passed it to Theo, who took it excitedly. “As promised. I’ll meet you here tomorrow at the same time. I’m really trusting you here, Nott.” 

Theo nodded at him, “I’ll take perfect care of it and return it as promised. Don’t worry about it.” Sudden thunder struck noisily, making Potter flinch suddenly. 

“Are you heading down to dinner?” Potter asked as he closed his bag and got ready to leave. Theo shook his head in answer.

“I think I’ll stay for a while. I find thunderstorms soothing while I read.” 

Potter ran a hand through his hair, laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone read as much as Hermione, but you might give her a run for her money.” 

“I don’t believe anyone can compare to Granger’s hunger for knowledge,” Theo retorted, as he folded the cloak carefully into his book-bag, before pulling out his book.

“Well then, I’ll see you around, Nott,” Potter said, waving his hand in good-bye.

Theo nodded at him with a quick smile. “See you around, Potter.” 

As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. Theo was constantly eyeing his favourite tree by the lake, hoping the weather would warm up enough so he could reclaim his usual reading place. For the time being, he had set up camp in the top landing of the Clocktower, seeing as it was usually empty in his free time before dinner. 

Curiously enough, Potter had taken it upon himself to join him some days, under the reasoning of studying and practicing new spells for the upcoming third task. It surprised Theo how much he didn’t mind the other boy’s presence, considering how he only enjoyed the company of his friends. 

He usually just read and took notes for further investigation, while Potter did whatever he wanted, but as the days went on they began discussing what they were both learning. He found Potter was particularly interested in Celtic knots - well, interested not in the sense he actually wanted to read about them, but he enjoyed asking questions or listening to Theo’s verbal vomit on the subject. 

“So, if I were to tie a Shield knot, what rope should I use?” Potter asked one afternoon, as they were both going over some books Theo had taken out of the library earlier that day.

“You’re supposed to use a cord made out of natural fibres, but it’s left to the user’s taste. However, considering the Shield knot is a protection spell, you should soak your cord in saltwater or diluted vinegar. You could also ‘charge’ the water beforehand with stones, powders or oils,” Theo said, passing Potter the tome he had in his hands. He leaned back and enjoyed the brisk winds ruffling their hair. 

For a couple of minutes, he focused on the sound of Potter flipping the pages in a manner that would make Madam Pince furious if she were there to see it. 

“Look!” Potter said after a while. “It says here to run the knot through incense smoke or the smoke of a candle to bless it. Do you reckon this really works?” 

Theo shrugged. “Magic has a lot of branches. I wouldn’t be surprised if it worked to some degree, but I don’t believe it to be as efficient as rune magic.”

Potter perked up at the mention of runes. “That’s what you were reading about the other day, right? Something about the Elder Further?” Theo sat straighter and turned to look at him.

“You mean the Elder Futhark, it’s the oldest form of the runic alphabets. We study it in Ancient Runes. The Younger Futhark followed it, and was used during the Viking era, but it’s not as popular as the Elder, since it is easier to translate to the English alphabet. You can ask Granger about it, she has a better handle of it than I do.” 

It wasn’t exactly a lie, Granger had them all beat regarding translations and the history behind it; Theo shuddered at the thought of how much time the girl must dedicate daily to her studies. He was more interested in the esoteric meanings of the metaphysical concepts since, according to his father’s books, it was fundamental for the rune’s user to understand the meanings of the runes and how they applied to their intended spell. 

Potter closed the book gently, focusing his bright eyes on Theo. “I never really expected a Slytherin to be on speaking terms with Muggle-borns, you know. I thought you all shared Malfoy’s pureblood mentality.” 

Theo inwardly sighed, they were having that conversation then. 

“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m proud of my bloodline, even if some of my family members have taken less than honourable actions,” he said, immediately thinking of his father’s affiliation with the Death Eaters. “However, I don’t believe anyone to be lesser due to their origins.”

Potter snorted. “Well, you’d be the first.” Theo frowned in answer, barely holding back the instinctual sneer from whenever someone insulted his house. 

“Not everyone in Slytherin is a bigot, Potter. Honouring pureblood culture and customs does not make us pureblood supremacists,” he retorted, already feeling whatever appreciation he might’ve had for Potter disappear. 

“Your own founder wanted only purebloods in his house. Tell me how that’s not supremacist,” said Potter, his voice heating and making Theo outright roll his eyes. 

“The idea that Salazar Slytherin didn’t want anything other than purebloods in his house, comes from the fact that Hogwarts, as you may very well know, was founded in the middle ages. During the witch hunts. You’d want to protect your own, wouldn’t you?” Theo snarled, picking up his books and getting to his feet. 

“That was ages ago! What’s your excuse now? Muggles are backwards? They’re stupid?” asked Potter, standing up as well. 

“How is it our fault that the Sorting Hat won’t place Muggle-borns in Slytherin? Have you ever considered that it might be because they’re usually drawn to the houses of ‘loyalty’, ‘courage’ and ‘wisdom’?” Theo snarled. “Freyja forbid they might actually be interested in the house with a bloody snake on its banner.” 

“Oh, so it’s poor Slytherins then? When every evil wizard in history has come out of your house? When - Nott, don’t walk away from me!” Potter broke his rant to hurry after Theo, who had begun walking briskly toward the door. He managed to grab the Slytherin’s arm in time, pulling him back and making him stumble. 

“Would you let go of my arm?” Theo asked him harshly, yanking his arm out of Potter’s grasp. “Define us by a couple of rotten apples, then! By that logic Merlin himself was evil. Do you actually think that?” 

Potter halted in whatever he was going to answer, so Theo took the opportunity and carried on. “We do have Half-Bloods in Slytherin, Potter. Tracey Davis is in our year and she’s more than capable of performing magic. Look at Longbottom, he’s useless with a wand and he’s part of the supposed ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’.”

“The Sacred Twenty -? Whatever, I’ll ask you later,” Potter said, stumbling over his words. “If blood isn’t everything then how come most Slytherins will be the first to mock other Muggle-borns?” 

Theo shrugged half-heartedly. “I never said we were nice , and Slytherins will mock anyone to be honest.” Potter snorted at that, and Theo sent a dark stare his way before continuing. “Old grudges run deep I suppose, it’s a vicious cycle. Slytherins feel slighted by the other houses’ opinion of them, and the other houses think Slytherins hate them and care only about blood purity. It’s not like anyone makes the effort to get to know each other, both sides are at fault.” 

Potter breathed in deeply to calm himself. “I guess… it’s not like I made any effort either. After meeting Malfoy I just decided I was done with Slytherins, you’re the first one I’ve actually taken the time to meet properly.” Theo huffed in amusement at that.

“Everyone would get that impression after meeting Malfoy,” Theo said, finally beginning to relax. “I apologize for snapping at you. We’re all awfully sensitive about Slytherin’s reputation. It doesn’t help that the Wizarding World’s most recent megalomaniac and his followers were sorted into it, everyone seems to be waiting for the next Dark Lord to come out of it.”

“Don’t even joke,” Potter groaned. “I’m barely over this one myself...” 

They both stood in awkward silence for a while, neither of them wanting to speak yet neither wanting to leave. Potter broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry for basically calling all Slytherins evil, Nott. That was uncalled for,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed to do that a lot whenever he felt self-conscious, Theo thought.      

“Well, I shouldn’t have been so defensive. A lot of Slytherins are pureblooded bigots.” 

Potter laughed at Theo’s comment, smiling in amusement. “Well, you’re alright, Nott. You know what? I actually believe you’re a decent human being.” 

Theo mockingly glared at him. “If you even dare to speak a word of it, Potter, I’ll light your broom on fire.” Potter made a show of widening his eyes in alarm.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible person, Nott.”

Theo hummed in agreement. 

“Yes, it keeps me up at night,” he said, checking his watch. “We should go, it’s almost time for dinner.” 

Potter shouldered his bag, and they began descending the stairs together. They eventually parted ways, as Theo headed to the library to return the borrowed books. On his way, he briefly wondered what his friends might’ve said if they had seen him and Potter walk into the Great Hall together. 

Chapter Text

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare, and he still didn’t know what he would have to do.  

In the meantime, he focused on learning any spell that might be useful with Ron, Hermione and, surprisingly, Nott. He enjoyed the other boy’s company and found himself looking forward to their afternoon chats. It was refreshing to spend time with someone who genuinely did not care who he was. But in fairness, Nott didn’t care about a lot of things unless they directly concerned him. 

He found that Nott was very interested in old Norse magic, runes, and conjuration, mostly because of his family history. Harry himself had never given much thought to the history of the Potter name, but seeing how excited Nott became when talking about old traditions and customs made him want to know more about his own family. 

As time went on, their silences grew shorter and Harry actually began to learn little details about the Slytherin. Like how he was always cold and always had bags under his eyes, and how his sense of humour was hilariously dark. He found it both amusing and irritating when he discovered that Nott honestly believed he hadn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Because of course, out of everyone in Hogwarts, it had to be bloody Nott.  

Unfortunately, like most good things in Harry’s life, their meetings came to a halt when he eventually told Ron and Hermione where he was disappearing off to every couple of days. Hermione didn’t mind as much, seeing as she had been the one to introduce them and they were both still part of the same study group. 

Ron, well, Ron minded enough for them both.

“He’s just as bad as Malfoy, Harry! Both Lucius Malfoy and Alaric Nott were Death Eaters, they claimed to be under the Imperius Curse to get out of Azkaban!” he ranted when the three of them were alone in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Ron, he’s helped me on both tasks so far. In his place, Malfoy would have sent me to the dragons with a stake hanging from my neck,” Harry tried to reason with him. Hermione, brilliant Hermione, tried to help.

“He’s the only Slytherin I’ve met who is actually civil, Ron. As long as he’s generally left alone, he really doesn’t care,” she offered meekly. 

“Well, being civil is not enough, Hermione! Standing by as Malfoy bullies you or anyone else is not alright!” Harry winced outright. 

“I get that, Ron. I really do. And I’m not saying he’s a good person,” Harry added quickly as he saw Ron gearing up for another rant. “He’s just decent and good company. Maybe just give him a chance?”

“Really, Ron. Everyone has their own faults. He even supported S.P.E.W.” Harry almost burst out laughing at Ron’s incredulous look. “We’ve talked about the subject and he actually helped me get a clearer point of view. You don’t have to like him, just…” Hermione eventually trailed off, looking to Harry for support.

“Just bear with him. That’s all,” Harry said, as Ron sighed in answer. 

“Whatever. As long as we don’t share space.”

He’d tried talking to Nott about possibly talking to Ron one day so they could clear the air, but Nott’s answering glare had him shutting up immediately. So Harry split his free time between his best friends and, unbelievably, a Slytherin. It sounded like something Trelawney would predict. The tentative balance lasted up until the last week of May, when the third task was finally announced. 

The champions would have to navigate through a maze in search of the Triwizard Cup, which would be located at the centre. The first one to touch the Cup would win the Tournament. However, since that would be clearly too easy, the maze would be filled with obstacles, creatures, spells and enchantments. 

Harry was about to head back to the castle after the announcement, when Krum tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Could I haff a vord?” 

“Yeah, all right,” said Harry, slightly surprised.

Krum led them toward the forest. 

“What are we going this way for?” asked Harry as they passed Hagrid’s cabin and the carriage from Beauxbatons. 

“Don’t vont to be overheard,” Krum answered shortly.

Krum finally came to a stop when they reached a quiet stretch of ground close to the Beauxbatons horses’ paddock. 

“I vont to know,” he said, turning to face Harry. “Vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny.” 

Harry, who from Krum’s secretive manner had expected something much more serious than this, stared up at Krum in amazement. 

“Nothing. We’re friends. She’s not my girlfriend and never has been. It’s just that Skeeter woman making things up.” Rita Skeeter could bugger off to be honest, thanks to her article Hermione had been receiving hate-mail by the daily. 

“Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often,” said Krum, looking at Harry suspiciously. 

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Because we’re friends. ”

Krum looked slightly happier. “You fly very well,” he said after staring at Harry for a few seconds. “I vos votching at the first task.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, grinning broadly and suddenly feeling very much taller. “I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really -”

But something moved behind Krum in the trees, and Harry instinctively grabbed Krum’s arm and pulled him around. A man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment Harry didn’t recognize him, then he realized it was Mr. Crouch. 

“Vosn’t he a judge?” asked Krum, staring at Mr. Crouch who looked as if he had been traveling for days. “Isn’t he vith your Ministry?” 

Harry nodded, then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch. 

“Mr.Crouch?” he asked cautiously. 

Mr. Crouch’s eyes were bulging; he stood staring at the trees, muttering soundlessly at them. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees. 

“Mr. Crouch?” Harry said loudly. “Are you all right?”

Crouch’s eyes were rolling in his head. Harry looked around at Krum, who was not too far behind him, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm.

“Vot is vrong with him?”

“No idea,” answered Harry. “Listen, you’d better go and get someone -”

“Dumbledore!” Crouch gasped suddenly. He reached out and seized a handful of Harry’s robes, dragging him closer. “I need… see… Dumbledore…”

“Okay,” said Harry. “If you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the -”

“I’ve done… stupid… thing…” Mr. Crouch breathed. A trickle of spit dribbled down his chin. “My son… Bertha… dead… all my fault…”

“You stay with him,” Harry told Krum, trying to get his robes from Crouch’s grasp. “I’ll get Dumbledore, I know where his office is -”

“He is mad,” Krum said doubtfully, staring down at Crouch. 

“Must tell… see Dumbledore… all my fault… the Dark Lord…” Crouch mumbled, tightening his grip on Harry’s robes. 

“I’ll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!” Harry said. He looked furiously around at Krum. “Help me, will you?” 

Looking extremely apprehensive, Krum moved forward and helped pull Harry’s robes free.

“Hurry back, von’t you?” Krum called after Harry as he sprinted away from the forest and through the dark grounds. Reaching the castle, he tore up the stone steps, through the oak doors and off up the marble staircase, heading for the second floor. 

Five minutes later, he was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. 

“Open!” Harry shouted at it. “It’s an emergency! C’mon!” 

But nothing at Hogwarts moved because a student shouted at it. He looked up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore was in the staffroom? He started running as fast as he could toward the staircase -

“POTTER!” 

Harry skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned Harry back toward him. 

“What are you doing here, Potter?” 

“I need to see Professor Dumbledore!” Harry said, running back up the corridor. “It’s Mr. Couch, from the Ministry! He’s ill or something - he’s in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore!”

The stone wall behind Snape slid open, Dumbledore was standing there in long green robes and a mildly curious expression. 

“Is there a problem?” He asked, looking between Harry and Snape. 

“Professor!” Harry said, sidestepping Snape before he could speak. “Mr. Crouch is here! He’s in the forest, he wants to speak to you!”

Harry expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to his relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort. 

“Lead the way,” he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Harry, leaving Snape standing next to his gargoyle look-alike.

“What did Mr. Crouch say, Harry?”said Dumbledore, as they walked swiftly down the marble staircase. 

“Said he wants to warn you… said he’s done something terrible… he spoke about his son and Bertha Jorkins… and - and Voldemort… he’s not acting like himself… I left him with Viktor Krum,” Harry said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. 

“You did?” said Dumbledore sharply, quickening his steps and taking large strides. “Do you know if anyone else saw Mr. Crouch?” 

“No,” said Harry. “Krum and I were talking, Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest -” 

“Where are they?” Dumbledore asked, as they neared the Beauxbatons carriage. 

“Over here,” said Harry, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. He couldn’t hear Crouch’s voice anymore, but he knew where he was going; it hadn’t been much past the Beauxbatons carriage… somewhere around here…

“Viktor?” Harry shouted. 

No one answered.

“They were here,” Harry told Dumbledore. “They were definitely somewhere around here…”

Dumbledore raised his wand, “ Lumos. ” The tip of his wand lit up, showering the trees with light. His gaze moved from trunk to trunk, searching the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet.

Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor, he seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. 

The following morning found Harry and Nott in the Clocktower once more. He was quite glad Nott didn’t bother asking how Harry always knew when he was there; he had already shared the Invisibility Cloak with him, he wasn’t in a hurry to disclose the existence of the Marauder’s map just yet.

“So, in short: you were walking along the Forbidden Forest, with Krum of all people, saw an out-of-his-mind Crouch, proceeded to go find Dumbledore and when you returned, Crouch was gone and Krum was unconscious?” Nott asked with a pinched look.

“That’s about it, yeah,” Harry answered with a shrug. The hard swat Nott directed to his arm took him by surprise. “What is wrong with you?” he exclaimed, rubbing the spot with his other hand. 

“I should be asking you that, Potter! What were you thinking? Walking around with a stranger? You told me you thought someone was trying to kill you,” Nott sneered at him. Harry couldn’t help but notice the acrobatics one of his eyebrows was doing. 

“He wanted to ask me something!” 

“Oh, did he? Perhaps something along the lines of ‘Do you wish to die tonight, Potter?’” 

“He wanted to know if Hermione was my girlfriend, alright? Because of that stupid article…” Harry bemoaned, throwing his head back. “Can we please focus on the big picture? Where did Crouch go?”

Nott sighed and shook his head, one of his curls dangling over his forehead. Harry suppressed the impulse to brush it back. 

“Well, either Crouch attacked him and fled, or a third party attacked them both and took Crouch... but a Minister worker attacking a student, one of the champions of the tournament no less, doesn’t make sense…” he mused, fidgeting with the cuff of his jumper. 

“Not to mention he was so out of it, I doubt he could have bested Krum in a duel…” Harry added. “So then, someone must’ve attacked them both. ‘When you’ve eliminated the impossible, then what remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’” he finished the quote with a grin, blushing slightly when Nott raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a quote from a muggle book, Sherlock Holmes. I think you’d like it.” Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Nott cleared his throat gently. “Book quotes aside… Did Crouch mention anything that might be of use?” 

“He mentioned his son, Bertha Jorkins and Voldemort…” To his credit, Nott didn’t flinch but he did grimace slightly at the mention of Voldemort. “He kept saying he made a stupid thing and that he needed to talk to Dumbledore.” 

“So we have two dead wizards, a ‘stupid thing’ and him … How are they related? We’re missing something important... ” 

Harry interrupted whatever Nott was about to say. “Why won’t you say his name? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of it as well,” he said, rolling his eyes.

The Slytherin sneered in return. “I’m not afraid of a moronic name, Potter. Besides, everyone knows nicknames don’t count if you give them to yourself,” he sniffed in contempt. Harry burst out laughing. 

“I don’t think I ever thought of it as a nickname… But then, calling Voldemort him sounds kind of dumb, don’t you think?” Harry mused, “Tom isn’t really threatening either, and Riddle just makes me think of a Batman villain.” He laughed.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” Nott asked in confusion. “What is a ‘Batman villain’ supposed to be?” 

Voldemort and Crouch forgotten for the time being, Harry enjoyed the rest of his morning entertaining Nott with the plot of the Batman comics and its subsequent villains. 

It was nearing their lunch hour when Harry remembered the conversation he’d had with Ron and Hermione the previous night. He cleared his throat, gearing himself up for what he thought was not going to be an easy conversation.

“Hey, Hermione and Ron are going to help me prepare for the third task… and well, I was… well, since you’ve also helped me with the other two I was wondering…” He trailed off, hoping Nott would get the hint and offer his help; but of course the other boy only stared at him impassively. Sighing loudly, Harry caved, “Would you join us? I could really use your help.” 

“Is this another of your attempts at getting me to play nice with Weasley?” Nott asked. 

Harry grinned at him, “Depends, is it working?” 

The other boy leaned back with a smug smirk, “What’s in it for me?” Harry groaned openly. 

“Aren’t we past that already? Is the pleasure of my company not enough for you?” Nott just lifted an eyebrow at him. He was rather good at communicating with them, Harry thought. “Fine, what do you want this time?” 

Nott breathed in carefully before answering. “Help me find that book you mentioned, about Holmes.” Harry couldn’t help widening his eyes.

“You? The great Slytherin is actually interested in a muggle book?” He snickered, careful to stay far enough in case the other boy aimed another swat at him. 

“Mind your tongue if you actually want my help Potter,” Nott sneered at him, but Harry could see the corners of his mouth twitching in what looked like the ghost of a smile. Pleased, Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze. That hadn’t been as hard as he’d expected. 

Of course, the hard part came later when they met in the empty Charms classroom, because clearly, asking life to be easy for him was asking for a miracle. Ron and Nott, Harry was beginning to understand, got along like a cat in water. Which was to say, not at all.

It all started with Ron calling Slytherins slimy and ended with a shitstorm. It took both Hermione and Harry’s efforts combined to get them to stop arguing and by then, Harry was too worn out to even consider practicing. Which suited the others just fine; Hermione and Nott went over some books she had taken out of the library as Ron shot them furtive glances from the other side of the room. Harry just tried to distract him as he wrote down a list of spells he was confident casting, per Nott’s order.

“I think we should focus on the basics and then move on the more versatile spells,” Hermione was saying, as she skimmed a section from The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. “I’d reckon the Stunning Spell could be quite useful… Oh! Look, this looks promising,” she turned the book so that Nott could read, “the Impediment Curse should slow down anything that tries to attack Harry.”  

Nott nodded, “Good, I’ll focus on hexes and counter-charm with a wide array of uses…” He muttered, focusing on his copy of Confronting the Faceless.

Harry then remembered what Bagman had told them, about how they might run into creatures and winced just thinking about Hagrid’s Blast Ended Skrewts. 

“Hey, let me know if you find anything that might work against the skrewts from Hagrid’s class, will you?” he asked, Hermione nodded as she furiously read through one of the books and, to Harry’s amusement, Nott visibly shuddered.

Beside him, Ron snickered, “Scared of the skrewts, Nott?” Nott sneered at him. 

“Of course I don’t like the skrewts, they always burn my robes.  See Weasley, unlike you, I actually care about the state of my clothes.”  

Harry was quick to grab Ron’s arm before he could reach for his wand. 

“Ron! Ron! Focus!”

Ron exhaled loudly, throwing a dirty look Nott’s way. 

“I don’t like you, Nott,” he snarled through narrowed eyes. Nott smiled nastily in return.

“What a coincidence, Weasley. I don’t like you either.” 

Harry thanked the heavens when Hermione finally closed the book in her hands. 

“Alright,” she said, “let’s go with Stunners first. Nott, would you help me get the cushions from Professor Flitwick's cabinet? Ron, you’ll be Harry’s target.” Nott solemnly got up to get them while Ron spluttered,

“Hermione! Why do I get stunned?” he asked, gobsmacked.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you started the latest argument, Ron,” she said. “Besides, I doubt Nott will let us practice on him, anyway. Or are you suggesting I get Stunned?” That efficiently put an end to Ron’s complaints, but he did make sure to spread the cushions Nott brought over the best he could. 

Harry spent the better half of an hour practicing the spell, which didn’t come easy. 

“Can’t we just kidnap Mrs. Norris and practice on her?” Ron asked as he lay flat on his back in the middle of the classroom, having just been Stunned and reawoken by Harry for the fifth time in a row.

“I’m actually on board with that idea,” Nott piped up from his place next to Hermione, both busy in making a spell-schedule for the time remaining until the third task. Ron rolled his eyes.

“Aaand, I’m suddenly not on board with it anymore,” Ron said, making Nott scoff. “Or maybe we could ask Dobby! Not that I’m complaining or anything” - he got gingerly to his feet, rubbing his backside - “I’m just aching all over….” 

“Well, you keep missing the cushions, don’t you?” Hermione added impatiently, not looking up from the parchment she was writing on, “Try to fall backward!”

“Once you’re Stunned, you can’t aim too well, Hermione!” said Ron angrily, making Nott snicker. “Why don’t you take a turn, Nott?”

“Oh, I’d never live up to your grace, Weasley,” Nott drawled, “besides, I’m busy. Can’t you see?” He gestured to the parchment in between him and Hermione. 

The bell rang and Ron and Harry hastily stuffed the cushions back in the cabinet, as Hermione and Nott gathered their books and the schedule they had made. 

“See you after class!” Hermione called, as she and Nott set off for Arithmancy. Nott merely nodded in Harry’s direction before blatantly ignoring Ron, who made a rude gesture to his back before Harry dragged him off toward North Tower and Divination.

Chapter Text

Arithmancy went by at an irritatingly slow pace. All Theo could think about was what spells might help Potter, and whether or not there were any potions that could be of use. It certainly didn’t help that from the moment he sat down, he could feel the stares of his classmates directed at his back. It was probably due to the fact that he and Granger were sitting together. 

If he was being honest, he had mostly avoided seating too close to her to avoid rumours reaching the other Slytherins. It wasn’t that he was scared of Malfoy, or Crabbe and Goyle, far from it, but Granger was a controversial subject in Slytherin, and he’d elected to stay as far as possible from the situation. That day, however, the choice was taken from him since by the time they entered the classroom, the only two seats available were near the front and next to each other. Despite that, he found he enjoyed working with her. As part of the same study group, they were used to comparing notes and debating on how a certain equation could be resolved, but actually working together was exhilarating. Granger was frighteningly bright, and had a firm grasp on the material, to the point where Theo would bet his favourite golden watch that she had actually memorized their textbook. 

Unfortunately, his excitement at working together was dulled by the prickle of constant stares on the back of his neck as the lesson went on. Nearing the end, it seemed even Granger was affected by them, considering how much she was fidgeting in her seat. As the bell finally rang, he let out a relieved sigh and began to clear up his desk. 

“Before I forget, I talked to Professor McGonagall this morning, and she gave us permission to practice in her classroom tonight,” she said, putting away her books. “You should join us. I’ll go get Harry and Ron and head to the Transfiguration classroom.” 

“I think I will,” Theo answered as he stood up. “I’ll meet you there later.” Granger nodded and waved at him as she left the classroom. It was then that he realized McMillan and a couple of his friends were still blatantly staring at him. He grit his teeth in irritation, sent them the nastiest glare he could muster, and enjoyed the sight of them hurriedly scrambling out of the room. 

Vindicated, he left the classroom in high spirits, making his way toward the Slytherin Common Room. His book-bag was digging painfully into his shoulder, so he figured he might as well unload it before heading to the first floor. He hoped he wouldn’t run into his friends so he wouldn’t have to come up with some excuse as to where he was going, but just in case, he figured he might as well simply grab one of his books as a cover. 

When he reached the common room, Blaise was nowhere to be found, and Tracey and Daphne were seated near the windows facing the Black Lake. They were too engrossed in their conversation to notice his arrival, and he quickly headed to his dormitory, leaving his book-bag on his bed. He didn’t think too much about which book to take, and simply grabbed Sacred Geometry in Magical Structures, even though he had read it a couple times already. 

By the time he entered the common room once again, neither girl had moved. Rolling his eyes, he repressed a smile; they really were only fooling themselves at this point. He took his time walking up the stairs leading to the ground floor, figuring the Gryffindors were most likely still on their way. Unfortunately, it seemed he was the only one walking like a sensible being.

The moment he reached the floor, someone coming down the stairs crashed into his side, sending both of them sprawling. By the time he’d gathered his bearings, the other person was already halfway back to their feet. Gingerly, Theo picked himself up, mouth already open to spew the first insult that came to mind at whoever decided running down the stairs was a good idea. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was- oh, it’s you.” He recognized that voice. Swallowing back the verbal abuse he was about to hurl, he turned to stare at the perpetrator. 

Potter.

“So? I’m not deserving of an apology?” he glared with a scowl. To his dismay, Potter only laughed before picking up his book that had ended up a couple of steps away from him. Theo quickly got up, straightening his robes. 

 “Technically, I already apologized twice to you,” Potter snickered as he handed him his book back. “But if you really want one, then I’m sorry for knocking you over, Nott.” 

Theo carefully inspected the real victim of the collision, but thankfully the book hadn’t been damaged. “You’re lucky nothing happened to it,” he sniffed. “Hasn’t Professor McGonagall taught you not to run inside the castle? One would think you were a Beater instead of a Seeker.” 

Potter at least had the decency to blush. “It’s not like I make a habit out of it,” he said, ruffling his hair. Theo looked away quickly, before he got distracted by the motion. “I was just in a hurry. Did Hermione tell you we were meeting in the Transfiguration classroom?”

“She did, I was heading that way before you decided to bowl me over.” 

Potter groaned exasperatedly. “I already apologized, Nott. You need to get over it,” he said, before suddenly grinning. “I know! Look what I got earlier, I made a stop at the library after Divination.” Potter dug into his book-bag, taking out a tattered paperback. “It’s not the nicest book, but I figured you’d be more interested in the contents than in the state of it.” He shrugged, holding it out. 

Theo took the book in his hands, taking note of its state. It wasn’t too bad really, the binding seemed fragile and the cover was a little banged up, but that was about it. Carefully, he opened it up to the first page, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes it read, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He felt a warm feeling settle down on his chest, so Potter remembered after all. He had almost expected him to forget. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, gently closing the book. He held both books to his chest, breathing in deeply. When he raised his head to stare at Potter, he noticed the other boy’s bright green eyes were already fixed on his face. He was tempted to comment on it, but Potter quickly shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. 

“A deal is a deal. You’re helping me after all,” he smiled before beckoning him toward the corridor. “We should go, Ron and Hermione are probably waiting for us already.” 

They both began walking toward the classroom, before what Potter said registered in his mind. 

“What do you mean you stopped by after Divination, when did you have the time?” Theo asked as they passed the Clocktower Courtyard. Potter grimaced at his question.

“Nothing gets past you, does it? I left class early, I fell asleep and had a weird dream about Moldyvort.” Theo couldn’t help but snort at the nickname.

“Do you often dream about him?” he asked curiously. Potter shrugged in answer before explaining. 

“Usually I remember my mom screaming,” he said in a small voice. “But this was different, I saw him torturing Wormtail…” The name rang in Theo’s mind, he’d heard that name before…  

“He got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail’s blunder had been repaired. He said that someone was dead… Then he said that Wormtail wouldn’t be fed to the snake - there was a snake beside his chair. He said he would be feeding me to the snake instead… Then he cast the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail - and my scar hurt,” Potter swallowed audibly. “It hurt so bad it woke me up…” 

Dread sat heavily in Theo’s stomach. The snake, his father had mentioned Riddle’s snake before, Nagini. He cleared his throat gently, trying his best to ignore the knot he could feel settling in it. 

“Has your scar hurt at any other time this year?” he asked carefully, already knowing the answer. 

“A couple of times…” Potter muttered. “But it also hurt in the years before.” 

Theo shook his head. “But this year, it’s been more persistent hasn’t it?” 

Potter stopped suddenly and grabbed Theo’s arm. “What are you getting at?” he asked, furrowing his brow. 

Theo sighed. “You probably know about my father, that like Malfoy, he claimed to be under the Imperius Curse to avoid being imprisoned in Azkaban.” Potter nodded, and waited for him to continue. “We both know what a lie that is. The point is, my father has been acting differently ever since the summer began, and he’s not the only one. I’ve talked to Malfoy about it and his father also seems different… and after what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, everyone seems to expect him to come back from the dead…” he trailed off hesitantly. That was a train of thought he did not like to entertain. 

“He was never dead in the first place,” Potter muttered angrily, staring at the wall. Theo turned to stare at him, feeling the blood leave his face. “Ever since he tried to kill me, he’s been living as a sort of spirit, but he’s not gone. That’s what worries me about what Crouch said before disappearing, he said he was getting stronger.”

Theo breathed in deeply, trying his best to calm his pounding heart. Potter noticed and gently touched his shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, the harsh tone of his voice completely gone. Theo shook himself to gather his bearings. 

“I’m fine. That’s just a lot of information to take in at once,” he said, before getting back on the subject. “Have you told Dumbledore about this?” 

Potter nodded, and resumed walking, Theo easily matching his stride. “I did. After leaving the Divination classroom I headed to the library to search for your book and to clear my head. Once I had it, I figured I was being stupid and ran to Dumbledore’s office. I’ll tell you the rest once we find Ron and Hermione, they should hear it as well.” 

Theo nodded as they turned a corner, the Transfiguration classroom just ahead of them. Both Gryffindors were leaning against the wall beside the door, already waiting for them.

“You took your time,” Weasley said, as he opened the door so Granger could enter the classroom. 

“We got held up,” Potter offered in answer as they all went inside and closed the door behind them. 

“If by held up you mean you tried to kill me, then yes, we got held up,” Theo said, as he smiled slightly at Granger. He nodded slightly in Weasley’s direction, now Potter couldn’t say he wasn’t making an effort. The redhead perked up visibly at Theo’s comment. 

“Tried to kill him? Harry, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped,” he snickered and nodded at Theo. Thank Freyja for civility. Potter groaned and leaned on Granger’s shoulder.

“I thought you had gotten over it already, it was an accident!” He turned to Granger for support but she only frowned at him. 

“What does he mean you almost killed him?” she asked, as she unpacked the schedule she and Theo had made earlier. 

“I was running down the stairs and couldn’t stop in time, so I crashed into Nott. Now that everyone knows, there’s something I need to tell you,” Potter said with a serious look. Theo quickly sobered up and took a seat at Professor McGonagall’s desk. 

As Potter repeated what he had already told Theo to both Gryffindors, Theo mused about what he already knew. So Riddle was not dead, and apparently getting stronger. That explained why the Death Eaters had made an appearance that summer. There was a Wormtail failing at something, a dead person and a threat against Potter. The threat was normal, he supposed, so he didn’t pay much mind to Riddle’s creepy obsession with the other boy. How did all that connect to Crouch’s disappearance and the missing Bertha Jorkins? And who was Wormtail? 

Granger and Weasley were so entranced by what Potter was saying that when Theo broke the silence they both jumped slightly, staring at him as if they had forgotten he was there. 

“Wait, who is Wormtail?” he asked, ignoring the looks both Gryffindors were giving him. Weasley jumped before Potter could answer. 

“No one. Harry, should he be here? I know he’s helping you and everything, but this is You-Know-Who we’re talking about. I’ve told you who his father is,” he said, shooting glances at Theo, who scowled deeply. Potter took a step forward but Granger held him back. Theo straightened his back and stared steadily at the redhead. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, Weasley, but I am not my father,” he said in a low voice. “I will say this once, and only once. I know what he did. I know who he served. And I will not follow in his footsteps.” 

Weasley looked conflicted for a moment before he shrugged and nodded. “I guess we’ll take your word for it, Nott,” he said, turning to look at Potter expectantly. 

“Well, Wormtail’s name is really Peter Pettigrew-” 

“I beg your pardon? Wasn’t that the wizard who Sirius Black killed?” Nott asked in shock, making the three Gryffindors grimace. 

“Ok, listen. I’ll explain everything, save your questions for the end,” Potter said, waiting until Theo nodded before continuing. “Last year we found out that the real Secret Keeper was Peter Pettigrew, but he was working for Riddle. So he sold out my parents, and Sirius confronted him about it. Pettigrew, who was an animagus, disappeared and Sirius took the fall for it. While Sirius was in Azkaban, Wormtail posed as the Weasleys’ rat,” Theo couldn’t but smirk at Weasley’s wince, “and when Sirius saw him one day in the paper, he escaped. So last year we met Sirius who explained all this, but Pettigrew ran away and Sirius couldn’t prove his innocence, so he had to go into hiding.”

Theo blinked at Potter. 

“Do you go through this every year?” he asked incredulously, making Potter laugh. 

 “All things considered, last year was fairly calm. The worst part was the Dementors, really.” Theo pressed his hand against his face. 

“So then this Wormtail escaped, subsequently found Riddle and is now helping him get his strength back?” 

Potter stared at him for a moment before nodding, “That’s about it, yeah.”

“And does Dumbledore reckon You-Know-Who’s getting stronger again as well?” Weasley whispered. Theo thought he saw him shiver slightly, even though the evening was warm. 

“He says he has his suspicions,” Potter said. “He said Bertha Jorkins disappeared in Albania, where Riddle was known to be last, he also mentioned Crouch’s disappearance and a Muggle from where Riddle’s father grew up is also missing… I also wandered into Dumbledore’s pensieve by accident, I saw a couple of trials from the first war… one of them was Mr. Crouch’s son.” 

“What happened?” Weasley asked. Theo looked at Potter who seemed to be struggling to choose the right words, so he decided to answer Weasley’s question.  

“He was condemned to life in Azkaban along with the Lestranges, for torturing some Aurors for information about Riddle’s whereabouts,” he chose not to mention any names, and by the relieved look on Potter's face, he had elected wisely. 

 “Are they dead?” Weasley asked timidly, seeming to brace himself for the answer. This time, Potter took the lead and shook his head in answer. 

“They’re in St. Mungo’s. They went insane.” 

“Did you see anything else?” Theo asked, making Potter look at him with a conflicted look. 

“Fudge was there - in Dumbledore’s office, not the memory - he thinks Madame Maxime could be behind Crouch’s disappearance. Ludo Bagman was questioned about passing information to Death Eaters, but it turned out he didn’t know they were Death Eaters… Karkaroff was also there, he kept trying to give out Death Eaters’ names in exchange for them not sending him to Azkaban. One of the names he mentioned was Snape’s but Dumbledore defended him, he said he rejoined his side before Riddle’s downfall and how he became a spy for him…” 

“And he trusts Snape?” Weasley asked in a faint voice. “He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?” 

Potter nodded. Granger had not spoken for a while, Theo noted. She had taken a seat on a nearby chair and was resting her forehead in her hands, staring at her knees. 

“And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?” Weasley asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Potter nodded, “but that’s only because he disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage.” 

“We never thought of her, did we?” Weasley said slowly. “Mind you, she’s definitely got giant blood, and she doesn’t want to admit it -”

“Of course she doesn’t!” Granger interjected sharply, looking up. “Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita Skeeter found out his mother was a giant. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she’s part giant. Who needs that prejudice? I’d probably say I had big bones if I knew that’s what I’d get for telling the truth.”

Weasley looked appropriately admonished as Granger looked down on her watch. “We haven’t done any practicing!” she said, looking shocked. “According to the schedule we made, we should move on to the Impediment Curse.”

Potter and Weasley got to work on the spell, with the latter throwing objects at Potter in order for him to practice. Granger stood up, carrying the books she had brought with her and approached Theo, who swiftly vacated the desk so the girl could place her things on it. 

“Could you check what other spells are listed for today? I remember we had the Reductor Curse, but I can’t recall the others,” Granger asked him as she handed him the list of spells, before focusing on putting her books away in her bag.

Theo promptly grabbed the parchment with the schedule, and scanned it’s contents quickly. 

“It’ll be the Reductor Curse and the Four-Point Spell, if Potter manages to master those in time, we could even move forward with the Shield Charm,” he mused, checking the listing for the following days. Granger hummed in agreement as she finally managed to put away all her books. 

They watched as Potter got better at casting the spell in companionable silence, before Granger suddenly called for Theo’s attention. 

“Sacred Geometry in Magical Structures ? I haven’t seen that in the library before…” she said. Theo turned to find her eyeing the books he had placed on the edge of the desk. 

“That’s because it's not a library book, it's my father’s. I usually bring some of his books to school for some independent reading,” he told her, noting the hungry look in her eyes as she examined the cover. “Go ahead, take a look.”

Granger didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing the books. “Sherlock Holmes?” she asked, looking at the second book. “I didn’t know you liked to read Muggle books.”

Theo shrugged. “I haven’t been able to read it yet, or any other Muggle book, so I can’t say if I like them yet.” Granger’s eyes widened.

“Not a single one? Dracula? Alice in Wonderland? Nothing?” Her voice got shriller as Theo shook his head on every mention. “Not even Shakespeare’s plays?” 

“Unsurprisingly, my father has never been fond of Muggle works. If I end up liking this one I’ll endeavor to search for more,” he told her, taking the book in his hands. He wasn’t going to mention that he was already somewhat biased towards it, seeing as it had a special meaning to him already. Granger nodded distractedly, going back to inspecting the book on sacred geometry. 

“Do tell me when you’re finished with it, if you end up liking it I can get some others. So you can broaden your horizons in Muggle literature,” she said excitedly, Theo smiled slightly at her. 

“I would appreciate that, thank you.” He watched her delicately turn the pages, scanning the contents quickly. “Would you like to borrow it?” he blurted out before he could talk himself out of it. Granger’s head snapped up violently, making him widen his eyes in shock. 

“May I? You wouldn’t mind?” Theo shook his head. 

“I’ve read it already, and I know you’ll take good care of it.” Granger beamed at him, throwing her arms around him. Theo froze immediately, tensing up in the hug. He slowly brought up his hands and awkwardly patted her back.

“Thank you, thank you!” She let him go just as quickly as she had hugged him. “I promise I’ll read it as carefully as possible.” 

Potter chose that moment to call both their names. “Hey, Hermione! Nott! Look at this, throw it Ron!”

Both watched as Weasley threw one of the matchboxes McGonagall had stored in her classroom at Potter. It was a good throw, soaring quickly through the air toward Potter’s face. Said boy quickly pointed his wand at it and yelled, “ Impedimenta!” 

The spell worked as intended, with the matchbox temporarily slowing down enough for Potter to step out of its trajectory, making Granger clap excitedly. Potter then turned to smile broadly at Theo, who couldn’t help but to send a small smile his way. 

“Nice aim,” he said stupidly, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. Thankfully the Gryffindors were too busy celebrating the well-cast curse to notice.

The Reductor Curse and the Four-Point Spell quickly followed the Impediment Curse, Potter was a quick learner, Theo realized, he just responded better to a practical approach than a theoretical one. The Shield Charm was the only one that gave him trouble, Granger was able to shatter it with a particularly well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx. Potter was forced to wobble around the room for a good ten minutes as the other three fumbled to find the counter-jinx in one of Granger’s many books. 

“You’re still doing really well, though!” she said after Theo successfully cast the counter-jinx, while Potter sat down in relief. “Some of these spells are bound to come in handy.” 

“Come and look at this,” Weasley called from the window, where he had wandered to. He was staring at the grounds. “It’s your friend Malfoy, Nott.”

Theo rolled his eyes as they went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below, as the sun began to set. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it. 

“It looks like he’s using a walkie-talkie,” Potter frowned. A what? Theo thought.

“I-I don’t know what that means,” Theo said, furrowing his brow. 

“Welcome to the club, they do this every time. Mention some Muggle thing and expect everyone to know what it means,” Weasley grumbled. 

“A club, with you? Absolutely not. Would the two of you explain yourselves?” Theo asked them, ignoring Weasley’s indignant spluttering. 

“Well, consider yourself banned from the club,” he shot a glare at Theo, who all but sneered back at him. Potter immediately jumped in between the two. 

“A walkie-talkie’s a hand-held device that allows you to speak to whoever is using the other one, if they’re in range,” he explained. “It works real-time, so you don’t have to wait for a response like in mail.” Theo hummed noncommittally as they all stared down at the other Slytherins. 

“He can’t be using one, though,” Granger said. “I’ve told you, all those things go haywire around Hogwarts. There’s just too much magic in the air.” She suddenly inhaled, turning to look at Theo. “Do you think you could find out?” 

Theo considered it for a moment, before deciding there would be no harm in doing so. “I’ll ask around later.” 

Granger nodded at him, apparently dropping the subject. She then turned away from the window and moved back to the middle of the room. “Come on then. Harry, try that Shield Charm again.” 

Later that night, Theo made the effort to sit close to Malfoy and his goons during dinner. Blaise, Daphne and Tracey shot him weird looks but sat with him all the same, which he was grateful for. In the company of his friends, dinner went by quickly and he just barely noticed when Crabbe got up to head down to the dungeons.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room,” he told his friends, and quickly followed the other boy. 

Crabbe nodded at him when he slowed down next to him, “You’ll never guess what happened on Divination today, Nott. Potter actually fainted,” he laughed. Nott faked a quick laugh and thought about how best to approach the subject. 

“Figures, he had to call attention to himself somehow,” he drawled.

Crabbe snorted. “That’s what Draco said, he spent almost all afternoon laughing about it.” 

“A couple of first years were talking about how they saw you both along with Goyle in the grounds, that’s what you were doing? Gossiping about Potter?” Theo scoffed at him. 

Crabbe’s round face went red, “What did those dwarves tell you? Did they say we were playing with a bug? Because we weren’t. Draco was trying out a new spell on it.” Theo inwardly rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, he had clearly seen Malfoy talking into his hand. He decided to follow the bug route to see if he could find out anything else. 

“They said you had a spider actually. I figured you were going to sneak it into Weasley’s robes or something.” The taller boy burst out laughing.

“That’s a good idea! I’ll tell Draco and Greg later, they’ll love it. Shame we didn’t have a spider, a beetle wouldn’t scare Weasley at all. A spider in Weasley’s robes...” Crabbe laughed to himself the rest of the way to the dungeons. Theo inwardly winced at the possibility that Weasley might have to deal with Malfoy’s moronic henchmen trying to stuff a spider into his robes, before figuring out it was the price to pay for that piece of information. 

But that still left a couple of questions, what was Malfoy saying and why was he talking to a beetle of all things?

Chapter Text

“You’d think Malfoy would be squeamish over bugs, or something of the sort,” Harry mumbled, balancing his chair on its two back legs. He warily eyed the fumes that filled Snape’s classroom, wishing there was a window he could open. The door was another option, but Nott insisted on it being closed lest some Slytherin catch them together. 

Speaking of Nott, Harry turned to stare at the source of said fumes, where the other boy was carefully stirring the potion he had been working on for the better part of the afternoon. He had already started by the time Harry entered the classroom, so the Gryffindor had simply sat down and tried to entertain himself until the potion was finished. It seemed to be quite a difficult potion as well, since Nott hadn’t lifted his head from it in over an hour, always busy with either stirring or adding new ingredients. 

Sighing wistfully, he wished they were back on the Clocktower, going over whatever Nott was interested in for the day and enjoying the warm breeze. But no, Nott had apparently decided to spend the only day they hadn’t scheduled some training for the third task breathing in fumes. 

During lunch, Hermione had mentioned she was going to help Ron study and Harry had all but sprinted out of the Great Hall before she decided to change her mind. Originally, he had planned on checking if Nott was on the Clocktower’s upper landing, but when he checked the map, he was disappointed to see he was down in the dungeons. Regardless, he went up the stairs and sat down beside the Clock Face, trying to enjoy the free afternoon. 

He lasted a whole ten minutes before digging out the map once more and, seeing that Nott was alone, headed down to the Potions Classroom. Which was why he found himself trying to relax to the sound of the fire lit under the cauldron and watching Nott carefully add the finishing touches to his potion. 

So when the Slytherin’s back finally straightened, Harry immediately tilted his weight forward, making the chair fall noisily back on its four legs. 

“Are you finally done?” he asked, standing up and walking toward the cauldron, inspecting its contents. Nott lazily stretched his arms above his head, making his back crack a couple of times, before answering. 

“I’m done with this one, thankfully the next one is not as complicated,” he said, taking a seat on a nearby desk and breathing in deeply. Harry looked up from the deep purple potion and stared at him.

“What is this supposed to be? I don’t recognize it.”

“I have a deal for you,” said Nott, staring at Harry through half-lidded eyes. “I’ll tell what it is after you tell me how you keep finding me when, as far as I know, only Professor Snape knew I was here.”

“And I couldn’t have asked Snape where I could find you?” Nott’s unimpressed stare was enough of an answer. “Alright, but it’s the same deal as the cloak. No telling anyone.” The other boy immediately straightened, the sleepy look on his eyes gone in an instant. Harry would have laughed if it wasn’t Nott and his eerie ability to go from tired to focused at the split of a second. Well, to be honest he wouldn’t have laughed if it was Hermione, either, he really didn’t have a deathwish.

Harry took out the Marauder’s Map and laid it down on the desk next to Nott, who looked at him expectantly. “What, no witty quip?” he teased, drawing out his wand. 

“I learned my lesson after the Invisibility Cloak, now go on,” the Slytherin said, staring quickly at Harry before focusing once more on the parchment beside his leg. 

Harry gently touched the map with his wand, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he muttered softly and watched as ink began to fill the page. 

“‘Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs…’”, Nott read under his breath before inhaling sharply. “You said Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew, so then the other three -”

“My father and his friends. My father was Prongs, and Sirius, my godfather, is Padfoot,” Harry explained, looking fondly at the map, “they all used their nicknames. It shows all of Hogwarts and the location of everyone in it. Wicked right?” He grinned, watching as Nott carefully traced the corridor that led to the classroom they were currently in, stopping at the two points that read ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Theodore Nott’. 

“Who was the fourth?” Nott asked, finally looking up from the map. Harry sheepishly scratched the back of his neck before figuring out he might as well go all in. 

“Professor Lupin.” 

Nott’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline. “Professor Lupin, who was fired because he was a werewolf, was nicknamed Moony ?” he asked incredulously, making Harry burst out laughing. 

“Wait,” he said suddenly, “you said Pettigrew was a rat animagus, and since Lupin was a werewolf… Wormtail and Moony, Padfoot and Prongs… don’t tell me…” Nott trailed off, staring at Harry in shock. 

Harry nodded at him in encouragement, willing him to finish his theory.

“They were both animagi?” he breathed out as if he couldn’t believe it. “Your father and two of his friends were unregistered animagi and, along with their werewolf friend, they made a magical map of Hogwarts that allows you to stalk everyone, is that it?” 

Harry shrugged, “Well, I wouldn’t say stalk… ” He trailed off at the look Nott shot him. He grinned as he watched the Slytherin slump from his perch on the desk.

“Is nothing normal with you?”  Nott bemoaned, running his hands through his hair, messing up his perfectly coiffed hair. Harry briefly thought the messy curls suited him before shaking his head.

“You get used to it. It’s part of the whole ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ package,” Harry smiled, for once enjoying the utter chaos that was his life as long as it exasperated Nott this much. “So that’s how I found you; now, what potion is this?” he asked, gesturing to the cauldron. 

Nott shook his head one last time and stood up, turning to Snape’s cabinet and taking two glass vials out of it. “It is a Potion for Dreamless Sleep. Your dark circles are getting as bad as mine and with the third task approaching, I figured you might find it useful to get a good night’s sleep.” He kept his eyes down as he spoke, choosing to concentrate on filling both vials with the potion. 

Harry felt something warm settle in his chest. After everything that had happened that year, what with having almost the entire population of Hogwarts turn against him, Ron included, and the loneliness he had felt… Having someone other than Hermione or Sirius care about him made his eyes burn. 

“Did I also miss when we learnt it?” he asked, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking. The right corner of Nott’s lips tilted up, as he bottled both vials and handed one to Harry, finally meeting his eyes.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more advanced than our current curriculum, but I’ve found myself needing it over the years. Professor Snape used to brew it for me, before he finally decided he might as well teach me so I wouldn’t bother him as much. Evanesco! ” Nott said, pocketing his own vial before vanishing the remains of the potion from the cauldron with his wand. 

“Are you implying Snape actually did something nice?” Harry asked, watching as the other boy drew out more ingredients from the cabinet. Nott smirked at him from over his shoulder.

“You do realize he’s generally only horrible to Gryffindor’s right? As long as we Slytherin’s don’t do anything stupid, he tolerates us. Hence why he allows me to brew here when he isn’t around.” 

Harry twirled the vial in his hands, watching as the purple liquid swirled in it. 

“Do you have nightmares, too? Is that why you need it?” he asked gently. Nott paused in what he was doing for a second before carrying on. 

“If you’re just going to sit there you might as well help me. This one is solely for you, after all,” he gestured at the space next to him, where he placed the ingredients he had grabbed. Harry carefully pocketed the purple potion and joined the other boy near the cauldron. 

“I recognize these…” he said, inspecting the ingredients. Round scarab beetles, ginger roots and a bottle of armadillo bile were neatly placed on the desk.  

“Thankfully, since we recently brewed this potion in class. Take it as a review, if you will. Now help me get everything ready would you?” Nott asked, already measuring the armadillo bile. Harry quickly grabbed the pestle and began grinding the scarab beetles, making sure to do it away from Nott’s face, recalling his distaste for the smell. 

He turned to look at Nott for a moment, enough for the Slytherin to send him a small thankful smile before he looked down to begin cutting the ginger root. Harry focused on the beetles once more, making sure they were a fine dust before handing them to Nott.

“I have trouble sleeping,” Nott said suddenly, drawing Harry from his thoughts, “along with the occasional nightmare. Snape got tired quickly of the other boys complaining that I kept disrupting their sleep. Do you remember how much ginger root we need to mix in?” he asked Harry as he began adding it to the potion. 

“Uh… until it turns green,” he answered. “By nightmares you mean normal nightmares or nightmares ?” He added a wiggle of his fingers to emphasize his point. 

“Lime green to be precise, then we mix in armadillo bile until it turns blue. Let’s just say we both have our trauma driven nightmares, Potter,” Nott said, as he stirred the potion. “Now what?” The potion was giving off a green glow, illuminating Nott’s face. Harry thought that the other boy had never looked more like a Slytherin, even without his school robes.

“Ground beetles, right? Why are you brewing this for me?” Harry asked, passing him the powder. Nott grabbed it with disgust and began mixing it in.

“Until red. Granger and I were talking about whether potions would be able to help you, we figured this one would help you with your decision making in the maze.” Well, that made sense, Harry thought. At least that way he could avoid making any reckless decisions, that part had Hermione written all over it.

“What about the Fire-Protection Potion? That one was useful,” when he got no answer, he raised his eyes from the bubbling cauldron. Nott was staring at him with an expectant look. 

“Seriously? Fine, you remix the bile until it’s yellow, not dark green.” Harry groaned in answer. 

“So you do listen to me after all,” Nott said, shooting him a pleased look. “Now, mixing potions is not a good idea, and we have no idea what type of fires you could come across. Fire-Protection Potion doesn’t work against magical fires, so the Wit-Sharpening Potion is a safer bet.” 

Now closer to the fumes, Harry could feel beads of sweat gathering on his temples. Not wanting to turn into a sweaty mess, he shrugged off his hoodie. How Nott managed to still stay cool in his usual jumper was beyond him, though to the other boy’s credit, it was thinner than usual. 

“Next we remix the ginger roots until its colour is back to lime green,” Nott was saying, Harry shook his head. “And finally more ginger root until it’s purple,” he finished. 

“I’ll go get another vial, would you blow out the fire?” Nott asked him as he walked off. 

As he later helped Nott pour in the potion, Harry couldn’t help but blurt out a question that had been bugging him for a while. 

“Nott, why are you helping me really? I get being nice to me and everything, but actually going out of your way to brew potions for me so I can sleep better? I don’t get it,” he said, wincing as he saw Nott tense. “I’m thankful, really. But I would like to know why.”

“I often wonder about that myself,” the Slytherin said, passing him the cork for the vial. “The first couple of times were accidents, but eventually I found I enjoy your company, Potter. I can’t say that about most of Hogwarts, but somehow you’re not as annoying as everyone else. Additionally, I’m well aware of the risk of this tournament.” Steel grey eyes rooted Harry to his seat, he struggled to swallow the knot in his throat. Nott smirked at him in turn, “so consider yourself lucky, Potter, that I’m not keen on seeing you dead. Unlike a disturbing amount of the wizarding community.” 

Thankfully it didn’t take too long for Harry to recover his bearings.

“So you’re saying we’re friends,” he said with his own smirk. Nott’s own twisted smile slid right off his face. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“We’re friends. It’s decided. I’ll save you a seat next to Ron for Christmas,” he added, enjoying too much how Nott balked at the comment. 

“I’d rather drink Bubotuber pus,” he sneered before vanishing the remaining potion once more. 

“Oh, c’mon! What is your deal with Ron, anyway?” Harry said as he watched him put everything back in place.

“He’s an idiot, do I need any other reason?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “he’s not an idiot. He can be quite smart at times.” 

“He really did think you put your own name in the Goblet of Fire,” Nott reminded him with a dead stare, making Harry wince.

“Well, we all have our dumb moments,” he said. “Besides, is that your only reason?” 

Nott shrugged nonchalantly. “Do I really need another one? In any case, it’s sort of a reflex. He hates me, I hate him back. The snark is a gift, really,” he added, before checking his watch. “We should get going, I heard there’s going to be Cornish Pasties at dinner tonight, and I’ll be damned if I let Crabbe and Goyle eat them all.” 

Harry barked a laugh. “Alright, I’ll go first?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Nott smiled at him. “Do hurry though, I missed lunch earlier.”

“Did you spend it reading as usual?” Harry said, as he opened the door.

“Out!” 

Harry laughed all the way up the stairs.

After Potter left, Theo counted a couple of minutes with his watch before he made his way out. Only to stumble right in the faces of Blaise, Daphne and Tracey. Daphne smiled nastily at him, flicking her long nails.

“Dearest Theodore, is this the reason why you’ve been ignoring us?” she asked in a sickly sweet tone. 

Sorðinn. 

“It’s not what you think it is,” he hurried to say. Tracey shot him a look of utter disappointment. 

“So you weren’t having a secret rendezvous with Potter right now? Theo, Theo. Shame on you,” she tutted, pouting her lips. 

“‘It’s not what you think it is’? Seriously, Theo?” Blaise drawled, sneaking an arm over Tracey’s shoulders. “I taught you better than this.” 

“Move,” Daphne said, nudging him back into the classroom. “Consider this an intervention. We’re talking about this.” 

Theo groaned as Tacey and Blaise entered behind him, closing the door once more.

“But they’re supposed to serve Cornish Pasties tonight, and you know how Crabbe and Goyle just level their way through the entire Slytherin table,” he complained as they all sat down around a table. 

“Then you better pray to your Norse Gods that the prefects finally decide to put them in line,” Daphne cut his complaining short, interlocking her fingers over the table. 

“Now explain, why did we see Potter just leave a classroom with you in it and why did we see him laugh all the way up the stairs?” Tracey asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“And why, pray tell, was the door closed ?” Zabini asked with a smirk. “Should we be having a different kind of intervention? Bec-” Whatever he was about to say was cut short by the girls’ simultaneously elbowing him in his stomach.

“What they both meant,” Daphne said, still in her falsely sweet tone, “was why are you meeting secretly with Potter and why haven’t you told us?” 

Theo chewed on his lip before answering. “Well, for starters it wasn’t really a secret meeting, Potter came down here all on his own.” 

“Is it Potter? Or is it Harry by now?” Tracey snickered, high fiving a smiling Blaise. 

“Stop it!” Daphne admonished, “and Theo, stop chewing on your lip. Was I the only one who paid attention in that etiquette class our parents enrolled us in?” 

Blaise smiled indulgently at her. “Daphne, darling, you’re the only one who cares. Well, our precious Theodore might care when he’s not being lectured over secret meetings with Gryffindors.” Theo didn’t have an ounce of fight in him to complain about the use of his full name, preferring to let them bicker amongst themselves. 

“Besides,” Tracey butted in, “Half-blood, remember? I wasn’t invited.” 

Daphne blushed in shame, before Tracey leaned over Blaise to comfort her. 

“Don’t worry, Daphne. We behave when it matters; after all, if we all acted accordingly you might actually have some competition besides Malfoy in being Snape’s favourite,” Blaise said, patting the back of her hand.

“You might want to add Theo to that list, he’s the one he allows to brew potions in his classroom unchaperoned.” Daphne smiled hesitantly, grasping Tracey’s hand tightly. 

“But he’ll be leaving that list when we tell Snape all about his date with his most beloved Gryffindor. So spill, Theodore.” Tracey grinned toothily at him. 

“There’s really nothing to say, I’m just helping him prepare for the third task. That is all.” He pulled lips together when he saw Blaise narrow his eyes at him. 

“Did you also help him prepare for the second task? Is that why you were so worried about him? Careful, Theo. Some might think you have a soft spot for him,” he drawled softly, watching Theo intently. 

“Well, I don’t. Besides, the only reason we talk is because I’m useful to him right now. Why else would Dumbledore’s cherished Boy-Who-Lived spend time with the son of a known Death Eater? I reckon he’d first become friends with Malfoy,” he spat the words harshly, he hadn’t meant for them to cut him so deeply. 

“That’s not all that you are and you know it,” Daphne gently admonished, reaching across the desk for his hand. “You distanced your path from Draco’s a long time ago, and even so, your situations have always been worlds apart.” Theo raised his eyes hesitantly, finding comfort in the soft look on his friend’s face. 

“Daph’s right, Theo. Potter would be lucky to count you among his friends,” Tracey added. 

Blaise, never one to keep silent, jumped right in. “So what if you like him? Theo, you like so little people it’s a miracle you actually enjoy the company of someone else.”

Theo huffed in disagreement, “I don’t like him!” 

His three friends shot him a look he didn’t bother to decipher. “Darling,” Blaise started, “I’ve seen you with that Sherlock Holmes book. You get moon-eyed just staring at the cover, it’s alright. You know we would never judge you, right?” He stared at Theo with his brow furrowed. Theo let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“I knew you wouldn’t… but hearing it is… something else,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. Tracey hurriedly enveloped him in a hug, he initially tensed in her arms before relaxing. 

“We know the whole Gryffindor-Slytherin feud is harsh, but we’re friends. Aren’t we? We made that promise years ago. We come before the family name, and we keep each other safe,” Daphne said, leaning against Blaise, who automatically wrapped his arm around her. 

“If you told us you had murdered someone, we’d help you hide the body. Being friendly with Potter? Please. That’s nothing. Remember that time I told Malfoy about the Slug-vomiting Charm and he ended up using it on Weasley? You three had to cover for me so I wouldn’t get detention with Snape.” He shuddered. “We don’t judge, we cover for you. Slytherins, remember? Cleverness, determination and resourcefulness. We take care of our own.” 

Theo smiled gratefully at them. Before Tracey had to go and ruin it all. “But seriously, Potter spending time with you just because you’re useful? No way, not with the way he was laughing up the stairs.” 

Daphne nodded seriously, “It was disgusting.” 

“I think he imprinted on you, nasty Gryffindor habit,” Blaise sneered mockingly. “No getting rid of him now.” 

Theo finally laughed, rolling his eyes. “I think you’re projecting your needs onto me. Should I get Potter to talk to Weasley for you, get you a Gryffindor of your own?” The group finally stood up from their seats and headed up the stairs. 

“Ugh! I don’t need a Gryffindor, the next thing you know they begin sprouting garbage about being stupidly brave and throwing themselves at whatever they can find without thinking. Get me a Ravenclaw instead, those are useful,” Blaise said as they made their way to the Great Hall.

“Blaise, we’ve talked about this. People from other Houses are friends, not pets,” Tracey said, trying her best to keep a serious face. 

“I wouldn’t be averse to a Hufflepuff, though,” Daphne said, as they sat down with the other Fourth Years. 

“Why would you want a Hufflepuff, Greengrass?” Parkinson asked with a grimace. Daphne shot her an unamused glance before shrugging.

“They’re loyal aren’t they? You take care of them and they have your back. Better than a Gryffindor getting you in trouble.” 

That got them the attention of their other housemates. 

“Beg pardon? What are you talking about?” Malfoy asked from where he was sitting between Crabbe and Goyle. 

Tuning them out, Theo thanked Freyja he could see a plate full of Cornish Pasties right next to Millicent Bulstrode’s elbow. He didn’t think about Daphne’s beloved etiquette when he reached over and placed the dish right in front of him. Life was worth it after all. 

“We’re discussing other Houses. Who would you choose and why?” Tracey asked him, Malfoy shot her his usual hesitant glance before answering.

“Ravenclaw, of course. They’re smart, and won’t get in the way.” He sniffed before going back to eating. Daphne grinned at him over her goblet, holding it elegantly. 

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? But an overlooked fact over Ravenclaws is that they’re notoriously individualistic. The moment they can get an advantage by leaving you behind? You’re out, Malfoy.” 

Blaise made a noise of agreement as he made up his mind. “I changed my mind, I want a Hufflepuff.” Daphne smiled sweetly at him. 

“I knew you’d come around, dear.” Parkinson made a gagging noise. 

“Dear this, darling that. Must you talk like your mother at every turn?” She sneered at the blonde. “Besides, Hufflepuffs might be loyal, but they’ll hold you back. You’ll carry twice the weight you would if you had a Ravenclaw with you.” She turned to grin at Malfoy but he was busy considering the situation. 

“No matter what, every choice has its own positive and negative aspects. I think I’d take a Ravenclaw and ditch them if I felt they were going to betray me,” he decided, sitting back proudly. Theo reckoned he looked like a smug ferret. 

“Well, I’d prefer a competent Hufflepuff over a double-crossing Ravenclaw any day,” Daphne concluded, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice as Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. Theo could picture steam coming out of Parkinson’s ears, with the way her face had gone completely red. 

“Oh, please. Name a competent Hufflepuff.” She sneered, combing her short back hair with her fingers. Tracey lifted an unamused eyebrow.   

“How about our own champion, Cedric Diggory? He’s tied for first place in the tournament after all,” she said, smiling over her pudding. 

Malfoy’s face immediately transformed into his usual Potter trademarked sneer. “Tied with Potter of all people. The judges couldn’t be more biased, all Dumbledore and Bagman can see is Saint Potter, the golden boy who deserves everything… It’s always bloody Potter…” he muttered as he stabbed his kidney pie. 

Unfortunately, Theo’s amusement was cut short when he saw Crabbe eyeing the plate of pasties in front of him. He hurriedly grabbed the plate closest to him and held it out. 

“Hey, look. Pumpkin pastries, they’re your favourite right?” he said rapidly, sighing in relief when Crabbe shared a triumphant look with Goyle before grabbing the offered plate. Malfoy shot them a disgusted look when Crabbe passed Goyle the dish after piling half of it on his own plate. 

“But still,” Bulstrode piped in. “Competent Hufflepuffs are not common. The odds are you would end up with a Neville Longbottom in disguise.” 

Everyone tried to speak at the same time after that, until Blaise finally waved his arms around and caught their attention. 

“Alright! Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw discussion aside, can we all agree we would prefer either of them before a Gryffindor?” he asked with glee, enjoying the murmurs of assent. “All except Theo, of course.” He added under his breath, prompting Theo to elbow him discreetly.

Chapter Text

Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over with a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry deeply appreciated it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, bearing her copy of the Daily Prophet as usual . She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and promptly spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it. 

“What?” Ron asked, staring at her.  

“Nothing,” Hermione began to say, and tried to shove the paper under the table, but Harry was quicker. He grabbed it from her and turned it over, finding his own face staring at him beneath the banner headline. 

HARRY POTTER

“DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS”

“Not that old cow again,” Ron grumbled as he read over Harry’s shoulder. “Not today…”

Harry rolled his eyes and put the paper down, he didn’t need this today. From the Slytherin Table across the Great Hall, Malfoy waved his own copy of the Daily Prophet and shouted at him, “Hey Potter! Potter! How’s your head? Are you feeling alright? Sure you’re not going to go berserk on us?” 

Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting on their seats to take a glance at Harry. He didn’t pay much attention, choosing instead to scan the rest of the table, grinning when he saw Nott two seats down from Malfoy. The other boy seemed to be trying to drown himself in his tea in order to avoid the blonde waving the paper wildly in the air. 

Crabbe and Goyle had joined Malfoy in his laughter, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces and wagging their tongues like snakes. Eventually, Crabbe’s elbow accidentally hit Nott’s temple, making him spill his tea. Harry winced as the Slytherin apparently sent a withering glare Crabbe’s way before getting up and storming out of the Great Hall. 

“I’ll see you two after History of Magic, good luck with your exam!” Harry wished Ron and Hermione as he stood up and quickly followed Nott outside. He had to dodge a group of Ravenclaw girls that were loitering around the doors and when he finally managed to exit the Great Hall, Nott was out of sight. 

Cursing under his breath, he ducked into the nearest classroom to check his map. Nott was apparently on his way to the library, probably to do some last minute revision before the exam started. Thankfully, Harry was exempt from the end-of-term test as a Triwizard champion, so he didn’t have to stress about them. Not wanting to call to the attention of any other Slytherin who might want to remark about Skeeter’s newest article, Harry ducked under the Invisibility Cloak and made his way toward the Library.

Unseen, he quickly reached his destination, frowning when Nott was nowhere to be seen. 

“Honestly, how fast can someone carrying their weight in books be?” he grumbled under his breath, digging into his robes in search of the map once more.

“What’s the point in an Invisibility Cloak if you don’t lower your voice?” a voice drawled from behind him. Harry startled and hurried to pocket the piece of parchment, failing to grab onto the cloak as it slipped over his shoulders. 

As he got down to pick it up, a pair of shiny black shoes came into his view. Harry grinned sheepishly as he stared up at Nott’s smug face. 

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, getting back on his feet. “I could’ve been a ghost.”

Nott snorted, “I reckon I can identify your voice by now, Potter. But I’m actually glad I found you, I wanted to wish you luck on today’s task.” 

“You know,” Harry started. “I think this is the first time you’ve properly wished me luck. I guess third time’s the charm? But thanks, I’m just ready for all this to be over.”

Nott shrugged in answer. “Finally finished a tournament designed to kill you? I can understand your eagerness, it sounds like something out of a nightmare.”

“One good thing came out of it, though. I’m glad we got to know each other, Nott.” Harry couldn’t be too sure under the dim light, but he could’ve sworn the other boy’s cheeks tinted pink slightly. 

“Well, you Gryffindors are nothing if not persistent,” Nott said, smiling warmly at him.

“You know, I think that’s the first full smile I’ve seen of you in all these months. You should do it more, it suits you.” Now Nott’s face was decidedly pink. 

“Anyways, good luck out there. You actually have a decent shot at winning this...” He trailed off before turning to Harry with a conflicted look on his face. “We’ll still talk to each other, right? After this whole ordeal is over—” 

“Of course, we will,” Harry interrupted him. “We’re friends, after all.”

“Right, friends.. .” Nott muttered under his breath before clearing his throat. “Well, I’ll be seeing you then, Potter. You can stalk me later with that cloak of yours.” He actually had the gall to wink at him as he walked into the library, not waiting for an answer. 

“It’s not stalking!” Harry called after him, before remembering he was in the middle of the corridor and blushing a deep red. Well, everyone thought he was mad anyway, he thought before walking away. 

The day went by in a blur for Theo after talking to Potter outside the library. Thankfully the History of Magic exam was easy, considering all he could think about was what the Gryffindor had said earlier. 

We’re friends, after all. 

The words left a warm feeling in his stomach, making the ends of his lips curl up slightly. Friends, then. He could do that.

Without having to train with the Gryffindors, Theo had decided to join his friends in enjoying the warm summer afternoon near the lake. He forwent his book for once, preferring to actively participate in conversation. They were only killing time after all, before they made their way to watch the third task take place.

“I can’t believe Binns would do this to us,” Tracey was complaining from where she was sprawled over the grass; Blaise rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly. “There’s no way we covered all that during class...”

“If you paid attention during class, you would’ve done better.” 

Daphne giggled delicately as Tracey shot up immediately, grass caught in her hair. “How dare you? You also slept in class! Even Theo fell asleep to Binn’s voice!” 

Theo groaned loudly, “That was only once! And I got the notes from Granger that one time,” he defended himself, leaning back against the tree he was currently using for cover. Tracey gasped dramatically. 

“You had Granger’s notes, and you didn’t share them? Theo, if I’ve failed because you were too selfish to share them, I’ll… I’ll….” Theo rolled his eyes at her.

“You’ll what, Davis?” 

“You’ll tutor me during the summer holidays!” she exclaimed gleefully. 

“Absolutely not. You were spending the end of summer with me, remember? Absolutely no studying allowed,” Daphne retorted. “That reminds me, what are you all doing during the holidays?” Theo suddenly wished he had thought to bring his book, if only to keep his hands busy. 

“Well, I’ll be heading to Italy with my mother, to visit her family. We’ll spend the last couple of weeks back in England, though. Perhaps you would like to join us, Theo? We could head over to Diagon Alley together,” Blaise offered with a gentle smile. 

It was an unwritten rule for everyone not to discuss Theo’s summer, since it went by with only his house elf to keep him company in Nott manor. His father would usually be away on whatever it was he did when he wasn’t busy terrorizing innocent wizards at massive events. He used to spend time with his family before, even if it was only because of an ill-perceived sense of duty; but after his mother passed away, Nott Sr. considered siring his heir was a job well done and decided that was it. They kept in touch, sometimes crossed each other when they moved around the manor, but never more than that. Everything was impersonal when it came to him, even the package he had received that past Christmas was a new robe and cuff-links he probably would never use. 

“I’d like that, if your mother wouldn’t mind,” Theo answered, at least he would have something to look forward to. Daphne leaned against him, resting her golden head on his shoulder. 

“Write to us when you’ve decided when to go to Diagon Alley. Tracey and I can join you and we’ll spend the day together.” Tracey nodded with a grin.

“We can go get some ice-cream together! We haven’t done that since second year,” she added, stretching lazily. The sun was beginning to set, casting everything in a golden glow. “What time is it anyway? Maybe we should be heading toward the Quidditch Pitch.”

Blaise scrutinised the skyline before shrugging. “I suppose. The task is supposed to begin at dusk, after all.” 

Theo sighed as he stood up, brushing the grass from his legs. “Would it have killed them to set a precise time for it? Dusk is such a broad time period,” he complained as Daphne leaned up to pat down the back of his head. 

“Theo, sweetheart, only you care about this.” she said, patting his cheek softly. “Never dare change, you annoying nitpicker.” 

“And become who? Malfoy? Heaven help us all,” Tracey laughed as they all made their way down to the grounds. The closer they got, Theo could feel his palms clamming up. Even though he had helped Potter to the best of his abilities, he still felt the other boy was woefully unprepared.   

Outside the stadium, students were celebrating the third task. Banners were hung with the colours of the four champions, and face paint was being distributed amongst the more eager ones. Even Malfoy had joined in the fun, flashing his badges to everyone who looked his way. Crabbe and Goyle stood not too far behind him, holding a black and yellow banner over their heads. 

“We should go find some seats before everything gets too wild,” Daphne said, eyeing the Weasley twins jinxing a flag held by a small Hufflepuff. Its colours swiftly changed into red and gold, prompting the student to throw it at them in anger. “Or before those two decide we would all look better in Gryffindor colours.” 

“Better move then, I think they’re targeting anyone who isn’t openly supporting Potter,” said Tracey, snickering until an older Slytherin got drowned in red glitter. “Or just Slytherins. Move, move!” 

Blaise grumbled all the way up the stands, “Shouldn’t we get a pass because of Theo? I mean, he helped Potter and all.” Daphne rolled her eyes as they settled together behind a couple of Ravenclaws, thankfully they weren’t holding anything up, so their view wouldn’t be obstructed. 

“Well, they don’t know that Blaise. And you can’t reap the benefits of my actions, anyway,” Theo huffed, shifting on his seat. In spite of the warm weather, he could feel himself growing colder as he stared at the centre of the Quidditch Pitch, where a large maze with hedges of around 40 feet high was installed. Even from the highest seats, one couldn’t see past the first wall of hedges. There was a gap right in the centre in front of them: the entrance to the maze, the passage beyond it was dark and filled with mist. There was no judges table this time. Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Fudge, who appeared to be substituting for Crouch, were seated in front of some of the Hogwarts staff. 

The sky was already a deep, clear blue and the first stars were starting to appear. Theo could see the figures of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid and Moody walking around the pitch, illuminated by the torches around the grounds. 

After a short moment, Bagman walked up to the entrance to the maze, followed by the four champions. He then pointed his wand to his throat and his magically enhanced voice echoed into the stands. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Tied in first place, with eighty five points each - Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, from Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause coming from the stands were staggering. Theo eagerly clapped along, ignoring the looks his friends sent him. “In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, from Durmstrang Institute!” More cheers and applause, if a bit muted. “And in third place - Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!” 

The four Slytherins clapped politely as the champions waved at the stands. 

“Earlier today, Professor Moody placed the Triwizard Cup deep within the maze that stands behind me. Only he knows its exact position. The champions will enter in the order they are currently ranked in. First person to touch the cup will be the winner!”

“Professor Dumbledore has instructed his staff to patrol the perimeter. Should at any point a contestant wish to withdraw from the task, he or she need only send up red sparks with their wand. Contestants, prepare yourselves!”

Theo saw Potter give a final look towards the stands, and could’ve sworn he locked eyes with him before he turned around to stand at the entrance to the maze alongside Diggory.

“So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” said Bagman. “Three - two - one -”

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Potter and Diggory hurried forward into the maze. 

Everyone on the stands got up to their feet to cheer as the two walked out of sight, followed shortly by Krum and finally, Fleur. With all the champions inside the maze, the public settled down and chattering was heard out through the stands. 

“And once again, we wait,” Tracey mumbled, staring straight ahead. “I mean, I get the element of surprise regarding who gets to the Cup first, but, I’d like to see what’s going on for once.” Theo pulled on the cuffs of his jumper. 

“I’m not sure if I agree with you, or if I’d rather remain in ignorance,” he said, trying to swallow the knot he felt in his throat. Before anyone else could speak, their faces were illuminated by red sparks shooting through the sky. The four adults patrolling the pitch entered immediately. 

Theo felt like he was about to be sick from how anxious he was. He firmly grasped Tracey’s hand the moment Professor McGonagall exited the maze, levitating an unconscious champion behind her. He didn’t breathe until he saw the blue shade of their robes, it was Fleur Delacour, her blond hair waving as her body was moved towards the edge of the stadium where Madam Pomfrey awaited. 

He felt Blaise’s arm settle around his shoulders and finally let out the air he was holding. One champion down...

“Relax, Theo. This is Potter we’re talking about. He’s the definition of unkillable, everyone knows that. He’s what? Six for six?” the other boy asked, turning to the girls for confirmation.

“Six?” Daphne asked, eager to steer the conversation into any possible distraction. 

“Well, there was the Dark Lord, then whatever went on during our first year with Quirrell, the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius Black trying to kill him, and the previous two tasks.” Tracey counted with her fingers, having to let go of Theo’s hand when she passed the five. Theo thought it was rather nice of her not to wipe it off on her robes, considering how sweaty his hands felt.  

“Wouldn’t the Dementor incident from our third year count as well?” Theo asked, trying to smile. It probably looked more like a grimace. 

“Did you see Dumbledore’s face when it happened? It definitely counts,” Daphne laughed. “Potter is a walking disaster, but he gets out of life-threatening situations just as easily as he gets into them. That’s how it always is.” 

Theo struggled to ignore the thought that screamed at him that there could always be that one fluke, and that moment could very well be this idiotic maze.       

Then, more red sparks lightened up the sky and the adults ran into the maze once more. Immediately, Blaise and Tracey each grabbed onto one of Theo’s hands, while Daphne sent him a comforting look. Theo had the awareness to send the three of them a grateful smile before focusing on the unconscious champion who was being levitated out of the maze. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he caught a glance of the red of their robes before reminding himself that not only were Potter’s a brighter shade, but the figure was far too large to be him. That left Krum then. 

“Ha!” Blaise suddenly exclaimed. “Malfoy owes me twenty galleons, he bet on Krum placing second.”  

They spent the better half of the next hour chattering mindlessly, about anything that came to mind. But despite their best efforts, as the minutes went on, Theo found himself constantly checking his watch. 

“It’s taking an awful long time, isn’t it?” he asked nervously.

 “Well, at least it’s not only Potter this time,” Blaise offered gently. “Diggory’s still in it. Are they meant to walk out with the cup?”

“That would take a long time,” Daphne added. “Plus, it is maze after all. It’s probably full of dead ends and not easy to navigate—” 

She was interrupted by a whirlwind of colour appearing suddenly before the entrance to the maze. Two figures’ limbs were entangled, a mix of yellow and red. Potter and Diggory. Theo’s lungs suddenly felt they could work at full capacity, and grinned widely. Blaise patted his back as they all stood up to cheer. 

“See? He’s fine!” He clapped loudly. Theo was about to snark back when he noticed both students weren’t getting up. He felt all blood leave his face. Dumbledore and Fudge were racing towards them, as Potter began moving. 

He was all out of air again, the cheers around him felt muted and he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. Tracey’s nails dug painfully in his arm, he wanted to turn around to face her but he couldn’t move his body. 

“Is he unconscious?” Daphne whispered in horror as she clung to Tracey’s side. Theo opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He felt numb, as if he had taken a bath in ice water. Potter was clinging to Diggory, even as Dumbledore tried to get him to let go. 

The cheers morphed into screams of terror, as some voices screeched into the night—“He’s dead!” “ He’s dead! ” “Cedric Diggory! Dead! ” 

Theo grabbed Blaise’s arm to steady himself the moment he saw Amos Diggory running toward his son’s body, as Potter was finally dragged away from it. 

“Let me through!” he screamed, pushing past anyone who tried to hold on to him. “That’s my son! IT’S MY BOY!” The screaming turned incoherent, as some students began to try to descend the stands. Theo felt Tracey and Blaise dig into his sides as the crowd pushed them in order to leave. 

He still couldn’t move a muscle as he saw Amos fall to his knees beside his son, pushing his hair back. “It’s my boy!” he wailed, before letting out a blood-curdling scream and collapsing head first onto Diggory’s chest. Theo could hear Daphne softly sobbing in Tracey’s arms as the professors rushed to manage the situation. 

It took a moment, but eventually the prefects managed to get the students to calm down and began herding them toward their respective common rooms. The four of them refused to get separated and held on to each other during the walk back to the castle, during which Theo kept turning in every direction trying to spot a Gryffindor in particular. He managed to spot and lock eyes with Granger, who sent him the same panic filled-look he probably sent her. Her eyes wandered to his sides as her brow furrowed even more, clinging to Weasley’s arm. They were missing their third member. But the remaining two champions were already awake and walking not too far up ahead of them.

So where the hell was Potter? 

Chapter Text

Theo was no stranger to sleepless nights. Most nights, he would awaken in the middle of the night, struggling to blink away the tears from his nightmares, but reluctant to close his eyes in fear of seeing those terrible images once more. Other nights, sleep would elude him for a while, and he would finally fall asleep a couple of hours before dawn broke. On the less pleasant nights, he would toss and turn, clutching his blanket tightly with his cold fingers, praying to whoever could hear him to grant him some hours of much needed sleep. Those nights, as horrible as they were, didn’t hold a candle to this one.

The seconds went by agonisingly slow, as if time was deliberately slowing down in order to drive him mad. Blaise, Daphne and Tracey solemnly sat by his side as they all waited. None of them spoke, choosing instead to listen to the chatter of some of their housemates, as they theorised about what had happened. The younger students had been herded to their respective dormitories by the prefects as soon as they all reached the dungeons.

As time went on, the chatter died down and students began to trickle out of the common room, until eventually only the four of them were left. Daphne and Blaise had fallen asleep, their necks twisted awkwardly, but Tracey managed to stay awake, gripping Theo’s left hand tightly.

“I need to get to the owlery,” he croaked eventually, wincing at the soreness of his throat.

Tracey didn’t hesitate before nodding. “I’ll go with you. If we run into someone, I’ll distract them so you can continue,” she said, standing up with a soft sigh. Theo smiled at her gratefully as he carefully untangled himself from Blaise.

He ran up the stairs as quietly as possible, gathering some parchment, a quill and some ink before hurrying down once more. Tracey was carefully covering Daphne with the robe Blaise had struggled out of when they had sat down earlier, reeling with shock from what they had just seen. He bit down a ghost of a smile as he gestured to the opening in the wall. 

As they quietly exited the Slytherin dungeons, Theo could feel some of the tension fade away. While the common rooms were more his home than the manor had been in years, constantly looking out the windows to the Black Lake made him feel like he was submerged in a bubble where time stood still. At most, the colours of the waters only changed due to the weather, but be it night or day, the darkness stayed the same. 

Neither he nor Tracey felt the need to speak as they walked through the corridors, sticking to the shadows and mindful of every little noise. The higher they went, the lighter the castle became, with light streaming through the eastern windows. 

They were nearing the fourth floor when they heard loud voices heading towards them. Both Slytherins shared a panicked look before hurrying along the corridor, hoping to come across a classroom they could hide in. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t able to find one before whoever was heading their way caught up to them. Before they could spot them, Tracey pushed Theo, sending him reeling around the corner. Focusing on not tripping and rendering Tracey’s efforts useless, Theo hurried up the stairs and sprinted as quietly as he could toward the owlery. 

As he finally reached his destination, he leaned against one of the walls, panting heavily. The moment he caught his breath, he sat down on the floor to pen a quick letter to Granger. He shivered from the cold seeping into his pants as he waited for the ink to dry, before finally rolling it up and tying it to the leg of one of the school owls. 

He watched it fly away feeling slightly more accomplished. It was still awfully early, but after the night they had just experienced, he was sure Granger would be awake. Of course, if she wasn’t, the owl would take quick care of that. Noisy buggers, he thought, recalling the many cups of tea he had lost to an impertinent bird. 

Theo figured he might as well wait for a reply, since he wasn’t keen on getting caught before he could find out what had happened to Potter. Leaning on the tower’s railings, he rolled his shoulders languidly, deciding to focus on the ever brightening horizon rather than dwell on last night’s possible events. 

He didn’t even last ten minutes before his sleep deprived brain was going haywire with theories. While the Slytherins had proposed a series of overly complicated conspiracies over Diggory’s death and how it was all the Ministry's ploy, an older student had jokingly proposed that it was the Dark Lord behind it all once more. Adrian Pucey was by no means a bright wizard, but his words remained stuck in Theo’s memory. It really did make sense, what with all the disappearances, Potter’s unwilling entry in the Tournament and now Cedric Diggory’s death. All that remained was the how . 

The sun had reached a high position in the sky when the owl finally flew back into the tower, with a piece of parchment tied to its leg. Eagerly, Theo untied it, stroking the bird’s head lightly as he opened the letter to reveal Granger’s handwriting. 

Potter was alright and resting in the infirmary, thank Freyja. Theo mentally thanked Granger for opening with that fact.  The rest of the letter was short and to the pont, yet it took Theo far too long to finish reading it, due to its contents. 

Professor Moody was not Alastor Moody, but Crouch’s not-so-dead son. A known Death Eater who planned Potter’s entry in the Tournament, and who charmed the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey that would take Potter to the cemetery in order to revive the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord was back. He had killed Cedric Diggory and had attempted to murder Potter as well. 

He was back, he thought with a shudder, struggling to avoid throwing up whatever he had left in his stomach. The Dark Lord was back. 

He felt faint once more. Granger’s letter had mentioned Death Eaters coming to his call. Which meant that either his father had rushed to his master’s side or he would be doing so very soon. 

Professor Snape was a Death Eater, he thought with a jolt. He had been present during the Third Task, so he must’ve gone to him afterwards… But Dumbledore trusted him, right? So maybe he hadn’t gone at all…

He needed to know where Snape stood. With the Dark Lord back, and his father following him, he needed a better grasp of the situation. Nott Manor had never really felt like a home after what happened to his mother, but now? There was no way he was playing host to Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters. He needed answers and the Potions professor most likely had them. Well, he really needed some sleep as well, but that would have to wait.  

Theo took in a deep breath of fresh air to brace himself, before leaving the owlery. He’d talk to Potter once the other boy was feeling better and had been discharged by Madam Pomfrey. Not to mention, he thought with a grimace, if his father had really gone to see the Dark Lord and he had called him by his name… Potter might really not want anything to do with him after that. 

Being the son of a former Death Eater was one thing, but the son of an active Death Eater who had stood by and cheered for the death of a teenager? Theo thought that might be a bit of a deal-breaker for most wizards. 

He tried to avoid over-thinking what he was about to do all the way down to the dungeons, hoping that Snape would be in his office. He checked his watch; it was almost time for breakfast to begin, but not so late that the Potions Master would already be on his way to the Great Hall. Soon enough, he was standing outside the Potions classroom, clenching his fists tightly. He could feel the sweat between his fingers as he struggled to gather enough courage to knock. 

It took him a couple of minutes, and just as he raised his hand to rap his knuckles against the wood, the door opened to reveal a disgruntled Snape. 

“Mr. Nott, would you care to explain your presence outside my door for the last five minutes?” he drawled, with an unfriendly look on his face. At least he could always count on Snape’s dreadful attitude, Theo thought as he followed the man into the classroom. 

“Is it true? Is he back?” he spat out without thinking, wincing as Snape’s expression closed off entirely.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know, but I must admit I wonder who your source was. One of your housemates, perhaps? Or your very own father?” the professor asked unkindly, sitting behind his desk. 

“We both know he wouldn’t bother informing me,” Theo muttered, trying to shrug nonchalantly. “Did you go to him? You were there during the third task, so you must’ve gone after- if you went at all.” 

Snape shot him a sneer he could only hope to replicate one day before answering. “I will not answer to the ridiculous inquiries of a child,” he spat out viciously. “You would do well to focus on your exams, Mr. Nott. Not on matters that do not concern you.”

Theo squared his shoulders and straightened his spine the best he could. “You’ll have to forgive my ridiculous inquiries , professor. But this child is merely concerned whether or not he will have any uninvited Death Eaters showing up at his door this summer,” he answered back, in the same manner his father usually spoke to him. If the Potions professor was going to be unpleasant, he could be even more spiteful.

What he didn’t expect was for Snape to sigh and lean back on his chair, his face suddenly looked older and the dark circles under his eyes seemed more like bruises. “Your father has never been one to open Nott Manor to others, regardless of his affiliations. I doubt this time it will be much different,” he offered as an answer before continuing. “I trust your abilities to look after yourself remain as sharp as ever. However, if something were to happen, as your Head of House you may feel free to write to me during the summer holidays and we can come to a suitable arrangement. Only if something were to happen , Theodore. If any letter whose content is not urgent reaches me, you will begin your fifth year helping me clean the leech tank, do I make myself clear?”

Theo nodded, taking the olive branch for what it was. Even if Dumbledore hadn’t trusted the man, Snape was the closest thing he had to a responsible adult looking out for him. That fact was dreadfully pitiful. 

“If that is all you needed to inconvenience me with, I recommend you make your way to the Great Hall,” Snape said, leaning on his desk in order to stand up once more. Theo suddenly blanched at how weak he looked.

“He didn’t take kindly to you arriving late, did he?” he asked, regretting it immediately when any kind feeling Snape had been experiencing was clearly banished in an instant .   

“ Out. ”  

Theo all but sprinted out of the classroom when Snape snarled at him. He did take his professor’s advice and headed toward the Great Hall. A cup of tea before taking what he had left of the Dreamless Sleep Potion sounded like a good plan. 

When he looked back, even a week later as he finally was discharged from the infirmary, Harry found he only had scattered memories of the last few days. It felt like he had been so overwhelmed his brain couldn’t take in even more. The recollections he did have though, those were very painful. The worst was the meeting with the Diggorys he’d had the morning following the Third Task. 

They didn’t blame him for what happened, and both thanked him for returning Cedric’s body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of it, but Mrs.Diggory’s pain seemed to be beyond tears. 

“He suffered very little then,” she said when Harry had finished telling them how Cedric had died. “And after all, Amos… he died just when he’d won the tournament… he must’ve been happy.”

When they got back on their feet, she touched Harry’s shoulder gently. “You look after yourself, now.”

Harry seized the bag of gold still sitting on his bedside table. 

“You should take this,” he muttered. “It should've been his. Cedric’s. He got there first, you should have it-”

But she backed away from it with a sad smile.

“Oh, no. It’s yours, dear. I couldn't… you keep it.”

During the week he had spent confined to the hospital bed, his days were often filled with Ron and Hermione. Others had stopped by as well, the Weasleys would often set up camp around his legs and they would enjoy a game of Exploding Snap behind Madam Pomfrey’s back. Cho Chang had dropped by with a teary smile and a mumbled thank you. And Hagrid’s infamous rock cakes had joined the clutter on his bedside table, in hopes that the sunlight coming in from the window would soften them somehow. 

Despite all those visits, Harry often found himself staring at the door hoping for a flash of green or brown hair that never came. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed. 

It wasn’t like Nott knew what had happened, right? Unless his father had told him, and he had suddenly decided that being friends with Harry wasn’t worth it after all. The thought itself left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

He was finally released on Monday afternoon, while classes were still going on. He figured he might as well wait for Ron and Hermione back in the Gryffindor Tower, and told himself he would not be checking the Marauders Map for anyone else. 

He didn’t make it very far out of the infirmary door before he tripped on something right outside. 

“Seriously, Potter?” 

Harry flailed his arms wildly as he barely avoided face planting on the floor, before turning to stare at the Slytherin who had decided that the perfect place to wait for him to leave the infirmary was on the floor next to the entrance.

“What do you mean ‘Seriously, Potter’? You’re the one blocking the exit!” 

Nott looked appropriately sheepish as he tucked back his long legs. “I didn’t think you would be walking out. Granger told me you were being discharged today, but she didn’t mention the time.”

Harry’s eyebrows nearly shot out of his face. “You’ve been here all day?” he asked incredulously. 

“Of course, not!” the other boy said defensively, getting back on his feet. “I only came here after lunch, exams are over so I figured I could skip Arithmancy.” 

“You skipped your favourite class so you could wait for me to get discharged?” Harry asked, feeling his face heat up. That was a nice thought. 

“I figured we needed to talk.” Not such a nice thought after all. “I didn’t want to impose while you were resting, so…” Nott trailed off, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt. “The Clocktower Courtyard is probably empty right now, if you’re up to it.”

Harry tried his best not to frown in disappointment. So their friendship was done after all, Nott was just going over the niceties of saying it to his face. He briefly considered just walking off, before deciding a last afternoon together would be nice, even if it wasn’t on the Clocktower itself. 

“Sure, let’s go.”

The walk to the courtyard was filled with all the awkwardness that had been missing from all their time together. They did try to make some small talk on their way, but it felt so stilted and empty it eventually stopped, and neither of them tried to pick it back up. 

“So, then. What did you figure we needed to talk about?” Harry asked as they sat on one of the benches under the trees. Nott took a deep breath before turning to him, his lips thin with tension.

“I have a general understanding of what happened that night, and I wanted to clear some things with you.” Oh. Straight into it then.

“You don’t have to clear anything up. I understand,” he said with a knot on his throat, feeling heat building up in his chest. It wasn’t the warm feeling he had felt earlier, it felt like his insides were trying to explode right out of him. “I’ve actually given it some thought this past few days, after seeing your father there.” 

Harry wished he could take that back the moment he saw Nott wince.  

“So he was there after all. I suppose that doesn’t really surprise me,” Nott said, swallowing thickly. 

“You mean you weren’t sure and you still decided to have this discussion? You were willing to do this based on some assumption?” he asked indignantly. Had their friendship truly meant that little?

Nott frowned at him.  “Yes? Wouldn’t you do the same?” 

“Of course not!” Harry exclaimed. “Of course I wouldn’t do the same! Clearly us being friends didn’t mean all that much to you, but it did to me!” Nott’s eyebrows did the thing where they tried to jump out of his face but Harry was too furious with him to find it amusing. “I wouldn’t throw it away based on some assumption !” 

“I’m not throwing it away!” the Slytherin said, his voice high with indignation. “I’m literally trying to tell you I’m not going to follow after my father!”

“Well, you’re doing a shite job at it! I already knew that!” Harry told him, grabbing his hair in exasperation. So Nott wasn’t trying to stop being friends, then? “I’ve known that from the moment we began talking! I even defended you in front of Ron! Why would you think you needed to clear that up again?” 

“Because my father was there when the Dark Lord tried to kill you! Probably cheering him on!” Nott screamed at him with wide eyes. “Did it occur to you how knowing that feels? Knowing my father would have gladly watched you die that night? I thought you would want nothing to do with me after that.” He trailed off in a low voice, looking down at his feet. 

“You’ve told Ron time and time again how you’re not your father,” Harry said, grabbing his shoulder tightly. “Has that changed?” 

Nott turned to stare at him so quickly, Harry winced at the snap of his neck. “Of course it hasn’t!” 

“Then why would my opinion of you change? I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me after that night. I don’t know what’s going to happen now that Voldemort’s back…” Harry sighed. He wished he could go back in time, when they were still preparing for the task. Even before, when he could sit down on the Clocktower’s top landing and discuss Celtic magic with Nott.  

“Well, we’re friends, right? I don’t know what’s going to happen either, but you can trust me, Potter,” Nott told him with a small smile, taking hold of his wrist. His fingers were cold against Harry’s skin, contrasting with the warmth of the afternoon. “You can count on me.”

Harry turned to stare at him without saying a word. Nott was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher, but he would give anything to keep that expression on the other boy’s face. 

“Harry.”

Nott blinked owlishly, before furrowing his brows.

“That’s your name… yes.” 

Harry barked out a laugh before elaborating. “You’re still calling me Potter, even after all of this. Harry’s fine.”

Nott’s smile was the brightest Harry had ever seen it. He looked like an entirely different person that afternoon, with his eyes crinkling with mirth and the soft wind tussling his hair. If his voice trembled a little when he spoke, Harry wouldn’t ever mention it. 

“Well then, Harry. I expect you to call me Theo in turn.”  

Chapter Text

It was with his usual heavy heart that Theo packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to Nott Manor. Hogwarts had been lacking its usual end-of-term cheer ever since the night of June 24th. Students and staff were subdued, especially those in Hufflepuff house, who moved around the castle with pale and sad faces. 

When the Slytherin Fourth Years entered the Great Hall, Theo noticed it was lacking its usual decorations. Instead of the colours of the House Cup winner there were black drapes on the wall behind the teachers table. There was no doubt in Theo’s mind that it was in respect for Diggory. 

As they took a seat on the Slytherin Table, he made sure to take note of those sitting at the Staff Table. The real Alastor Moody was sitting there, twitching at everything that took place around him. Theo figured he might be twitchy as well, if he had been held captive in his own trunk for over ten months by a demented Death Eater. Karkaroff was missing, he noted with a satisfied sneer. He was probably on the run after not answering the Dark Lord’s call.  

Professor Snape was there, though. The shadows under his eyes had eased up since Theo saw him last but the tired expression on his face remained. Professor McGonagall was seated next to him, surveying the students as they filled in the Great Hall with an impassive look. Along the table, the other professors shared the same look, except for Professor Sprout who looked positively dismayed as she stared at the Hufflepuff Table.

His musings were cut short when Professor Dumbledore stood up, and the soft chatter that filled the usually loud Great Hall died out. 

“The end of another year,” Dumbledore said, as he looked around at them all. “There is much that I would like to say to you all, but first, we must acknowledge a truly terrible loss.” His eyes stopped on the Hufflepuffs, who seemed to hold onto his every word. 

“The loss of a very fine person, who by all means, should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuff table, “enjoying this feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand up, and raise your glasses. To Cedric Diggory.”

They all did; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood and raised their goblets.

“Cedric Diggory.” They all said in one loud, low voice. Theo and Blaise shared a grim look before they all sat down again. 

“Cedric Diggory was, as you all well know, an exceptionally hard working, infinitely fair-minded and most importantly, a fierce, fierce friend. He was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguished the Hufflepuff House, and more. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him or not. I believe you all have a right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper broke around the Great Hall. Many were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief and horror. Despite already knowing the truth, Theo fidgeted with the cuff of his robe, eager to focus on anything besides what was currently going on. 

“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified when they learn that I have done so- But I believe that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as a result of an incident, or some sort of blunder of his own, would be an insult to his memory.”

A few seats down the table, Theo watched as Malfoy leaned over to whisper something to Crabbe and Goyle. He felt Blaise grasp his arm, and forced himself to focus on Dumbledore’s speech once more. 

“The pain we all feel at this terrible loss, reminds me -reminds us, ” he corrected, “that while we all come from different places, and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one. In light of recent events, the bonds we have forged during this year will be more important than ever. Remember that, and Cedric Diggory will not have died in vain. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to him.”

“You remember that. And today, we will celebrate a boy who was kind, and honest, and brave and true, and right to the very end.”

Dumbledore’s words whirled clearly around Theo’s head as the Hogwarts Express made its way toward London. The weather couldn’t have been more different than it had been on the way to Hogwarts the previous September. It was a warm day, with not a cloud in the sky. He was sharing the compartment with Blaise, Tracey and Daphne, who were all immersed in an intense match of Exploding Snap. 

He finally dragged his eyes away from the window and closed his book. He hadn’t done any reading after all, getting distracted with every little thing that happened. As he stood up, Tracey looked up from the game briefly to stare at him.

“Going somewhere?” she asked curiously. 

He nodded in answer. “Figured I might go for a walk, I’m feeling restless.” 

Whatever Tracey was going to say in response was cut by one of the cards exploding before she could tap it with her wand. The other two waved goodbye at him as Tracey instinctively reeled back, covering her eyebrows to avoid having them singed by the explosion.  

The laughs of both Blaise and Daphne were muffled as soon as he closed the compartment door, smiling softly. He figured he might as well see if he could spot Potter’s compartment, since there was still a couple of hours left before they reached King’s Cross Station.

He was pulled from his thoughts the moment he saw three students laying on the hallway in front of an open compartment. Feeling all the blood leave his face and fearing the worst, he quickly took out his wand and carefully walked towards them. When he was close enough he could see a shock of pale blond hair, identifying Malfoy without any problem. Crabbe and Goyle were the other two students lying close to him, all three of them bearing the marks of being hit with a jumble of jinxes.  

He pocketed his wand as he straightened his back, turning to look inside the compartment.

“Do I even want to know?” he asked, staring at the unrepentant looks of Potter, Weasley and Granger, along with the Weasley twins. 

“Best you don’t,” a cheerful Potter- Harry, Theo reminded himself, replied as he scooted a bit on his seat, making enough space for him to sit down. “That way you can still plead ignorance.”   

Theo hummed noncommittally as he closed the compartment door and sat next to the Gryffindor.

“Hello, Potter. Hello, everyone else.” Granger smiled at him warmly, while the twins waved at him from their seats. Weasley nodded at him, a victory all in itself.

“A snake in our midst? Can you believe this, George?” one of the twins asked. 

“Inconceivable. We must have gone mad, Fred,” the other replied with a smile full of teeth. Theo shook his head and chose to ignore them. 

“You’ll never guess what I found out, Nott,” Granger said excitedly, as she dug around in her bag. “Do you remember what you told me about Malfoy in the grounds that day? That he was talking to a beetle, of all things?”  

Theo nodded, recalling that puzzling detail. “What about it?” His brow furrowed in confusion as she pulled out a small glass jar with a fat beetle inside. He recoiled in disgust before noticing this particular beetle had some strange markings around its eyes, making it look as if it were wearing glasses. Some ugly, horn rimmed glasses he had only seen on the face of an equally repulsive reporter.   

“You see, I found out that for every article Rita Skeeter published, there was always a small, ugly beetle on the scene. When she wrote about Hagrid’s mother, there was a beetle on a statue close to them. And Viktor pulled a beetle from my hair when we were talking by the lake! And unless I’m mistaken, which is doubtful really, there must have been a beetle perched on the windowsill that day during Harry and Ron’s Divination Class, which is how she found out about his scar hurting that day.”

“And that day, Malfoy was talking to a beetle… Are you implying Skeeter is a-?”

“An animagus! An unregistered animagus,” Granger interrupted him with an excited jump. Next to her, Weasley barely repressed a snort of laughter. “And not implying! The first night we were visiting Harry, I caught this particular beetle on the windowsill in the Hospital Wing when I got up to send my answer back to you.”

“I’ve told her I’ll let her out when we get to London,” Granger continued. “I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. I’ve also told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for an entire year, see if she gets out of the habit of writing lies about people.” She smiled serenely as she tucked the jar back into her school bag. 

Theo blinked at her in stupefaction. “Remind me to never piss you off, Granger. But that was very clever of you.” Granger visibly preened at the comment. 

He turned to look at the closed door before making up his mind. “I must know really, what happened to those three? Or, better said, what did you all do to them?”    

The twins burst out laughing, as Harry and Weasley shared a conspiratorial smile. 

“They were being their usual selves, making stupid comments about how I should have chosen better friends, and how now that Voldemort’s back it’s too late.” Harry shrugged, but Theo could see the tension in his neck and how the situation had bothered him. “Everything was fine until he mentioned Cedric. They got stuck in the crossfire after that.”

The Slytherin winced in sympathy at the effects the other three would feel once they woke up. 

He followed their conversation for a while, before Harry got up all of a sudden. “Hey, Fred, George, can I talk to you both outside for a moment?” he asked them, waiting until they nodded before grabbing onto Theo’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered before walking out of the compartment, with the twins trailing after him. 

It was an awkward minute of silence before Granger cleared her throat.

“So, any plans for this summer, Nott?” 

“Nothing much. I’ll probably sort out which of my father’s books I’ll be borrowing for next term.” He shrugged, noticing how Granger’s eyes widened at that. Weasley was conveniently checking what card came with this Chocolate Frog.

“Is it asking for too much to include me in that sorting? That book you lent me was fascinating, I can’t imagine what other books you have at home.” Theo smiled at her eagerness.

“Tell you what, I’ll let you pick a couple of books and lend them to you, as long as you owl me some recommendations and lend me some of your muggle books. Sherlock Holmes passed the test.” Granger seemed to almost visibly combust at the suggestion, making Weasley groan loudly.

“Great. As if the world needed someone else who tries to live off just on books,” he teased her good-naturedly, laughing as she elbowed him.

“So, if you liked the detective-mystery aspect, you might also like the works of Agatha Christie,” Granger said, “or we could move on to classics. Whichever you prefer.” The door opened once more, with Harry resuming his seat next to Theo. 

“I think a healthy mix of both could be a good start.”

“What could be a good start?” Harry asked them, as he leaned back on his seat. Weasley took the opportunity to rejoin the conversation.

“Thank Merlin you’re back, Harry. There’s two of them now,” he whined as he tossed another Chocolate Frog at his friend. “Please, let’s talk about something other than books.”

Harry laughed at him, opening his box. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Theo spent most of our time together reading.” 

Weasley made a face. “At least now we know there’s a smart Slytherin around, makes up for you lot not being brave at all.” Theo let out an insulted gasp.

“Hey, Slytherins can be brave. We’re just not stupid.”

“Crabbe and Goyle are literally lying unconscious outside that door,” the redhead told him with an unamused look, making Theo grimace. 

“Well, most of us are not stupid.”

“I’ll concede on you being wickedly smart, Theo. But you have to admit Slytherins don’t have a reputation of being brave,” Harry told him as he passed him a bottle of iced pumpkin juice. 

“Well, I think you’re holding us to an unfair standard,” Theo threw back at him, before muttering a quick thank you. 

“I mean,” Granger added. “Consider the incident with the skrewts.” Weasley burst out laughing at that.

“No! Those skrewts were sent from the pits of Hel from Hela herself,” he defended himself in indignation. “They are by no means a fair point of comparison.”

Harry turned to stare at him with an amused yet fond look. “You literally barricaded yourself with the other Slytherins.”

“And some other Gryffindors!” 

“Nott, Zabini literally said ‘every man for himself’ before running and following Malfoy to Hagrid’s Hut,” Weasley told him with a satisfied smirk. 

Theo, in a move he would later deny to his final breath, threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Fine! If not wanting to be burned to death by some ungodly skrewts just because our professor thought it would be fun to leash them and walk them around is not brave, then I’d rather be labelled a coward.”

He spent the better part of an hour talking to them before figuring out it was about time he returned to his compartment and his friends. 

“Try not to step on Malfoy’s face,” Granger had said after bidding him goodbye and reminding him to write to her. 

“Or do.” Was Weasley’s goodbye along with a wave. Theo decided to play nice and wave back. 

Harry on the other hand, stood up, proclaiming his need to go use the restroom as an excuse to leave the compartment along with Theo. They struggled a bit to get outside, during which Theo did accidentally stand on Crabbe’s hand for a second. 

“So, Hermione got an invitation to write to you during the holidays. Does that extend to me, as well?” Harry asked cheekily as they walked toward Theo’s compartment. 

“Do you really have to ask?” Theo replied in turn, watching as the other boy scratched the back of his neck with a laugh. “Of course, it does. You still haven’t told me the entire story regarding Granger’s Timeturner. Your owl will find me.”

They stopped right beside the compartment’s door, and he found himself reluctant to end the conversation. The sunlight was streaming through the windows, bathing Harry’s face in its warm light. Theo thought it made his eyes look even brighter, if that was even possible.

“I’m really glad we met, Harry,” he told him with a soft smile. And he really meant it, regardless of what came in the future, friendships were something to be treasured. Besides, possible dangers ahead or not, Harry Potter was very well worth it.  

Later that day, when they were carrying their trunks up to the station, Blaise was quick to notice the lack of Theo’s habitual bad mood. 

“Was your walk really that good, Theo? One might think you’re actually looking forward to this summer.” 

Theo grinned at his friend, who smiled back bemusedly. 

“You know what? I reckon I actually am.”

Chapter Text

The hottest day of the summer, or at least the hottest one so far, was finally drawing to a close. In a break from his usual afternoon routine, Harry had gone for a walk around the neighborhood to try and stop his stomach from flipping out of his body. At the beginning of the holidays, he’d tried to watch the news religiously, figuring that if something happened regarding Voldemort’s return, his best bet was the Muggle news. Yet it was the middle of July and nothing had been reported so far. 

He’d tried writing to Ron and Hermione, but their answers so far had been disappointing, “We can’t say much about you-know-what, obviously…”, “We’ve been told not to say anything in case our letters go astray…”,  “ We’re quite busy but I can’t give you details here… ”, “ There’s a fair amount going on, we’ll tell you everything when we see you… ” But when were they going to see him? There was no precise date in their letters, and Harry was going crazy. He even tried writing to Theo, but all he got was a request for his address and that day’s date with ‘ 4pm. ’ written in the other boy’s rushed handwriting. So that was the reason why he was walking around the neighborhood with said letter clutched in his hand. 

Spotting Mrs. Figg, the batty, cat-loving lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, he quickly ducked into some bushes until she ambled past slowly. The old woman was talking softly to herself, and Harry was thankful he had avoided her successfully. She had taken to inviting him over for tea whenever she saw him, and whatever Theo had planned, Harry was in no way going to miss it by spending the afternoon trying not to inhale stray cat hair.

He sighed as the woman finally walked out of his sight, figuring it was safe to continue with his walk. He made his way to the park, out of options of where to go. Sitting down on one of the benches, he figured he might as well wait. Truly though, he didn’t even know if Theo was actually going to do something, but what else was he supposed to assume from that letter?

As he waited, a figure walking across the park caught his attention. As it grew closer, Harry grinned in recognition. He knew that hair. 

Theo Nott was currently stumbling through the uncut grass toward him. 

Eagerly, Harry shot to his feet to meet him halfway. The Slytherin had not done too bad in dressing like a Muggle: his probably-tailored shirt and pants suited him well and passed for a particularly well dressed teenager. 

“You live in what some would consider Muggle Purgatory, Potter,” Theo said the moment he was close enough.  Grinning, Harry enveloped him in a hug, which the other boy returned after a second of hesitation.

“How did you even get here?” he asked the Slytherin as they settled down on the swings. 

“My house elf apparated us here, far enough so we wouldn’t trigger your trace,” Theo answered him as he lifted a hand to cover his face from the sun. It was the first time Harry had seen him over the summer, and he couldn’t help but search for anything different. His hair was longer, curling under his ears and he seemed a little taller. Yet that seemed to be it, the same shape to his hair and grey stormy eyes. 

“But wouldn’t yours still be triggered?” Harry asked, he pushed his feet against the dirt, swinging softly. Theo frowned at his question before answering.

“The trace only senses if someone close to you performed magic. It doesn’t notice if you’ve cast the spell or not. To the Ministry, it will appear as if someone has performed magic in close proximity to me, which they will probably assume was my father.” He explained before giving up and closing his eyes, accepting the sunlight hitting his face. Well, that certainly explained the incident with Dobby. “An unfair advantage, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked before changing the direction of his swinging, so that he was moving sideways. He grinned when his swing bumped into Theo’s, starling the other boy enough that he opened his eyes once more. 

“Well, they will assume it was my father since he is responsible for me. I do technically live with him, so even if he decides to spend the summer in Ireland or something, the Ministry will be none the wiser for it. Even Tracey will get a pass because of her mother, any magic performed near her is assumed to be Mrs. Davis. But your friend Granger? Or even you, in this case. Any magic performed near you will be assumed to be your own.” As Theo talked, Harry’s smile turned into a frown that became more pronounced as he went on. It was unfair, especially for Hermione, who he knew would be thrilled to be able to practice spells on her own. 

“It really is unfair,” he said, imagining a gleeful Malfoy at home, practicing the spells they would be learning for next term. It made his blood boil. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.” 

“I always do, and I’d rather not cause any more trouble for you, given the recent circumstances.” 

Harry felt his heartbeat speed up once more, and he told himself it had nothing to do with the way the sun made Theo’s hair look closer to tawny than to his normal light brown. 

“So something has happened? Has Voldemort made his move?” The other boy bit his lip in consternation, leaning over to stop Harry’s swinging. 

“No. He’s laying low for the moment. No kidnappings, no murders, nothing.” 

“Then what are the recent circumstances?” Maybe the Ministry was mobilizing his Aurors in the search for Voldemort, or looking into known Death Eaters. “Is your father being followed or something?” 

Theo sighed before looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “They're not looking for him, Harry. Have you not been reading the Daily Prophet? ” 

“Well, I figured if something happened it would be on the first page…” He trailed off at the unamused look on Theo’s face. As he scratched the back of his neck, the other boy ran his hand through his hair. 

“There’s really no easy way to say this, Harry… They’re running a smear campaign on you.” 

What?

“Sort of what Skeeter did last year, but amped up by various writers this time,” Theo answered. Harry hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. 

“Is it that bad?” Last year had been horrible with all the rumours going on inside Hogwarts, he couldn’t imagine going through all that again. The look on Theo’s face was answer enough. 

“Great, another year dealing with this. What are they saying?”

“They’re calling you a delusional fame-hungry liar, who got used to the spotlight and is doing all of this for more attention.” Well, when you put it that way . 

“You have such a way with words, Theo,” he teased, but his voice betrayed how uneasy he felt by breaking halfway there. “So, in their words, Voldemort’s not back and I’m a deluded idiot? Great.”

“There’s no point in wording it nicely, is there? The Ministry is actively hiding any information regarding the Dark Lord’s-” Harry made a show of clearing his throat loudly, snickering when Theo shot him a glare in return. “Regarding Riddle’s return and making sure they discredit you as much as possible.”  

“So Riddle’s just laying low, then?” If calling Voldemort Riddle would get Theo out of his habit of calling him the Dark Lord, then he would gladly do it for as long as it took. “Why would he do that?”

Theo finally began swinging back and forth, “Well, I’d figure it’s because of you, Harry.” 

“What do you mean?” he asked, before following Theo’s lead and resuming his own swinging. The sun was beginning to set, casting everything in its golden glow.

“Well, you survived, didn’t you? There’s absolutely no way that was in his plans. So now he’s got no choice but to keep a low profile. In fact, I’d bet he’s taking advantage of the entire smear campaign as well.” Breathing in, Harry considered it. It did make sense, at least that’s what he would do if he was in Voldemort’s place. 

“Well, let’s leave it at that for now. How has your summer been so far? Has it gone well?” Harry asked, itching for a change of topic. He’d spent weeks with only the Dursleys for company, and now, he wanted to enjoy an afternoon with one of his friends.

“If by well, you mean staying alone at home with only your house elf for company, then yes, it’s gone well,” Theo muttered as he stared at a patch of flowers near his feet. “Coming here was a nice change of schedule, otherwise I’d be reading up in my father’s library.” 

At that, Harry felt like he could finally laugh again, “The great Theo Nott, tired of reading?”

“Shut up,” the other boy said half-heartedly, bumping his swing into his. “It’s just always the same, I needed a change of scenery.” 

“And won’t your father mind you coming to see me?”  

“Who says he knows?” 

“Ah, so you’re sneaking around to visit me? I’m flattered,” Harry said, before grimacing at a particularly uncomfortable prickle on his forehead. He rubbed his scar absentmindedly, ignoring the look Theo shot him.

“How often has it been hurting?”

“It’s probably nothing. Before, it hurt because Voldemort was trying to come back. Now that he actually did, it’s probably residual pain.” Harry had just gotten one of his friends back in his life, he really didn’t want to bother Theo with what was probably just useless complaining. 

“Harry, your scar is an anomaly, I seriously don’t think it’s nothing,” Theo insisted before looking at him up and down. Harry tried his best not to blush. “Last term you had a dream about him that ended up being true, has it happened again? You look tired.”

Harry considered denying it for a moment before he met Theo’s eyes, and then realized that he really didn’t want to lie. “I keep dreaming about this corridor… It’s dark and there’s something I’m looking for, but I have no idea what or even where that is,” he tried to explain, watching in concern as the other boy dropped his head and stared at his lap for a moment. 

“And the pain?”

“It’s just uncomfortable prickles every now and then,” Harry said softly. “Not like last year at least.” Theo sighed before looking at the sky. “What are you thinking about?”

“Well,” Theo started, “I’m considering asking you if you have told anyone about this or just assuming you’ve been keeping it to yourself.” Harry would really feel insulted if he wasn’t right about that one. 

He sheepishly began swinging once more before replying, “well, the second option would save you some time…” he trailed off when he caught sight of the disappointed look on Theo’s face. “Well, I thought no one would care! I didn’t want you all to think I was just complaining!”

“Harry! The Dark Lord tried to kill you and you barely escaped with your life! Even if it was considered complaining, which it isn’t by the way,” said Theo indignantly, waving a finger at his face, “I reckon you would be allowed some complaining.”

“I just… I’ve tried writing to Ron and Hermione, but they both told me they couldn’t tell me anything by letter. Even Sirius told me to stay put and keep my nose clean! No one will tell me anything!” His voice got louder to the point he was almost yelling by the end. Theo didn’t look amused at all. 

“I won’t say anything because I understand you’re under a lot of stress. But I’ll have you know I don’t appreciate being yelled at, Harry,” He said icily before shrugging it off. “Maybe it’s not that they don’t want to, but are not allowed to? I suppose they do have a point regarding owls, they can easily be intercepted…” 

Harry thought that if wizards could swallow some of their pride and admit that Muggle phones were useful and tried to implement them, they wouldn’t have this problem. Even mobile phones, with their text messages, were more reliable than owls. He said so to Theo, but ended up having to explain what phones were to begin with before he could even start with texting. 

Theo did look quite excited at the idea of instant messaging, and by the time it got dark, Harry had been treated to a rant regarding what charms might be able to make that happen. He did enjoy it, though. It reminded him of afternoons spent together as Theo obsessed over Norse magic and talked for hours about how it could be integrated to what they were learning, before the Third Task took place and his nights were plagued with nightmares.  

Before he knew it, the stars were shining high above them and Theo frantically checked his watch. “It’s later than I had planned, I need to get back to the Manor. Father has been insisting on having dinner together.”

“Do you get dinner and a show? Some dark curses being thrown around?” Harry asked, despite feeling a pang of worry about his friend spending time with a wizard who had cackled as he was being tortured by Voldemort. 

“If by show you mean a deafening talk about politics and the Wizengamot, then yes, dinner and a show. I’ll try to pay attention, though. Maybe I’ll get to hear something that may be of use to you,” Theo said, getting up and straightening his clothes. “And you, write to your friends. It’s not complaining. A megalomaniac is hiding somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to kill you, don’t isolate yourself.”

“Well, I wrote to you, didn’t I?” Harry retorted, rising to his feet as well. “So, there’s no isolation going on. Not by choice, at least.” He muttered softly. 

Theo’s face softened and grabbed his wrist. “I’m sure your friends will tell you everything they know when they can. So I would prepare myself for the mountain of information Granger will have by then,” he joked, getting a small laugh from Harry in return. “And Harry? Promise me something.”

Harry immediately raised his head to look at Theo. “Sure, anything.”

“Don’t go reading what the Daily Prophet is writing about you. There’s nothing to gain from doing so.” Harry sighed before nodding. He wouldn’t deny he was curious, but he knew the other boy was right. 

“I promise, Theo. Will you visit again?”

He could feel his stomach trying to do a flip as Theo smirked at him slyly. 

“My, my, Harry. Do you enjoy my company that much?” The other boy laughed gently. “Of course I will, how does the day after tomorrow sound?”

Harry grinned so hard his face hurt. “Same time as today? You can meet me closer to my uncle’s house, in Privet Drive. That way you won’t have to wander around.” He tried to scratch the back of his neck but his hand was still in Theo’s grasp. The moment the other boy noticed, he released it immediately, his face going a soft pink that had Harry’s stomach spinning again.

“My shoes will appreciate that. Well, I’ll be seeing you, Harry,” Theo said, smiling as he began walking backwards. 

“See you, Theo,” Harry said, taking a step forward toward him but aborted the movement when the other boy turned around and walked away. He told himself that hugs were weird anyway, and began making his way back to Privet Drive feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

By the following day, the heat had dwindled a little, yet the back of Theo’s hair clung to his neck with the sweat that had gathered there. Whilbie had dropped him off in the same location she had yesterday, since it was clearly successful, and he had calmly walked in the direction he knew led to Private Drive, according to the maps of the area he had consulted. He yawned openly as he walked, last night had been another sleepless one. He had been worrying over what Harry had said the other day, about dreaming once more about what the Dark Lord was doing. Did that mean he could also dream about Harry’s doings? It wasn’t like there was much going on, but what if he came across some information that could serve him somehow? 

His musings were cut short once he reached Privet Drive, due to muffled yelling coming from inside house number four. Before he reached it, the front door was flung open and Harry stormed out. 

“I swear, boy! The Jones’ dog behaves better than you!” A large, beefy man with a large purple face bellowed from the house’s entrance and slammed the door hashly. Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation before turning towards him briefly. 

“That’s because they treat him better!” he yelled back and turned toward the street once more, stumbling a bit when he saw Theo standing across the street. “Theo! You’re early.” 

“I found that not wandering around trying to find you saves time immensely,” Theo said, before inspecting his friend's face. Harry’s face looked even worse, with dark shadows under his eyes. “Did you get any sleep at all?” he asked softly. 

Harry didn’t answer for a while, choosing instead to begin walking away from his family’s house. Preferring not to push the subject, Theo quickly matched his pace, accompanying him wherever he was walking to. Privet Drive was far behind them when Theo finally decided to break the silence. 

“So, have you done anything interesting since we last saw each other?” he tried, watching as a particularly fat pigeon tempted fate by landing close to a nearby cat. The cat only shot the bird a bored look before going back to flicking his tail as it enjoyed the sun. Harry snorted at the question and sent him a quick look before answering. 

“Well, I’ve kept busy playing a game. It’s called: is my headache from dehydration, lack of proper nutrition, stress, lack of sleep, or fucking Voldemort messing with my head.” Theo couldn’t avoid the incredulous stare he directed at Harry. 

“Well, excuse me for trying to make some small talk,” Theo snarked, shoving the other boy’s shoulder. He filed the joke of lacking proper nutrition for later, perhaps next time he visited he could bring some food with him. “What kept you up this time? Riddle’s night-time activities or your scar?” 

“I keep seeing Cedric,” Harry said in a soft voice, which had no right in knocking the air from Theo’s chest the way it just did. “Every time I close my eyes, I- I’m back in the cemetery, and Cedric’s there with me…” He trailed off as his voice wavered. They had stopped walking by that point, both covered by the shade of a large tree.

Theo didn’t say a word, he just reached out and grasped Harry’s hand tightly, encouraging him to go on. “He’s just looking at me, and I see-” he cleared his throat for a moment, “- and I see something moving from the corner of my eye, and I try to warn him, but I’m moving so slow… A-and then I hear him speak, I hear him just like I did that night.”

Harry’s voice broke then, and it took him a couple of tries before he could get his breathing back in order. Even then his voice quavered, as he struggled to get his words out. 

“He tells Wormtail to kill Cedric, and just as I reach out for him, my fingers are just inches from his robe when the curse reaches him… And I wake up calling his name… I failed him, Theo,” Harry turned to stare at him with tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “I failed him and he’s gone. I told him to take the Cup with me, and then I wasn’t fast enough to push him out of the way…”

All Theo could think of doing was wrapping Harry in his arms, in the same way Daphne and Tracey did whenever memories became too much, and he couldn’t feel anything but the cold in his fingers, so that was what he did. Almost immediately, Harry threw his arms around him, breathing harshly against his neck. Theo would never mention the feeling of warm tears against his skin, as the other boy tried his best to get his breathing back to normal. 

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, standing still in each other’s arms, as the warm breeze blew their hair around gently, until Harry finally exhaled and pulled away. He didn’t say anything though, he just sent a sad smile Theo’s way before sinking to the floor, pulling his knees close to his chest. 

Theo didn’t hesitate to join him, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good pair of trousers to the dirt from the ground. As he sat down next to him, Harry rested his head on Theo’s shoulder and grasped his hand once more. 

“You once asked me if I had nightmares, remember? Back in Snape’s classroom,” Theo muttered softly, tugging on Harry’s fingers as he felt him nod against his shoulder. 

“You said we both had our share of trauma-fueled nightmares,” Harry murmured in a thick voice. Theo inhaled deeply, sending a quick prayer to Tyr for courage before speaking.

“Sometimes I dream about my mother,” he said, trying his best to focus on Harry’s hand on his lap and not the cold creeping up his spine. He felt the other boy grow tense beside him.“I spent her last days by her side, she would read to me and I would tell her about whatever I learned earlier that day…” 

“It was our special time, you see… Father would only show up in the mornings during my lessons, and the Healers tried their best not to interrupt us… And Whilbie would come in during the afternoons and we would have tea together…” He had to take a small break as he felt his voice beginning to waver. 

“Our last day together was a warm summer day, just like this one,” he resumed, closing his eyes as he felt another gust of wind blow some of the leaves away. If he focused, he could almost picture himself back in her room, listening to the birds chirping from the garden below, the curtains billowing gently and the rising steam from their tea curling into the air as  his mother’s gentle voice filled the room. 

Harry grasped his hand even tighter. “I was just a couple of weeks shy of nine back then, and I was telling her about a book I had just finished, all on my own, when her breathing got heavier. She told me to go on, that it was nothing, and ran her fingers through my hair… But then her nose began bleeding… I got up to get her handkerchief but when I turned around she had gone stiff as a board. I-I wanted to call Father but she just held on to me and told me how much she loved me… She began convulsing after that, and I screamed for her to stop, that she was going to hurt herself…”

“I really only remember the Healer shoving me away from her and out of the room. Father ran past me at some point, but he didn’t stay long. He said the Healer hadn’t gotten there in time, and that there was nothing left to do then.” 

“Theo…” Harry started, but Theo shook his head at him before continuing. 

“I often wonder if she would’ve had a better chance if I had called for someone before the convulsions began. I’d been warned to get someone, anyone, if something happened but that day, I- I just froze,” he spat out, feeling the cold finally take hold of him, as it wove through his fingers and made him feel numb. “Some days I feel like I was the one to sign off her death, that if she had been with someone else, that day would’ve ended differently for everyone.”

“Theo, it wasn’t your fault,” Harry insisted, turning sideways so he could look at him. “You were a kid! You didn’t know what was happening! You weren’t the one to kill, her sickness did,” he said firmly.

Theo smiled sadly at him. “I know . In the same way I know you didn’t kill Cedric, Harry. Voldemort did. It’s just that knowing doesn’t really imply feeling, as you well know.” Harry just blinked at him in stupefaction. 

“You didn’t know what was going to happen that night anymore than I did that day with my mother. We can’t see into the future, so we can only hope we make the best choices we can with the information we have.” Theo arranged himself so he was sitting cross-legged and facing Harry directly, grasping his hand in both of his. “You are not responsible for what happened, and Diggory’s death will not have been in vain,” he assured him, looking deep into Harry’s very green eyes, watching as the sorrowful look was replaced with resoluteness. 

“It won’t. Voldemort might be back but he sure as hell is not going to win this war.”

Chapter Text

“Grab the ledge and pull yourself up, it’s not that hard!”

“Just because you’re used to this, doesn’t mean I am, Potter!”

“You always revert to ‘Potter’ when you’re annoyed at me, have you noticed?” Harry grunted, shifting Theo’s weight on his hands. He internally cursed the Trace back to hell, since a simple Alohomora would’ve easily fixed the situation, but no, now they were both reduced to trying to jump over the locked gate. 

Well, Theo was the one trying to be honest. Harry had vaulted over the gate countless times before that, every time thanking his training as a Seeker. Unfortunately for both boys, Theo wasn’t as athletically blessed.

“You’ll excuse me for not feeling too fond of you right now, Harry. Now, shut up, you’re distracting me,” the Slytherin grumbled, adjusting his grip and trying once more to get his free leg over the fence. The movement added more pressure to Harry’s grip on his other foot, and he struggled to maintain his balance. 

“Just how much do you weigh?” he complained, feeling his trainers slip on the grass. He grunted as he adjusted his stance, Theo was a lot heavier than he appeared to be. Harry supposed he just carried the weight differently, as his eyes fell on the other boy’s broad shoulders. “I thought you’d be lighter! With how many meals you skip just to read…” He exhaled in relief when the weight from his hands disappeared as Theo finally managed to sit over the top of the fence. 

“Well, that’s what you get for assuming,” Theo snarked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. After he got his breath he stared at the ground on the other side of the gate before turning to look blankly at Harry. “Now, what?”

“Just grab on tightly,” Harry answered, taking a couple of steps back before vaulting over the fence, landing easily on the other side. He turned and grinned at a disgruntled Theo. 

“Now you’re just bragging.”

“Do you ever get tired of complaining?” Harry teased as he stood beside the other boy’s dangling leg, holding his ankle gently. “Turn so you’re facing me, just be careful when moving your other leg.”

Theo sighed before slowly lifting his leg. “What can I say, it’s my venting mechanism,” he mumbled as he finished turning, both of his legs on the right side of the fence. 

“Wasn’t that sarcasm?” 

“I am a wizard of many talents. Now, how do I get down?” He nudged Harry’s shoulder with the tip of one of his shoes. Seizing the opportunity, Harry teasingly pulled on the ankle he still had on his grasp, laughing at Theo’s affronted look.

“Just push yourself from the fence, it’s not high enough for you to hurt yourself.” He sighed when Theo didn’t move an inch. “I promise to catch you? Just let yourself fall, it’ll be fine.”

“If something happens to my trousers, I’m sending you the bill,” Theo grumbled as he readied himself. Harry ignored the empty threat and backed a couple of steps to clear the landing. With a sigh, Theo pushed himself from over the fence. He landed cleanly in front of Harry, who despite noticing it was clearly not needed, grabbed his friend's arms to stabilize him. 

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Harry remarked, before noticing he had yet to let go of the other boy. He released him abruptly, and turned to walk toward the swings.

“Next time, I’m bringing my pen-knife,” Theo said, straightening his clothes and following him. “That was my first and last time jumping over a fence when we could’ve just picked the lock.”

“You’re a bad influence on me,” Harry said cheekily, as they both sat down. 

“So says the one who blackmailed me into breaking into a professor’s cabinet,” Theo snarked back, swinging his long legs. Harry followed suit with a chuckle, and they both enjoyed the silence for a while. 

Theo had been visiting almost every other day, and Harry had found himself enjoying the summer afternoons once more. The Slytherin often brought treacle tarts with him, along with other treats his house elf made. Yet the treacle tarts had been ever present in the food packages since Harry told him they were his favourite. 

It had become a habit for them both to walk over to the park after Harry had hidden the food under the floorboards in his room, both of them enjoying the warm rays of sun. As the days passed, Harry observed as faint freckles began to appear over the bridge of Theo’s nose. He’d teased him endlessly about it, enjoying how flustered the other boy became over them. 

Most afternoons they spent talking, and sometimes, Harry found himself talking about that night at the cemetery, about Voldemort, and about Cedric. With each day he found he could breathe a little easier, and sleep a little better; he could talk about what happened without breaking into guilty tears. Theo was a good listener. He knew when to speak and when to just let Harry talk. It helped to have someone who understood what it meant to lose someone, who unwilling had found themselves in the front row to a tragedy and had to learn to deal with the pain that followed.  

But the pain and guilt had paved the way to anger. Coming to terms with what had happened that night had rocketed his hatred for Voldemort, but it didn’t stop there. He was angry at everything, at the Death Eaters for rushing to Voldemort’s call once it was clear he was back. At Dumbledore for apparently forgetting about his existence, at Sirius for his patronizing messages of ‘ keep your nose clean’ and ‘ don’t do anything rash’, when he had probably never followed that advice in his life. But mostly he was angry at Ron and Hermione. He was furious at the hints that they were both together, most likely at the Burrow, having fun while he was banished to Privet Drive. He had been so angry he had thrown both their birthday gifts directly into the bin. That same day, Theo had visited him and had been the recipient of Harry's rant regarding his friends.  

“Just what are they so busy with? And why am I not busy? It’s not like I was the one in the graveyard that night, haven’t I proven myself to be capable of so much more than them?” he had said that afternoon, pacing from side to side. Theo sat on the shade watching him intently, without saying a word. Harry was mindful not to raise his voice too much, remembering how the other boy did not appreciate that.

“And when the summer started! Hermione could have called, you know? She has the Dursley’s number, you’d think with how brilliant she is she would’ve figured to try that, if she was so worried about post being intercepted!” He ran his fingers through his hair, barely resisting the urge to tug at it.  

He threw himself on the ground next to Theo, leaning his head on the other boy’s shoulder. “I did what you said, I wrote to them about my scar hurting again. They all but dismissed it as echoes from what happened that night…” He focused on breathing deeply, closing his eyes as he felt the cool breeze soothe his aching scar. 

“Why are they so determined to keep me in the side-lines?” he mumbled, breathing in the smell of Theo’s shirt. It smelled like rain and old books, the same smell he had come to attribute to his friend. He felt the other boy grow tense before he heard his voice.

“Have you  ̶ ” He started, before breaking off. Harry lifted his head to stare at him and waved his hand for him to go on. 

“Have you considered that just like you’re able to see what Riddle does in your dreams, he could be able to see what you do in his?” Theo muttered, not meeting his eyes. Harry felt like a stone had just settled in his stomach. 

“Does Dumbledore not want me around because Voldemort could use me for intel?” he whispered, feeling absurdly cold in the heat of the summer. “Is that why no one will tell me anything?”

Theo had been quick to reassure him that the odds were that Voldemort could see just as little as Harry could see from him, but he still had a weird look on his face. “The dreams you’ve been having about those corridors and locked doors are most likely just one event you’re experiencing on a loop. Whatever connection you two have doesn’t seem to be stable enough for you to access his mind for more than a brief moment…”

“But if he so wanted, he could access mine?” Harry pressed on anxiously. Theo sighed as he finally turned to stare at him.

“Possibly. But we don’t even know if he’s aware of this connection… He’s probably not, since it doesn’t make any sense he would share something with you… Normally, you would need to be close to your target in order to perform Legilimency  ̶ ”

“Legilimency?”

“When someone tries to read your thoughts and emotions, there’s an incantation for it, but some are powerful enough to perform it nonverbally and wandlessly.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. 

“So, Voldemort could read my mind?” he asked incredulously. Theo winced at the question before answering. 

“Technically, you cannot read minds, Harry. They’re not a book you can open at any page and browse as you wish. But you could essentially navigate through the layers of someone’s mind and interpret what you find.” 

“Are you a Legilimens?” asked Harry.

“No,” Theo shook his head. “Most books I’ve read on the subject recommend mastering Occlumency before moving on to Legilimency. I’ve been working on my own for a couple of years but I’m considering asking Professor Snape for help.”

“Snape’s a horrible teacher,” Harry deadpanned immediately. 

“You’d be surprised at the effort he puts in when the result is getting you to leave him alone,” Theo laughed. “But I get your point. However, I don’t really see a way to get better at it without someone to teach me.” 

“Oh!” he exclaimed so suddenly, Theo recoiled in shock. “You could ask Snape for help with Occlumency and then you could help me! That way I could stop Voldemort from accessing my mind in my sleep and I wouldn’t be a liability anymore!”

“You’re far from being a liability, Harry. But I see your point…” Theo chewed on his lip before sighing. “There’s nothing to lose in asking, I suppose. I’ll ask him when we get back to Hogwarts.” 

The next day they saw each other, Theo had brought over a couple of books: Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimency by Franciscus Fieldwake and Choose Your Minds Wisely by The European Society of Legilimens. Harry had made a show of rolling his eyes good-naturedly, but he made sure to thank Theo for the help. 

He’d spent his free days reading and practising what the books recommended, noticing how even though the dreams had dwindled over, he still saw that long dark corridor every once in a while. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when Theo spoke from the swing beside him. 

“I had forgotten, I have something for you,” said Theo, standing up to pull something from his pocket.   

“Another book?” Harry teased, stopping his swinging by digging his feet into the ground. Theo sent him a look before retrieving a small leather pouch.

“Happy belated birthday, Harry. I was planning on giving it to you on the actual date, but after our talk that day, I wanted to do some modifications that ended up taking longer than expected.” Harry gladly took the pouch and waited until Theo sat down again to open it. 

“You didn’t have to, Theo. Thank you.” Inside the pouch was a leather cord with a small wooden disk attached to it. As he inspected it, there was a large rune carved on one side, and two smaller ones carved on its back. “What do they mean?”

“The larger one is Dagaz, it means dawn, metamorphosis, and advancement. It symbolizes that truth and light must be the guide of one’s life and that life is continuous learning, in which if you commit yourself fully, you can overcome difficulties and fears and solve the many doubts that cause anguish, until you live in peace with your spirit, without the influences of the judgments of strangers.”

Harry ran his fingers over the small lines, feeling their indents. It had somewhat of a butterfly shape, with a dot in the bottom centre. He felt his breath get caught in his throat, “Theo, I ̶  I don’t know what to say…” 

“You don’t have to say anything. Originally, that was going to be it, but I added two more runes in the back, Algiz and Thurisaz,” said Theo, as Harry turned the small disk over. “Algiz, the one that looks like a tree, means protection, defence, and help. It’s a rune that can defend you from any enemy if only you can create around yourself a sacred space, a temple, an enclosure. Thurisaz, the triangle facing right, means defence. It’s not an active rune, but one that invites us to stop and reflect, to stop fighting ghosts and to start analysing ourselves, what we are, our essence. Thurisaz is loyalty, fidelity, and trust in ourselves, in our values and ideals. It’s associated with war and the daily fight against the enemy.”

Harry had to blink away the tears that had formed in his eyes. Every time he felt invisible, tossed to the side whenever he wasn’t of use, Theo managed to make him feel important, seen. 

“How am I supposed to wear it? As a necklace?” he asked, admiring the clean inscription of the runes. Next to him, Theo shrugged, looking up at the sky.

“If you choose to wear it, anywhere is fine. It has better effects if the rune is upright and the closer to your heart, the better.” With a smile, Harry lifted the cord over his head and arranged the pendant, so it was centred on his chest. “I also wrote a chant on the parchment inside the pouch, before going to bed you can read the words to centre yourself and to clear your mind.”

Harry dug into the bag once more, taking out the folded piece of parchment. 

Algiz, Dagaz et Thurisaz

protege me

scutum meum eris

animus sine noxa erit

dum sol occubuit luna custodiet me

et sic semper erit

“Why is it always Latin?” Harry bemoaned, before shaking his head. He carefully folded the parchment and stored it back on the pouch. “I really don’t know how to thank you, Theo.” 

“You wearing it is more than enough,” said Theo, shooting him a quick smile. “That should buy us more time until we can practice Occlumency at Hogwarts.” 

Harry didn’t know how long they had sat on the swings talking before the sound of other voices made them look up. The streetlamps from the nearby roads cast a misty glow strong enough to silhouette a group of people making their way toward them. He knew who they were, the figure in front was unmistakably his cousin, accompanied by his faithful gang. 

“Hey, Big-D.” Harry couldn’t help himself. “Beat up another ten-year-old?” He ignored the look Theo shot him.

“This one deserved it,” Dudley shot back with a grin, his friends behind him laughed in agreement. “Who’s your friend? Does he not know what a freak you are? He wouldn’t be hanging around you if he knew.”

“We’re friends from school,” Theo sneered at him, smiling in that nasty way of his. It always unnerved Harry, but he was happy enough to see it directed towards Dudley, who visibly paled at the admission. The rest of his gang laughed behind him, which seemed to give back Dudley the courage he had lost moments ago.

“Doesn’t he know what a coward you are at night?” he laughed, making Harry furrow his brow in confusion. 

“What do you mean? This is night, Diddy-kins. That’s what we call it when it goes all dark like this,” he said, grinning as Theo stifled a laugh next to him.

“I heard you last night!” said Dudley, making Harry’s smile slip from his face. Next to him, Theo had gone silent. “‘Don’t kill Cedric!’ Who’s Cedric? Your boyfriend?” His gang laughed loudly behind him. 

“Shut up,” Theo snarled. Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his mouth had gone dry. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, fourteen years’ hatred of Dudley pounding in his veins.

“Did your old boyfriend die? Did you get this one to replace him?” Dudley laughed, before turning to Theo. “You wouldn’t like him if you knew what a coward he was. Should’ve heard him the other night, ‘He’s going to kill me, Mum! He’s killed Cedric! Mum, help me! Boo-hoo!’ Where is your Mummy, Potter? Is she dead? Going to ̶ Don’t you point that thing at me! ” 

Harry hadn’t noticed when he had gotten up from the swing and had taken his wand out. Theo had gotten up as well and had grabbed the back of Harry’s shirt. 

“Don’t ever talk about that again,” Harry snarled, digging the tip of his wand into Dudley’s neck. “D’you understand me?” He could faintly hear Dudley’s friends laughing at him.

“Don’t be stupid, Harry. Put away your wand,” Theo whispered to him harshly. 

“Point that thing somewhere else!” Dudley wailed, breathing heavily. But Harry could only focus on the odd, shuddering gasp Theo gave from behind him, as if he had been doused in icy water. 

The warm breeze was gone, replaced by a piercing, bitingly cold wind. Dudley’s friends had stopped laughing. Something had happened to the night.

“Uh, Dudley. Dudley!”

“Dudley let’s go on home,” a couple of them tried but gave up when Dudley kept staring horrified at Harry. “We’re getting out of here, Dudley!” When the wind picked up, they quickly gave up and ran, slamming into the gate hard enough they broke the lock. 

“What are you doing? Stop it!” Dudley wailed, looking around. 

“I’m not doing anything!” said Harry, lowering his wand and turning to look at Theo, who had gone deathly pale. “You need to leave, Theo!” That seemed to break the other boy from his trance. 

“Absolutely not! I’m not leaving you with your inept Muggle cousin to deal with a dementor!” It spoke loads of how scared Dudley was, he didn’t say anything about Theo’s insult. Either that or he just didn’t know what inept meant. 

“Theo, you can’t help me here! You can’t do magic, it’ll activate both our Traces!” Theo shook his head, probably trying to come up with some sort of idea, knowing him. But they had no time. Harry grabbed both of his arms and shook him harshly.  

“Listen! Get out of here! Call Whilbie and go home! I’ll take Dudley home as well and I’ll write to you as soon as I can!” Harry screamed as the cold enveloped them, goosebumps had erupted up both their arms. “Please, Theo! Just go! Trust me!”

Theo looked around frantically before giving in, he grabbed Harry’s wrists tightly. “You have one hour! Do you hear me? One hour before I come back to look for you!” 

Harry nodded quickly and squeezed his arms once last time before letting go, turning around as much as he could, he noticed that Dudley had run off while they talked. “One hour, I promise!” With a sigh, Theo finally let go of his wrists and Harry ran off to search for Dudley.

When he reached the gate, he turned around one last time. Harry could barely see Theo’s figure accompanied by what could only be Whilbie before they both disappeared. Breathing out in relief, he began running after Dudley. He could faintly hear him blundering away, stumbling against the alley fence. 

“DUDLEY, COME BACK!” The night was so dark, he could hardly see where he was going. There was a horrible squealing yell, and Dudley’s heavy footsteps stopped.  

“DUDLEY! KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!” The moment he came closer, his stomach turned. The towering, hooded figure was gliding towards him, sucking on the night as it neared him. 

Harry stumbled back and raised his wand. 

“ Expecto Patronum!”

A silvery wisp of vapour shot from the tip of his wand and the dementor slowed, but the spell hadn’t worked correctly. He stumbled back once more, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and the dementor before raising his wand again. Concentrate, concentrate. 

He thought about Ron and Hermione, the idea of never seeing them again ̶

“ Expecto Patronum! ” A stronger wisp of light came through, it did stop the dementor for a moment, but it still wasn’t enough. 

He felt all happiness leave him, he could feel the dementor’s icy presence close in on him. Gagging, he reached to touch his throat and felt the leather cord wrapped around his neck. Theo. He had promised Theo ̶  He clutched the wooden pendant tightly as he fought for breath ̶  

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Theo was going out of his mind. 

The moment he and Whilbie had apparated back to Nott Manor, he had felt as if all the air had left his lungs and had no way of getting back in. Whilbie had tried to get him to drink some tea to calm down, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking enough for him to hold the cup without spilling the hot liquid. The old house-elf had instead settled on having him nibble on some chocolate as she waited for him to get his breathing under control.

They both sat in the kitchen in silence, watching the old clock as the seconds ticked by. The moment Harry’s hour was up, Theo was going to burn that Muggle house to the ground if he had to. 

After a couple of minutes, Whilbie suddenly perked up.

“Master Alaric is home, Young Master Theodore should go change for dinner!” she said, immediately apparating to wherever his father was in the manor to greet him. Theo dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Why now? His father was rarely home, but he chose to drop by this specific night?

He stared at his dirt-caked trousers and scratched shoes with a faint feeling of fondness. It felt like Harry had helped him jump over the fence days ago, rather than just a couple of hours. Sighing, he got to his feet and headed to his room, being careful not to make too much noise and making sure not to run into his father.

Once he got there, he changed quickly, making sure there wasn’t a speckle of dirt left on him. Checking his watch, he saw that Harry still had half an hour left. Theo took a deep breath, turning to stare at the picture of his mother he kept beside his bed. He lovingly took in her wide smile, holding him as a child and waving at the camera. 

“Let me be brave,” he whispered to her before squaring his shoulders and leaving his room. As he descended the stairs he could faintly hear his father talking to Whilbie from the dining room. Dinner, then. He could do dinner. 

Entering the room, the first thing he saw was the imposing figure of Alaric Nott sitting at the head of the table, nursing a glass of firewhiskey and reading the news from that day’s paper. Despite his dwindling age, he had managed to maintain his figure, his age only showing in the lines on his face and the white hairs adorning his temples. 

“Ah, Theodore. I was hoping you’d join me for dinner tonight.” His father’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, as he gestured to the seat to his right. Theo sat gingerly, making sure he didn’t make any sudden movements that could betray his nervousness. Whilbie appeared on his side with Alaric’s plate, placing it in front of him before bowing deeply. 

“Does Young Master Theodore want anything? Whilbie made roast leg of lamb.” Theo shook his head.

“No, thank you, Whilbie. Just a cup of tea for me.” Whilbie bowed at him before disappearing and reappearing with his tea.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes as Alaric perused the paper and ate.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” his father asked him.

Theo shook his head once more, “I’m not really hungry.”

Alaric downed a gulp of firewhiskey before addressing him again. “How are your studies?”

“They’re fine.”

“And your independent ones? I saw a rune you carved the other day, you’re getting quite good at it. Your grandfather would’ve been proud.” Theo nodded at the praise.

“Do you want some lamb?” he asked again, before taking a bite, wincing immediately. “This is cold. Whilbie!” The moment she appeared he dumped the plate on her hands. “Just get me a coffee, I have a meeting later.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for a meeting?” Theo asked without thinking. He barely avoided flinching when his father glared at him over his glasses.

“That doesn’t concern you, Theodore,” his father said before taking another sip of whiskey. Theo lifted his almost empty cup to his lips just to have something to do. He cleared his throat gently as he put it down.

“I should probably head upstairs. I haven’t started on Professor Snape’s summer homework,” he said, in a half-hearted attempt to leave the table. Alaric merely hummed in answer, focusing on the paper once more; when Whilbie returned with his coffee he finally looked up at Theo.

“Do you want dessert?”

“No, thank you. I had a heavy lunch, I wasn’t expecting to have dinner with you.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” said Alaric, putting down the paper and turning it so Theo could slide it toward him. The moment Theo extended his hand to grab the edge of the paper, his father quickly grabbed his wrist and pinned it against the table.

“You’ve read what is being written about the Potter boy, as I instructed you to?”

“Yes, sir,” Theo breathed, forcing himself to make eye contact. His father nodded in satisfaction and released his hand, leaning back on his chair.

“Good. Follow their lead. I want you to keep your head down and focus on your studies, as you always do. As far as you know, Potter is nothing but a desperate liar who craves attention. Lucius will be instructing the same to his son, but we all know how good that brat is at keeping a low profile,” he snarled, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s far too soft on that boy.”

Theo nodded at him.

“Tell me you understand, Theodore.” Alaric continued, staring at him over the rim of his cup.

“I understand, Father.”

“Good. The Ministry is finally moving regarding Dumbledore, as you can clearly read on that article,” focusing on the paper in front of him, Theo skimmed most of its contents. It appeared that Dumbledore had been removed, well ‘asked to step down’, from the post of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. “The decision was made last week but the Daily Prophet only just recently gained enough evidence to publish it.”

“Who will step in? Fudge?” Theo muttered as he handed the paper back to his father.

“Most likely,” Alaric answered, finishing his coffee. “You might expect some changes in your school’s curriculum, now that Dumbledore’s no longer untouchable. Maybe you’ll finally learn something useful. Whilbie!” he called, getting up and straightening his robes.

“Now, I need to get going. You know the rules, stay out of my wing. Whilbie is at your disposal if you need anything. Whilbie,” he turned to stare at her, making the house-elf shift on her feet, “if anything happens to Theodore in my absence, you’ll be facing that ten-fold, do you understand?”

Whilbie nodded violently. “Yes, Master. Whilbie will take good care of Young Master Theodore.”

Satisfied, his father turned to Theo once more. “I’ll be back in a couple of days. I don’t want to hear anything from you, do not disappoint me.”

Once he was done speaking, Alaric walked straight out of the manor and apparated away once he had crossed the boundaries. Sighing in relief, Theo and Whilbie shot each other a grateful look before Theo checked his watch. It was twenty minutes past the agreed hour and still no word from Harry.

That was it, he was going to storm through the Muggles’ front door if he had to.

“Whilbie, please take us to number 4, Privet Drive.” Whilbie nodded hesitantly before taking his hand.

“Whilbie asks Young Master Theodore to please stay behind her once they get there. Whilbie does not want anything to happen to Young Master Theodore,” she said gently, staring at him with her big eyes.

“I promise we’ll be careful. Let’s go.” With an energetic nod, Whilbie swiftly apparated them just under Harry’s window.

They both took a moment to assess their surroundings. The night was calm and warm, the complete opposite of what it had been a little more than an hour ago. The inside of the house was quiet as well, with only a couple of lights on. Hopefully, if the dementors hadn’t gotten to Harry, his relatives wouldn't have been able to off him either.

He then figured there was no way he would be able to get to Harry by himself.

“Whilbie,” he whispered to her, “can you apparate me to Harry’s room?” Whilbie nodded hesitantly before grabbing his hand once more and before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of Harry’s bedroom.

“Theo!” He heard the second he landed.

He immediately locked eyes with Harry, but unfortunately, his shoes got tangled in the rug under him, and he stumbled to the floor in a pile of limbs. They both froze, waiting for a voice from downstairs, but nothing happened.

Harry rushed over to help him up, but Theo could only focus on making sure the other boy was alright. He looked a little pale, but other than that, he seemed to be fine. Once he was assured the Gryffindor was not about to fall over dead, he slapped him over the head.

“Ow! Theo! What is the matter with you?” Harry whispered at him. It took almost all of Theo’s self-control to keep his voice down.

“This is the first and last time I ever leave you behind, Potter! ‘I’ll write to you as soon as I can!’ ” he parroted back at Harry, before whacking him over the head again for good measure. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! A lot has happened since I saw you, I was trying to wrap my head around it.” Harry shook his head before dropping to the bed he had vacated when Theo arrived. “Everything has gone to hell…”

Theo sat down beside him, “Harry, just what happened exactly?”

“I tried to get Dudley back here, but the dementors got to him first. He’s fine, I got there in time, and sent the dementor away  ̶ ”

“You know how to cast a Patronus?” Theo interrupted him, before widening his eyes. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

Harry smiled at him tiredly and nudged him with his shoulder. “It’s fine. I learned how to cast it during our third year, it’s a stag. Anyways, I get us both home but then I receive a letter from the Ministry saying I’m expelled, and someone would be here shortly to destroy my wand ̶ and  ̶  and I was just about to make a run for it, because how can I let them break my wand when Voldemort’s out there  ̶  just waiting to kill me?”

Theo couldn’t do much more than stare blankly at Harry during his rant, trying his best to absorb all the information being thrown at him, but Harry was far from done.

“But then I get another owl, this time from Mr. Weasley and he says that Dumbledore just arrived at the Ministry and to not leave the house and to not surrender my wand… And then as I’m trying to explain to my aunt and uncle just what happened I get another letter from the Ministry saying that I can keep my wand until my hearing on 12th August and that my expulsion from Hogwarts will be decided then as well… And then finally, I get a letter from Sirius telling me he just heard about what happened and to not leave the house,” he finished with a dry laugh.

“And I mean, I get that I used magic out of Hogwarts, but I just fought off two dementors that for some reason came to Little Whinging and attacked me and my cousin. Is it too much to ask for a ‘well-done’? Everyone is acting like I just decided to misbehave and they’re just waiting to assess the damage before they actually tell me off and I ̶ Theo?”

Harry stopped mid-rant to wave a hand in front of Theo, who was still blinking owlishly at him. Swallowing loudly, Theo focused on getting his brain connected to his mouth in order to at least say something ̶

“What the fuck? ”

Chapter Text

“What the fuck? ”

Maybe not that particular something.   

But apparently his outburst had shocked Harry into silence as well, considering the other boy was staring at him open-mouthed. The shock only lasted for a couple of seconds before he burst out laughing, his face going absurdly red in his attempt to keep his laughter quiet. Theo really did try to maintain his glare, but seeing Harry laugh took it out of him. 

He instead sighed before letting himself fall on Harry’s bed, covering his eyes with his hands. 

“Harry, I’m sorry, but your life is ridiculous,” he said, before lowering his hands and resting them on his stomach. “I can’t believe you fought off two dementors… and with a corporeal Patronus…” Of course, he knew Harry was a talented wizard. He’d had to be in order to survive everything that life had thrown at him. But a corporeal Patronus at fifteen? Even before that, according to Harry himself. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or angry at the fact that Harry hadn’t learnt that because he wanted to, but rather because he had needed to. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by Harry laying down next to him, their knees touching as their feet still rested on the floor. 

Theo turned his head sideways so he was facing Harry. “Harry, I- I can’t explain how sorry I am for not being there with you…” Harry, who had turned to look at him once Theo began speaking, frowned. 

“Theo, I was the one who told you to leave. If you hadn’t, it would be both of us in this mess.” 

“But I would’ve been able to testify for you, now you have no witnesses,” Theo muttered, turning to look at the ceiling of Harry’s room. “It’s ridiculous that they’re making you attend a hearing, magic may be used in front of Muggles in exceptional cases… If two dementors attacking you and your cousin is not exceptional, I don’t know what is.” 

Harry sat up, grabbing Theo’s arm to pull him upright. Once he was sitting, Theo felt a warm feeling settle on his stomach when he noticed Harry had yet to let go of his arm. 

“Sorry, there’s a law that states that?” His eyes had gotten wider, forcing Theo to look at his feet to get his bearings back.

“The decree that regulates underage magic has a lot of clauses to it, I’m sure there was one that mentioned an allowance for circumstances that threatened the lives of those involved- Why are you looking at me like that?” He broke off when he noticed Harry was staring at him fondly, it made him regret not changing out of his jumper before heading over to Harry’s. Ireland was a lot colder than Little Whinging. 

“You’re brilliant, Theo. I feel like I don’t say it enough, but you’re amazing.” 

Theo had to cough to avoid stuttering. Damn Harry and his stupidly nice face and his ridiculous smile. “Yes, well. Tell me that again after your hearing. My father has made a fortune of his own while dabbing in Wizarding Law, with all the material he has back at the Manor, I’ll make sure you’re more than prepared to hold your own during your hearing. We agreed to practice Occlumency this year at Hogwarts, you can’t bail on me now.” He made sure to take a good look at the room they were in as he talked, served Harry right for unleashing the full effect of his eyes on him. 

“I think I’ve learned more with you this summer than in four years at Hogwarts,” Harry laughed. “But don’t tell Hermione that, she’ll recruit you and the next thing you know we’ll be reviewing the Goblin Rebellions or something.”

Theo laughed with him before finally turning to look at him again, “I forgot to tell you, before we got sidetracked, I think you’re amazing Harry. It’s not every wizard that is capable of doing half of what you have done. So you can consider this your first ‘well-done’ of the night, I’m quite proud to be able to call you my friend-”

He wasn’t really done with his praise-Harry-segment, but he got his air pushed out of his lungs by the hug he received that moment. This time however, he didn’t hesitate to return it.

He was screwed, he accepted, as Harry’s hair tickled his nose. It seemed he now owed Daphne ten galleons for that.

“I’m so glad Hermione tricked you into getting that classroom for us to practice,” Harry was saying, as he finally let go. 

Theo shrugged, raising a hand to smooth his hair down a bit. “I’d thank you badgering me in the library after that, I got invested in seeing you survive that tournament. Plus, I really wanted to get a good look at your cloak.”

Harry shook his head and got up the bed, taking a moment to stretch. “Do you mind if I write to Ron and Hermione? Even with their entire ‘we can’t tell you anything, Harry. Dumbledore told us so’, I figure I should try my luck and write to them. I should also write to Sirius about it…” Theo shook his head at him.

“Go right ahead, there’s no way they’ll ignore a dementor attack,” he said, as he leaned back on his hands. He figured he might as well use the time to process everything Harry had told him. 

Listening to the soothing sound of Harry’s quill against parchment, he went through the events of that night one by one. It had surprised him to hear that Dumbledore hadn’t written to Harry, given the professor clearly favoured him. It didn’t make sense, why was he avoiding the Gryffindor? They were both being discredited by the Daily Prophet, both were crucial players in the fight against the Dark Lord, why was he avoiding him? Was it because of Harry’s connection to Riddle? But Theo was willing to drink an entire bottle of Bubotuber pus that Dumbledore was one of the best, probably even the best he admitted grudgingly, Legilimens alive. So why not teach Harry Occlumency himself if he was so worried?

It.

Didn’t.

Make.

Sense.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, a habit he had picked up from Harry. He regretted it the instant he had done it, though, already feeling how his hair was defying gravity. He groaned, trying his best to get it back to normal, that’s what he got for touching his curls. 

By the time Harry was finished with his letters, his hair no longer looked like he had crashed-landed a broom, or so he hoped. That feeling was squashed when Harry turned to look at him and snorted. 

“What did you do? Poke your finger in the electric socket?” he snickered as he sat down once more, earning himself a sneer from Theo, who didn’t need to know what a ‘socket’ was to understand it wasn’t good. “All that’s left is waiting, I guess… Hopefully by tomorrow I might have some answers, maybe even an evacuation plan or something.”

Theo hummed noncommittally, he had a bad feeling about that. If they weren’t mentioning any details out of fear of their post being intercepted, then there was no way they would specify any plans of moving Harry out of his relative’s home in their letters. Still, he thought as he stared at Harry’s hopeful face staring out the window, hope is the last thing you’re supposed to lose. 

Harry was seething. 

It was three days after the dementor attack, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. He spent those days locked in his bedroom, only leaving it to go to the bathroom. Three times a day, his aunt pushed shoved food into his room through the cat flap Uncle Vernon had installed three summers ago.

Theo had been livid when he found out about that. 

Speaking of Theo, he was pretty much the only reason he hadn’t lost it by that point. The other boy had been pretty much spending his days locked in with Harry, leaving to sleep and get changed. The first night they had fallen asleep talking about anything that came into mind, which entailed progress with runes and news on the Wizarding World courtesy of Theo, and random Muggle trivia by Harry. 

Waking up with Theo’s face pressed against his neck was an experience Harry wasn’t too sure how to feel about. After Theo had rushed home in a panic, it had taken them most of that second day to be able to look at each other in the eye without blushing. But that night, once Theo had gone home, he found himself missing the warmth from sleeping close to someone else. Plus, seeing Theo that red first thing in the morning had quickly become one of Harry’s fondest memories. 

The morning of the third day came with a list of wizards well versed in Magical Law, which Theo recommended he should contact to at least get some advice before his hearing, if not representation. Because apparently, the Wizarding World had no lawyers and that was the closest thing they were able to get. Harry wasn’t too hopeful about the latter, seeing as almost the entire Magical Community had followed the Ministry and turned their backs on him. Still, he heeded his friend’s idea and wrote to those listed, hopefully he would get an answer soon enough. 

Currently, Theo was campaigning for a ‘Most Patient Human on Earth’ Award with how he had been putting up with Harry’s moods. The other boy was currently perusing one of the boxes filled with Dudley’s old gifts while Harry paced and muttered under his breath. 

“I mean honestly, how dare they? Leaving me to stew in this mess? Am I asking for too much? A letter of ‘Hey, we’re working on it. You’re not going to be expelled.’ Just a tiny, little letter of reassurance! Something!” he grumbled, throwing himself on his bed. He knew he was sulking and acting unbearable, but he figured he was entitled to it.

“You know you’re not asking for too much, Harry,” Theo said from his spot on the floor, elbows deep in the box nearest to him. “Besides, we are doing something about it. I’ve told you about clause seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, that’s our main play while we wait for advice.” He held up one of Dudley’s old presents, a busted video-recorder that had lasted a whopping four days before he smashed it. Deeming it garbage, he set it aside before continuing his search. 

“I suppose it was Dumbledore who got them to change their mind that day, don’t you think? What with the whole, ‘nevermind, we’ll decide everything on 12 th August’ right after Mr. Weasley told me he had just arrived at the Ministry,” Harry wondered out loud, content with watching Theo rummage around. 

“I’d agree with you, I don’t think anyone else is capable of making the Ministry go back on something they said,” said boy added, switching boxes when he found nothing worthwhile in the first one. 

Harry wondered what he would do if they ruled against him and snapped his wand in half. Where would he go? There was no way he could return to living full-time with the Dursleys, not when he had another world he actually belonged to. Maybe he could live with Sirius? There were other wandmakers around Europe, he could get a second wand and teach himself, or even Sirius could teach him. But the idea of never going back to Hogwarts made him feel sick to his stomach. Never walking the halls again, playing Quidditch with the Gryffindor team… no more meals in the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, no more late nights in the Gryffindor common room… 

Theo sneezed suddenly, snapping Harry out of his musings. At least he could count on Theo sticking around, given how the other boy was clearly willing to ignore any orders he had on staying away from Harry and had his house elf at his disposal to travel wherever he needed to. 

“Hey, what is this?” the Slytherin asked, holding up a battered copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It was covered in dust, and the pages were yellowed with age. Well, that explained the sneezing.  

“It’s required reading in Muggle schools, it’s about this girl who falls through a hole into a fantasy world of talking animals. It’s kind of nonsense in a good way,” he said, watching as Theo flicked over the first pages. “It’s a miracle it’s even in one piece after Dudley had it in his hands. He usually destroys books.”

His friend shot him an indignant look at that, “What do you mean he usually destroys books?” 

“My cousin is the Muggle version of Crabbe and Goyle combined, I wouldn’t be too surprised if I were you.” Harry said, shrugging, “you can keep it if you want, no one will notice it’s missing.”  

Theo smiled in thanks and put the book aside for later, “Thank you, my Muggle literature got held up due to a lack of new material.” Harry frowned at the comment.

“I thought Hermione had been recommending you books?” he asked, ignoring the bile rising in his throat over the fact that his friend had been willing to write to Theo but not to him. 

Theo shook his head, “If she won’t write to you, then I won’t write to her. It’s called solidarity, Harry. I did try to reason with her over her lack of communication with you, but she’s insistent that Dumbledore won’t allow it.” 

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation, “I don't get it, she was all for it when it came to setting Snape’s robes on fire. But disobeying Dumbledore is out?”

Theo’s eyebrows nearly jumped out of his face. “What do you mean ‘setting Snape’s robes on fire?’” 

The rest of the afternoon went on by lazily. Theo’s elf, Whilbie, appeared around lunch with both Cornish Pasties and Treacle Tarts, much to Harry’s delight. She refused to leave until Theo had eaten at least one of each, and then when Harry assured her he would get the other boy to eat some more during the afternoon, she bowed deeply to him, thanking for helping her in making sure ‘Young Master Theodore’ didn’t waste away. 

He was still snickering when the elf apparated away, without a single look toward an astonished Theo. 

“Sod off,” the Slytherin grumbled, grabbing another pastie for himself.

“Yes, Young Master Theodore,” Harry replied gleefully, biting into a Treacle Tart. He nearly moaned at the taste, Whilbie was a fine house-elf in his books. She reminded him of Dobbie, if only he were older, female and a lot more stern. 

“You try to get a house-elf to call you by something normal, then we’ll talk.” 

It was just getting dark when they both heard steps approaching his door. Quickly Theo shuffled into his closet as Harry pushed the empty plates under his bed. The Slytherin had just closed the door when Uncle Vernon burst into the room. Taking a seat on his bed, Harry took a good look at him, his uncle was wearing his best suit and a smug expression.      

“We’re going out,” he said.

“Fine,” Harry answered, looking at the ceiling. Just leave, he thought. I was actually enjoying myself.

“You are not to leave your bedroom while we’re gone.”

“Okay.”

“You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions.”

“Right.”

“You are not to steal food from the fridge.”

“Okay.” 

His uncle frowned at his lack of argument. “I’m going to lock your door.”

“You do that,” Harry shrugged. After the incident at the park, Theo had been carrying his pen-knife everywhere. If the Slytherin wanted to get out of the room at some point, he was getting out. 

Uncle Vernon glared at him one last time before stomping out, Harry could hear the key in the lock followed by his stomping footsteps. Theo then poked his head out of the closet, “Charming, that Muggle of yours.”

As Theo made himself comfortable on Harry’s bed once more, they could faintly hear the sound of car doors slamming, the rumble of an engine and said car sweeping out of the drive. 

“Have I ever told you that I utterly despise your relatives?” Theo asked conversationally, making Harry bark out a laugh. 

“I think you may have mentioned that over the last three days,” he laughed. “But it’s always appreciated. This one time, they actually put bars on the window over there.” Harry mentioned, gesturing towards the open window. That was a fond memory, he thought, remembering the excitement he had felt seeing the Weasley’s Ford Anglia hover outside his window. 

His thoughts immediately soured when he thought about how Ron had done that three summers ago but was unwilling to do so, this time. Shaking his head, he figured he wasn’t being fair. Mr. Weasley had gotten into a lot of trouble because of that car, so Ron wouldn’t have it at his disposal like last time. 

Eager to move on to another subject, he turned to Theo. “I haven’t asked you, do you have any plans for the rest of the summer?” Please, say no. He thought, selfishly wanting to keep Theo’s company to himself before he had to attend his hearing. 

“I’ll be spending the last weeks of August with Blaise once he gets back from Italy, and we’ll probably head over to Diagon Alley with Tracey and Daphne for my birthday. Other than that, I don’t really have any more plans.” 

Harry forced himself to be happy for his friend. “That sounds great. 24 th August, right?”

As Theo nodded, Harry fretted over what exactly to get him for his birthday. How the hell was he going to get even close to a hand-carved rune pendant especially designed for him? He figured he could order a gift by owl, but it seemed too impersonal to him. 

 “If you’re free that day, well… I wouldn’t mind stopping by here to pick you up,” Theo said quickly, looking at him nervously. “Whilbie could apparate us to London and I’d have you back before your relatives even noticed you were missing. If you think about it, you wouldn’t even be disobeying Black considering it will be after your hearing, which I have complete faith will go entirely in your favour-” When was he planning on stopping to breathe?

“Theo!” Harry interrupted him with a smile. “I’d love to go, count me in. Won’t your friends mind?”   

“Absolutely not, they know better than that. You may find them to be quite agreeable, not every Slytherin has Malfoy as a role-model,” Theo laughed, seeming quite pleased with Harry’s answer. But his laughter was cut short the instant they heard a distinct crash in the kitchen below. They both sat upright and stared wide-eyed at each other, listening for more sounds. Harry’s mind was racing, there was no way the Dursleys were back already, and in any case he hadn’t heard their car pull up. 

They kept silent for a couple of seconds, and then they heard voices. 

“Burglars?” Theo whispered next to him, his left hand inching closer to his right arm, where Harry knew his wand was held in its holster. Silently, Harry shook his head, burglars would’ve kept silent and there was just too much noise coming from the kitchen for it to be that case. 

Motioning for Theo to stay behind him, all he got for his troubles was an ungrateful eye-roll, he snatched his wand from his bedside table and they both stood facing the bedroom door. Theo had yet to draw his wand when the lock clicked and the door swung open, prompting Harry to shove him to the right, right into Dudley’s dusty old boxes which thankfully muffled the noise from his fall. 

Ignoring as Theo hissed out some indignant curses, Harry stood motionless, staring motionless at the dark upstairs landing. When he heard no further noises, he shushed his friend before moving swiftly out of his room and walked to the head of the stairs.  

The moment he stared down, his heart shot up into his throat. There were eight or nine people looking up at him, silhouetted against the glow of the streetlight through the glass window. 

“It’s alright, Harry. You can lower your wand, we’ve come to take you away.” He knew that voice, even if he hadn’t heard in more than a year. 

“Professor Lupin? Is that you?” he asked loudly, hoping Theo would hear him and get out somehow. Lowering his wand, he fumbled with his free hand until he found the light switch. 

Harry blinked as light flooded the room, Remus Lupin stood in front of the people crowded below, wearing a kind smile. He looked worse than the last time Harry had seen him, he had far more grey hair and his robes hung shabbier than ever on him. 

“How are you, Harry?” he asked, looking at Harry closely. Before Harry could answer him, a familiar figure pushed Lupin aside. Mad-Eye Moody, the real one this time, looked him up and down with his magical eye. 

“Are you sure it's him, Lupin?” As his blue eye began looking around, Harry hurriedly began walking down the stairs. Anything to stop Mad-Eye from looking through the walls and spotting Theo in his room. 

“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” Lupin asked. 

“A stag,” he answered nervously. 

“That’s him, Mad-Eye,” Lupin said as Harry paused his descent, feeling self-conscious of everyone staring at him. His old professor seemed to notice his hesitance, and took a step forward. “A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you. This is-”

“Introductions can wait!” Moody interrupted. “We need to be ready when the signal comes. Harry, you should go get packed up while wait. Nymphadora can go help you,” he motioned towards a witch whose hair was a violent shade of violet.

“ Don’t call me Nymphadora,” she shuddered. “Just Tonks is fine, Harry,” Tonks said, shooting a wink his way. Harry noticed she looked like the youngest of the bunch; she had a pale heart-shaped face and dark-twinkling eyes. He quickly tried to think of a reason why he should go alone, but she herded him up the stairs before he could stutter out an excuse. 

“Let's go then,” Tonks said brightly, as they walked. Harry tried his best to get ahead of her without looking suspicious, to try and warn Theo to call Whilbie and apparate away, but she remained fast behind him. 

“Funny place,” she was saying, “a bit too clean,  d’you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. My dad’s a Muggleborn, he’s a right slob. You wouldn’t imagine-” She trailed off the moment she flicked the lights on.

Theo stood right in the centre of the room, covered in dust and handing over the empty food plates over to Whilbie. To Tonks’s credit, she only blinked once at him before closing the door gently and turning over to Harry.    

“So, care to tell me why I’m seeing another boy and a house-elf in your room?” she asked, apparently not deeming Theo enough of a threat to take out her wand. In a flash, Whilbie vanished the dishes she was holding, walking to stand in front of her charge.   

“Too many glasses of sherry?” Theo blurted out before Harry could answer, making the latter roll his eyes at him. Tonks apparently found it amusing, and barked out a low laugh. 

“Just be on your way, kid. Before anyone else, especially a certain wizard with a magical eye, finds out you're here,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the closed door. Harry shot her a grateful look before walking over to his friend. He hugged Theo briefly, taking advantage of the closeness to whisper in his year. 

“I’ll send you an owl before I go to sleep, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.” 

Theo smiled at him tightly as they separated, nodding towards Tonks. Harry sent him the brightest smile he could muster. As glad as he was to finally leave the Dursleys, it pained him that his friend couldn’t follow. 

“I’ll see you around, Harry,” he said in a low voice, before grabbing Whilbie’s hand and apparating away. 

Harry stared at the spot where Theo had stood just moments before for a few seconds, but then forced himself to stare at Tonks instead. The smile slid off his face when he noticed the amused look Tonks had on her face. 

“Harry, Harry,” she teased, walking around his room. “Who would’ve known you had a boy in your room, especially so late at night. Anyways, since we already interrupted your night, might as well get your things packed, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, I’ll get right to it… Tonks?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to keep what just happened to yourself, would you?” The older witch shot him a blinding smile and threw an arm over his shoulders. 

“D’you really have to ask? Your secret’s safe with me,” Tonks winked at him, before spotting Hedwig’s empty cage and grimacing. His owl had been gone for a couple of days with his letters for Ron and Hermione, with orders not to come back until she had a decently sized answer. Pecking them had been a bonus. Unfortunately, Harry hadn’t cleaned it in quite some time. How had he not noticed that? He worried in dismay whether or not Theo had spotted the state of it when he was over. 

“That could do with a bit of cleaning before we get going- Scourgify! ” Tonks said, pointing her wand at the empty cage. A couple of feathers and some of the droppings disappeared. “Oh, well. I never really got the hang of householdy spells, y’know? But that’s better than nothing.”

As she talked, Harry began picking up his school books and throwing them hastily in his trunk. Catching the opened box Theo had been going over earlier, he caught a glimpse of an unopened smaller box inside it. He reached over and took it out gently.

It was an old Polaroid camera, still in its unopened original packaging. He faintly remembered that one, Dudley had deemed it as ‘old and lame’ and once he had found the RC Racing Car, had forgotten all about the camera. Turning the box over, he considered it as an idea began to form in his mind. 

Muggle-made? Check.

Not electricity based to avoid magical interference? Check.

Different yet familiar enough to catch Theo’s interest? Check.

Who would’ve known Dudley would help in finding a birthday present for the Slytherin? He thought with a smile, as he stood up with the box held carefully in his hands. It would’ve been nicer if he’d been able to buy something himself, but extenuating circumstances and all that, it was a gift he could get behind.   

“You know, I don’t think purple is my colour. It makes me look a bit peaky, don’t you think?” Tonks was asking, causing Harry to look up at her. She was standing in front of the mirror, tugging at a lock of violet hair. 

“Er-” Harry began, storing the camera box carefully in his trunk. 

“Yeah, I think it does,” she said decisively, before scrunching her face in concentration. A second later, her hair was a shocking bubblegum pink. 

“How did you do that?” Harry asked, amazed, throwing most of his clothes on the bed. Tonks finally opened her eyes and looked at herself appraisingly in the mirror. 

“I’m a Metamorphmagus- Oh, yeah. Much better,” she said, turning so she could take a look at her hair from all angles. “It means I can change my appearance at will, you can only be born one though. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without having to practice at all, it was great.”

“You’re an Auror?” Harry asked in admiration, pausing in chucking his shoes over his clothes. He’d deal with their dirt when he got to wherever it was he was going.

“Yeah,” she answered, “just like Kingsley, but he’s a lot more qualified than I am. I just barely passed Stealth and Tracking. I’m mad clumsy, did you hear the ruckus I caused earlier when we arrived?” 

Harry nodded absentmindedly. An Auror. Being a Dark Wizard catcher was the only career he had ever considered after Hogwarts. Maybe he could talk to Tonks later and ask if he could owl her with questions he had?

“But we’re supposed to be packing, Harry. We’ve got to get going soon. Here, let me just-”  The witch waved her wand in a long, sweeping movement over everything Harry had thrown on the bed during their conversation. Clothes, shoes, telescope and scales all soared through the air and landed inside the trunk. Harry hurried to check the state of Theo’s future present, but thankfully it hadn’t been bruised by the incoming projectiles. 

“Oh-” Tonks sighed, as they took in the jumble. She scratched at the back of her head as Harry slammed the trunk shut. “At least it’s all in? Anyway, got everything? Cauldron? Broom? Cage- Is that a Firebolt? Wow!” 

Tonks' eyes widened as she took in the broomstick in Harry’s right hand. His pride and joy, Sirius’s gift to him during third year.

“And I’m still riding a Comet Two-Sixty,” she muttered enviously, shaking her head. She offered to take Hedwig’s empty cage, which Harry handed to her eagerly. Even with the cleaning charm, it still smelled a bit. “Anyway, let’s go. Locomotor! ” 

Harry’s trunk rose in the air and Tonks, holding her wand like a conductor’s baton, made it hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them. 

“Is there anything you need to do before we leave?” She asked him.

“Are you kidding? Let’s get out of here,” Harry answered, eager to get the hell out of Privet Drive. Satisfied with his answer, Tonks walked out of the room with Harry following her excitedly. 

Chapter Text

“Oh, Harry! It’s lovely to see you!” Mrs. Weasley had been the first person Harry had come across once he stepped inside what he now knew was Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Whatever that was. 

The older woman had pulled him into a hug, he felt the strain on his ribs from the sheer strength of it. She pulled back, holding him at arms-length and inspected him with a critical eye. “You look a bit peaky. Not as bad as other years but some feeding would do you good. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit before dinner though,” she said with a soft smile, guiding him gently toward the stairs with an arm around his shoulders before turning to look at the other wizards who had accompanied him. 

“The meeting’s just started,” Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing to the door she had come out from.

Lupin and Tonks were the last ones to leave, both throwing quick smiles at Harry before entering the room. Tonks was brazen enough to turn at the last second and wink at him. Harry tried to follow them, but Mrs. Weasley’s hold on his shoulders stopped him. 

“I’m sorry, dear. The meeting’s only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs,” she said, making Harry feel sick to his stomach. At least they weren’t in the meetings then. “You can wait with them until the meeting’s over, then we’ll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall,” she added in a hushed whisper.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to wake anything up”

“What d’you —”

“I’ll explain later, I’ve got to hurry,” Mrs. Weasley muttered as they started up the dark staircase, barely avoiding tripping on a horrible umbrella stand that seemed to be made of a troll’s leg. “I’m supposed to be at the meeting, I’ll just show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

Every step made Harry feel like he was stepping into a house of horrors, the latest addition being an entire wall dedicated to a row of house-elves’ heads mounted on plaques. He shivered picturing the heads of Dobby and Whilbie amongst the others, and shook his head to clear those thoughts. 

Just what the hell was this place?   

“Mrs. Weasley, why —”

“Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear. I’ve really got to hurry,” she said once they reached the second landing. “There,” she said, pointing toward the hall. “You’re the door on the right. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

She took a moment to cup Harry’s face in her hands, giving him a fond look before hurrying down the stairs. “It’s so good to have you here, Harry!”

Harry watched her descend the stairs as far as the railing would allow him, and once she was out of sight, he took his time looking at the decorations. After everything that summer, he wasn’t in a rush to see Ron and Hermione.

The old fashioned gas lights provided barely enough lighting, making the hallway look even gloomier with its yellowed wallpaper and threadbare carpets. The chandelier above him was covered in cobwebs and was shaped like a serpent. Harry wondered if Nott Manor’s decorations were anything like what he was seeing, Though, having met their current house-elf, it certainly wouldn’t be so dirty. 

Thinking about anything Theo-related made him immediately wish the other boy was there with him, if only to hear him complain about the state of everything. He’d probably say something ridiculous, like how the dampness in the air was bound to get absorbed in his clothing or how gaudy the decorations were. Harry laughed gently, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. He then remembered his promise to write to him as soon as he could, the thought sobering him up.   

Might as well meet his friends, then.

Harry crossed the dingy landing, reached towards the bedroom doorknob and rolled his eyes the second he saw it was shaped like a serpent’s head. Forget his previous thought, the second this house had a good cleaning, Theo would love it here. He’d probably feel like he was back in Hogwarts.    

He took in a deep breath before opening the door, barely catching sight of a gloomy, high-ceilinged, twin-bed room before he was assaulted by a large quantity of very bushy brown hair. It was immediately followed by a loud shriek that nearly burst his eardrums. 

“HARRY! Ron! Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive!” Hermione said, as she hugged him tightly. Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly around their heads. “Oh, how are you? Are you alright? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were absolutely useless — but Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t, oh, we’ve got so much to tell you! And you’ve got to tells us — the dementors! When we heard — and that Ministry hearing —  it’s just outrageous, I’ve looked it up, they can’t expel you, they just can’t, there’s provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations and —”

“Let him breathe, Hermione,” Ron said, grinning, while closing the door behind Harry. He had grown even taller during the month they hadn’t seen each other. It made him look even more gangly looking than before, but the long nose, blue eyes and freckles were the same as always. 

Hermione was still beaming when she let go of Harry, but she was forced to take a step back when something white soared around Harry, landing gently on his shoulder.

“Hedwig!”

The snowy owl clicked her beak at him and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers. 

“She’s been in a right state since she brought your last letters,” Ron said. “She nearly pecked us to death, look at this,” he showed Harry his index finger of his right hand, which sported a healing but quite deep cut. 

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, not pausing in his stroking. “Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know…”

“And we wanted to give them to you, mate,” Ron said, “Hermione was going mad, she kept saying you’d do you something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us —” 

“— swear not to tell me,” Harry said, tone suddenly chilly. “Yeah, Hermione’s already said.”

Whatever small glow that had flared inside Harry upon seeing both his friends again had all but vanished, extinguished as an incy feeling took hold of his stomach. After missing them for a solid month… he suddenly wished Ron and Hermione would leave him alone. 

He continued stroking Hedwig’s feathers, ignored as the strained silence grew longer, not staring at either of them. 

“He seemed to think it was best,” Hermione said almost breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.”

“Right,” Harry muttered, noticing that she too had the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found he didn’t feel sorry at all. 

Ron piped in again, trying to keep the peace. “I think he thought you’d be safest with the Muggles —”    

Harry scoffed loudly. “Oh, yeah? Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?” he asked them, raising his eyebrows. 

“Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time —”  

But that only made him feel angrier. So everyone had known he was being followed but him?

“Well, it didn't work that well, though, did it?” Harry asked, grinding his teeth together. He tried his best to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?” 

“He was so angry,” Hermione muttered in awe. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift was over. He was scary…”

“And yet, Dumbledore still trusted him enough to send him to tail me without even letting me know. If I hadn’t sent Theo away he would also be stuck in this mess thanks to Dumbledore’s planning!” He shouldn’t have said that last part but it had slipped off his tongue before he’d had a chance to stop it. 

Ron and Hermione visibly blanched at the admission.

“What was Nott doing there?” Ron asked indignantly. 

“You want to know what he was doing? He was actually a good friend and cared enough about me to check-in how I was doing,” Harry snarled at them both.

“Harry, Dumbledore told us —”

“Yes! Hermione. He told you not to tell me anything important in case the owls got intercepted. But did he tell you not to ask how I was doing?” Harry felt like ripping his hair out in frustration. “I saw Cedric die right in front of me, and did anyone bother asking me how I was doing? Of course, Theo was there! He actually kept me company and stopped me from going mad trapped there with my relatives with no information!”

Harry breathed in and tried his best to keep himself calm. Or to at least calm down a bit. 

“And you could’ve called, Hermione. I get that post can be intercepted, but what kept you from using a phone and calling the Dursley’s at the beginning of the summer?” Harry didn’t wait for answer. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to hear one. 

He walked away from them, looking around with Hedwig sitting contently on his shoulder. Unfortunately, the dark room was not likely to raise his spirits.     

“So why’s Dumbledore so keen to keep me in the dark?” Besides the possibility of Voldemort being able to enter my mind. Harry thought to himself before shaking his head, Hedwig let out an indignant click when he jostled her. He’d been practicing what the books said and clearing his mind before going to sleep. Though, he mostly attributed the lack of dark corridors in his dreams to Theo’s amulet and the chant he now knew by heart.. 

When neither of his friends answered his question, he swallowed deeply. “Did you — er — bother to ask at all?” 

He glanced up in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper. 

“We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell what was going on,” Ron started, “we really did, mate. But he’s mad busy now, we’ve only seen him twice since we came here and he didn’t have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you anything important when we wrote —”

“Maybe he thinks I can’t be trusted,” Harry said, carefully watching their expressions. 

“Don’t be thick,” said a disconcerted Ron. 

“Or that I can’t take care of myself —”

“Of course he doesn’t think that at all!” Hermione said in an anxious tone.

“So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you two get to join in everything that’s going on here?” Harry snarled at them, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “How come you two are allowed to know everything that’s going on —”

“We’re not!” Ron interrupted in. “Mum won’t let us near the meetings, she says we’re too young to —”

“OH, BIG DEAL! YOU HAVEN’T BEEN TO THE MEETINGS BUT YOU’VE BEEN HERE TOGETHER! I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO HAVE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS THAT! WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE AND KILLED THE BASILISK?”

 Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told anything about it: all the feeling he was half-ashamed of finally burst out of his chest. Hedwig had flown off his shoulder the moment he began shouting, seeking solace with Pigwidgeon on top of the wardrobe. 

“WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO FIGHT HIM TO ESCAPE? ME!”

Ron stood frozen with his mouth half-open, clearly at a loss for words, while Hermione looked on the verge of tears. 

“BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING? IT’S NOT AS IF HE HAS BEEN TRYING TO KILL ME SINCE I WAS BABY! IT’S NOT AS IF I HAVE TO FIGHT SOME VERSION OF HIM EVERY SINGLE YEAR! ”

“Harry we wanted to tell you, we really did — ” Hermione began.

“CAN’T HAVE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU’D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT SINCE DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR —”

“Well, he did —”

“FOUR WEEKS I’VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE! I’VE BEEN NICKING PAPERS OUT OF TRASH BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON! THE ONE SOURCE OF INFORMATION I’VE HAD IS THEO, THE DEATH EATER’S SON WE BLACKMAILED INTO HELPING ME LAST YEAR! AND HE’S BEEN THE ONE TO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT ME ENOUGH TO KEEP ME UPDATED AFTER WHAT I WENT THROUGH LAST YEAR!”

“Harry, I —”

“Harry, we’re really sorry!” Hermione said desperately, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “You’re absolutely right! I’d be furious if it was me!”

Harry glared at her, breathing in deeply. He could still feel the blood pounding in his head. He closed his eyes and turned away from them, pacing up and down the room. Hedwig hooted glumly from her perch.

“What is this place, anyway?”

“Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” said Ron at once, making Harry roll his eyes. 

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Er,” said Ron, a little taken aback. “A secret organisation, theoretically.”

“Dumbledore’s in charge,” said Hermione quickly. “He founded it. It’s the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.”

“Who’s in it?” Harry asked, finally putting an end to his pacing and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Quite a few people—“ Hermione started.

“We’ve met about twenty of them, but we think there are more.”

“But what are they doing, exactly?” asked Harry impatiently, looking from to the other. “About Voldemort?”

Both Ron and Hermione winced at the name. “They won’t let us in the meetings,” said Hermione, “so we’ve only got a general idea…”

She seemed reluctant to go on, so Ron jumped in. “Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see. They’re really useful.”

Harry frowned. “Extendable—“

“Ears, yeah. They let you eavesdrop, er, better. Only we’ve had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. But we found out some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—”

“Others are working on recruiting more people to the Order,” Hermione added.

“Yeah, and some of them are standing guard over something,” Ron added. “They’re always talking about guard duty.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t have been me, could it?”

Ron paused. “Oh, yeah.” He said, with a look of dawning comprehension.

Harry snorted and resumed his pacing, looking anywhere but at Ron and Hermione. “If you haven’t been at the meetings, what are you doing? Your letters said you were busy.”

“We have been,” Hermione hurried to say. “We’ve been decontaminating this house, it’s been empty for ages and stuff’s been breeding in here. We’ve managed to clean the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and — AAARGH!”

With two loud cracks, Fred and George materialised out of thin air. 

“Stop doing that!” Hermione said weakly to the twins

“Hello, Harry,” George said, beaming at him. “We thought we heard your dulcet tones.”

“You know, Harry, it’s not really good for you to bottle your feelings,” said Fred. “You should let it all out, there’s probably someone about fifty miles away who didn’t hear you the first time.”

Harry shook his head. “I see you two passed your Apparition tests, then.”

“With distinction,” said Fred, holding what looked like a very long flesh-coloured string.

“It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs,” said Ron.

“Time is Galleons, little brother,” Fred replied. Noticing Harry’s curious look, he held up the string so he could inspect it better. “Extendable Ears, we were trying to hear what’s going on downstairs.”

“You want to be careful,” said Ron. “If Mum sees one of them again…”

“It’s worth the risk; that’s a major meeting they’re having. Even Snape’s here tonight.” Harry wondered what his least favourite professor at Hogwarts was doing for the Order of the Phoenix.

“Snape?” Harry asked quickly. “He’s here?”

“Yeah,” George answered, sitting on one of the beds. “Giving a report. Top secret.”

“Git,” Fred muttered icily.

“He’s on our side now,” Hermione frowned at him, making Ron snort.

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a git.”

The door opened again, letting in the youngest Weasley. “There you are. Oh, hello, Harry! Anyway, it’s a no-go with the Extendable Ears, she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.”

George looked crestfallen. “How d’you know?”

“Tonks showed me how to find out. You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can’t make contact, the door’s been Imperturbed. Been flicking Dungbombs at it for a while.” Ginny shrugged. 

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a horrible, earsplitting, blood curdling screech. Immediately alert, Harry jumped to his feet, yet he was confused when no one else moved. 

Ron rolled his eyes and stood up, motioning for Harry to follow him. As they exited the room and began walking down the stairs, Harry could hear a muffled screaming getting louder by the second.   

“ Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —”

When they reached the first landing, the screaming had become so loud Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears. Mrs. Weasley, Lupin and a black haired man were tugging the curtains framing the screaming portrait of a woman.

“Shut up, you horrible old hag — shut — UP!” the man roared, and with a stupendous effort,the three managed to force the curtains closed. He panted slightly and sweeped his long hair out of his eyes. It was then that Harry recognized him.

Sirius.

Harry jumped over the remaining steps, eager to reach him. Sirius had also spotted him, his face brightened the instant he saw Harry and a beaming smile stretched on his face. As he neared him, Sirius opened his arms and Harry immediately wrapped his godfather in a hug. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Sirius said in a rough voice, squeezing him just so. Harry just nodded. Having Sirius around, being able to speak to him face to face, being able to hug him — it made him feel like everything was going to be alright. His family was right there.

Chapter Text

Dear Theo,

I’m really sorry for writing to you so late, things are crazy over here and I can’t really begin to explain it. 

I’m okay. 

I’m with Sirius, Ron and Hermione. Well, nearly the entire Weasley family is here. It turns out they were busy cleaning. Yes, you read that right, cleaning. I can’t believe that piece of information was ‘too important’ to share by owl. God forbid someone finds out they were busy with summer cleaning.

I’ve cleared the air with Ron and Hermione, just so you know — it didn’t go well. I’m glad you weren't there for it, I know you hate it when I raise my voice. But I just felt so angry, everything I’ve been thinking since summer started just became so much I just couldn’t stop once I started. 

I feel like I should regret it, but I really don’t. 

I feel like I can breathe easier now.

My only regret is that you’re not here. I’ve grown so used to having you around, I keep thinking of things I’ll tell you next time you drop by only to remember you can’t visit me here. 

At least I’m not the only one being shunned by Dumbledore. Sirius is quite displeased by him as well since he’s been forbidden from leaving the house. At least I could wander around Privet Drive. Remember everything we talked about? You were right. I’ll tell you everything when we see each other again. Some of the information was too important to be shared in a letter after all. 

Did you make it home alright? I’d like to assume you’ll be asleep by the time this reaches you, but I feel like I know you better than that by now. 

Tell Whilbie I’ll miss her treacle tarts. 

I’m glad to know at least someone will be around to remind you to take a break from your reading and acknowledge your very human needs. Who’d know someone so brilliant would be incapable of remembering they need food to live?     

— Harry 

Dear Harry,

I won’t dignify your last lines with a response. 

However, I am glad to hear you arrived successfully and are now far away from your dreadful relatives. Regarding your friends, I’d hate to sound biassed but I figure everything you said to them was very well deserved. 

Does that mean I can resume my correspondence with Granger? She was going to introduce me to the works of Shakespeare the Bard, but I never did confirm my interest. I’d assume so, but I’ll await your response before I send mine.

I’m not surprised Dumbledore is not a favourite among the household. His decisions this summer have been questionable at best. However, I do agree that certain information should be reserved for face to face conversations. I’ll make sure to write down all my questions for the time we see each other again.

I arrived without any issue. Thankfully, I had the manor to myself, since Father is still away on whatever task he has been assigned to. 

Have you been sleeping alright? I do hope the pendant has been fulfilling its purpose of warding your dreams and I expect you to still practice the Occlumency exercises. You’ll be needing them once I manage to convince Professor Snape to teach me. 

I’ve received an answer from an old family attorney, Yang Jong-hoon. He used to work for my grandfather when he was still alive, so you don’t need to worry about him being a supporter of the Dark Lord. His fees are expensive, but very well deserved. You should be hearing from him soon to go over the details. Perhaps you should mention it to your godfather or to whomever shall accompany you to the hearing, you will need to stop by Gringotts after all.

 I won’t deny I’m also disappointed I will not be able to see you as often as I have become used to, yet I am glad your situation has improved drastically. If you ever find yourself in need of more treacle tarts, Whilbie and I shall gladly send some your way. 

It feels childish to mention something like this given the current circumstances, but if you’re not able to make it to Diagon Alley on 24th August I’ll completely understand. 

Do tell me if Weasley comes across a spider when cleaning, I need ammunition for whenever I come across him this term. 

Yours truly,

Theo

Dear Theo,

You write like an old man, I haven’t met anyone else our age who writes in cursive unless it’s required. Do you purebloods get a crash course on letter writing before going to Hogwarts?

Of course, you can write to Hermione, don’t let me stand in the way of you and your forbidden love: Muggle Literature. I think you’ll get a kick out of Romeo and Juliet, let me know when you read that one. 

I’ve been sleeping just fine, your pendant works like a charm. I know, I can imagine the look on your face from reading that. I feel like I’m getting a good grasp of your books, you can’t imagine Hermione’s surprise at finding me reading during summer. 

I got Mr. Yang’s letter. Would it have killed you to let me know Yang was his surname beforehand? Thankfully, Hermione mentioned it before I sent the letter, otherwise, I feel like I would’ve come across like an idiot writing to him as ‘Mr. Jong-hoon’. I spoke to Sirius about seeking counsel and he agrees wholeheartedly, we’ve been corresponding with him almost daily and I’m feeling better about my chances. Mr. Weasley is going to accompany me to the hearing. He was very excited to hear about Muggle lawyers and how Mr. Yang takes both magical and muggle cases. Even I find it interesting, to be honest.

Don’t be daft. I’m seeing you on your birthday. Shame on you, Young Master Nott. You should know better than to doubt me. If I have to, I’ll sneak away somehow. I’m not above bribing Fred and George into helping me.   

I’m not telling you whether or not Ron has found any spiders. Aren’t you Slytherins supposed to be resourceful? Find your own ammunition. 

I will let you know that the cleaning is going horrible, even if you didn’t ask. It’s like this house is actively fighting back.

By the way, feel free to send treacle tarts my way. No one makes them like Whilbie.

— Harry

Dearest Potter,

Sod off. 

I bet you wish you had my writing skills. 

Granger was thrilled to hear I knew of one of Shakespeare’s works, though I am quite interested in why you’d think I’d be thrilled to read a love story about two soon to be dead lovers. I’ll add my review to my letters once I’ve finished it. 

I’m glad to know the pendant is working and that you’ve been practising. I’ve been quite busy myself with research regarding Legilimency, any information is an advantage after all. I’m not surprised at all that you don’t usually read books during summer, shame on you though. 

You’ll have to forgive my assumption that, once you read a foreign name, you’d figure out the correct manner of addressing said person before sending your response. Thank Mimir for Granger’s insight. 

I’m glad you’ve found Yang Jong-hoon’s counsel to be acceptable. He’s somewhat frowned upon by pureblood supremacists, mostly given to his participation in the Muggle world. Be assured, he is one of the best wizards in his field. I feel like I should warn you, do not take anything he says too personally. He’s quite known for his biting remarks. 

Fine, I shall find out on my own. I suppose I should’ve known better than to attempt to get intel from you of all people. 

At least the cleaning will bring the oh-so-glorious-Chosen One down to earth. Serves you right for withholding valuable information. You’re lucky Whilbie refused to allow me to send this letter without including the tarts in the package. 

No longer yours truly,

Theo

My dear and esteemed Theodore,

Let it be noted my sincere apologies and my blatant admiration for your ability to express snark in your correspondence. By the way, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you, do you have a second name? I’ll give you mine in exchange, it’s James, after my father. 

Yeah, a tragic love story. Bear through the mushiness and get back to me when you’re done, I’ll be eagerly waiting for your review. 

Well, you should know better than to assume anything regarding me. Haven’t you learnt anything? My mere existence defies any expectations. 

Thanks for the heads up, I had to physically stop Sirius from sending a curse via post to Mr. Yang when he read one of his letters to me. Charming fellow, isn’t he? I suppose the charm requires an additional fee. 

How dare you speak to the Boy-Who-Lived that way? And to think I was thinking of sending you something I found during said cleaning. My newly acquired down-to-earth instincts suggest I throw it away along with anything else I deem interesting. 

Send Whilbie my love and appreciation for those treacle tarts. 

Hoping you will come around once more,

— Harry

Dear under-probation Harry James Potter,

Flattery will get you nowhere but it is still appreciated. 

I’ll admit I enjoyed the read, yet I can’t make up my mind on whether it may be considered a cautionary tale on the stupidity and shallowness of youth or a beautiful tragedy of poisonous hatred conquered by love. However, one must wonder how the events would’ve gone by differently if the characters just took a second to assess the situation before acting. To begin with, perhaps Romeo’s urges wouldn’t have cost the lives of six people, but what do I know. 

You’re right. I should’ve known better than to expect something normal from you.

Being charming doesn’t earn you galleons, now does it? I don’t believe there’s a fee high enough to make Yang play nice. 

I hope you’ll forgive your humble servant for assuming you’d have a house-elf to assist you with your cleaning. Out of curiosity, what were you thinking of sending my way? I’d like to know before I offer any further apologies. 

Adequately appeased, 

Theodore Freyr Nott

Dear Theo ‘F’ Nott,

I find the F to be quite appropriate no matter the context, do you not? I promise I’ll behave, may I be released from probation that way?  

I’ve never heard of a more appropriate description of Romeo and Juliet, which in the Muggle world is a huge deal. The fact that deaths could’ve been avoided if only Romeo had kept it in his pants is my takeaway from this. 

We found this old dagger in Sirius’s father’s bedroom. It comes back to you once you’ve thrown it. It’s not in the best condition, but I thought you’d find it interesting. We also found an old locket, but no one could manage to open it. As with most things here, it’s Slytherin themed, so I immediately thought of you once I saw it. Are you interested in either of them?

I’ll let you know if we find anything interesting around here. There is a house-elf, but he is in no way comparable to Whilbie. Sirius says the only reason stopping him from freeing him is the fact that he knows too much. His name is Kreacher, and he’s a complete nutter. You have no idea how lucky you are to be far away from Hermione. She still hasn’t let go of SPEW. I’d avoid mentioning anything regarding house-elves in your letters for the time being. 

Can you believe the twins are now advertising their Joke Shop products on the Daily Prophet? Maybe you and friends could mention that among the other Slytherins, just stay clear from anything they offer you for a discount. Seriously. 

The cleaning has been going horrible, we even found a murderous ghoul in a toilet and a grandfather clock that shoots heavy bolts when you pass by.    

I feel like I should mention I haven’t been sleeping so well. I haven’t dreamt of dark, long corridors for a while though. Instead, I’ve been seeing a faceless Ministry worker snap my wand in half and ordering me back to the Dursleys. 

Yang and I have gone over my case countless times, but I’m scared, Theo. I feel like everyone in the Wizarding world has turned against me and I’m worried I won’t get a fair trial. I’ve found an acceptable amount of peace upon deciding that no matter what the verdict is, I won’t go back to the Dursleys. I’ll stay with Sirius somehow. 

I really wish you were here, Theo.

— Harry

Dear Harry,

You’ll have to forgive me for not going over the subjects of your letter in order, but some matters are more important than others. 

Take heart, Harry. Even if you can’t trust your own feelings on the matter, trust me. Everything will be fine. They can try to turn the tides against you all they want, but nothing can hide the truth. It burns as bright as you do, and it will always come out. You will exit that hearing victorious, albeit with your coin pouch quite a bit lighter.     

I do take offence to you not including me in your contingency plan. I’d reckon I’d help you get a new wand and could even help you further your education. Whether it be overseas or across the continent. 

It is perfectly acceptable to be fearful and nervous. I once heard the saying, if you’re entirely confident, there must be something you’re forgetting. Fear keeps you on your toes. 

But I digress, I suggest you talk this over someone who is able to be there presently. Loathe as I am to admit it, I’m held back by the limitations of writing. I truly wish I could be there for you in person. 

If it helps your morale, you may consider yourself done with probation. There are perks to being you after all. 

To be honest, I’m quite intrigued by both objects, as well as anything you may deem interesting enough. From what I can deduce from your previous letters, the house in which you’re staying must be full of valuable objects. 

I’ve mentioned the twins’ work to my friends, Tracey and Blaise were particularly interested so I wouldn’t be surprised if the Weasleys received an order during these days. I’m also surprised, though I wonder if I really should be, to hear that Granger hasn’t abandoned her crusade. While I do think it’s admirable, I lament her refusal to entertain the entirety of the circumstances at play. 

Please try to avoid being killed by entities residing in toilets or trigger-happy old clocks.

Yours truly,

Theo

Dear Theo,

So far the house hasn’t gotten the best of me, but I’ll make no promises. Someone needs to tell Voldemort to step up his game, a house is getting closer than he has even been. 

I’ve been reading your last letter over and over, I can’t thank you enough for it. I can’t believe I didn’t include you in my run-away plans. I’ll take your offerings as a promise, then. I’ve always wanted to visit America anyway.

As you suggested, I’ve talked it over with Sirius again and I’m feeling more confident. He’s even offered to have Snuffles accompany me to the hearing. If it weren’t for you two, I think I’d have gone mad by now. He understands what it means to have everyone turn their backs on you, and like you, he insists that everything will be fine, that I’ll be cleared. It hits differently when the assurance comes from Ron and Hermione, though. 

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I feel like their faith is more reliant on Dumbledore doing something about it rather than in the success of the hearing itself. I get that they’re right, I don’t truly believe that Dumbledore will let them expell me, but after this summer I don’t feel like I can trust him. He’s not really the Dumbledore I thought I knew. And I feel like I can’t share this with them, without them jumping to his defence.   

On brighter news, Fred and George are going crazy with the new orders they’ve received. Something about a huge order of Fainting Fancies and an even greater pay? I don’t suppose your friends have something to do with it. When I asked you to spread the word I didn’t expect you lot to become their sole sponsor, you know? 

Things with the adults are tense over here. Mrs. Weasley and Sirius keep fighting over how much they tell me. Sirius wants to tell me everything he can and Mrs. Weasley wants me to know pretty much nothing. So we’re at a stalemate in which I know nothing useful. Mr. Weasley likes to stay out of it mostly, which I respect. 

Good luck with both objects, we all tried to open the stupid locket with no luck. Maybe your father has something lying around that might help you with it. I’ve been keeping my eyes open for anything remotely related to runes. I know that’s your specialty right now, but so far nothing. 

I’m glad that being the Boy Who Lived means I get special treatment and I’m free from probation. 

— Harry

Dear Harry,

You’ve met Crabbe and Goyle, are you really surprised that many Slytherins will take any opportunity to avoid classes? I wouldn’t be averse to skipping Care of Magical Creatures if it meant saving my robes from those bloody skrewts. 

Your package arrived successfully. The dagger is a thing of beauty. Whilbie and I have been working together to restore it to its previous state. There’s an old wooden bust of one of our ancestors lying around in the attic which I’m eagerly planning to use for target practice once the dagger is back in order. We haven’t had much luck with the locket. There seems to be an enchantment preventing it from being opened unless you use a specific method. 

I had it lying on my desk the last couple of nights, and my nightmares increased exponentially. So for the time being, I’ve asked Whilbie to store it away from Father’s eyes and far enough for it to not intrude on my dreams. You don’t need to worry, I’m perfectly fine and I’ll endeavour to research on ways to open it. I’ve always been fond of a challenge. 

Speaking of my father, he’s finally back from wherever he’s been staying. He hasn’t said much about it, but ever since he’s arrived there’s been a letter from Lucius Malfoy every morning. Whatever it is they’re doing, I’m glad you’re safe with your friends and surrounded by capable wizards. 

Unfortunately, Father being around means I’ve had to get crafty in order to continue with my Muggle reading. I transfigured the cover of Macbeth to appear as a book on pureblood politics, which seems to have done the trick. It speaks of his character that seeing me with  that book led to his admission of how impressed he was that I was ‘finally doing something he could be proud of’. On the downside, he’s seen this as an opportunity to discuss its contents with me during dinner, so I’ve had to read that as well to avoid suspicion. To keep it short, it’s a load of rubbish.

Don’t be too hard on your friends. I expect they’re empathising with you as much as they are able to. I’d suppose it would be hard to picture Dumbledore as anything other than stellar unless you’ve experienced it first hand, as is the case with you and your godfather. 

I’ve only recently thought of this, but what are you wearing for your hearing? I’ve only really seen you wearing Muggle clothing or your Hogwarts robes, may I assume you have some more formal robes? The ones you wore for the Yule Ball do not count.

Being the Boy Who Lived will only get you so far, any special treatment is merely due to you being just Harry. 

Yours truly, 

Theo

Dear Theo,

Everything makes sense now. I imagine some of the older Slytherins like Montague will be using them as well. Don’t you dare use them to skive off Hagrid’s class, I’ll force feed you the antidote if I have to. You can always get new robes. 

I’m really disturbed to hear about the locket, if I had any idea it would affect you negatively I would’ve never sent it your way. I’m glad you’re okay and I wish you luck in finding a way to open it. Also, I’m not surprised you’re enjoying the dagger, it did have a Theo-ish feel to it. Maybe when we get back to Hogwarts you can practice with a picture of Snape’s face. 

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it as many times as I need to, your father can sod off. Any decent father would be proud to call you a son. I’m sorry to hear about your new nightly discussions, that’s what you get for being too clever. Maybe you should’ve disguised it as an older school book or something. That way you wouldn’t have had to read a book on pureblood supremacy bullshit.  

Apparently Dumbledore came last night, Snuffles will not be going with me to the hearing. We’re both disappointed, but I guess we were expecting it. It does make sense, even if we don’t like it. 

Thank you for the additional panic. I don’t know, maybe I could borrow one of Mr. Weasley’s robes? The ones he uses for work, I mean. Since I suppose Muggle clothing wouldn’t be a great idea, based on your letter. 

— Just Harry

Dear Harry,

Just because I can does not mean I should nor that I want to. 

Must I remind you that not everyone dislikes Snape as you Gryffindors do? I think I should inform you that you may be overestimating my abilities so far, the closest I’ve gotten to hitting the bust has been only to knock it over with the hilt of the dagger. 

Your feelings were appreciated right up until your cheekiness took over. Wouldn’t that be considered victim shaming? How dare you.

I’m quite disappointed Snuffles will not be able to accompany you, even if I can also agree with Dumbledore’s assessment of the situation. 

Do not even think of wearing one of his robes. I’ve sent you a couple of mine that may work, judging on your height last time I saw you. Feel free to make any necessary adjustments to them, I won’t mind. I’ll be leaving soon for Blaise’s soon, so Whilbie has taken it upon herself to send you more treacle tarts. 

Yours truly, 

Theo

Dear Harry,

I realise that not enough time has passed for you to answer my previous letter, but I expect you to be reading this one either the night or the morning before your hearing. Hopefully, you won’t save it until later, which would render this utterly pointless.

I do not believe in luck, so I shall not wish you any. 

Instead, I shall wish for your hearing to be a complete success on your end. May Forseti and Tyr accompany you on my stead, and bring justice as it is so rightfully deserved. So may it be. 

I believe in you, Harry. And even if I’m unable to accompany you, know that I stand with you as you walk this path.

Yours truly,

Theo

Chapter Text

It was half-past five when Harry finally ventured outside of his shared room. He had woken up not long ago and had remained immobile on his bed listening to Ron’s snores for as long as he could bear before finally getting up and putting on his glasses. Mrs. Weasley had laid out one of the robes Theo had sent him, altered the night before, at the foot of the bed. Harry had been pleasantly surprised when Mrs. Weasley told him she had only altered the shoulders of the robes, which meant he had managed to catch up to the Slytherin’s height during his stay at Grimmauld Place. 

Once he had them on, Harry had taken a moment to look at himself in the mirror. The dark blue robes didn’t look that bad on him and, except for his hair, he looked the part of a respectable wizard. Thank God for Theo, or he would've probably worn some jeans and a T-shirt to the hearing, he thought to himself as he walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen.   

He had expected it to be empty due to the hour, but it wasn’t. When he walked through the door he saw not only Mr. and Mrs. Weasley but also Tonks, Sirius and Lupin sitting at the table. All were fully dressed except for Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown. She leapt out of her chair the moment she saw him. 

“Breakfast,” she said, pulling out her wand and hurrying toward the fire. Sirius took the opportunity to smile warmly at Harry and send him a quick nod across the table. 

Across from Sirius, Tonks turned to him only to let out a wide yawn in greeting. It took her a couple of blinks to get her bearings back and focus on him. Once she did, she shot a look at his robes before winking at him.

“M-m-morning, Harry,” she said, fighting another yawn. This morning, her hair was a pastel blue and straight. “Come and sit down,” she tried to pull out a chair only to knock it over in the process.

“What do you want for breakfast, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley called. “Porridge? Eggs and bacon? Muffins? Toast?”

“Just — just toast, thanks,” Harry muttered, picking up the chair and taking a seat on it.

“T-Those are some nice robes, didn’t see them when we were packing,” Tonks remarked, leaning her head on her hand. 

Mrs. Weasley turned to look at her briefly as she placed a cup of tea in front of Harry. “A friend of his from Hogwarts was kind enough to send some over for his hearing. Such a sweet boy, he even told Harry to alter them as needed. I did my best to maintain their quality though, you don’t see robes like those every day…”

Tonks grinned at him, looking a lot more awake than before. “Another friend, Harry?” she asked, turning her hair into short, soft brown curls. Her grin turned even wider when he blushed slightly, making Sirius stare at them both in confusion. 

“What other friend? No offence, but all the friends I’ve heard about are sleeping upstairs,” Sirius quipped, earning himself a slight shove from Lupin.

“You don’t truly believe he only has two good friends after four years of school, do you?”

Sirius scoffed at him. “Well, it has to be a really good friend to send over robes like those without caring for the alterations. The second you touch those stitches? Their value decreases an absurd amount of galleons. Besides,” he defended himself when it seemed Lupin was gearing up for a second, stronger shove. “I’m fulfilling my godfather-ly duties. That includes knowing what’s going on in Harry's life and which third friend of his is sending him high-quality robes like they’re sweets from Honeydukes. Friendship can’t be bought, Remus,” he snarked, poking Lupin in the nose before zeroing on Harry, who blinked over his tea.

“You do know friendship can’t be bought, right? Besides, yours is worth way more than that—” 

“—Sirius, it’s too early for this,” Tonks bemoaned before resting her head on the table. “I’m sure Harry knows his worth, right Harry?”

Harry was saved from having to answer when Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him. He tuned out the conversation that followed, trying his best to eat, but it was like chewing carpet. Mrs. Weasley had sat down next to him and was gently smoothing nonexistent creases from his shoulders.       

Next to Lupin, who was trying his best to stop Sirius from badgering a groaning Tonks, Mr. Weasley put down the paper he had been reading. “How are you feeling?” he asked Harry.

He shrugged in answer. He knew they had all done their best to prepare, but he still felt sick to his stomach. 

“It’ll all be over soon,” Mr. Weasley said encouragingly. “In a few hours’ time, you’ll be cleared. Your hearing will be on my floor, in Amelia Bones’ office. She’s Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she’s the one who will be questioning you.”

“Amelia Bones is alright, Harry,” Tonks said earnestly, cutting off whatever Sirius was saying. “She’s fair, she’ll hear you out.”

Harry nodded, focusing on finishing his tea. 

“Don’t — don’t lose your temper,” Sirius said abruptly. “Be polite and stick to the facts. Let Yang handle most of the speaking.”

Harry nodded again.

“The law’s on your side,” Lupin told him. “Everything is going to be alright.”

The rest of breakfast went by in silence, and Harry finally gave up on his toast. Mrs. Weasley fussed over his hair with a wet comb.

“Doesn’t it ever lie flat?” she asked desperately. 

Harry shook his head at her with a small smile. He really appreciated all their efforts to reassure him and to get him to relax a bit, even if he couldn’t get the words past the knot in his throat. Just then, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat to get his attention. 

“I managed to make a quick stop at Gringotts yesterday as we discussed, Harry. When I arrived you were already in bed so I wasn’t able to give this to you then,” he said, pulling the money bag Harry had given to him the day before, along with a small black pouch. “They were kind enough to put Mr. Yang’s fee in a separate bag, easier to handle.”

“Thanks,” Harry managed to blurt out, taking both pouches from him. The black one, clearly the one carrying Yang’s fee, was quite heavier than his regular money bag.

Mr. Weasley then checked his watch and looked up at Harry. 

“It’s fifteen past six, I think we’ll go now,” he said, getting up with a sigh. “Mr. Yang instructed us to meet him in my office at six forty-five in order to go over everything with you in person before the hearing.”

“Okay,” Harry answered immediately, brushing the crumbs off his lap and getting to his feet.   

“You’ll be alright,” Tonks said, patting him on the arm. 

“Good luck,” Lupin said as he and Sirius got up as well, walking over to Harry’s side of the table. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he said once he reached him, and squeezed his shoulder.

“And if it’s not,” Sirius added, hugging Harry tightly before pulling away slightly to look him in the eye, “I’ll see to Amelia Bones myself,” he said in mock seriousness, lips tugging in a slight smile.

Harry smiled at him weakly and hugged him once more for good measure. The second they stepped away from each other Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around him.

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed,” she whispered to him before letting go.

“Right,” Harry said. “Well… see you all later, then.”

He followed Mr. Weasley out of the kitchen and through the hall. He could faintly hear Sirius’ mother grunting in her sleep behind the curtains. Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and Harry followed him into the cold, grey dawn. 

“How are we going to get there?” Harry asked him when Mr. Weasley didn’t move, choosing instead to inspect their surroundings. 

“You’ll be Apparating with me since we can’t connect the fireplace to the Floo Network. Have you ever Apparated before, Harry?” 

Harry shook his head in answer. 

“It’ll be alright. You just need to hold on to my arm very tightly. Now, it’s important you know you should only do this with an experienced witch or wizard. Dumbledore gave me his approval if that eases some of your worries,” Mr. Weasley said, focusing on him and offering his left arm. 

Oh, well. If Dumbledore had approved it… Harry thought bitterly. 

Harry gripped Mr. Weasley’s forearm and tried to prepare himself. But nothing could prepare him for the feeling he was about to experience.

He felt Mr.Weasley’s arm twist away from him and tightened his grip; the next thing he knew, his surroundings turned to black and it felt like he was being squeezed in from all angles. He couldn’t breathe, his eyes and eardrums were being forced deeper into his skull—

He gulped in breaths of cold crisp air and dared to open his eyes. He felt like he had been forced through a too-thin tube. It took him a couple of seconds to realise they were no longer standing in front of Grimmauld Place, but in an alley of sorts, in front of an abandoned red telephone box. He could hear the faint sound of cars along the streets. 

“How are you feeling?” Mr. Weasley asked him, once it seemed Harry had caught up with his senses. Harry shook his head before answering.

“I think I prefer brooms, to be honest,” he said, looking around. Had they apparated in a nearby alley for security reasons? Or was this really the entrance to the Ministry of Magic? 

Mr. Weasley smiled at him before gesturing toward the telephone box, which was missing several planes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. “After you, Harry.”

Harry had been expecting a rather more impressive entrance to be honest. He opened the telephone box door and stepped inside, followed by Mr. Weasley who then closed the door. It was a tight fit, with both of them in there.

“Alright, then,” the older man murmured, reaching for the receiver. “Let’s see… six…” he dialled the number, “two… four… another four… another two… Ah!”

The dial whirled smoothly back into place, giving way to a cool female voice. It surprised Harry when it didn’t come from the receiver in Mr. Weasley’s hand, but as loudly and plainly as if she had been standing in between them. 

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and business.”

“Er… Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,” he said, not looking too sure of whether he should speak into the receiver of or not, deciding instead to hold it awkwardly to his ear. “I’m escorting Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing.”

“Thank you,” the voice said. “Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.”

Harry heard a click and a rattle, and he saw a small silver badge slide out of the metal chute where spare coins were usually returned. He picked it up, it read Harry Potter Disciplinary Hearing. Harry sent a mental apology Theo’s way and pinned it to the front of his robes as the voice spoke again. 

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, located at the far end of the Atrium.”

The floor to the box shuddered and they began sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched as the pavement rose until he could see nothing at all, and the telephone box carried on its merry way down through the earth. Eventually, the golden light illuminated his feet and rose slowly, making him blink to stop his eyes from watering. 

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” the voice said as the door sprang open and they stepped out of it. Harry’s mouth fell open once he caught sight of his surroundings. 

They were standing at one end of a long and splending hall with dark floors and a peacock-blue ceiling inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing. There were people everywhere, and several flying purple memos above all their heads.

“This way,” Mr. Weasley said, as they joined the crowd. As they passed a fountain located halfway down the hall, the statues right in the middle of it caught Harry’s attention. The tallest figure was a wizard, with his wand pointing straight up in the air, and a witch stood right beside him. Grouped around them were a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf, all gazing adoringly up at the couple. 

Scrunching his nose in distaste at the statues, Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up from the bottom of the pool. A sign beside it read:

All proceeds from the Mountain of Magical Brethren will be given to 

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.  

Harry decided right then that if everything went according to plan, he’d donate at least ten Galleons. He’d ignore the sick feeling the statutes gave him.  

Registration at the security desk didn’t take too long, thanks to Mr. Weasley hurrying the process along before the security wizard had enough time to process what Harry’s badge read. Once they entered a crowded lift, Harry took to staring at his feet to avoid making eye contact with the curious ministry workers around him.

It took a while for them to reach the desired floor, considering the lift was stopping at pretty much every level, with a voice announcing the floor in question along with the offices located in it. Mostly everyone had exited by the time the doors closed on level three, except for Mr. Weasley, Harry and a witch.

The lift juddered upward again, and the doors opened. “Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services,” the voice said. 

“This is us, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said and they exited the lift, leaving behind the witch. “My office is on the other side of the floor. We’re early by a couple of minutes, thankfully,” he mentioned, stealing a glance at his watch.

“Mr. Weasley, aren’t we underground?” Harry asked in confusion, as they passed a window through which sunlight was streaming in. 

“Ah, yes we are. Those are enchanted windows,” he explained. “Magical Maintenance decides what weather we’re having everyday. We once had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a raise… Here we are.” They had stopped right outside a door, having reached a dead end. The door bore a tarnished brass plaque reading MISUSE OF MUGGLE ARTEFACTS. 

Mr. Weasley’s dingy office was smaller than Harry had expected. Two desks had been crammed inside it, and there was barely any space to move around with the overflowing cabinets lining the walls. Whatever wall space was left available was filled with posters of cars, a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxes, and a diagram on how to wire a plug.

Harry’s inspection was interrupted by a knock on the door, prompting them both to turn around. 

“Mr. Yang, I presume?” Mr. Weasley grinned excitedly, rushing forward to greet him with his hand extended toward him. The man in question shook it, nodding in greeting. “Arthur Weasley.”

“Yang Jong-hoon. Pleasure.” Yang answered, before turning to look at Harry. 

Yang Jon-hoon was respectably middle aged with short dark hair combed away from his face and even darker eyes. He reminded Harry uncomfortably of Snape, the only difference being that the man in front of him seemed to grasp the concept of proper hair maintenance and he was distinctly lacking the hooked nose and overall bat-like appearance. It was the way he carried himself that reminded Harry of the silent behaviour of his Potions professor.

“Harry Potter?” 

Harry only nodded in answer. 

“Good, let’s begin then,” Yang said, lifting the briefcase he was carrying onto the desk furthest away from them. “We’ll start by running through the events of the night once more…”

It was almost an hour later when Yang finally eased up on Harry, who could feel the blood pounding in his head. Yang had acted as a Muggle prosecutor would, questioning everything he said, nitpicking every little detail and correcting him whenever he said anything out of line. He had a follow-up question to every answer Harry gave him, which after a while, drove him to choose his words carefully in order to avoid being called out. 

The second Yang leaned away, a small satisfied smile on his face, Harry felt a deep feeling of relief run through him. He had a good answer to every question Yang asked him, didn’t deviate from his story, and didn’t rise to any bait. He felt calmer than he had in days. 

He took a moment to breathe and relax while Mr. Weasley engaged Mr. Yang with questions about his work in the Muggle world. They hadn’t been talking for long when a purple paper aeroplane flew into the room and landed right beside Yang. 

He read with a blank face and checked his watch before addressing them. “They’ve changed the time and venue for your hearing, Mr. Potter. It starts at eight o’clock in Courtroom Ten. We’ve got five minutes to get there,” he said, pulling his wand from his robes and with a wave, everything he had taken out of his briefcase flew neatly back into it. 

Mr. Weasley scrambled to his feet. “Courtroom Ten? Those haven’t been used in years!” he said angrily as the three of them hurried out of the office. “I can’t think of why they’re doing it down there — unless— but no…”

Mr. Weasley and Yang had the advantage of their long legs, making Harry all but run behind them as they spoke.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yang interjected as the lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. “They can play dirty all they want, petty attempts don’t decide the outcome.” 

“You think it’s sabotage or something?” Harry asked him breathlessly as the lift began to descend. 

Yang spared him a glance, before facing forward once more. “I’m always prepared for the dirtiest of plays, it comes with the job.”

Mr. Weasley was bouncing on the balls of his feet, throwing anxious glances over at Harry. He tried to ignore them as best as he could, clinging to the feeling from before. When that message had not yet disrupted everything. 

“Department of Mysteries,” the lift’s voice said, adding nothing more. 

As soon as the doors opened, the three of them sped up a bare corridor with no windows and no doors except for a plain black one at the very end of the corridor. Harry had expected for them to go through it, but was surprised when both Yang and Mr. Weasley turned abruptly to the left, where an opening led to a flight of steps. 

They reached the bottom of the steps and hurried along another corridor, lined with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. Yang turned back briefly to spot Harry looking at the wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes.  

“Pay no attention to your surroundings, it’s nothing more than an intimidation tactic,” he advised, turning back to avoid running into one of the walls. 

Mr. Weasley was muttering angrily beside him. “The lift doesn’t even come this far…  why are they doing this…”

They stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and a faded plaque with a ten on it. Yang furiously checked his watch before taking a deep breath. 

“Remember, Mr. Potter, don’t speak unless spoken to. Look at me before answering, if it’s an unfounded question I’ll intervene,” he said, grasping Harry’s shoulder in a tight grin. Yang shot him a quick smirk before releasing his shoulder. “Now, into the fray we go.”

“Good luck, Harry!” Mr. Weasley wished from behind them, as Yang turned the heavy iron handle and opened the door. Harry shot Mr. Weasley a small smile from over his shoulder before following Yang and stepping inside the courtroom. 

He almost stopped in his tracks when he took it in. The large dungeon was horribly familiar, not only had he seen it before, he had been here before—  it was the one from Dumbledore’s Pensieve, the one where the Lestranges had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. The dark stone walls were dimly lit by torchlight. Up ahead of him, shadowy figures were seated in the highest benches he could hardly see.

“Take your seat,” a cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the centre of the room, whose arms were covered in chains that thankfully did not move to bind him when he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, as he had seen them do in Dumbledore’s memory. Beside him, Yang took out his wand and with a flick, conjured a simple black chair right next to Harry’s and took a seat. Above them, he could see about fifty people, all in plum-coloured robes with a silver W on the left breast. In the middle sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic; to his left, a square-jawed witch with short grey hair and a monocle. 

“Very well,” said Fudge. “As the accused is finally present, let us begin. Are you ready?” he called down the row.

“Yes, sir,” said the eager voice of none other than Percy Weasley. Harry looked to him for some sign of recognition, but found none.

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” Fudge began, followed by the scratching of Percy’s quill, “into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley—”

“—Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cracked his neck.

Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room, never meeting Harry’s eyes even as he drew level with him. The members of the Wizengamot were muttering, all eyes were resting on Dumbledore. Some looked annoyed, others frightened. Harry stole a glance at Yang, who seemed to be frowning slightly. He wondered if Dumbledore’s presence was something the other man had not accounted for.

Harry felt a surge of emotion, as reluctant as he was to admit it, a surge of hope had filled his chest like phoenix song. He turned to try and catch the headmaster’s eye, but Dumbledore wasn’t looking his way; he was looking up at a flustered Fudge. 

“Ah,” said Fudge. “Dumbledore. Yes. You— er— got our message that the time and— er— place of the hearing had been changed then?”

“I must have missed it,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

“As a matter of fact,” Yang interjected in a sure voice that made everyone turn to look at him, “all three of our messages seem to have been simultaneously afflicted with a serious and elusive ailment, considering they had trouble finding us. I’d recommend you take a look into that, imagine the consequences if sensible information got delayed or lost.”

The grey-haired woman levelled her monocle at Fudge as he blustered.

“Yes— well— I suppose we’ll need another chair. I—Weasley, could you —?”

“Not to worry, not to worry,” said Dumbledore pleasantly. With a flick of his wand, a squashy armchair appeared on Harry’s unoccupied side. Dumbledore and Yang exchanged a polite nod as the older wizard took his seat. Harry shook his head, slightly dizzied by the slight intersection of the two peculiar wizards on either side of him.

“Yes, well,” Fudge began, shuffling his notes and extricating a sheet of parchment. “Well, then. As I was saying, Representative for the defence, Yang Jong-hoon. Now. The charges. Yes. The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge asked, glaring at Harry over the top of the parchment. Harry turned to look at Yang, who nodded gently.

“Yes.”

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?” 

Before Harry could turn to look at Yang, the other wizard was already speaking.

“Forgive me, Minister, but the illegal magic you’re referring to corresponds to a Hover Charm performed by a House-elf currently employed at Hogwarts. Is that the only prior you have on Mr. Potter?” he asked politely.

“A house-elf, in a Muggle house? Surely, you don’t expect me to believe that,” Fudge scoffed and gestured flamboyantly. 

“The house-elf in question is currently in the employ of Hogwarts School,” Dumbledore intervened. “I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish.”

“I— not— I haven’t got time to listen to house-elves. Anyway, that’s not the only — he blew up his aunt two years ago. He admitted to that himself.”

“And you very kindly decided not to press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“As you well know, Minister, the law is not retroactive. If charges weren’t pressed back then, that means it may not be considered as a prior for Mr. Potter,” Yang stated, leaning back on his chair as Fudge glared at him from above. 

“I know very well how the law works, Mr. Yang. Moving on then. Mr. Potter, did you conjure a Patronus on the night of the second of August?”

Harry checked with Yang once more before answering, the man nodded at him and made a ‘go on’ gesture with his hand. He took it as a go ahead until Yang decided to intervene again. 

“Yes.”

“Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?”

“Yes.”

“Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?”

“Yes.” Why wasn’t Yang intervening? He thought angrily.

“Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?”

“ Yes. ” Harry said, trying his best to reign in his anger. He’d gone over this with Yang, he wasn’t going to lose his calm. He wasn’t going to give them anything they could twist in their favour. 

Fudge opened his mouth to ask another question but he was stopped by the witch with the monocle on his left. 

“You produced a fully fledged Patronus?” she asked, in a booming voice.

Harry turned to look at Yang who nodded at him with a small curl to his lips.

“Yes.”

“A corporeal Patronus?”

“A what?” Harry asked befuddled.

“Did your Patronus have a clearly defined form? I mean to say, was it more than vapour or smoke?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, it’s a stag. It’s always a stag.”

“Always?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “You have produced a Patronus before now?”

“Yes,” he answered impatiently. “I’ve been doing it for over a year—”

“And you are fifteen years old?”

“Yes.”

“You learned this at school?”

“Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the—” 

“Impressive,” Madame Bones said, staring down at him. “A true Patronus at that age… very impressive indeed.”

Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering to each other; a few nodded but others frowned and shook their heads.

“It’s not a question of how impressive the magic was,” said Fudge testily. “In fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!”

Those who had frowned murmured in agreement, and Percy’s little sanctimonious nod made Harry clench his fists in anger. But he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. 

Yang chose that moment to finally speak. 

“All of your questions are very valid, yet I feel we are missing some very important facts to get the complete picture,” he said, getting up and turning to face Harry. “Mr. Potter, who was the Muggle you were in close proximity to?”

“It was my cousin, Dudley.”

“A relative then, is he one of the family members you live with?”

“Yes,” Harry answered quickly. This had been one of the questions they had gone over earlier. 

“Is this information really necessary, Mr. Yang? We already know this,” Fudge intervened with a frown. 

Yang turned to face him. “It’s information I consider important to appear on record. Madame Bones?” He referred to the woman with the monocle, turning back to Harry once she nodded in acquiescence. 

“Mr. Potter, did this Dudley have previous knowledge of your magic?” 

“Yes, they all knew from the moment I came to live with them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Yang said, and began walking around the courtroom. “As we all know, when a young witch or wizard is living with Muggle relatives, they are subsequently informed about our concealed magical society. Isn’t that right, Minister?”

Fudge floundered for a second before answering. “Well, yes. That is correct.”

“And this does not constitute a breach of the Statute of Secrecy. Am I correct, Madame Bones?” 

The older witch nodded at him, “Yes, Mr. Yang.” 

“Minister, does performing magic in front of another wizard or squib constitute a violation of the Statute of Secrecy?”

“Of course, it doesn’t.”

“Then Minister, would you please tell me why Mr. Potter is being held accountable for breaching the Statute of Secrecy when the Muggle he performed magic in proximity to was not only his relative, but one that already knew of magic?”

“Even if he didn’t break the Statute of Secrecy, Mr. Yang, that still leaves the fact that he performed underage magic,” Fudge retorted with a nasty smile. 

“So we can conclude there was no violation to the Statute? Good,” Yang said, clasping his hands together. He looked at Harry with a twinkle in his eye, “I still think we are missing one very important detail, the motive . Mr. Potter,  why did you perform such a complicated spell in front of your cousin that night?” 

“I did it because of the dementors.”

“Dementors?” Madam Bones raised her eyebrows so far that her monocle threatened to fall out. “What do you mean, boy?”

“I mean there were two Dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin,” Harry said calmly. 

“I thought we’d be hearing something like this,” Fudge smirked unpleasantly as he looked around.

“Dementors in Little Whinging?” said Madam Bones. “I don’t understand—”

“Then let me explain, Amelia,” Fudge replied, his smirk still in place. “It’s clearly a very convenient cover story, being, of course, that Muggles can’t see Dementors, so it’s just your word and no witnesses…”

“As I expressed in my letters, Mr. Potter is willing to not only provide memory of this event but he is also willing to testify under Veritaserum,” Yang added, clearly enjoying the way whispers broke out. 

Fudge snorted. “Dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happened to come across a wizard?”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence,” Yang shrugged, before turning to look at Dumbledore.

“Certainly not,” Dumbledore agreed lightly. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Fudge asked icily.

Dumbledore looked as if he were about to respond, but Yang spoke first. “You don’t mean to imply that someone has lost control of the Dementors, do you? Could you imagine the consequences of that?” he asked incredulously, and Harry suppressed a grin at how fake his concern sounded. “The papers would have a fit—”

“I assure you,” Fudge interrupted him, quickly and loudly, “that the Ministry has complete control over the Dementors. There is no need to panic.”

Yang frowned in mock concern. “Well, then why would anyone in the Ministry order a couple of Dementors into Little Whinging?”

In the complete silence that greeted these words, the witch to the right of Fudge leaned forwards so that Harry saw her for the first time. Her appearance was alarming. Her squat, flabby face and wide, slack mouth made him immediately associate her with a toad, and she even had a black velvet bow perched on top of her head like a fly.

“The Chair recognises Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister,” said Fudge, seemingly relieved at her interference.

When she opened her mouth, Harry was expecting a croak, but instead a fluttery, high-pitched voice came out.

“I’m sure I must have misunderstood you, Mr. Yang,” she said with a simper, her eyes wide and cold. “So silly of me, but it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!”

Her giggle made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up.

“You don’t mean to imply that there are You-Know-Who sympathisers in the Ministry, do you Madam?” Yang asked, prompting some of the wizards and witches to stare at each other in alarm.

“Of course not!” Umbridge replied in a shrill voice. “What an absurd idea!”

“That is a relief,” Dumbledore chimed in. “I would be glad to hear that the Ministry planned to make an inquiry into why those two Dementors attacked without authorisation, then.”

Fudge stuttered. “I would remind everybody that the behaviour of these Dementors, if indeed they are not figments of this boy’s imagination, is not the subject of this hearing! We are here to examine Harry Potter’s offences under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!”

“Of course we are,” said Yang, “but the presence of Dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause Seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, including those which threaten the life of the wizard or witch him- or herself, or any witches, wizards or Muggles present at the time of the—”

“We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!” snarled Fudge, fiddling with the papers before him.

“Of course you are,” Yang replied testily. “Then we are in agreement that Mr. Potter’s use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls under the category of exceptional circumstances?”

“If there were Dementors, which I doubt. You have no idea, Yang, of the number of cock-and-bull stories this boy has come out with. And I haven’t even started on what he gets up to at school!” Fudge snarled, turning redder by the second. 

Yang made a show of raising his eyebrows in confusion. “You’ll have to forgive me, Minister. But don’t the events that happen at Hogwarts fall under the jurisdiction of the current headmaster?” He waited for Dumbledore to nod in confirmation before continuing.

“Mr. Potter has been summoned for one event in particular, he performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine in presence of his Muggle cousin Dudley Dursley. If you wish to take action regarding what goes on at Hogwarts, I would remind you that would constitute another hearing entirely. Preferably one that doesn’t require the holding of a full criminal trial to deal with matters of underage magic. I’m sure the Ministry’s resources can be occupied in better ways.”

Several of the wizards above them shifted uncomfortably in their seats as Fudge turned an unpleasant shade of puce.

“As far as I am aware,” Dumbledore said leaning forward, “Harry has been charged with a specific offence and he has presented his defence. All we can do now is await your verdict.”

Harry glanced sideways at him with a frown, not at all sure that it was wise to tell the Wizengamot that it was about time they made a decision. 

“Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges?” Madam Bones announced.

Harry’s head jerked upwards. They were finally done whispering. There were a lot of hands in the air… more than half! He tried to count but before he could finish Madame Bones had said, “And those in favour of conviction?

Fudge raised his hand, and maybe a half dozen others, including the toad-like witch on his right. After a moment had passed, he glanced around at them all, looking like he had something large stuck in his throat, before lowering his hand slowly.

“Very well, very well,” said Fudge in a voice contorted by fury, “… cleared of all charges.”

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet, pulling out his wand and causing the two armchairs to vanish. “Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all.” And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon. No one among the Wizengamot seemed to be paying any attention to him either, except for the Umbridge woman, who was staring directly at him.

“Well, Mr. Potter. I believe we are done here,” Yang said, looking a bit put off by Dumbledore’s abrupt departure. “Unless you wish to have a word with the members of the Wizengamot?”

 “And stay here for another second? Absolutely not,” Harry replied. 

When they exited at as brisk a pace as reasonably possible, they almost collided with an apprehensive looking Mr. Weasley.

“Dumbledore didn’t say—”

“Cleared,” Harry exclaimed gleefully, “of all charges!”

Beaming, Mr. Weasley seized him by the shoulders. “Harry, that’s wonderful! Well, of course, they couldn’t have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can’t pretend I wasn’t —”

But Mr. Weasley broke off, because the courtroom door had just opened again. The Wizengamot were filling out.

“Merlin’s beard!” exclaimed Mr. Weasley wonderingly, pulling Harry aside to let them all pass. “You were tried by the full court?”

“They gave him a full criminal trial,” Yang said with a frown. “I haven’t been aware of one of those taking place in more than a decade.”

Mr. Weasley’s face turned grim at that, “I don’t think I have ever been ashamed of working here, but today’s events are certainly making me reconsider it.”

Yang was quick to derail the conversation before it took a darker turn. “I don’t know about you two, but I always enjoy a coffee after a successful case. Mr. Weasley, was it a café I saw on my way in?”

Mr. Weasley shook his head before smiling his way. “Indeed it was,” he said, as they began their ascent. “They sell coffee and danishes that are to die for, really.”

“Well, then. I propose we celebrate our success, despite our opposition’s best efforts, with a coffee and danish. It’ll be my treat.” Yang winked at them.

Mr. Weasley spent the better part of their trajectory trying to dissuade Yang from paying it all by himself, insisting he had been crucial to the result of the hearing. Yang eventually convinced him that with the amount he had charged Harry, the least he could do was pay for their victory treat. 

When they walked past the fountain again, Harry made sure to turn his money bag upside down, dumping its entire contents into the water, despite the creepy looks of awe and servitude on the faces of the magical creatures surrounding the witch and wizard in the centre. Donations went to St. Mungo’s, after all.

Chapter Text

“That letter wouldn’t explain what Potter was doing at the Ministry earlier today, would it?” 

Theo raised his eyes from said letter, making sure to arch his left eyebrow as high as he could. Blaise was staring at him unabashedly, the teacup in his grasp threatening to spill over. It only took a couple of seconds before the older boy broke. 

“Malfoy mentioned it in his letter, apparently Lucius saw them exiting the Ministry,” Blaise mentioned casually, leaning back and saving his tea from meeting the carpet. 

“Well, then. If the Malfoys are gossiping about it then you hardly need my confirmation, right?” Theo replied, folding Harry’s letter in half and pocketing it. Everything had gone successfully then, he thought in relief. As sure as he had been in Harry’s eventual success, it was a relief to know the ordeal was finally over.

“Theo! You can’t leave me with only rumours! I’d never do that to you and you know it,” Blaise complained. As true as that statement was, Theo wasn’t one to share details that involved someone he cared about. 

“If you’re so interested then ask Potter directly,” he shot back, reaching over for his teacup. He ignored the overly dramatic pout his friend aimed at him. 

“You’re the worst, Theo,” Blaise said, swiping the last cauldron cake on the plate in retribution. “I have seniority over Potter, you know? He’s barely known you for a year, you and I have been friends ever since my mother moved to England.”   

Theo rolled his eyes at him goodnaturedly, “As if I’d forgotten about ten years all of a sudden, Blaise. However, you should know better than to ask me about someone’s private affairs.”

“Fine, then. What do you want in exchange —?” 

“Blaise Zabini! We do not bribe in this household,” Signora Eleonora Zabini chatished her son as she entered the drawing room. “Especially not dear family friends.”

Theo gingerly stood up to greet, as the woman delicately kissed both his cheeks. She then took a step back and grasped his shoulders, taking a good look at him. 

“My darling Theodore, you’ve grown so much. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to greet you when you arrived yesterday,” she said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “I trust Blaise has been behaving as a proper host should?”

“To the best of his abilities,” Theo answered with a small smile, holding back a laugh as he heard Blaise splutter from behind them. Signora Zabini’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at him indulgently.

“I’ve been the image of an exemplary host! Don’t listen to him,” Blaise said as he got up to  his feet and embraced his mother. 

“Oh, mio bambino. I’ve told you countless times, the best bribe is a subtle one. I swear, Theodore, it’s like what I say goes into one ear and out the other,” she said, hugging her son tightly and ignoring his muffled protests. 

Once she was finally done squeezing the life out of her son, she finally took a seat next to Blaise, prompting both boys to follow her lead. “Manbey!” she called for her house-elf, who appeared quickly. 

“Yes, Signora?” He asked, bowing deeply.

“Do fetch me an additional teacup, would you? I’ll join my favourite ragazzi for tea,” Signora Zabini asked, winking at Theo as Manbey nodded and disappeared. Blaise groaned openly from his seat.

“Mother!”

“Oh shush, Blaise. You should show more appreciation for your mother,” she replied as Manbey returned, placing the cup in front of her with another exaggerated bow. “Now, Theodore. Blaise told me about your interest in rune carving, I trust it is not another one of your passing fancies?”

Theo hurried to swallow the sip of tea he had just taken in, “No, Signora. I’ve been focusing on it for about a year. I even successfully carved a couple of runes this summer,” he answered. When she smiled at him proudly he could feel his face heating up, forcing him to lower his eyes and stare at the tea left on his cup. 

“You’ve always been such a quick study, and with such potential,” Signora Zabini said, sighing gently as she poured herself a cup with a wave of her wand. “If you don’t mind, I have a couple of recommendations you might find useful in your studying.”

Theo raised his eyes and sat even straighter, gently placing his teacup on the table. Blaise laughed from across him, “Please, Mother. Theo will never mind having more books to read.” 

His mother briefly patted Blaise’s cheek before gesturing with her wand at Theo’s cup. “Please,” he muttered with a nod. The older woman waited until she was finished pouring him and Blaise another cup each before continuing the conversation. 

“Have either of you ever heard of the Galdrabók?” she asked before taking a sip of tea. Both Slytherins shook their heads in answer. Signora Zabini grinned at them conspiratorially, “it is an old Icelandic grimoire, in which you may find both ancient spells and runic material. There’s not many of them left today, many were burned as heretic books and others were hidden away by their owners to later be forgotten and decay into nothing in some nameless hiding-spot.”

Theo found himself on the edge of his seat, it was not often that he heard something related to rune magic. “Even so, it is one of the few surviving black art books that we still have,” the woman continued. “It’s a small book compiled on parchment, consisting of 32 sheets in all. I have an old acquaintance in Italy who might be able to procure you a copy. Bear in mind, topolino, a book such as this carries a heavy price.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Theo reassured her.

“His store is not easy to find, even in the Magical District of Firenze. My Nonino used to consider finding it a rite of passage for young gentlemen. I figure you two will rise to the challenge.” 

Blaise nodded at his mother eagerly. “Of course we will, we’ll make grandfather Ezio proud, Mother." Theo could only nod as well, he felt like his stomach was stuck in his throat. 

Signora Zabini finished her tea and put down her cup gracefully, “Very well. I’ll start you off with the very same riddle he told me, so listen carefully. ‘In a serpent's nest I am born and out of venom my heart is carved. Forever drifting in eternal mirrors, always aware of your heart’s desire. Always open, never closed; point me, and what you wish for, you shall acquire.’”

Theo blinked at her gobsmacked. Across from him, Blaise didn’t seem to be faring much better. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Signora Zabini tutted. “Now, Blaise, if you need me to repeat it, I’ll do so with pleasure. Until then, buona fortuna, miei cari.”

It was days later that Theo and Blaise found themselves elbows deep in books in the latter’s family library. Well, Theo was elbows deep in books and old parchments. Blaise was laying in a nearby table amongst the heavy tomes, bemoaning about the cruelty of riddles. 

“Out of a snake’s pit I am born? What is that supposed to mean? That a Slytherin came up with it?” He groaned, and threw an arm over his eyes. “Forget a rite of passage, this is hazing. A staged humiliation.”

Theo rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. “Would you focus? I’m quite sure we’re talking about a magical object. Something that will allow us to find the shop, ‘what you wish for, you shall acquire’... But what is an eternal mirror?”

“—I mean, what kind of heart is carved out of venom? Talk about toxicity, am I right?” Blaise joked, huffing when his play on words went unnoticed. After a while, Theo groaned and tugged at his hair. 

“This is useless. You’re the worst research partner ever. What I wouldn’t give to trade you with Daphne right now…” He grumbled tiredly. Even Granger would be better company… Theo shook his head before the thought could settle down. Absolutely not. This was his riddle to solve. Well, and Blaise’s technically, even if he wasn’t carrying his own weight at the moment. 

“Think… think… ” he muttered to himself. ‘Always open, never closed’.... What was open and never closed? What knew his heart’s desire? 

“You know what’s always open? A hole…” Blaise said as he stretched, pushing some of the books over the edge of the table. Theo just ignored him, rubbing his eyes. They were getting nowhere. A magical object that could point them towards what they desired? “Annoying riddles aside, has Potter confirmed if he’ll be able to meet with us on your birthday?” 

Theo sighed, “He insists he’ll be able to attend. How? I have absolutely no idea.” According to Harry, he was still in the dark regarding any important, or even remotely interesting, information. “You’re awfully interested in meeting with him, Blaise. I thought you weren’t keen on making friends with the Gryffindors?” He wasn’t able to see his friend’s face, but Theo liked to think he was currently wearing an annoyed expression. 

Blaise scoffed and sat up, his legs dangling over the edge “I’d think the so-called Boy-Who-Lived merits an exception, don't you think? Well, of course you do, with how enamoured you are with him. Besides, consider the situation—” The second he felt his face heat up, Theo made sure to look the other way, busying himself with gathering his notes. 

“—there’ll be no Malfoy to annoy him and with you there, any residual aversion to Slytherins is bound to decrease. If he gave you a chance, why not extend the olive branch to us? I’d go as far to say we’re the silver linings of the Slytherin soon-to-be Fifth Years,” Blaise finished and leapt off the table, heading over to the other boy and grabbing the rolled up parchments. “Call it a day? Maybe we could ask Mother about the riddle after dinner, once she’s had plenty of wine…”

“And have you pin the blame on me when your plan goes sideways? Absolutely not. We’re not getting your mother inebriated, Blaise,” Theo retorted, earning himself a shrug from his friend. He made sure to follow after Blaise, who hadn’t waited for his answer before sauntering out of the library. “I think we may be looking at this from the wrong angle, while the second half is the most tempting, maybe its origins are more important for now. ‘In a serpent's nest I am born and out of venom my heart is carved… ’” Theo recited, hoping inspiration would strike. It didn’t. 

“Whatever, what do you say to a match of Exploding Snap to distract us? After dinner, we’ll go back to the library to research snakes and whatever it is they do with their venom,” Blaise proposed as they walked, leading them up to his bedroom. “I still think we should be looking into holes, particularly those that do not close.”

Theo frowned. “Most holes do close, though. Wounds heal, holes in clothing get stitched closed…”

“Well,” the older boy answered, “but those do not close naturally, something else closes them.” Theo blinked at his anwer, at a loss for words. A hole that didn’t close naturally then, one born out of a serpent's nest and carved out of venom. 

“You really are smarter than I give you credit for,” Theo teased goodnaturedly, gently shoving his shoulder against him. Blaise laughed loudly. 

“Well, I am more than a pretty face, Theodore. But someone has to be the pretty one in our group, so it’s the burden I must bear,” he said dramatically, Theo just rolled his eyes at him and shook his head. 

“Anyway, what is a hole that doesn’t close naturally?” Theo mused. They walked in silence for a while until Blaise spoke up.

“An ear-hole?”

“Ear-wax, and remember they need to be made by snakes.”

“ Merda. ”

“OH! Oh! A tunnel! A snake-hole!” Blaise said excitedly that night over dinner, all but leaping out of his chair as he leaned over the table to stare at Theo. Signora Zabini’s eyes widened and pulled her son back into his seat by his jumper. 

“Blaise! Have you lost all sense of decency? Calmati , bambino.” Baise shot her an apologetic look and settled back. 

“Forgive me, Mother.”

From across him, Theo cleared his throat gently and put down his goblet. “Regardless, doesn’t a tunnel have two holes?” 

Blaise opened his mouth before closing it in confusion. The Zabini matriarch took pity on them both and joined their conversation. “I’d say it depends on your point of view, wouldn’t you? Consider it as you would a straw, it could have two, one or even no holes at all.”

Theo considered it in silence, he supposed he could see how a straw in that example could have none or even two holes. If he considered the straw as a rectangle of material, wrapped around an axis, then there’d be no holes in that surface — just a continuous sheet that just happened to wrap around some space. As for the two holes, it was colloquially accepted that both ends of a long tunnel were called a hole. He told his two hosts as such.

Signora Zabini smiled at him indulgently. “I suppose you haven’t yet reached the subject in Arithmancy yet, Theodore. Be warned, ragazzi , do not expect more help from me after this. I’ll only tell you this because you’ve gotten this far. There is a mathematical principle used for plotting, it states that a hole with only one entrance isn't a hole at all, since you could smooth it out just by flattening the surface.”

Blaise smiled openly at Theo and winked at him. “In conclusion, Blaise 1, Theo 0. Better catch up, darling. Bragging rights go to the one who ends up solving the most of the riddle.”

Theo scowled at him as the older woman sat back and enjoyed the rest of her dinner. Fine, Blaise could have this one. That only made him want to figure out the answer even more. 

The sun was shining bright when Theo woke up on the day of his birthday. He spent longer than usual getting ready, the reason behind it being that he spent most of it staring at the gardens through one of his windows. If he really focused, he could barely remember an afternoon in those gardens, with Blaise dragging him around the grounds as their mothers enjoyed their afternoon tea. It wasn’t until he felt a tear dripping down his face that he came back to himself, hurrying to wipe it off and resume getting dressed. 

When he reached the dining hall, Blaise and his mother were already seated and were talking quietly. The room was warm and brightly lit, with light streaming in through the open windows and the wind gently moving the curtains. Signora Zabini was the first one to see him enter the room. 

“Theodore! Happy birthday, mio caro,” she welcomed him with a hug and her usual kisses on both his cheeks. Theo smiled warmly at her.

“Thank you, Signora,” he said as Blaise hurried to take her place once she had let go. Unlike his mother, the other boy took the chance to hug Theo as tightly as he could, making him let out a harsh wheeze. 

“Happy birthday, Theo!” Blaise gushed and let him to his seat. “Come, come. Mother has a present for you and she won’t tell me what it is until you’ve opened it. You’ll get mine later, when we meet with everyone.”

As Theo took a seat, Signora Zabini gently placed a small box with a pretty silver bow on it. “Thank you, I really appreciate it,”  he told her as he unwrapped the ribbon around the box. Inside, resting over a soft cushion, was a small dark obsidian stone tower with a silver band wrapped around it. The band itself was secured to a thin metal chain. He lifted it carefully, taking note of how the stone seemed to absorb the light that hit it, reflecting none of it back. 

“Runes and scrying always seem to lead to each other. With the potential you’ve shown with runes, I couldn’t help myself. My second husband was particularly gifted at scrying, you know. Yet he never really reached mastery of it, the poor soul. I’m thrilled you liked it, caro.” She took a seat after that, focusing instead on that day’s paper. 

Blaise leaned over his shoulder to get a look of it, “Tracey is going to go green with envy when she sees it. You could ask to borrow some of her books on crystals and divination, since you decided that elective was beneath you.” 

Theo scoffed at him as he put the scrying crystal back in its box. “As if my father would’ve allowed me to take classes with Trelawney, you know what everyone says about her. Besides, my schedule was full enough with three electives.” 

“I still maintain you’re out of your mind for doing that, the only other one crazy enough to do that was Granger,” Blaise retorted as he finally returned to his seat. Theo shot him a glare as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“You always change your tune once the term begins, anyway. Last year it was only the first day and you were already bemoaning about how much you wished you had taken Arithmancy with me instead of Divination,” he shot back, reaching for the sugar. 

“ Fine. The only interesting part of Divination is when Trelawney goes off on her ‘you’re about to die’ rants. I’m sure you’d find them hilarious even if they’re usually directed at Potter. Tracey is always going on about how we’re never reading anything about actual divination practices instead of a — Theo! I’ve told you not to do that in front of me!” Blaise said, lunging over the table and grabbing the teaspoon from Theo’s hand. 

“Do you mind? I was using that—”

“To absolutely wreck your tea, that amount of sugar will kill you one day. I can’t watch you do that, it’s sacrilegious.” Theo only rolled his eyes at him and grabbed another teaspoon. 

“Then don’t watch,” he shot back with a smirk and stirred his tea. Blaise had been too late anyway, he’d gotten all the sugar he wanted in his cup. “Aren’t Italians supposed to prefer coffee over tea, anyway?”

“I’m of Italian descent, you knobhead. I was raised in England,” he sniffed. “Besides, any living creature would be appalled by the amount of sugar you put in your tea. It’s inhumane,” he gagged as Theo gleefully took a sip right in his face. Signora Zabini chose that moment to fold the Daily Prophet and placed it aside.

“If you’re done torturing my son, Theodore. I was thinking we could head over to Diagon Alley to meet your friends after lunch, what do you both think?”

Theo nodded in answer. “Thank you kindly for taking us, Signora. You’re too kind.” Blaise’s mother waved her hand in dismissal. 

“Oh, think nothing of it. I’ve arranged to have tea with some friends at Rosa Lee’s —” She was interrupted by a couple of owls coming in through one of the open windows.  “Oh, well. I suppose they were taking their time in arriving.”

One of the owls, white speckled with brown, landed right in front of Theo, barely missing his scones. She gently fluffed her feathers as he took the letter from her. Both her and the owl carrying Zabini’s letter helped themselves to a few pecks of the brioche before taking flight. 

“That’s the brioche done then,” Signora Zabini muttered with a grimace, draping a spare napkin over it. Theo barely spared her a glance as he opened his Hogwarts letter. He supposed they could all go shopping for their school supplies as well, that would certainly keep them busy all afternoon. 

“We only have two new books, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five, by Miranda Goshawk and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard,” Theo said, reading the contents of the list.

“ Defensive Magical Theory? Is that supposed to be our book for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year? Theory?” Blaise asked incredulously.

“Be glad he found someone,” Signora Zabini told him over her coffee. “I’ve heard Dumbledore was having problems finding someone to take over the post.”

“I suppose that’s not surprising, considering what happened to the last four,” her son muttered, putting the list aside. Theo merely hummed in agreement. “Wait, it’s our Fifth Year. Theo, you didn’t make Prefect, did you?”

“Thank Freyja I didn’t,” Theo replied. “It’s O.W.L. year. Between that and everything I want to research on my own, I wouldn’t have time to sleep —Wait, if you’re asking me, you didn’t make Prefect either?” 

Both boys groaned in unison, to Signora Zabini’s delight. “Well, do tell. Don’t keep this revelation to yourselves.”

Considering Blaise seemed to be trying to drown his sorrows in pastries, Theo took it upon himself to answer. “Unless Dumbledore finally lost it and made either Crabbe or Goyle Prefects, that only leaves Malfoy,” he muttered in distaste. He decided to follow Blaise’s lead and reached for the ricotta pancakes, hopefully food would soothe the pain of the incoming tragedy. Malfoy was going to be utterly insufferable. 

It was after lunch that they finally made their way to Diagon Alley. They would’ve eaten there, had it not been for Blaise’s insistence that they visit his favourite tailor and that Theo ‘had better get some robes for himself since he was already there’. Theo had already owled his tailor and scheduled an appointment for the next day, but he figured he might as well get a couple. He still had another year of Care of Magical Creatures and, considering Hagrid’s record, there was no such thing as too many clothes. 

He did derail them a bit when he paused by a cashmere scarf that caught his eye, it was a particularly deep shade of green. He’d been meaning to get a new one anyway. 

Signora Zabini had gone off to meet some of her friends, leaving them with instructions of calling Manbey if they needed to send anything back to Villa del Sole. Blaise and Theo then made their way to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, their agreed meeting point. 

 “Should we wait for them inside?”

Theo shook his head in answer, as he looked around. He figured that if Harry hadn’t sent him a letter that morning, that meant he’d be able to come. However, the thought didn’t stop his stomach from clenching anxiously. 

“Looking for someone?”

Theo and Blaise both whirled around immediately, with Blaise’s arm reaching slightly towards his wand’s holster. The second Theo saw who it was, he breathed out in relief. 

Harry stood right in front of him with a cheeky grin, his dark hair as messy as always and his stupidly green eyes shinning in the sun. He was flanked by two adults, the woman he’d met that night at Privet Drive and —  

“Professor Lupin?” Blaise asked in shock, making the older man smile tiredly. It seemed their former professor was also shocked to see them, though he hid it better.

“Hello, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Nott. I wasn’t expecting you two to be the friends Harry said he was meeting,” he said, throwing Harry a look. The Gryffindor just shrugged.

“You never asked. Besides, I was bound to find some decent Slytherins after a while. You’re the one who taught me that your house doesn’t matter that much,” Harry answered before stepping forward and hugging Theo in greeting. Ignoring the shocked looks, and the additional wink from the woman, he hugged the other boy back. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed just being close to Harry. 

“Happy Birthday, Theo,” Harry whispered in his ear, making him shiver, and let go, standing close enough to him that their arms brushed. He’d gotten taller, Theo realised, their shoulders were almost in line with each other.

“Slytherins, then? They’re not all that bad, I met a couple of good ones back in the day,” the woman said, her hair changing from an electric blue to an emerald green, barely reaching her chin. A metamorphmagus, Theo thought in wonder as his eyes widened slightly. She didn’t offer her name. 

“We just get a bad reputation from some infamous alumni,” Blaise piped in, side-eyeing Theo for a moment. He’d deal with that when they got back to the villa. Lupin shrugged before patting Harry in the shoulder.

“Feel free to go in, we won’t intrude on you.”

Next to him, the witch bounced on her feet. “We’ll just enjoy an ice-cream ourselves and stay out of sight. We just got to make sure you stay right with-in ours,” she winked. Lupin groaned and ushered them all inside, taking advantage of the fact that he was walking behind the woman to ruffle her hair, making her squawk indignantly.

They took a seat in an empty corner, Harry sat right next to Theo with his back towards the door. Fewer chances of him getting recognized, Theo supposed.

“How ever did you manage to make it?” he asked as the three of them settled down. Harry grinned and ran a hand through his hair. From the corner of his eye, Theo could see Blaise rolling his eyes. He decided to ignore him.

“It was touch and go for a moment. The deciding factor was our letters arriving today. Mrs. Weasley is going around buying everyone’s school’s supplies and I asked her if I could tag along. Tonks and Lupin were a condition she demanded, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?” 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come. It means a lot to me, Harry,” Theo told him, grinning when he saw the other boy blush slightly in answer. 

“Alright, that’s it. Change of topic, before I vomit all over the table. Please, ” Blaise whined from Theo’s other side. Harry looked at Blaise uncomfortably for a moment before shrugging. 

“Ron and Hermione made Prefects,” he mentioned nonchalantly, but Theo noticed the tense line of his shoulders. “They found out just today.” 

Blaise’s eyebrows nearly shot out of his face. “Wait, what? Weasley made Prefect?” He asked incredulously. Harry squared up immediately.

“Ron’s perfectly capable of making Prefect!”

Blaise shushed him with a wave of his hand, “Yes, yes. Whatever. My point is, he made Prefect over you? ” He turned to stare at Theo, “Weasley made Prefect over Potter!” 

Theo pushed his flailing hand back before it ended up hitting one of them in the face. “I heard, Blaise,” he said with a sigh, “I can’t help but agree, though. I thought you’d make Prefect, Harry. Considering everything.”

The Gryffindor shrugged in answer. “I guess Dumbledore disagrees.” 

 “Maybe you’ve done too much, you know?” Blaise added. “Not that he’s ever considered it bad behaviour, with how many points he insists on awarding you with just before he declares the winner of the House Cup … ”

“Let it go, Blaise,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. He turned to look at Harry, who for some reason, was taking the rejection hard. “Maybe he thought you’d have too much going on? Being a Prefect requires a lot of time and dedication, I didn’t even know you wanted to be one.”

Harry grimaced. “I haven’t really thought about it, with everything going on. Anyway, since I doubt Crabbe and Goyle made Prefect, which of you is it?” 

Blaise’s face immediately soured, and Theo wasn’t too sure his own looked any different. “Neither of us.”

Harry blinked at them, “What? But if neither of you— No…” he groaned and grabbed his hair with both hands. “Please don’t tell me—”

“His royal ferret-ness is Slytherin’s newest Prefect,” Blaise muttered. “Bet now you’re glad you won’t have to attend Prefect meetings with him, aren’t you?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “It does make me feel better, like I dodged a bullet of sorts.” A bullet ? Theo opened his mouth to ask him what that meant, but Tracey and Daphne elected that moment to show up. 

“I wasn’t expecting Potter to be having this much of a good time, I take it Blaise is being civil?” Daphne asked, pecking Theo in the cheek. “Happy birthday, darling.” 

Harry had gone tense all of a sudden when Tracey spoke up, “Don’t worry, Potter. We’ve all promised Theo to behave and be our pleasant best versions of ourselves. Let bygones be bygones, and all that. Anything for our dearest Thedore. Happy Birthday, you ass,” she said, wrapping her arms around Theo. 

“It’s not like we have anything personal against you, anyway,” Daphne mentioned off-handedly. “We prefer to keep to ourselves. Now, what were you talking about?”

“We were just talking about this year’s Prefects,” Blaise said with a grimace. “Malfoy is our new Prefect.” Daphne merely sighed, in contrast with Tracey’s unabashed groan as she sprawled back in her chair. 

“Oh, ruin my day, why don’t you. As if we hadn’t heard enough bad news already,” Tracey whined. “You’ll never guess who Slytherin's female Prefect is. Don’t bother having hope, it’s Parkinson.” 

“Out of everyone did it really have to be them?” Blaise groaned, massaging his temples with his fingers. Theo himself was busy trying not to panic. This was essentially his worst case scenario, Malfoy and Parkinson would enable each other to Hel and back. 

“You’re not really having the reaction I expected. Well, from Theo I did. But I thought you at least liked Malfoy?” Harry asked in confusion. Theo looked up and shot him a quick smile. 

“Only Malfoy likes Malfoy, well and Parkinson,” Tracey answered, earning herself a shove from Daphne.

“Slytherins tolerate each other just fine, Potter. However, you’ll find Draco tends to test everyone’s patience. Anyway, I suppose you made Prefect, then?” she asked the Gryffindor, but Blaise answered before Harry could even open his mouth.

“As if! It’s Weasley, Daphne. Weasley and Granger!” He cackled. Daphne’s brow creased in confusion.

“Granger was a given, but Weasley? I’d have bet on you myself,” she told Harry before tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s not discuss that anymore and just enjoy ourselves. Blaise, be a dear and get us some ice cream? I think I’m in the mood for some Orange Marmalade.”

“Why am I getting it?” Blaise asked, even as he got up to his feet.

“Be a gentleman. It’s Theo’s birthday and we’re being nice to Potter,” Daphne said, nudging Tracey for her pick of ice cream. 

“Oh! I’ll have the Earl Grey and Lavender!” Tracey said excitedly. “I haven’t tried that one yet.”

Theo turned to look at Blaise with an apologetic look, “Would you get me some Salted Caramel? What do you want, Harry?” 

“Uhm, Strawberry and Peanut Butter’s fine…” Theo noted the other boy had his hands clenched over his lap. On a whim, he took hold of one of them, smiling at Harry when he looked up at him. After a short moment, Harry smiled back at him, turning his hand so he was properly holding hands with Theo under the table 

“You all better hope I don’t forget any of them!” Blaise called back as he made his way to place their order.

Chapter Text

If you had told Harry a year ago he’d be having ice cream with four Slytherins, one of which he considered one of his closest friends, he would’ve thought it a bad joke. But to suggest he’d actually be enjoying himself? You’d be luckier trying to convince him Mafloy had willingly joined SPEW. 

Yet there he was, sitting at a table and holding hands with said close friend under the surface, far away from prying eyes, having a surprisingly good time. Back at Grimmauld Place it had been about prefects in every room, there was nowhere he could go where he wasn’t expected to put on a happy face for Ron and Hermione. And here were four students who genuinely couldn’t care less about the fact that they hadn’t been made Prefect. They had expressed their surprise at the fact that Harry hadn’t been made one before moving on to other subjects, like it didn’t really matter.

He supposed it really didn’t. It had felt like a bigger deal in the morning, when the news had hit, but now? It would’ve been time he’d had to dedicate to doing whatever it was prefects did, helping first years and what not. His school years always got ridiculously busy nearing the end, did he really want the additional stress? 

Maybe he was better off without that shiny plaque. Besides, if Theo himself wasn’t a prefect, that meant he could definitely spend more time with him once Ron and Hermione were busy. 

“—Earth to Potter? Your ice cream is melting,” Zabini was saying. Harry blinked before focusing on the present, and the mess of peanut butter and strawberry dripping down his free hand. Theo was staring at him, his grey eyes full of mirth as he tried not to laugh, making Harry glare at him half-heartedly, letting go of his hand to try and salvage his ice cream. 

Greengrass seemed to take pity on him after watching his struggle for a moment. “I can’t watch this anymore. Stop moving, Potter,” she commanded, taking out her hand. Harry briefly considered his personal growth, allowing a Slytherin to prepare to cast a spell on him and not drawing out his wand in answer.

“Scourgify! ” The mess immediately disappeared. Harry sighed in relief, flexing his fingers and enjoying the lack of a general stickiness. 

“Thanks, Greengrass,” he said, throwing a small smile her way. She shrugged and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. Harry pretended not to see the way Davis´s eyes followed the motion, being nice to Slyhterins was one thing but getting involved in their love lives? He didn’t have a death wish. He resolved to ask Theo about it later on, when both girls were out of sight. Zabini as well, he figured, he didn’t trust the other boy just yet. 

“So, Potter. Tell us,” Tracey asked him, leaning forward. She’d been the first to finish her ice cream. “What was it that Malfoy did that earned all of Slytherin your ire?” 

Zabini cackled nastily and sat up straighter. “Do tell. It must’ve been big to spawn that colossal rivalry?”

“It was all his fault, to be honest,” Harry began, keeping an eye out for any stray droplets of melted peanut butter and strawberry. “I met him at Madam Malkin’s, he was a git and insulted pretty much everyone who could be related to a Muggle. Then we met at Hogwarts, where he proceeded to insult Ron and go on about how I’d soon find out how some wizarding families are better than others—”

He was interrupted by Davis’s loud groan. “Of course, he did. He tried to pull that shite on Daphne when he spotted her hanging around with me.” Greengrass gently looped her arm around hers. Behind her, the doors to the parlour opened as a small family walked in, chattering amongst themselves. 

“And I gleefully told him to sod off, Tracey is more of a Slytherin than he could ever hope to be,” the blonde said with a smirk, making Harry laugh. If he could get over his general unease of her, he could see himself growing to like her. 

“Then how come he’s civil around you lot? I can’t get in a five-metre radius of him without him going ‘ Potter ’ and unleashing whatever insult he was practising the night before,” Harry asked indignantly. 

Theo snorted from his right, “like you’re any better.” Harry was tempted to shove the grin from his friend’s face right into the caramel.

“Theo and Daphne are essentially our shields,” Zabini answered with a shrug. “Malfoy is not dumb enough to pick a fight with the Nott and Greengrass families. We’ve come to some sort of agreement in which we don’t bother him and he and his friends don’t bother us.” 

“Doesn’t your family name make you some sort of ‘shield’ as well?” Harry asked, perplexed. “I mean, you go by pureblood status, right?”

Zabini shrugged, somehow making the motion look elegant. “We float in the middle, I suppose. My mother doesn’t have the best reputation here in Britain, but we’re well respected. The Notts and Greengrasses are old families, that’s what sets them apart. They’re part of the British Sacred Twenty-Eight,” he said with an eye-roll. 

“Theo’s mentioned that before, what is that supposed to be?”

“They’re twenty-eight British families that were ‘truly pureblood’ by the 1930s. It’s biassed, inaccurate and out of date,” Theo sniffed. “For some families their inclusion in the list is quite the big deal, you can imagine who for example.”

Harry joined Zabini in rolling his eyes, of course Malfoy would be part of it. It made complete sense. “You know what? I’m glad I dodged the bullet of being in Slytherin. As decent as you four are,” he carried on, ignoring Zabini’s blatant wink toward Theo, “there’s no way I’d get along with Malfoy.”

“The Sorting Hat considered you for Slytherin? And you said no?” Davis asked, alarmed, sitting up straight. Harry shrugged with a grin.

“Everyone had warned me against Slytherin. Then I met Malfoy and figured that if he was capable of being that unpleasant, there was no way I would be in the same house as him.” Even if he lost the chance of meeting Theo that first year. Things had worked out in the end, and Malfoy and him didn’t share a dorm. Harry would count that one as a win.

“Great, so Malfoy cost us every House Cup with his stupid ‘Malfoy’s are better than everybody else’ spiel,” Zabini groaned. “Glad we cleared that up. Next topic, please!”

Tracey dug into her bag gleefully, “Presents! We’re all done eating, anyway,” she said, carefully placing a small blue box on the table. Everyone else took her hint, drawing out their packages. 

Gingerly, Harry placed his own small box, wrapped in silver paper. Earlier that day, Mrs. Weasley had helped him wrap it, the only thing he asked her for was the colour of the wrapping paper. It had been the closest he’d be able to get to Theo’s eyes. 

“I call seniority! Sucks to be you, Potter,” Zabini declared, pushing his own parcel in front of Theo. 

Harry snorted good naturedly, “Doesn’t it always?” he asked, enjoying the laughter it provoked. It was nice to be around people who didn’t have a reason to walk on eggshells around him. Or people who didn’t want to kill him. He wasn’t too picky these days.

Theo seemed to take pleasure in ripping the paper off his gift, placing it aside to take a good luck of it. It had a couple of black candles and what seemed to be a board game.

“Mother suggested the reversing black candles, so I’d suppose they’ll aid with your rune business and all that,” Zabini said before eagerly gesturing to the next part of his present. 

“Gryphons and Gargoyles!” Theo exclaimed, as he inspected the box. “I hadn’t seen one of these in ages, where did you find it?” 

“That’s my secret to keep, do you like it?”

“Of course, I do! We used to spend afternoons playing this. Thank you, Blaise. Truly,” Theo smiled at him, gently placing the candles over said board game. Harry was actually paying attention in the order they went, Theo had never mentioned how he’d met his friends. He’d supposed they all had met at Hogwarts, but apparently some of them knew each other from even before. 

“I’m next then,” Daphne said, pushing a velvet bag across the table. “I hope you find it challenging enough, Theo.”

Inside the bag was a small bronze cube with detailed markings, Harry shot Greengrass a confused look as Theo cooed over it excitedly. 

“It’s a version of Dee’s Configuration. Essentially, it works as an arcane puzzle box, you activate it by pressing a series of hidden pressure points in a precise order, depending on which one you press it changes its shape. I’ve gifted others to Theo but he keeps solving them too fast. This one is supposed to be harder, considering the more you play with it, the difficulty level rises as it learns your movements,” she explained, as Theo finally looked up.

“It’s a tradition of sorts, she gives me one every year for my birthday and then pretends to be annoyed that I managed to solve it,” he grinned, letting the cube rest over its bag. Tracey reached over and replaced it with hers. As Theo opened it, Harry anxiously thumbed over the edge of his own gift. Everything had been so magic-related, would Theo even like an old Muggle camera? 

Theo’s and Tracey’s interaction went by faster than he would’ve liked. She had gifted him an assortment of sweets and several containers of invisible ink along with a revealer. Harry could his stomach doing acrobatics inside him as everyone turned to stare at him. 

He nervously handed the package to Theo, scratching the back of his neck the second one of his hands was free. “I hope you like it, I guess it’s a bit different from what you’re used to,” he said in a small voice. Theo didn’t open it immediately, preferring instead to smile softly at Harry, making his face grow warmer.

“I’m sure I will. It’s from you, Harry,” Theo said. Zabini decided to make a nuisance of himself and made gagging noises.

“Yes, yes. Very nice, open it, Theo! I want to see what has Potter so nervous,” he smiled before wincing suddenly, in sync with a muffled thud under the table. 

Greengrass leaned over to glare at Zabini, “Who raised you? With those manners, certainly not your lovely mother!” she hissed at him, as he reached down to rub his leg. Ignoring them, Theo winked at Harry before unwrapping the box. Unlike earlier, he didn’t rip it off immediately, taking his time instead. 

His smile gave way to a confused look when he finished opening it. “What’s a Polaroid?” he asked, taking the camera out of his package. “Is it a Muggle thing?” 

Davis leaned over Harry to see, as Greengrass and Zabini bickered to each other. “It sort of looks like that Gryffindor kid’s Muggle camera, but smaller and funnier looking…” she muttered, pursuing her lips as she inspected it. 

Theo turned it over a couple of times before pushing it into Harry’s hands, “So it’s a Muggle camera, then? Show me how it works, would you?” Glad that it had actually captured his friend’s interest, Harry took it back and pointed it towards Greengrass and Zabini.

“It’s simple, you point the lens at what you want to take a photo of and you press this button…” he trailed off as he took the picture. The flash went off, immediately alerting the bickering Slytherins to what they were doing. Soon enough, the rollers ejected the photo. “Now we wait,” he told Theo, passing it to him, “and try not to shake it. It takes a while for it to develop. It’s an instant camera, when it runs out of film let me know and I’ll help you change it.” 

“Oh, look! It’s changing already,” Theo commented, holding it up for Tracey to see. Greengrass and Zabini hurried over to look at it as well.

“Oh!” Greengrass sighed in despair, “that’s not a nice picture at all!” Zabini snickered as he threw his arm over her shoulders.

“I think it perfectly captures your essence, Daphne.” 

Harry thought the elbow Zabini got to his stomach was very well deserved. 

“And the Muggles developed this? A camera that immediately prints out its photo?” Theo asked curiously, taking the camera back to inspect it further. “That’s quite impressive.”

Harry smiled widely, glad his present had been well received. 

“Well, I demand a new picture to commemorate Theo’s birthday,” Greengrass said, standing up. “And destroy that one while we’re at it.” She tried to make a grab for it but Theo held it close to his chest.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he retorted, storing it carefully in his robes. “I happen to like it. I’m not opposed to a new picture, though.”

Harry took that opportunity to stand up as well, “I could take a picture of the four of you? If you’d like, that is—” 

He tensed when he felt an arm that was decidedly not Theo’s, since the other boy was still in his line of sight, wrapped around his shoulders. “I like you more and more already, Potter!” Davis exclaimed, moving him along so she could reach Theo’s side. “Look alive everyone, we’re getting our picture taken!”

Greengrass had walked over to the other side of the table as well, going over to stand next to Davis. Harry noted that Zabini resolutely stayed on Theo’s ride, using not only him but also Davis as a human shield. 

“You need to stay still for as long as possible, so, smile? I guess,” he muttered the last part under his breath. What the Slytherins gave him were decidedly not the smiles he had been expecting, Zabini’s and Greengrass’s bordered on smirks to be honest while Davis looked the most normal. Theo’s smile was the one that made him feel even warmer all of a sudden, it was rare to see him so unguarded, and freely enjoying himself. As he clicked the shutter, Harry comforted himself with that fact. That even if he no longer got to see Theo everyday like he would’ve liked, the other boy was amongst friends who cared for him and made him happy.

“Oh! Let me take one of you and Theo, Potter. It’s this button here, right? I should get my mom to bring over more Muggle gadgets, this one’s fun,” Davis said as she gently took the camera from Harry’s hands, pushing him toward Theo. The Gryffindor couldn’t help but blush as Zabini and Greengrass gave them space, snickering all while.

“Come on, Harry,” Theo winked at him, the bastard. “I won’t bite.” 

Harry made a show of rolling his eyes at him, smiling as he wrapped his arm around Theo’s shoulders. “Sod off,” he laughed, smiling at the camera as Davis fumbled with it, handing the previous photo over to the other two. The flash blinded him somewhat, and he barely resisted the urge to rub his eyes.

“This one’s ready!” Zabini announced, waving the photo in the air. Greegrass immediately turned to him in alarm.

“You’re not supposed to shake it, Blaise!” She chastised, pulling it from his grip. “This one is definitely nicer, even if it’s a bit eerie how still it is. Do you think it would work at Hogwarts? It would be nice if you brought it along.” 

“It’s mechanical, so I guess it should work alright,” Harry said, as Davis handed over the newest photo to Theo, who angled it so Harry could look at it as well. As he looked over both of their faces, Harry could feel his stomach attempting a somersault. He shrugged it off, attributing it to either too much ice cream or too many Slytherins. 

He really liked the photo, taking in how his glasses hadn’t decided to reflect the flash of the camera and how Theo’s longer than usual hair fell over his forehead. “It’s nice,” he said lamely, leaning back. 

“It really is,” Theo muttered. “A nice memory of a very nice day.” The others were already back in their seats, Zabini was the one currently inspecting the group photograph.

“We should go to some shops later, Theo and I need to get our school supplies before heading back. What about you all?” Harry checked his watch quickly, Mrs. Weasley was due to finish her own shopping soon. He watched with a bittersweet smile as Davis handed the Polaroid camera back to Theo.

“I actually think I’ll be heading back,” he commented, surprised over the fact that he was reluctant to leave. He’d enjoyed the tiny taste of freedom he’d gotten.

“Would you three like to go ahead? I’d like to speak to Harry for a moment before he has to leave,” Theo said, as he turned the camera in his hands. The other Slytherins nodded with matching grins, getting up to leave. 

Zabini was kind enough to gather the remaining presents, “I’ll call Manbey and tell him to leave them in your room.” 

Once Theo had thanked him, Greengrass turned to them, “We’ll meet you at Twilfitt and Tattings, then. I still have some clothes to buy for this term. I’d go as far as to say it was nice seeing you, Potter,” she said, nodding in his direction. Davis grabbed on to her arm, smiling brightly at him. 

“Yeah, you’re not as annoying as you seem from afar. It was nice to officially meet you,” she said, walking out with the blonde.

Zabini clapped him in the shoulder, “I’m glad we can officially blame Malfoy for everything. See you around, Potter. Theo, do try to not take too long, or we’ll visit Obscurus Books without you!” he exclaimed as he followed the others through the doors. Theo pressed his lips together in annoyance.

“He wouldn’t dare…” he muttered under his breath before focusing on Harry. “Thank you again for coming. It wasn’t too bad, was it?” 

Harry took a moment to relax before answering, “I wouldn’t say it was even bad. I might even be persuaded to admit I had a good time,” he noted, following it with a short laugh. “Did you really like the camera? It’s not exactly what I would’ve liked to give, or what you’re probably used to, but I was having some trouble with shopping.”

Theo snorted at that, “It’s perfect, really. I wasn’t even expecting anything, you being here was enough…” He trailed off for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Are you really okay? You seemed tense earlier, when we were talking about prefects and what not.”

Harry focused on one of the light fixtures above them, watching as it flickered slightly as he gathered his thoughts. “It had been bothering me earlier,” he confessed, lowering his eyes to stare at Theo, who was staring at him intently. “It’s stupid really, but when Ron got that letter… If I had known there was a prefect plaque on the way I’d have assumed it was for me, you know? It sounds so arrogant… Ron definitely deserves it, it’s just —” he gestured wildly with his hands when words began to fail him.

“It's always been you?” Theo asked with a small smile. “I suppose it may sound arrogant, but we’d all assumed it would’ve been you. Perhaps that’s Dumbledore’s idea? Giving Weasley a break?”

Harry leaned back with a sigh, making his chair creak noisily. “That actually makes sense? Ron was certainly quite proud, even if he was trying not to show it. Fred and George didn’t waste a second in giving him shit about it,” he laughed. If that happened again at the party tonight, he’d stick up for his friend. “It seemed like a bigger deal earlier, another slight against me from the universe—”

“Hey, wipe your face over there,” Theo said suddenly, gesturing toward the corner of his lip closest to him. Harry blushed immediately, rubbing the back of his hand against the spot. Did he have dried spit or something? Shit, did he have left over ice cream on his face? 

“What? What is it?” He asked, mind reeling. There hadn’t been ice cream on his face when they took that photo earlier, so that wasn’t it…

“Your arrogance is dripping out.”

“You little piece of SHIT!” Harry groaned, digging his face into his hands. Why was he friends with Theo again? He tried his best to hold in his laughter, lifting his head to throw the Slytherin the best glare he could. But Theo’s hysterics were contagious and soon enough they were both leaning on the table, gasping for breath. 

“I hate you,” Harry gasped out. “You absolute bastard, Nott.”

Theo snorted as he tried to speak, “I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry—” He forced out before resuming his laughter, the corners of his eyes creasing in amusement. 

“Are you really?” 

“Not really, no. Oh,” Theo sighed, wiping his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. Do I get my first-name privileges back if I make it up to you?” 

Harry pushed his shoulder against his gently, “and how do you plan to do that?” He asked him with a grin, enjoying how Theo seemed to lose his bearings for a second. His friend pushed the camera into his hands, biting his lip.

“We take another photo. That way each of us gets to keep one, what do you think? I’ll choose which one of course,” he proposed, looking quite proud of himself. Harry was tempted to mess up Theo’s hair to wipe that look off his face.

“Why do you choose? You’re supposed to be making it up to me.”

“Well, it’s my birthday, isn’t it? My word goes. So, do you agree with my terms, Potter ?” Theo asked him with hooded eyes that made Harry’s stomach feel heavy. He sighed as he took the camera.

“Fine, your highness, I agree. Now, move closer, it’s harder when you take a picture of yourself.”

Pressed up next to each other, Harry breathed in deeply, trying his best to ignore the heat of Theo right beside him. The flash was an appreciated distraction, seeing how it made Theo retreat to his seat, pressing the back of his hands against his eyes.

“So far? That’s the only part I could deal without,” he muttered, blinking owlishly at Harry.

“You’ll get used to it,” Harry said, carefully placing the photo on the table. “Ok, Theo. Which one shall you pick?”

They both waited for a while until their newest photo had developed enough for Theo to compare them. While the Slytherin decided, Harry took a chance to look around them. He didn’t have any luck in spotting Tonks and Lupin, assuming Tonks even looked like herself. 

“I’ve decided,” Theo suddenly declared, commanding Harry’s attention back to himself. “I’ll take this one,” he gestured towards the one they’d just taken, “and you get this one.” Harry smiled as he took in the picture Davis had taken of them, truthfully, he had enjoyed that one the best. 

His smile slipped a bit when Theo looked over his shoulder and resumed what Harry had dubbed his ‘Hogwarts-face’, generally guarded and unfriendly. Turning, he saw that Lupin and Tonks had made a reappearance.

“Sorry to cut this short, you two. But we should go find Molly before she’s done, boss’s orders,” Tonks shrugged. Theo nodded at her, and got up promptly. Harry decided to follow him before he could walk away, he’d already hugged Theo infront of both adults earlier, what harm could another one do? 

He stood up, pushing the heavy chair back noisily. The second Theo turned to look at him he threw his arms around him, delighting in the surprised noise the other let out. Theo barked out a laugh and hugged him back.

“See you in Hogwarts?” Theo asked him, grabbing the camera and his chosen photograph. He stored the latter in his cloak, making sure it wouldn’t get wrinkled. 

“Definitely, I’ll find you.” Harry winked at him, waving as the other boy gestured bood-bye to Tonks and Lupin before walking out of the door. It wasn’t long before they followed him, yet when Harry looked around the street, the Slytherin was nowhere to be seen. 

Tonks was the first one to break the silence. “Sooo, are we allowed to ask about that one in particular?” 

“Absolutely not,” Harry answered, carefully pocketing his photograph in his jacket. 

“Oh, please?” Tonks badgered on, keeping her eyes focused on every passerby they came across. “Not even one?”

Lupin sighed and put his hand on her shoulder, reining her in. “What did you even talk about with them? Before today, I’d never imagined I’d see you in their company.”.

“We talked about prefects, and how neither of them was made one. It helped, after the whole ordeal today,” Harry shrugged as Tonks visibly perked up. In her excitement, she nearly tripped over a stray pebble, nearly toppling over if it weren’t for Lupin’s grip on her shoulder. 

“Oh, I wasn’t a prefect, either. Thanks,” she laughed, thanking Lupin with a sheepish look. “My Head of House said I lacked the necessary qualities.”

“Like what?” Harry asked as they passed Caput Mortuum, which had what looked like a very well preserved skeleton of a monkey posed near its entrance. 

“Like the ability to behave myself,” Tonks told him nonchalantly, making him burst out in laughter. “What about you Remus? Did you make prefect?”

“I did, I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,” Lupin said. “Needless to say, I failed abysmally.”

Harry’s mood lifted even higher. His father hadn’t been a Prefect either, he guessed he could see Lupin as a Prefect, blatantly ignoring whatever his father and Sirius were up to. Probably what Ron would be doing regarding Fred and George’s antics. Speaking of Ron, Harry hurried up Lupin and Tonks in their search for Mrs. Weasley. She hardly knew what to look for in the broom Ron wanted for his congratulatory gift, after all. He could even get his best friend something as well, Ron deserved to enjoy his moment. 

Speaking of moments.

“So, uh—” Harry started, turning to look at Lupin. “Can you— Can you not mention this to Padfoot?” 

Lupin merely stared at him for a moment before smiling widely and grabbing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harry. I won’t tell him a thing,” he said, squeezing his shoulder. Harry opened his mouth to thank him, but the older man beat him to it. “You’re telling him, yourself.”

Harry cursed inwardly as Tonks barked out a laugh in delight. He would’ve been better off not saying anything. 

Chapter Text

The first day of September came without any advances on the riddle, much to Theo and Blaise’s chagrin. Signora Zabini had accompanied them to the station and through the barrier, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over the platform packed with the departing students and their families.  

“You two take care of each other, sì?” she asked of them, smothering Blaise with her good-bye hug. “Give my love to Daphne and her sister,” Theo nodded distractedly, subtly looking around for the usual Weasley parade and, most importantly, their dark haired honorary member. 

“We will, Mother,” Blaise replied, chastely kissing his mother’s hands before grabbing his trunk. Signora Zabini stroked his short hair before moving on to Theo, who finally gave up on trying to spot them. 

“Theodore, darling, thank you for your visit this last couple of days. You’re always welcome, mio caro,” She said, kissing both of his cheeks loudly. “Don’t be a stranger, we’re past that already.”

“Thank you for everything, Signora.”

Blaise pulled at Theo’s arm insistingly, “We really do need to hurry if we want to find an empty compartment. I’ll write to you tomorrow, Mother!” he called as they made their way toward the train and away from the waving witch. 

As they walked they came across Malfoy and his parents. The blonde boy greeted them with a smile; he was already wearing his prefect badge over his clothes. 

“Nott! Zabini! Isn’t this wonderful?” He laughed happily, “Who do you think made prefect from the other Houses? I don’t imagine Potter, what with how stellar his reputation is these days—”

“That’s enough, Draco. Don’t you think so?” Lucius Malfoy interrupted his son, placing a hand over the boy's shoulder.  “Theodore, Blaise,” he nodded in greeting at them both. Beside him, his wife Narcissa sent them a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Has your mother left already, Blaise? A pity, it’s been such a long time since we last sat down for a talk,” she drawled, looking at them both intently as she looped her arm around her husband’s. Lucius gripped his cane tightly as he turned to stare at Theo.

“Alaric has been joining us for dinner so often, Theodore. I was almost expecting you to accompany him eventually, imagine our disappointment when you didn’t. Draco would’ve enjoyed your company at the very least.” 

Theo nodded at him jerkily, eager to end their conversation. He spared a look at the younger Malfoy, who was preening under his father’s hand. Was he even aware of what his father was up to? Or was he in the dark just like Theo himself? He’d known Malfoy mirrored his family’s supremacist views, even going as far as to threaten any Muggleborns he came across, but would he go as far as to actively support the Dark Lord? Was he a Death Eater in the making?

“Perhaps over the winter holidays,” Blaise interjected. “You all know Theo, we lose all track of him during summer. He prefers the company of books over us mere mortals.” 

Lucius winced at that, “Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad if Draco focused more on his studies rather than his friends. He’s spent most of his time sending letters to Miss Parkinson.”

Malfoy blushed a deep red and hurried to defend himself. “We’ve been discussing what we’ll do as prefects once term begins! I’m dying to see Potter’s face when I take points away from Gryffindor.”

Narcissa’s lips thinned even further, Theo was surprised that it was even possible. “Darling, must we go over this once more? I’m sure your friends are quite eager to get on the train, as should you.” 

Theo took the opening the gods had gifted him with, “You’re right, Madame Malfoy. Blaise and I should be on our way if we want to get a compartment to ourselves.”

“That accursed train,” Narcissa sighed. “It’s ridiculous how the Ministry insists on using a Muggle contraption for their transport. Be on your way, boys. Enjoy your school year.”

Malfoy waved at them, “I’ll see you around. I’m sharing a compartment with Crabbe and Goyle, if they ever arrive that is,” he said with a sneer. Lucius gave them a small nod, before turning to talk to his son. 

Eagerly, Theo and Blaise dragged their trunks to the nearest opening. Once they had entered, they shared a brief laugh before beginning their search for an empty compartment. 

“I can never decide on my feelings towards the Malfoys,” Theo muttered as he led the way, struggling with his trunk. The bloody thing kept getting stuck in the carpeted floors. 

“Too annoying to like, too amusing to hate?” Blaise offered from behind him as they walked. “Hey, do you think Daphne and Tracey are here already?” he asked, changing the topic. 

Theo shot him an incredulous look over his shoulder. 

“Those two? Absolutely not, there’s no chance of them arriving early,” he answered, peering through the glass-panelled doors into the compartments they passed, searching for an empty one.  They found one soon enough, and both breathed a sigh of relief once they were seated.

Blaise scrunched his nose, staring at the occupants of the platform through the window as Theo leaned down to open his trunk. “This year feels different. With everything that’s going on, I just have this — this sense of foreboding…”

Pausing his rummaging, Theo looked up at his oldest friend. “Like we’re just waiting for everything to hit,” he muttered, pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. 

“ Yes, ” Blaise said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I hate it, I absolutely hate it. The other night, while you were in the library researching, Mother kept insisting on how important it was for me to focus on myself and studying. Absolutely no acknowledging that the Dark Lord is back allowed, let Potter and Dumbledore continue making fools of themselves…” he sighed, slumping down in his seat. 

“My father said the same thing,” Theo told him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “He went on about how important it was to treat Harry as if he was nothing but an ‘attention-craving liar,’” the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, making his blood boil. Like Harry wasn’t twice the wizard his father would ever be, he thought furiously.

“This is ridiculous. Everything is going to explode eventually. It’ll explode right in front of all their stupid faces,” Blaise muttered angrily. “Except for my lovely mother’s face of course, she’s smart enough to keep her arms clean, if you know what I mean.” Theo looked up just in time to catch the pointed look Blaise threw at him. 

Theo snorted in agreement, at least Signora Zabini was keeping herself far away from this mess. Whatever benefit his father saw in following the Dark Lord was completely lost on him.  

“You just had to meet Potter, didn’t you Theo?” Blaise sighed, rubbing his temples. “You met him, and now his mess just spilled all over the wizarding world…”

Theo rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, focusing on his trunk once more. If Blaise was feeling melodramatic enough to make jokes, then he was going to be just fine. Spotting the box he was looking for, he dug it out eagerly and threw it into Blaise’s lap, effectively cutting off his spiel. 

“— Oh! You brought it?” the boy asked excitedly, placing the box of Gryphons and Gargoyles in the middle of the seat. “Well, come on over then! It’s been so long I can barely remember how to play it!”

By the time they had finally organised their playing space and gone through the rules, Daphne and Tracey arrived, with the latter excitedly joining their game right in time. Daphne raised her eyebrows at them with a cheeky grin, preferring to paint her nails and chat with them as the game progressed. 

Halfway through the game, the train finally left the station. Much to Daphne’s chagrin, their game had lasted a bit more than half an hour, forcing her to entertain herself by commenting on their game as she waited for her nails to dry. Theo grumbled amiably, stretching his arms over his head until his back cracked. Tracey had absolutely destroyed them both by a large margin, prompting Blaise to accuse her of cheating multiple times as they played. 

As Tracey thrust her hands over Daphne’s lap, asking for her to do her nails as well, Theo considered going over to check on Harry. He had half a mind to make up an excuse to search for the Gryffindor, before realising that he didn’t really need one anymore. That didn’t mean he was willing to bear the teasing his friends could unleash upon him if they so wished.

“I’ll see you all in a while,” he said, standing up and enjoying the feeling of stretching his legs. To his friends credit, they only shot him a knowing look before focusing on Tracey’s nails. 

As he closed the compartment door behind him, he briefly wondered how his life had come to this. Searching for his Gryffindor friend during the ride to school, his Gryffindor friend who was Harry Potter, out of all the available lions in Hogwarts. They hadn’t written to each other in the days between Theo’s birthday and the first of September. Theo himself had been busy scouring any available material he could find in the Zabini’s library in hopes of solving the riddle, and Harry had probably been busy with whatever it was they did over there when they weren’t cleaning.

He’d missed him, not that he would ever tell Harry as much.

As he walked, he discreetly peered through the glass-panelled doors, he figured Harry would be sitting with his usual crew, especially given the current circumstances. He was nearing the very end of the train when he spotted a girl standing in the middle of the corridor, in front of an open compartment door. Theo recognized her as one of the older Ravenclaws; he'd seen her play in some of the Quidditch matches Tracey insisted on attending. He couldn’t quite place her name though.

Well, there wasn’t anywhere else to look, Theo figured, the odds were that Harry was in that compartment or he wasn’t on the train at all. As he neared her, he could faintly hear the conversation going on.

“—just thought I’d say hello . . . ’bye then, Harry.” Not much of a conversation, then. At least he had confirmation of who was in there.

As she turned, the girl seemed surprised to see Theo standing there, perhaps he’d been too quiet in his approach. Shooting him a confused glance, she smiled weakly at him and walked past him, all the while sticking close to the wall. 

Ignoring her, he continued walking towards the open compartment, scrunching his face in distaste as he grew closer. What in Hel was that smell? He covered the lower half of his face with his sleeve, trying his best to ignore the feeling of his eyes watering. 

“Nevermind,” he heard a girl say. “Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify! ”

The smell grew lighter, but didn’t completely vanish. Bracing himself, Theo peeked through the door. Inside the compartment, sat a disgruntled Harry holding a — a frog? Neville Longbottom was also there, apologetically holding what looked like a cactus covered in boils. Two girls were with them, Ginny Weasley and someone with  straggly, waist length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes. He had absolutely no idea who she was.

Deeming the other occupants uninteresting, he chose to focus on Harry. 

“I don’t want to know,” he muttered as he entered the compartment, sliding the door closed behind him. 

“Hey Theo,” Harry said with a smile, which Theo gladly returned. 

“Harry.”

His friend shuffled away to Longbottom, freeing a space between himself and the other Gryffindor boy, which Theo promptly took. Amusingly, Longbottom inched away from him the moment he sat down. Theo couldn’t really help himself and threw a smirk his way, watching gleefully as the Gryffindor visibly shuddered. He suddenly felt an elbow dig into his ribs, and did his best to hide back the wince. Perhaps he should’ve sat on Harry’s other side, the temptation wouldn’t have been so strong. 

“Had a good summer, Longbottom?” Theo asked, not at all unkindly. He wasn’t all that bad, Longbottom was just too amusing to tease. 

“I— yeah…” Longbottom mumbled nervously, “I got this for my birthday…” he said, gesturing to the plant in his hands. 

“Which we won’t be poking at anymore,” Weasley said from the other side of the compartment. “You’re Nott, right? I’ve seen you around.”

“Weasley,” Theo nodded in greeting. “Theodore Nott. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He leaned back, feeling his shoulder brush up against Harry’s. A welcome warmth. 

Weasley followed the motion with sharp eyes. 

“I’ve seen you in the library before,” the blonde girl said dreamily. Theo finally focused on her, noticing she had her wand stuck behind her left ear and — was she reading that magazine upside down?  

“Yes,” Theo answered, caught off guard. He couldn’t look away from her necklace made out of butterbeer caps. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are, though.”

“That’s Luna Lovegood, we just met her as well,” Harry told him, pulling Theo’s attention back to him. “She’s a Ravenclaw in Ginny’s year.” Theo merely nodded in answer, Ravenclaws were a weird breed but this girl left them all in the dust.

The magazine in her hands caught his eye though. It was an edition of the Quibbler, far from the worst of the tabloids published these days but known for its conspiracy theories and articles about imaginary animals. Upside down, it was hard to make out the titles on its cover, but if he focused he could make out the words “ancient runes”. How did that old saying go, ‘leave no stone unturned’? 

“Excuse me. Lovegood, may I take a look at that magazine of yours?” He could feel Harry’s incredulous gaze on him, which was curious. He hadn’t taken Harry as someone who’d known about the bizarre contents of the Quibbler.

Lovegood nodded at him and passed him the magazine with a soft smile, turning to engage with Weasley in conversation. Longbottom seemed at loss for a moment, before joining both girls. 

As Theo settled back to look over the magazine, he felt more than saw Harry craning his neck to read alongside him. So, with a fond sigh, he adjusted his grip so the other boy could read comfortably from his spot next to him. Beneath the title were listed the headings of other articles inside the magazine.

CORRUPTION IN THE QUIDDITCH LEAGUE: How the Tornados Are Taking Control

SECRETS OF THE ANCIENT RUNES REVEALED 

SIRIUS BLACK: Villain or Victim?

He sighed internally, not wanting to anger the owner of the magazine before he’d had a chance to read it. Knowing Harry, he’d want to read the article about Black, eager for some news. He’d be severely disappointed, Theo mused, the odds of the Quibbler printing out a conspiracy theory that would turn out to be true were close to none. He was taking Arithmancy, he knew the numbers. 

“I’ll hand it over to you in a second,” he told his friend as he scanned the index; once he found the page, he quickly turned to the article.

To his disappointment, it was about how if you turned the runes on their heads, they revealed a spell to make your enemy’s ears turn into kumquats. At least that explained why Lovegood was looking at it upside down. He was about to pass the magazine over to Harry so they could both be disappointed when the other boy pointed at the following page.

“What is an Ouija Board doing there?” Harry asked, scooting even closer. Theo could barely think over the feeling of being pressed up against the Gryffindor, who didn’t even appear to notice. Across from them, Lovegood perked up at his comment. 

“Oh, the Muggles made a board with which you can talk to the dead,” she said in that airy tone of hers. “You ask them questions and the spirits will move the plancher and spell out their answers. Isn’t it interesting? It does irritate the Wrackspurts, though. I suppose it does help you keep a clear head when communicating, don’t you think?” 

Theo wasn’t willing to unpack any of that.

“The Muggles call it a planchette, though,” Harry added amicably. “It’s this thing right here,” he pointed at a picture of a heart shaped object, with a hole in its middle. “The hole is usually so you can see the letter it’s hovering on, but some say you that during a session, you can actually lift it and look at the spirits in the room.”

“That’s horrible!” Longbottom cried, “Why would anyone want to communicate with the dead?”

“Assuming it actually works of course,” Weasley interjected, pursuing her lips. Beside her, Lovegood merely sighed. 

“I think people would like to know that their loved ones are happy, wouldn’t you? That’s what I would want. Sometimes, I miss them terribly. Hearing from them would be very nice.” Theo felt her words land like a stone in his stomach. It would be very nice, indeed. He spared a glance at the Ravenclaw, catching the sad glint in her eyes before it went away. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship toward her. 

He felt a hand settle over his, as Harry grasped it gently. 

“My father is using them for a project of his,” Lovegood mentioned, staring right at Theo. Her protuberant eyes made it seem like she was looking right into him. “He thinks they’re similar to hag stones, so he’s looking for some to be able to spot creatures normally invisible to the eye. Those you can’t see with a Revealing Charm. He hasn’t found any though, it’s a shame. I’d like to see Wrackspurts so I can keep them away from my ears, they make your brain go fuzzy.”

Theo shook his head. The kindred he’d felt for Lovegood aside, there was no denying her oddness. But who was he to judge? He chose to flick through the rest of the magazine, but there wasn’t anything interesting left. Harry would place his finger on the page whenever he wanted Theo to pause so he could read what was written. Together, they went over an accusation that the Tutshill Tornados were winning the Quidditch League by a combination of blackmail, illegal broom-tampering, and torture; an interview with a wizard who claimed to have flown to the moon on a Cleansweep Six and brought back a bag of moon frogs to prove it.    

When they finally reached the article on Sirius Black, Theo placed the magazine on Harry’s hands and leaned over his shoulder to read, effectively switching their previous positions. The article in question was illustrated by a cartoon, in which Black was standing on a pile of human bones with his wand out. The headline on the article read:

SIRIUS - Black As He’s Painted? Notorious Mass Murderer OR

Innocent Singing Sensation?

Theo mentally prepared himself for whatever it was he was going to read. Just from the headline alone, it wasn’t heading in a good direction. 

For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed

guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles

and one wizard. Black’s audacious escape from

Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest

manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic.

None of us has ever questioned that he deserves to be

recaptured and handed back to the dementors.

BUT DOES HE?

Startling new evidence has recently come to light

that Sirius Black may not have committed the crimes

for which he was sent to Azkaban. In fact, says Doris

Purkiss, of 18 Acanthia Way, Little Norton, Black may

not even have been present at the killings.

“What people don’t realise is that Sirius Black is a

false name,” says Mrs. Purkiss. “The man people

believe to be Sirius Black is actually Stubby

Boardman, lead singer of the popular singing group

The Hobgoblins, who retired from public life after

being struck in the ear by a turnip at a concert in Little

Norton Church Hall nearly fifteen years ago. I

recognized him the moment I saw his picture in the

paper. Now, Stubby couldn’t possibly have committed

those crimes, because on the day in question he

happened to be enjoying a romantic candlelit dinner

with me. I have written to the Minister of Magic and

am expecting him to give Stubby, alias Sirius, a full

pardon any day now.

Theo wanted to claw his eyes out. Right there was the very reason why he didn’t read the Quibbler. Imaginary creatures? No problem, he had the personal belief that everything must’ve been inspired by something real. Sometimes he even enjoyed going over them and finding out their origins. But that right there, crazy conspiracy theories backed by wizards who firmly believed in them, annoyed him too much. 

He gently took the Quibbler from Harry’s prone hands. The other boy hadn’t really moved after reading the article, he just sat there with his lips pressed together. 

Lovegood leaned forward to take it from him, “What did you think?”

Theo chose his words very carefully. 

“I found the stories to be quite incredible.” That would do, he thought as the Ravenclaw beamed at him. 

He spent the better half of an hour with them before deciding it was probably time to leave. As per usual when in Harry’s company, he’d enjoyed himself. Weasley and Lovegood were tolerable when together, with their respective wittiness and whatever it was that Lovegood had, Theo wasn’t going to try to put a name to it. They complemented each other quite nicely. 

Longbottom, as skittish as he acted, was a walking encyclopaedia of Herbology. Theo stored that piece of information carefully, it could be useful sometime later. Besides, it was terribly amusing how a simple movement of his eyebrow could leave the Gryffindor in a frenzy. Harry could glare disaprovingly at him as much as he wanted, Theo had heard those snorts of laughter whenever he terrorized Longbottom just a little. 

Theo handed the cards he had gotten from his Chocolate Frogs to Harry and stood up, straightening his clothes. 

“As pleasant as this has been, I’ll take my leave. Pleasure meeting you all,” he told them, before turning to look at Harry. “I’ll see you around then, you know how to find me.”

Feeling bold, he winked at him and opened the door, exiting the compartment. He closed the door behind him before sighing, he’d have to walk almost the entirety of the train’s length to get back to his friends. At least the halls were empty, he thought to himself as he began walking. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t empty for long, seeing as how he eventually ran into Granger and Weasley, back from wherever it was they had been. Granger smiled at him warmly.

“Nott! Did you have a nice summer?” Behind her, Weasley scowled and nodded at him in greeting. Theo smiled back at the girl and nodded back at Weasley, all the while picturing a long-legged spider inching its way along his shoulders and into his appalling jumper.  

“I did, did you enjoy yours?” he asked cordially. It wasn’t that he disliked Granger, he was just deeply disappointed in her behaviour toward Harry during the start of their summer holidays. But Harry had told him that everything was fine now, so back to civility he was. Besides, he really wanted to read the books she had told him she’d brought from her home. 

“I did. We should be going now, but it was nice to see you,” Granger said, grabbing Weasley’s arm and pulling him along. Theo congratulated himself on abstaining from trying to trip the taller boy as he walked past him.

He blasted everything to Hel and back when he ran into Malfoy and Parkinson. “Nott! Guess who the prefects from Gryffindor are? It’s Weasley and that Mudblood Granger,” he laughed gleefully. Beside him, Parkinson giggled and tried to wrap her arm around Malfoy’s, but the boy shrugged it off. “Can you believe it? Of all the temperamental idiots— I mean, I know the pickings in Gryffindor are slim, but —Weasley?”

Theo was quite confused when he felt a prickle of irritation at the slight against Weasley. What Malfoy had said was right, Weasley really was a temperamental idiot. So why did it sit wrong with him?

“I’m going to accompany Pansy to her compartment and then I’m off to annoy Potter, do you want to come?” Barely resisting the impulse to roll his eyes, Theo shook his head in answer. 

“I’ll pass,” he said, noting how Malfoy wasn’t really paying attention to him anymore. 

“Suit yourself, Nott. See you later at the feast.”  

 As he watched Malfoy walk off, Theo chewed on his lip guiltily. He knew Harry was going to be absolutely displeased when Malfoy reached their compartment, but what was he supposed to do? Confront Malfoy and tell him off? He’d be the talk of Slytherin by the end of the day, and with the Malfoys social standing, a pariah before the year formally began. He frowned remembering his fathers words, that’d be the complete opposite from laying low. 

He and Harry were good friends, he wasn’t afraid to admit that to himself and his other friends. But to state it to all of Hogwarts? If it were a regular Gryffindor he wouldn’t be having this problem, he thought bitterly. The timing was all wrong. The Dark Lord was back, and he was affiliating himself with the Boy-Who-Lived. He could be effectively pissing off both sides of the incoming war, because of course there was bound to be one. He wasn’t stupid. 

The Death Eaters and their sympathisers would associate him with Harry and accordingly, Dumbledore, so he could very well end up being a target out of spite considering his father’s standing with them. On the other hand, Dumbledore’s sympathisers and his followers could also very well think he was only using Harry to protect himself and save himself from a future trip to Azkaban. 

Streð.  

What was he supposed to do eventually? He wasn’t going to ditch Harry, absolutely not. But he couldn’t ignore the consequences of standing publicly by his side. Fuck his father and fuck the old man’s choices, if it weren’t for them he wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. Too much of a coward to choose a side, albeit indirectly, in a war he had no place in.

He didn’t talk much when he reached his friend’s compartment, preferring instead to look through the window. The other Slytherins threw confused glances at each other but opted to give Theo his space, which he greatly appreciated. The weather remained undecided as they travelled farther and farther north. Rain spattered the windows in a halfhearted way, then the sun put in a feeble appearance before clouds drifted over it once more. 

By the time they changed into their uniforms, Theo was feeling slightly less glum. He’d arrived at the conclusion that he would just have to deal with everything once it became necessary. He just knew he wasn’t going to turn his back on Harry. Everything else? He prayed that Freyja would take pity on him. 

At last the train began to slow down and they heard the usual racket up and down it as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready for departure. The second they shuffled out of the compartment they could feel the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. As they moved toward the doors, Theo could smell the pine trees that lined the path down to the lake.

The ride to the castle was peaceful as the carriages, rattling and swaying, moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Theo looked out the window to see the castle looming over them; a towering mass of turrets, jet-black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Theo got out of the carriage first. As he waited for his friends to step out as well, he took in the winged horse that had pulled their carriage all the way. It was during his first year at Hogwarts that he learnt that not everyone could see them, and chose to keep the knowledge that he could to himself. They’d yet to learn about them in Care of Magical Creatures, but according to Professor Snape, they were Thestrals. Winged horses that were visible only to those who had witnessed death. They were beautiful in a sorrowful way, full of longing and wistfulness. 

Speaking of Snape, Theo had planned on looking for him before the feast started to ask him whether or not he would teach him how to master Occlumency. Honestly, he was expecting an immediate rejection. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much time before he’d be able to wear him down.

“Theo?” He heard someone call from behind him. When he turned, he saw Harry was just getting off his own carriage and was making his way towards him. A couple of heads turned as the Gryffindor all but ran past him but Theo, feeling cold sweat gathering in his hands, ignored them to the best of his abilities.

“Can you see them?” Harry whispered to him once he was close enough, throwing a nervous look to the black skeletal horse Theo had been admiring. When Theo nodded, relief filled Harry’s face.

“What are they? Why d’you reckon they're pulling the carriages this year?”

“Thestrals, Harry. They’ve always pulled the carriage,” Theo answered in puzzlement. Had Harry not been able to see them before?

“How come you can see them as well? The others couldn’t— well, Luna could. Which wasn’t at all encouraging by the way,” the Gryffindor groaned, rubbing his temples. 

“Well, you can only—” He lost his train of thought the second he saw Snape speaking to some other Slytherins inside the castle. “— I need to go,” Theo blurted out, already gearing up to follow the Potions Master.

Harry gripped his arms tightly before he could leave, “Hey — Hey— You can’t just leave without telling me! Theo— C’mon! I thought I was going crazy for a moment!”

“Harry, listen. You’re not crazy. I promise,” Theo reassured him in a hurry. “Let’s talk tomorrow, yes? I’ll tell you everything I know about Thestrals, just know they’re normal and have been here for years,” he pulled himself free of Harry’s grip before remembering an important detail.

“Oh! Try not to mention them too much, or people will end up thinking you really are crazy. See you soon!” Theo said, taking a moment to squeeze Harry’s shoulder briefly before running after Snape. Behind him, Harry spluttered indignantly. 

“Theo! That’s not helpful at all!”  

Chapter Text

After the mess the Welcoming Feast had been, Theo all but pouted the entire way down to the dungeons, not that he would ever admit to doing so. As expected, Snape had refused to teach him Occlumency. That was fine, Theo had accounted for that in his plans. It would take a couple of attempts before he wore the Potions Master down enough for him to accept to teach him. Even so, it would certainly make things easier if his Head of House wasn’t so stubborn. 

His bad mood had nothing to do with Snape though, and everything to do with that toadish-excuse for a witch. The second he saw Umbridge sitting at the staff table, he’d known something was wrong, although it was certainly aided by the grudge he held against her because of Harry’s hearing. The last time a Ministry Worker had sat there, the Triwizard Tournament had taken place. As far as Theo’s reasoning went, he considered that fact to be more than enough for him to be on alert.

He wasn’t that far off. 

By the end of her speech, Theo and his friends had concluded one thing, the Ministry had finally found a way to dig their claws into Hogwarts. That would explain the curriculum changes Theo’s father had hinted at during the summer.

As he lay in bed trying his best to let sleep wash over him, he wondered what Umbridge would consider a ‘proper curriculum’. As far as professors went, there was no way she could beat Lockhart in ineptitude. Right?

Theo woke up to the sound of someone cursing up a storm. Groaning, he covered his head with a spare pillow. It did nothing to muffle the sounds of everyone else waking up. He sighed deeply and threw the pillow, watching as it hit the heavy curtains and fell to the floor. He lay there for a moment, rubbing his eyes. It felt as if he hadn't slept at all. 

“—seriously Crabbe? What is wrong with you?” He heard Blaise groan from the bed next to his. So he had Crabbe to blame for his building headache, good to know. Crabbe seemed to mumble something in answer, but Theo wasn’t awake enough to decipher it.

“I. Don’t. Care,” Blaise shot back, his voice was closer now. Please, no. Theo thought desperately and covered his face with his arms. Let me go back to sleep.

He did his best to lie still when he heard his curtains being pulled open.  

“Rise and shine, Nott. I know you’re awake,” Blaise said, pulling on Theo’s arms. “Merlin, I wouldn’t doubt if all of Slytherin is awake now.” 

“I was trying to be quiet,” Crabbe argued from the floor. When did he even get there? Theo didn’t really want to know. 

“Emphasis on trying, Crabbe,” Malfoy muttered from his own bed. Guess everyone was awake then, considering Goyle’s usual snores were absent. “Something you clearly didn’t manage.”  

Finally giving into Blaise’s tugs, Theo let himself be dragged away from the warmth of his bed. “It’s the first day and I’m already done with every single one of you,” he complained as he made his way to the bathroom, ignoring Goyle’s indignant groans. “You better not make this a habit of yours, Crabbe.”

Theo took a good look at his reflection after washing his face, taking special care at the state of his dark circles. Not bad enough yet, he mused. He wouldn’t be needing a Sleeping Draught for a good couple of weeks at least. Tugging at a stray curl, he realised he’d forgotten to get it cut during the summer holidays. Shrugging, he did his best to comb them back, he wasn’t fond of how he looked with his hair cropped short anyway. 

He finished getting ready quickly enough, electing to sort through the books he’d nicked from his father’s library as he waited for Blaise to be finished. He’d grabbed a couple from Sani Oates, yet he settled on one from Ljóssál Loðursson, ‘ The Book of Primaeval Whispers’ , that sounded promising. He really ought to be focusing on the riddle, he chided himself as he bit his lip in thought. Perhaps once classes were over he’d take a trip to the library in search for more clues. 

Malfoy sped past his bed, in search of whatever product it was he usually wore on his hair. Theo was just glad he’d finally ditched the slicked back hair, he didn’t miss the nightly ritual that taking it off required. 

“Ready?” He was startled to hear Blaise’s voice from right next to him. The other boy was already putting on his cloak, waiting for Theo’s answer. 

“Sure,” he answered, grabbing Loðursson’s book. He didn’t bother covering the other books with his blanket, Malfoy wasn’t one to snoop and he’d previously declared his disregard for whatever ‘weird family history and traditions’ Theo liked to brush up on.

They didn’t speak much on their way to the Great Hall, Blaise knew better than to try and engage Theo in conversation before he’d managed to down a couple of cups of tea. It wasn’t until they arrived that Theo realised it wasn't as early as he’d thought it was. There were plenty of students already enjoying breakfast by the time both Slytherins walked through the doors, and Snape was already walking around and delivering their schedules.

They crossed paths with him to get their respective slips of paper. Theo was the proud recipient of a patented glare, usually reserved for the semi-tolerated Gryffindors. He recalled Snape’s words from the night before, how he wasn’t a “ family house-elf, attending to his beck and call for every whimsical need that entered his scatter-brained head. ” Snape really did have a way with words, he mused as he sat down. He wasn’t really worried, his professor would probably forget his grudge the second someone else slighted him. 

“Herbology, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Blaise read of his schedule with a low whistle. “What a Monday…”

Theo decided that was a problem for his more-caffeinated self later that day, but he took the precaution of adding extra sugars to his tea. It sounded like he would be needing it. 

“I suppose we’ll be solving the Umbridge mystery today. Capable, board-approved professor or mindless Ministry goon? Time will tell,” the older boy muttered under his breath as he reached for a piece of toast. “Mother mentioned she was at Potter’s hearing, was she right?”

Theo merely hummed in answer. Speaking of Harry, he perused the Gryffindor table until he spotted him— staring right at him. 

Choking on his tea, Theo did his best to lower his teacup to the table, barely avoiding making a mess. Stupid, Potter. He thought scathingly, as he tried to breathe normally. From what he could see, the Gryffindor was trying his best to avoid laughing. 

“Stop choking, Theo. I’m not facing this hell of a day alone,” Blaise said unkindly, patting him on his back as he read the rest of their schedule. Theo ignored him in favour of studying the staff table. Umbridge was still there, in her bright pink garishness. Still no Hagrid, he concluded, watching as Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank talked animatedly with Professor Flitwick. Harry was probably saddened by the fact, but he couldn’t help but feel a spike of hope. Would they finally be free of the skrewts? 

“Do you reckon Hagrid will be back soon?” he asked, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded. Blaise spared him a glance before focusing on the schedule once more, pursuing his lips. 

“Hopefully not. I’m actually looking forward to furthering my education, something that is possible only as long as that moron stays away…”

Theo clicked his tongue, “I wouldn’t call him a moron… Passion and talent doesn’t always equal being a good professor, I suppose….” Blaise sighed at him and pushed the cup of tea closer to him.

“You’re spending too much time with Potter. Fine , I want a decent professor to teach me, happy? Drink your tea. I need you to be functional for Herbology, Daphne and Tracey always pair up the first week of classes.”

“Who do we have Potions with?” he asked after a while had passed. Having Potions right after Herbology didn’t sit well with him, not while being kilometres away from Snape’s good graces. 

“Do you really have to ask at this point? The Gryffindors. Last year before OWLs and we’re not able to get rid of them, at least it makes for good entertainment— Oh! There’s Tracey and Daphne!” he said, waving his arm around so they’d spot him.

Well, Theo thought, as he poured himself his second cup of the day, he could always count on Harry to be a buffer. Compared to him? Theo was gods-sent in Snape’s eyes. He should probably talk to him soon as well, he mused, Thestrals were bound to leave an impact on anyone who saw them for the first time. 

“Is that his first cup?” Daphne asked, sitting across from him. Theo merely blinked at her owlishly, let her gather her own conclusions.

“Hmmm, nah. Look at him, he’s awake enough,” Tracey declared, claiming the spot next to her. “So, Umbridge. What are we expecting? Personally, I think nothing that comes directly from the Ministry is good. Daphne?”

“I’m open-minded.”

“A very political answer. Blaise?”

“I’m willing to play the devil’s advocate. I’d say she will be a decent professor, and teach us the appropriate material for a Fifth Year class.”

“I miss Lupin, I’d go as far as to say Moody would’ve been a better option,” Theo muttered, taking care of what he was saying. He didn’t really recall what Dumbledore had disclosed last term, best to play it safe. 

“I’ll take that as your answer. Would any of you be willing to bet on it?”

“Tracey!” Daphne admonished.

“What? I need to earn money somehow, considering my mother isn’t willing to give me any extra,” Tracey defended herself, raising her hands. “Honestly, considering what the Weasleys are doing, you shouldn’t be getting on my case.”

“What are they doing?” Blaise asked, stuffing the remainders of his toast in his mouth.

“They’re trying to get someone to test their products. Remember what Theo mentioned over mail? It’s grown exponentially, they’re just stuck on the details.” Daphne cleared her throat nastily.

“I heard some people can’t stop bleeding, would you call that a detail?” she asked with a scoff, to which Tracey could only shrug in answer. 

“How did you hear that if it’s only the first day?” Theo asked in a daze. 

Daphne only smiled at him. “I know the right people, Theo.” 

He could only nod in acquiescence. He supposed that if someone was bound to know everything that was to happen at Hogwarts, Daphne would be the one to ask about it. At least he chose his friends well.

Blaise was just one of those people who had good luck, Theo deduced as he stared blankly at professor Sprout. That day’s class was devoted to OWLs. About their importance, their effect, and their severity. It would be interesting if every professor hadn’t spoken about it during last term, Theo thought. At least it gave him enough time to wake up, though he attributed most of it to Tracey waving a worm in everyone’s faces. That was bound to wake everyone up. 

Sooner than he realised, they were already queuing for Snape’s class. Theo shook his head, there could be no zoning out in Potions class, absolutely not. He perked up when he saw the Gryffindors arrive, but slumped against the wall when he saw the girl from the train, Chang, talking to Harry. 

“Dissuaded by some competition, Theo?” Daphne teased. Beside her, Tracey’s face scrunched in displeasure. 

“Isn’t Chang a Sixth Year? What is she doing here?”

Blaise shrugged, “Even as a pariah, Potter is still a ladies man. Who would’ve known?” he asked sarcastically. Theo refused to get involved in their conversation, preferring instead to dig his nose into his book.

“You’re fooling no one,” Tracey whispered from behind him. 

He was saved from having to answer by the ominous sound of Snape’s dungeon door creaking open.Theo walked toward his usual table at the middle of the classroom, no one was willing to attempt to take Draco’s place at the front.  

 “Settle down,” said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape’s mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class’s silence. 

“Before we begin today’s lesson,” said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, “I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in your OWL, or suffer my . . . displeasure.” 

His gaze lingered this time upon Longbottom, who gulped audibly, prompting a snicker from Blaise. “After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,” Snape went on. “I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye. But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,” said Snape softly, “so whether you are intending to attempt NEWT or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.” 

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method” — Snape flicked his wand — “are on the blackboard” — (they appeared there) — “you will find everything you need” — wand again — “in the store cupboard” — (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) — “you have an hour and a half... Start.” 

Show-off, Theo thought to himself as he stood up to gather the necessary ingredients.

Of course, Snape had set them a difficult potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. 

“A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion,” called Snape, with ten minutes left to go. Theo noted with relief his potion was behaving appropriately. He risked a look across the classroom, only to wince once he caught sight of Harry, whose cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam, Weasley’s was even spitting green sparks.

Snape stopped his walk once he reached them, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face. 

“Potter, what is this supposed to be?” The other Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry. 

“The Draught of Peace,” said Harry tensely. 

“Tell me, Potter,” said Snape softly, “can you read?” Draco laughed at that. Theo was half-tempted to kick the back of his chair. Too obvious, he chidded himself.  

“Yes, I can,” said Harry. Theo could feel his tension even in the rows in front of him. 

“Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.” 

Harry squinted at the blackboard. “Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.” 

“Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?” 

“No,” said Harry very quietly. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“No,” said Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore. . . .” 

“I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco .” The contents of Harry’s potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

“Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing,” said Snape. “Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.” 

Theo filled his flagon in silence. Whatever personal grudge Snape held against Harry, hadn’t it come far enough? His potion had been no worse than Weasley’s, which was now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs, or Longbottom's, which from what Theo could see, had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement. 

It didn’t surprise him to see Harry bold out of the classroom the second the bell rang. By the time Theo had left the dungeons, rain was lashing the windows. 

“Are you joining us for lunch?” Daphne asked as they walked up the stairs. Theo absentmindedly shook his head. 

“I’ll see you at DADA, I have some reading to get through for Arithmancy today,” he told her, feeling slightly guilty for lying to her as he headed toward the Clockwork Tower. The weather was abysmal enough to lure away some of the tempted students. He could intimidate the others away, wasn’t that one of the perks of being a Fifth Year?

To his pleasure, the Tower was empty, allowing him to get comfortable against one of its railings, enjoying the breeze against his back before diving into his book, forgetting anything that surrounded him. 

His peace was only broken moments later by the door slamming open.

“You know, you’ve got an awful way of getting back to people,” a familiar voice snarked. Theo merely breathed out through his nose as he marked down his place in the book. 

“I figured you’d find me sooner than later,” he chanced a smile before looking up. He wasn’t mistaken. 

Harry stood right there, leaning against the doorway without a care in the world. “Am I that predictable?”

“I’m just used to you. Sit down, I owe you an explanation, do I not?” Theo gestured to the space in front of him with a smirk, it was gearing up to be a good first day after all. 

“So it’s normal, then?” Harry asked for the millionth time. Not that Theo would begrudge him that, Harry had been through enough to merit honest answers from him.  

“Completely normal,” Theo answered. “I’m not quite sure as to why you weren’t seeing them until now, but I’ll look into it,” he promised, racking his brain as he spoke. Why hadn’t Harry seen them before? 

“At least that’s one worry off my mind,” Harry mused, taking a look at the grounds. “How come you’re up here? It’s only the first day, has Malfoy been that annoying?”

“Things were just too much, all of a sudden. I enjoy being alone with my thoughts, it helps me make sense out of everything,” Theo answered, closing his eyes and enjoying the breeze.

Harry looked concerned all of a sudden, “Would you like me to leave, I just— I thought—” His stuttering prompted Theo to open one of his eyes lazily.

“Seriously? You’re fine. You’re a welcome presence,” he said, before shutting both of his eyes closed. It was a lovely day after all. “I’d have thought we’d gotten over this last term.”

“Well,” Harry mumbled. “New year, new habits? I was just making sure.”

“Is that so? Then let’s make it formal,” Theo said, opening his eyes and staring straight at Harry. He looked like his rumpled mess as usual, and there was a bit of ash from Potion’s class on his right cheekbone. “As long as I’m here in the Clockwork Tower, you’re free to grace me with your presence for as long as either of us can bear. Is that good enough for you?” he teased, enjoying the steady blush that made its way up Harry’s neck.

“Well, when you put it like that,” the Gryffindor huffed and leaned back. “Thanks though. With Ron and Hermione driving me crazy and everyone else hating me…” That got Theo’s attention hooked. 

“What has the dynamic duo done now?”

“They’re just— they’re always having a go at each other. It becomes too much at times…”

Theo just shrugged in answer. His friends didn’t really bicker seriously among each other, he couldn’t really relate to Harry’s situation. He supposed they just had other things in mind most of the time. He didn’t tell Harry that, though. 

“Maybe they like each other? I’ve heard of people who annoy each other just to get their attention,” he offered instead. He didn’t really think it was all that much better.

“No offence, Theo. But that’s ridiculous, if you like someone you’re supposed to be nice to them, give them your time, talk to them—” Harry suddenly cleared his throat awkwardly. Theo carefully averted his sight, Harry had gone red all of a sudden and the Slytherin really had no intentions of knowing who had conjured up feelings in his friend. Really, he didn’t care. 

“Ron and Hermione? They’re like a dog and a cat.”

“You’d know them best.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, surely it hadn’t been like this over the summer?

“May I take a look at your schedule?” It was the only thing that Theo could think of to say.. At least it served as a change of topic. 

“We only share Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Electives, right?” Harry asked him. Theo took a second to read over his friend’s schedule before humming in answer. “I figured that much since breakfast, pity though.”

“Well, we have the last class of today to look forward to. Although with the assigned professor, I’m afraid it won’t be all that great.” Theo chanced a look at Harry just at the right second to catch his grimace.

“Umbridge just leaves a foul taste in my mouth, but I’m willing to be open minded? Just a little bit…”

“I’m afraid I don’t share your optimism, Harry,” Theo retorted, staring at his hands. “The Ministry has finally interfered in Hogwarts’s business, and I’ll bet you anything nothing good comes from it.”

Arithmancy went by as a blur for Theo. Thankfully, just like Herbology, professor Vector had dedicated their class to drilling the importance of OWLs into their skulls. The second the bell rang, he hurried to gather his things in order to catch up to the only Gryffindor in their class. He thanked Freyja it wasn’t that hard to spot Granger’s bushy hair in the hallway, and quickly walked up to her.

“You and Weasley need to deal with your business in private,” he told her, in lieu of a greeting. They only had a small window of time before they crossed paths with the other Fifth Years.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Whatever it is you're dealing with, either keep it to yourselves or get them over with it. It’s your problems, deal with them.” Granger’s eyes briefly met her hairline before receding into an eye-roll. 

“Is this about Harry? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it is. Listen,” she said, clutching her books tight to her chest. “Ron and I have stopped arguing, but Harry really needs to stop taking his temper out on us.”

Theo nearly choked on her bullshit. 

“His temper? Are you kidding me? Considering everything that’s happening to him, I’d think you and Weasley could be a bit more understanding, don’t you think?” he shot back, pursuing his lips together when he didn’t get an answer back. “Life is hell for him, Granger. Have a little heart. Aren’t you Gryffindors known for that? Or am I supposed to pick up the slack on that as well?”

He didn’t really regret the low blow as he left her alone, opting instead to walk towards his own friends. Really, he was tired of talking up Weasley and Granger in front of Harry. They were his friends, weren’t they? It was about time they acted like it. 

“Why are you pissed off? I thought you liked numbers,” Tracey asked him as they took their seats, waiting for Umbridge to show up.

“I’m not in the mood, Tracey,” Theo told her, pulling out his book and quill. Was he focusing too much on Harry? He had his own business to attend. The riddle wasn’t going to solve itself and he was awfully behind on his rune research, not to mention he needed to pester Snape for Occlumency lessons soon. But, wasn’t that for Harry’s benefit as well? 

Theo groaned, leaning into his hands. 

How was he supposed to keep a low profile by being friends with the Gryffindor? Everything was just too much. Being a model son, being a model Slytherin. He was just so tired. 

He was broken out of his musings by a fake, light cough. Umbridge had taken a seat at her desk, looking at the class with contempt. 

“Well, good afternoon!” she said when finally the whole class had sat down. 

A few people mumbled “Good afternoon,” in reply. 

“Tut, tut,” said Professor Umbridge. “That won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!” 

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” they chanted back at her. Personally, Theo shot whatever expectations he had of this class back to Hel. Next to him, Tracey looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.” 

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order “wands away” had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, Theo noticed amused, that said a lot about their current teacher, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once: 

Defence Against the Dark Arts 

A Return to Basic Principles. 

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.”

“You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.” She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course aims: 

1.Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic. 

2.Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used. 

3.Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use. 

It was all theory, Theo realised with a frown, scribbling on his parchment. There was absolutely no practice mentioned. For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge’s three course aims she said, “Has everybody got a copy of ‘Defensive Magical Theory’ by Wilbert Slinkhard?” 

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class. 

“I think we’ll try that again,” said Professor Umbridge. “When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge.’ So, has everyone got a copy of ‘ Defensive Magical Theory’ by Wilbert Slinkhard?” 

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” rang through the room. 

“Good,” said Professor Umbridge. 

“I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, ‘Basics for Beginners.’ There will be no need to talk.” Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher’s desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad’s eyes.

Theo turned to page five of his copy of ‘ Defensive Magical Theory’ and started to read. It was desperately dull, yet not quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Blaise was absentmindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, turning the page every so often. In  front of them, even the ever studious Daphne seemed to be dozing off, staring straight at her book for over five minutes without turning a single page.

Bored out of his mind, he looked towards the Gryffindors and was startled to notice Granger had not even opened her copy of ‘ Defensive Magical Theory.’ She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. Harry was also staring at her, in lieu of continuing his reading. Theo really couldn’t blame him.

After several more minutes had passed, however, they were not the only ones watching Granger. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Granger’s mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge’s eye than to struggle on with ‘Basics for Beginners.’ 

Amused, Theo kicked his friends' feet to get their attention. Whatever the chapter said, this was far more interesting. When more than half the class were staring at Granger rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer. 

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” she asked the Gryffindor, as though she had only just noticed her. 

“Not about the chapter, no,” said Granger. 

“Well, we’re reading just now,” said Professor Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.” 

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” Granger retorted, prompting Theo to sit up straight. At least he could count on her to notice what was going on. 

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. “And your name is — ?” 

“Hermione Granger.” 

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,” said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness. 

“Well, I don’t,” Granger added bluntly. “There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.” Yes, Theo thought to himself, seeing Umbridge turn the shade of her robes. 

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

“Using defensive spells?” Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?” 

“We’re not going to use magic?” Weasley interrupted loudly. 

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. — ?” 

“Weasley,” he said, thrusting his hand into the air. Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. 

“Cold-blooded,” Blaise whispered to Theo. Entranced by everything going on before them. 

Harry and Granger immediately raised their hands as well. Professor Umbridge’s pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Granger. “Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?” 

“Yes,” Granger all but spat. “Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?”

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice. 

“No, but —” 

“Well then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —” 

“What use is that?” said Harry loudly. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a —” 

“Hand, Mr. Potter!” sang Professor Umbridge. Harry thrust his fist in the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him again, but now several other people had their hands up too. 

“And your name is?” Professor Umbridge said to a Gryffindor.

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr. Thomas?” 

“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” said Thomas. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free —” 

“I repeat,” said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Thomas, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?” 

“No, but —” 

Professor Umbridge talked over him. “I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school,” she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.” 

“If you mean Professor Lupin,” the Gryffindor piped up angrily, “he was the best we ever —” 

“Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —” 

“No we haven’t,” Granger said, “we just —” 

“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!” Granger put up her hand and Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from her. “It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —” 

“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?” said Dean Thomas hotly. “Mind you, we still learned loads —” 

“Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!” trilled Professor Umbridge. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?” she added, staring at Theo, who only then realised his hand was up. 

“Theodore Nott. Isn’t there a practical section in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? In which we’re supposed to show that we can actually perform the countercurses?” 

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,” Umbridge dismissed him, making Theo’s blood boil. Who did she think she was? 

“Without ever practising them before?” he asked incredulously, ignoring the nudge Blaise aimed at his foot. “Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam?” 

“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —” 

“And what good’s theory going to be in the real world?” said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again. Professor Umbridge looked up. 

“This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,” she said softly. 

“So we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting out there?” 

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter.” 

“Oh yeah?” said Harry. His face, Theo noted, was turning an angry shade of pink, normally only reserved for recent outbursts. He fidgeted with the cuffs of his jumper, willing the Gryffindor to somehow think before saying whatever it was he was gearing up to.  

“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice. Don’t encourage him—

“Hmm, let’s think . . .” said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. Don’t go there, don’t go there…. “Maybe Lord Voldemort?” 

Weasley gasped; a Gryffindor girl uttered a little scream; Longbottom slipped sideways off his stool and Theo gently massaged his temples out of frustration. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.” 

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry. 

“Now, let me make a few things quite plain.” Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby fingered hands splayed on her desk. Theo resorted to burrowing into his arms and praying to Freyja everything would be over soon.

“You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —” 

“He wasn’t dead,” said Harry angrily, “but yeah, he’s returned!” 

“Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,” said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.” 

“It is NOT a lie!” said Harry. “I saw him, I fought him!” 

“Detention, Mr. Potter!” said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. “Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’” Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. 

Harry, however, stood up. 

Daphne spared a desperate look towards Theo, who could only shrug in answer. What was he supposed to do? 

Everyone was staring at him; “Harry, no!” Theo heard Granger whisper in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach. 

“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking. There was a collective intake of breath from the class, besides Dumbledore’s speech, no one had heard anything regarding the night that Cedric had died. 

Everyone stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face. 

“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident,” she said coldly. 

“It was murder,” said Harry. Theo could feel his heartbeat in his ears. Harry had barely talked about this with anyone; but there he was, eyes blazing and staring down their professor. “Voldemort killed him, and you know it.” 

Professor Umbridge’s face was quite blank. For a moment Theo thought she was going to scream at Harry. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, “Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.” 

 He held his breath along with the rest of the class, watching as Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that no one could not see what she was writing. 

Nobody spoke. 

After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it. “Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to Harry, who took it without a word before storming out of the classroom.

“Now, everyone,” Umbridge said with a sickening giggle, “‘Basics for Beginners’, if you please.”

Well, when you put it like that , Theo thought as he lowered his head. 

It wasn’t a surprise to find out Harry had landed himself in detention. The surprise was when both Weasley and Granger intruded on them in the Clockwork Tower. Granted, Theo had no valid claim to it, but at the risk of sounding like a child, he was there first. 

“What I don’t get,” said Harry in a shaking voice, throwing his book bag to the floor, “is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them. . . .” 

“The thing is, Harry, I’m not sure they did,” Granger told him grimly. Theo had elected to just listen in until he was needed, preferring instead to get a headstart on the mountain of homework they had been assigned.

“What d’you mean, you’re not sure they believed Dumbledore?” Harry asked.

“Look, you don’t understand what it was like after it happened,” Granger answered quietly. “You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric’s dead body. . . . None of us saw what happened in the maze. . . . We just had Dumbledore’s word for it that You-KnowWho had come back and killed Cedric and fought you.” Theo supposed she had a point there. 

“Which is the truth!” Harry said loudly. Point there as well, Theo thought as he bit his quill.

“I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?” Granger retorted wearily. “It’s just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you’re a nutcase and Dumbledore’s going senile!”Another point to Granger, Theo frowned. They were both being awfully factual and to the point with this argument. 

Rain pounded on the walls as they spoke. In Theo’s humble opinion it felt as though that first day had lasted a week. He chanced a look at Harry, who was looking both drained and exhausted. Perhaps it was about time he intervened. 

“How can Dumbledore have let this happen?” Granger cried suddenly, making everyone jump. She pounded the floor in fury. “How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year too!” 

“You’re asking as if he had a choice,” Theo interjected.

“He’s the Headmaster, of course he does!” Weasley shot at him with a glare. “Dumbledore—”

“Have any of you read the Educational Decrees Fudge created at the end of August?” Of course they hadn’t, Theo thought. He’d only know about them thanks to Draco’s big mouth right after class. “‘The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if the Headmaster is unable to find one.’ I’m sure it didn’t take them too long to find one themselves.”

That had all three Gryffindors lost for words. 

“Were you ever planning on telling us?” Weasley asked scathingly. Theo raised an eyebrow in answer, whatever happened to ‘don’t shoot the messenger’?

“Calm down, I only found out on my way here. You can thank Malfoy for that little piece of information.”

“Well, we’ve never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?” Harry said, bumping his shoulder with Theo’s in solidarity. At least he had that. 

“I think this one is blowing it out of proportion, she’s trying to get people to spy for her,” Weasley added darkly. “Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who’s back?” 

“Of course she’s here to spy on us all, that’s obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?” Granger snapped.

“Not only to spy,” Theo scoffed. “She wants to discredit Harry and Dumbledore, to serve Fudge’s agenda of disinformation. To what end I don’t know, but she provoked you so that you’d shout at her about Voldemort, and you did,” he told his friend without spite. “No matter what you do, she’ll use any opportunity she comes across to make you look unbalanced. You’d best be careful during your detentions.”

Granger nodded in support, nervously twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. 

“This isn’t about who’s telling the truth or who's not,” she concluded. “It’s about keeping your head down and your temper under control, Harry. It’s the court of public opinion that's at stake.”

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up the following day, it was just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast. 

“But on the plus side, no Snape today,” said Ron bracingly around a mouthful of toast. But no Theo either, Harry thought before shaking his head. It wasn’t like they talked much during classes. He really had been trying to be understanding about the entire ordeal, but ever so often, an ugly thought emerged about how perhaps Theo just didn’t want to be seen with him. Scowling, he shot that thought back to hell. Theo cared, things were just difficult right now. 

Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked pleased about something, and when Ron enquired she simply said, “the hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all.” Right, Hermione had stayed up late knitting hats to ‘liberate the house-elves from their slavery’.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Ron told her cuttingly. “They might not count as clothes. They didn’t look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.” 

Hermione didn’t speak to him for the rest of the morning. 

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of O.W.L.s, and by lunchtime Harry was panicking slightly about the amount of homework they had to do. He decided to spend his lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making. Ron joined him, forgoing his lunch which, considering his friend, spoke volumes about the severity of the situation. When they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, Harry’s head was aching again.

The day had become cool and breezy, and, as they walked down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Harry felt the occasional drop of rain on his face. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid’s front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs. 

As Harry and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding toward them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table. Judging by the fact that all of them kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty. 

By the time Theo, Zabini, Greengrass and Davis arrived, the only space open around the table was in between Harry and the non-pleasant Slytherins. Giggling, the other three gathered closer to Malfoy and his group, leaving the space next to Harry for Theo. It was the little things, Harry thought to himself as he shot his friend a quick smile. 

“Everyone here?” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. “Let’s crack on then — who can tell me what these things are called?” 

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her and Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Before she could answer, the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twig-like fingers at the end of each hand, and a funny, flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered. 

“Oooooh!” Lavender and Parvati exclaimed, thoroughly irritating Harry. Anyone would have thought that Hagrid never showed them impressive creatures; admittedly the flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the salamanders and hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so. He whispered that much to Theo, who only cocked one of his eyebrows in response. 

“So —” Grubbly-Plank continued. “Anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?” 

“Bowtruckles,” said Hermione. “They’re tree-guardians, usually living in wand-trees.” 

“Five points for Gryffindor,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?” 

“Wood lice,” said Hermione promptly. “But fairy eggs too, if they can get them.” 

“Good girl, take another five points. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So, if you’d like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle — I have enough here for one between five, so it’d be best if you all split into two groups so you have a bit of variety to draw from — you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labelled by the end of the lesson.” 

The class surged forward around the trestle table. Harry tried to go over to talk to Grubbly-Plank, but was dragged away by Theo. 

“I wanted to ask about Hagrid,” Harry groaned as they chose a bowtruckle and headed over to join Ron and Hermione. Zabini, Davis and Greengrass joined them, leaving the other Slytherins and Gryffindors to group together. 

“You already know what answer you’ll get,” Theo shot back as he sat down and got comfortable. Well, that was being generous, Harry thought with a grin. The Slytherin was mostly trying to extend his cloak as much as possible to make sure his trousers didn’t touch the grass. The others weren’t fairing much better, but at least the girls had been sensible enough to not wear skirts that day. 

Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were distracted trying to get their bowtruckle to stay still long enough for him to sketch it. Otherwise, Harry doubted he’d put a stop to the teasing that was surely to take place. 

Harry felt someone sit down behind him, but didn’t have to wait for too long before he knew who it was. The shove he got to his shoulder was answer enough. Gritting his teeth he grabbed the bowtruckle so he could take a look at its arms.  

“Yes,” came Malfoy’s clear drawl from the other group, “Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry’s really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he’ll probably be sent packing straight away.” 

“OUCH!” Harry had gripped the bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped; it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Harry dropped it; Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed even harder as the bowtruckle set off at full tilt toward the forest, a little, moving stickman soon swallowed up by the tree roots.

Theo groaned a bit before leaning over to check Harry’s finger, pulling it away from his drawing. “That looks bad, you should wrap it before you bleed all over your robes.” 

“And before it gets infected,” Hermione piped in from across them, biting her lip in concentration as she added the finishing touches to her own. “Bowtruckles aren’t exactly clean…” 

Harry looked around to try and find something to wrap his fingers in, but other than his parchment or his own robes, came up short. Before he could tug his sleeve over his fingers, Theo pressed something soft into his uninjured hand. Looking down, he realised it was a dark blue handkerchief. 

“Thanks, I—” he turned to look at him, but Theo had his head down, focusing on labelling his drawing. “You didn’t have to.”

Theo just shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. You should focus on finishing your sketch, class is almost over.”  

Wrapping the piece of cloth tightly around his injured fingers, Harry hurried to finish whatever he could. He free-styled some of the bowtruckle’s facial features and labelled its body parts as quickly as he could. 

The bell rang a couple of seconds after he’d finished, prompting him to sigh in relief. Malfoy had been quick to hand in his parchment and walk away, his derisive laughter still ringing in Harry’s ears. Beside him, Theo helped him gather his things, signalling to his friends not to wait for him. 

“If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time...” Harry snarled, clutching Theo’s handkerchief tightly. 

“Harry, don’t go picking a row with Malfoy, don’t forget, he’s a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you...” 

“Wow, Hermione. I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life?” said Harry sarcastically. Ron and Theo both laughed, stopping the second they saw each other, but Hermione frowned. As they walked up to the castle, the sky still seemed unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or not. 

“I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that’s all,” said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. 

“And don’t say that Grubbly-Plank woman’s a better teacher!” he added threateningly. 

“I wasn’t going to,” said Hermione calmly. 

“Because she’ll never be as good as Hagrid,” said Harry firmly, fully aware that he had just experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson and was thoroughly annoyed about it. Beside him, Theo coughed loudly. 

“And you, it wouldn’t kill you to look a little less happy about Hagrid’s absence,” Harry grumbled at him, but he couldn’t quite make the tone match his previous threat to Hermione.

“Oh, let me enjoy this. Hagrid will be back soon enough and we’ll make up with Loki knows what kind of creatures,” Theo smirked in answer. “Dumbledore sent him, right? So he’ll bring him back. He has appearances to keep with that organisation of his—” 

“Shh!” Hermione hissed in alarm. “Someone could hear you!” 

“Of course, I’m sure we’re surrounded by dozens of unregistered bird-animagi. Don’t worry, I’ll behave,” Theo made a motion of zipping his lips closed, making Harry laugh. “This is where I, to you Gryffindors’ everlasting delight, leave you. I have Transfiguration next. Good luck with your detention, Harry.” 

“Wait, your—” Harry began, extending his injured hand toward Theo. 

“Keep it,” the Slytherin interrupted him, making no move to take back his handkerchief. “It looks like it’s still bleeding. Maybe you should go to the infirmary after class, just in case.”

Theo nodded at them before heading up to the castle, and Harry followed Ron and Hermione to the greenhouses. As they neared them, the door closest to them opened and some fourth years spilled out of it, including Ginny. 

“Hi,” she said brightly as she passed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello: “I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.” 

“Er — thanks,” said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

“You can laugh!” Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing. “But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the CrumpleHorned Snorkack!”

“Well, they were right, weren’t they?” said Hermione impatiently. “There weren’t any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.” 

Luna gave her a withering look, “I think I like Harry’s other friends best,” and flounced away, radishes swinging madly with each step. Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now. As they made their way into class, Hermione looked like she had swallowed an entire lemon. 

“D’you mind not offending the only people who believe me?” Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class. Before she could answer, Ernie Macmillan stepped up to him. 

“I want you to know, Potter,” he said in a loud, carrying voice, “that it’s not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family has always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.”

“Er — thanks very much, Ernie,” said Harry, taken aback but pleased nonetheless. At the rate things were developing, he’d take any vote of confidence he could get. Even if they came from somebody who was wearing radishes in their ears. 

Harry’s week went by in a blur, swamped in coursework and drowning in panic, his mood remained sullen and sodden. He left his Friday detention with Umbridge clutching his, now freely bleeding, right hand. The words ‘ I must not tell lies’ were now cleanly cut into his skin in his own handwriting. Yet it wasn’t that pain that had made him stumble out of that dreadful pink office, it had been the pain that had seared across his scar that had made him yank his hand out of Umbridge’s grasp.

Stay calm , he told himself as he walked away, fumbling with his uninjured hand into his pocket. Stay calm, it doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it means...

He found both things he’d been looking for: Theo’s handkerchief, which had been serving as a makeshift bandage, and the now wrinkled piece of parchment in which Theo had written the chant all those weeks ago. He wrapped the piece of cloth around his hand before clutching the pendant he always wore and read the words under his breath. 

Algiz, Dagaz et Thurisaz

protege me

scutum meum eris

animus sine noxa erit

dum sol occubuit luna custodiet me

et sic semper erit   

He focused on the Occlumency exercises he’d read and, very slowly, the pain subsided. Leaving behind the constant ache in his right hand. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of what had just happened. 

“Harry?” A low voice muttered from the end of the corridor. At the sound of it, Harry’s head snapped back up, hurriedly stuffing the parchment back into his trousers. He shouldn’t have bothered really, right there, standing by one of the windows, was Theo.

“You scared me half to death,” Harry huffed, walking toward him. He tried smiling at the Slytherin but the gesture wasn’t returned. Instead, Theo inspected him with narrowed eyes and reached over slowly to grab Harry’s right wrist. 

“What is this?” He asked horrified, unwrapping the piece of cloth so he could inspect the damage. The blood was nearly dried, but under the moonlight, the words were ghastly noticeable over his skin.

“What can I say, Umbridge doesn’t like me ‘telling lies,’ ” he shrugged, still trying to calm down. He could still hear his heart beating furiously in his ears. 

“This is what she has you doing during detention?” Theo asked in a small voice. “Harry, that’s — that’s all shades of fucked up— haven’t you told anyone?”

“I can take it, Theo— ”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you shouldn’t have to!” Theo’s voice got high enough that he was barely whispering at that point. He took a deep breath before speaking again, “This right here? This isn’t even legal, Harry. Corporal punishment has been banned from Hogwarts for decades—”

“I’m writing lines, it’s far from corporal punishment— ”

“The blood on your hand says otherwise.” 

Harry swallowed thickly, tugging his hand back. He was in pain, exhausted and barely recovering from a panic attack. Having Theo see him like this was far from his ideal situation. 

“I’ll handle it, just — just don’t tell anyone, please.” He didn’t dare think of what people would say, of what Sirius would think of him not being able to deal with a little thing like that.

“Harry— ”

“ Theo, please. I don’t— I don’t want to give her the satisfaction she got to me,” Harry spat out, clenching his fists. The sting of pain brought him back to the present, to his conversation with Theo. “Besides, my week of detention is over. The only time I’ll have to look at that toad will be during classes.”

“Fine, just —” Theo breathed out hashly through his nose. “Follow me, will you? I don’t want Filch catching us.” 

He followed the Slytherin into one of the empty classrooms, closing the door behind them. Harry dumped his bag on the desk, watching as his friend drew his wand and pointed it at the door.  

“ Muffliato, ” Theo muttered.

He didn’t spare him a glance before walking over and taking Harry’s bag, digging through its contents. Harry just watched him, curious about where this was going. After a couple of seconds, Theo found what he was looking for: a jar of ink and a quill. 

“Pray to the Norns this works, because I’ve never tried it before,” Theo muttered as he uncapped the jar and dipped the quill in it, coating it generously. “Give me your hand, Potter. Palm facing upwards.”

“Not only am I injured, but I’ve also lost my first name privileges?” Harry asked as he extended his right hand without any further questions. He watched intrigued as Theo traced a series of symbols into his palm; he began with a diamond with a line across its middle, followed by what he assumed to be a rune in the middle of each line. What looked like a slanted F and a lighting bolt in the upper half, a ‘less-than’ symbol in the middle line, and finally an X along with the one he recognized as Dagaz,  in the lower half.   

Placing the ink and quill back on the desk, Theo grabbed Harry’s hand gently, gently covering the back of it with both sets of fingers. Entranced, Harry stared at him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking,

“Eir Laðu, Ek kalltilr þú

Gefið mér, læknishendr, meðan lifum

Gebo Laukaz” 

To Harry’s surprise, he felt a prickling in the back of his hand. Hurriedly, he turned his hand over and looked it over with a critical eye. The cuts were no longer open. He heard Theo sigh as the other boy let his own hands fall to his lap.

“I suppose that’s better than nothing. I haven’t mastered any healing spells in our curriculum, so that was our best bet—” Theo stopped speaking suddenly, air knocked from his lungs as Harry lunged at him and hugged him tightly. 

“Don’t be an idiot, Theo. You— you insufferable genius,” Harry mumbled against Theo’s hair, he could feel it tickling his nose. “I— thank you, really. Every time I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you do something like this. What was that anyway?” he asked, leaning back and staring at his palm. The ink was gone. 

“A—a runic formula,” Theo stuttered out, clearing his throat. He fumbled with his sleeves before continuing, “that one in particular is formed by the seeds of five runes: Fehu, Sowilo, Kennaz, Dagaz, and Gebo. They activate and open the ‘etheric body’ in order to accept the healing energies of the runes... It’s old Norse seiðr, it should heal a wound completely in theory but I suppose I need more practice.” 

“Theo, you — whatever. Consider me a willing guinea pig whenever you need one. This is crazy, I had no idea runes could be used like that,” Harry said, still inspecting his hand in shock. The scars were still tender to the touch under all the dried blood. That he could deal with him himself, he thought, drawing out his own wand.  

“ Scourgify! ” That took care of it, leaving behind the fresh, raised, pink scars. The words were barely decipherable, he realised with glee. That drew his attention to his watch, it was almost one in the morning. 

“What were you even doing walking around at this time?” Harry asked, stunned. Theo just shrugged in answer, storing Harry’s things back into his bag. 

“I was waiting for you, you've been looking worse day by day and I wanted to see for myself if you were alright. The Head Boy is a Slytherin this year and he's patrolling the corridors tonight, so I didn’t have to worry about getting caught. But you do, so you’d best be going.”

Harry nodded absently, flexing his hand. 

“Before we leave, would you mind meeting at the Clockwork Tower tomorrow night? After dinner, I mean.”

Theo gave him a calculating look before answering.

“It depends, will your shadows be joining us?” 

Come Saturday morning, Harry felt more refreshed than he had all week. He’d lain in bed for longer than needed, savouring the thought that it was Saturday and focusing on the silver linings. The week was over, he had completed his detentions with Umbridge, Ron had made Keeper, they had training that day and he was meeting with Theo that night. 

After finally gathering the will to get up, he’d written a short letter to Sirius. While meditating had eased his worries regarding last night’s pain across his scar, he was still particularly worried about the fact that it had happened immediately when Umbridge grabbed his hand. He wasn’t interested in another Quirrell. 

As he walked past window after window, his spirits rose upon seeing the brilliantly blue sky. He had Quidditch training later that day, he would be back on the Quidditch pitch at last — 

The sun was high in the sky now and when Harry entered the Owlery; thick beams of sunlight crisscrossed the circular room in which hundreds of owls nestled on rafters, a little restless in the early morning. The straw-covered floor crunched a little as he stepped across tiny animal bones, craning his neck for a sight of Hedwig. 

“There you are,” he said, spotting her somewhere near the very top of the vaulted ceiling. “Get down here, I’ve got a letter for you.” 

With a low hoot she stretched her great white wings and soared down onto his shoulder.

“Right, I know this says ‘Snuffles’ on the outside,” he told her, giving her the letter to clasp in her beak and, without knowing exactly why, whispering, “but it’s for Sirius, okay?” 

She blinked her amber eyes once and he took that to mean that she understood. “Safe flight, then,” said Harry and he carried her to one of the windows; with a moment’s pressure on his arm Hedwig took off into the blindingly bright sky. He watched her until she became a tiny black speck and vanished, then switched his gaze to Hagrid’s hut, clearly visible from this window, and just as clearly uninhabited, the chimney smokeless, the curtains drawn. 

The treetops of the Forbidden Forest swayed in a light breeze. Harry watched them, savouring the fresh air on his face, thinking about Quidditch later.. and then he saw it. Another Thestral, with its leathery black wings spread wide like a pterodactyl’s, rose up out of the trees like a grotesque, giant bird. It soared in a great circle and then plunged once more into the trees. 

Harry didn’t bother repressing his shiver. 

Suddenly, the Owlery door opened behind him. He leapt in shock, and turning quickly, saw Cho holding a letter and a parcel in her hands. 

“Hi,” said Harry automatically. 

“Oh... hi,” she said breathlessly. “I didn’t think anyone would be up here this early... I only remembered five minutes ago, it’s my mum’s birthday.” She held up the parcel. 

“Right,” said Harry. His brain seemed to have jammed. He wanted to say something funny and interesting, but his mind was blank. “Nice day,” he said, gesturing to the windows. His insides seemed to shrivel with embarrassment. 

The weather. 

He was talking about the weather.

“Yeah,” said Cho, looking around for a suitable owl. “Good Quidditch conditions. I haven’t been out all week, have you?” 

“No,” said Harry. 

Cho had selected one of the school barn owls. She coaxed it down onto her arm where it held out an obliging leg so that she could attach the parcel. “Hey, has Gryffindor got a new Keeper yet?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” said Harry. “It’s my friend Ron Weasley, d’you know him?” 

“Is he any good?” 

“Yeah,” said Harry, “I think so. I didn’t see his tryout, though, I was in detention.” 

Cho looked up, the parcel only half-attached to the owl’s legs. “That Umbridge woman’s foul,” she said in a low voice. “Putting you in detention just because you told the truth about how — how — how he died. Everyone heard about it, it was all over the school. You were really brave standing up to her like that.” 

Harry’s insides reinflated so rapidly he felt as though he might actually float a few inches off the dropping-strewn floor. Cho thought he had been really brave...

They left the Owlery together after that. At the entrance of a corridor that led toward the west wing of the castle, Cho turned to him, “I’m going this way. Well, I’ll... I’ll see you around, Harry.” 

“Yeah... see you.” She smiled at him and departed. 

He walked on, feeling quietly elated. He had managed to have an entire conversation with her and not embarrassed himself once... You were really brave standing up to her like that... She had called him brave... She did not hate him for being alive... Of course, she had preferred Cedric, he knew that... Though if he’d only asked her to the ball before Cedric had, things might have turned out differently... She had seemed sincerely sorry that she had to refuse when Harry had asked her...

Harry was so immersed in his own thoughts, he almost trampled over another student and barely caught himself, bracing his arm against the wall. 

“Theo!” he said, grinning the second he saw his friend. The Slytherin didn’t return his smile.

“Was that Chang just now?” Theo asked with a small frown, clutching his shoulder bag tightly. “I’ve seen more of her this last week than in all of my past years.”

Harry just shrugged in answer, burying the excitement he felt at the idea of Cho actively seeking his presence. “Yeah, I ran into her after sending a letter,” he said, as they both walked toward the Great Hall. “What are you up to so early? I thought only Filch and his cat would be up and about.”

Theo looked affronted at his question, his brow furrowing in indignation. “Must I be up to something? Perhaps I just fancied an early start on the day.” Harry was quite proud about the fact that it only took shooting Theo a look before the other boy sighed and gave up. “I thought I would pester Snape some more before breakfast, I think I’m close to wearing him down.”

Harry grinned widely, startling a young-looking Hufflepuff who, until that moment, was wandering the corridor while looking quite dead on his feet.

“Regardless of the result,” Theo continued, “I’ll head over to the library to finish my homework. The amount of work they’ve given us is ridiculous.”  

“As long as you promise me you’ll try to get some sleep,” Harry told him, taking care to inspect the other boy’s face. His ever present dark circles were beginning to look like bruises. “You look like a corpse, Nott.”

Theo snorted gracelessly, “Well, thank you, Harry. I’ll try my best to not let that get to my head.”

They parted ways upon entering the Great Hall, with Theo making a beeline for Snape, who was currently looming menacingly over a couple of students. Harry swallowed down a laugh at the face the Potions Master made when he spotted Theo approaching him determinedly. 

“Morning,” he said brightly to Ron and Hermione, who were already sitting at the Gryffindor Table. 

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Ron asked, eyeing Harry in surprise. 

“Erm... Just having a nice day,” said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs toward him. 

“Uh-huh... yeah...” Ron said, narrowing his eyes at him before sighing. He put down the bit of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. “Listen... about training today, you don’t fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to— er— give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit...” 

“Yeah, okay,” said Harry. 

“Look, I don’t think you should,” said Hermione seriously, “you’re both really behind on homework as it —” She was interrupted by a speckled brown owl landing perilously close to the sugar bowl. When it perched up its leg, Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off again. 

“Anything interesting?” said Ron; Harry smiled into his pumpkin juice — he knew Ron was just trying to get her off the subject of homework. 

“No,” she sighed, “just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married— Oh, no… Sirius!” 

“What’s happened?” said Harry, snatching the paper from her. ‘The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer... blah blah blah... is currently hiding in London!’”  

“Lucius Malfoy, I’ll bet anything,” he continued in a low, furious voice. “He did recognize Sirius on the platform. . . .” 

“What?” Ron asked, looking alarmed. “You didn’t say —” 

“Shh!” 

“...‘Ministry warns Wizarding community that Black is very dangerous... killed thirteen people... broke out of Azkaban...’ the usual rubbish,” Hermione read over Harry’s shoulder, before looking fearfully at them. “Well, he just won’t be able to leave the house again, that’s all,” she whispered. “Dumbledore did warn him not to.” 

Later that day, Harry struggled in getting Ron to focus on anything other than Fred and George’s teasing as they changed into their Quidditch robes. Their practice earlier had gone well enough, hopefully it would carry on to their team training. 

“Okay everyone,” said Angelina, entering from the Captain’s office, already changed. “Let’s get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring the ball crate out for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?” 

Something in her too-casual voice made Harry think he might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when they left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Slytherin Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, including all of the Slytherin Fifth Years, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium. It wasn’t hard for him to spot Theo, sitting in between Zabini and Davis and scribbling in something on his lap, a notebook probably. 

“What’s that Weasley’s riding?” Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. “Why would anyone put a Flying Charm on a mouldy old log like that?” 

Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Besides them, Harry could see Zabini and Greengrass snickering behind their hands. 

Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground and Harry followed him, watching his ears turn red from behind. “Ignore them,” he said, hurrying to catch up to Ron. “We’ll see who’s laughing after we play them. . . .” 

Ignoring them quickly became a problem once they began warm ups. Angelina had them all passing the Quaffle to each other, which went fine for a whopping minute. She threw it hard to Fred, who passed it to George, who passed it to Harry, who passed it to Ron. 

Ron immediately dropped it. 

The Slytherin mob in the stands, led by Malfoy, roared and screamed with laughter. Ron was forced to fly toward the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulling out of the dive untidily and slipping sideways on his broom. When he returned to playing height, blushing the colour of his hair, Harry was grateful that Fred and George saved their usual teasing, preferring instead to exchange looks. 

“All right,” Angelina called, acting as if nothing had happened, “Fred, George, go and get your bats and a Bludger; Ron, get up to the goalposts, Harry, release the Snitch when I say so. We’re going to aim for Ron’s goal, obviously.” 

Harry zoomed off after the twins to fetch the Snitch. 

“Ron’s not really leaving a good first impression, is he?” George muttered as the three of them landed at the crate containing the balls. 

“He’s just nervous,” Harry said, carefully grabbing the snitch. “He was fine when I was practising with him this morning.” 

“Yeah, well, I hope he hasn’t peaked too soon,” said Fred gloomily. 

They returned to the air after grabbing one of the bludgers. Angelina was busy talking to Ron, so Harry chanced a look toward the stands; Theo had abandoned his notebook and was staring right at him. Feeling the usual warm feeling he attributed to his friend, he supposed it didn’t matter that much if Malfoy and his gang had crashed their practice. 

When Angelina blew her whistle, Harry released the Snitch and from that moment on, Harry was barely aware of what the others were doing. He was focused on the Snitch and the Snitch alone. Well, perhaps he was also just a bit aware of his audience. Maybe he could convince Theo that Quidditch was interesting and shove it in Malfoy’s face that some Seekers actually made the team by skill alone, all in one afternoon. 

He accelerated, rolling and swerving in and out of the Chasers, the warm autumn air whipping his face and the distant yells of the Slytherins so much meaningless roaring in his ears. But too soon, the sound of the whistle brought him to a halt. 

“Stop— stop— STOP!” Angelina screamed. “Ron— you’re not covering your middle post!”

Harry looked around at Ron, who was hovering in front of the left-most hoop, leaving the other two completely unprotected. 

“Oh… sorry…” 

“You keep shifting around while you’re watching the Chasers!” Angelina lectured him. “Either stay in centre position until you have to move to defend a hoop, or else circle the hoops, but don’t drift vaguely off to one side. That’s how you let in the last three goals!” 

“Sorry…'' Ron repeated, his red face shining like a beacon against the bright blue sky. 

The rest of their training got progressively better for Ron, enough that some of the Slytherins lost their interest and left the stands. By the time Angelina eased up on them and declared training was over, only the Slytherin Quidditch Team and the Fifth Years were left. Harry had even gotten the chance to make Flint duck from his seat the one time the Snitch was hovering over his ear. 

Immediately after dinner, Harry eagerly made his way to the Clockwork tower. He hadn’t seen Theo at the Slytherin Table, so he’d taken care to wrap a couple of rolls in a napkin. 

Unsurprisingly, the Slyhterin was already there. Books strewn all around in a way that hinted that not only he’d been there for a while, but he’d been meaning to stay for longer.  

“I’m declaring break time,” Harry announced, taking care not to step on anything. “Move over, I need space,” he sighed as he finally sat down. Training and all those stairs to get to the tower, his legs were going to kill him tomorrow. 

Carefully, he took out the wrapped rolls, “I didn’t know if you’d eaten, so I— what the hell is that?” 

The second Theo took the rolls from him, Harry grabbed the book that had caught his attention. It was a frankly disturbing image of a humanoid figure crawling out of a frame. “I think I’ve found the cause of your insomnia,” he muttered, closing the book with a shiver. “Dare I ask, what are you trying to do now?”

Theo made to answer but only yawned right into Harry’s face, his eyes watering with the effort. Harry snickered in response and waited for the Slytherin to answer. 

“Sod off,” he scowled, biting into a scone. Harry rolled his eyes while he waited for him to finish chewing. “I’m researching mirrors. You just saw a drawing of a lost soul exiting a one. I need to find something in one that will show me something hidden, or —something along those lines.”

“Uh—” Harry started, “I’m going to need more than that.”

Theo just sighed, staring past the window at the sky. It was a warm night, without a cloud in sight. “You can’t say a word about this, alright? Blaise will kill me if he finds out I told you.”

Harry made the motion of zipping his lips shut. “Not a word, I promise.”

“Very well, where do I start…” Theo muttered to himself, tearing the remains of his roll to pieces. “You’ll recall I stayed with Blaise the last weeks of summer holiday, right? Signora Zabini told us about this book, the Galdrabók. It’s this Icelandic grimoire in which you may find both ancient spells and runic material—” Well, that explained Theo’s interest at least. 

“—There aren’t many copies left, so it’s not easy to acquire. The signora said there’s a store in the Magical District of Firenze who may procure me a copy, the challenge is finding that store.” 

Harry frowned in thought, “What do mirrors have to do with it? And why would Zaini have a problem with you telling me this?”

“That’s where the rest of the story comes in,” Theo leaned in, smirking conspiratorially. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s sort of a family tradition for the Zabinis to find this store, solve the riddle, find the store. Blaise gets to complete his rite of passage and I get my book, a win-win scenario.”

Personally, Harry thought it seemed more trouble than it’d be worth, but who was he to stand in the way of Theo and his one true love: books. 

“Do I get to hear the riddle? I won’t tell a soul,” Harry asked eagerly. When he got no answer other than a teasing smile he swatted the Slytherin's arm.

“Theo!”

“Harry!” The other boy obnoxiously replied before laughing. “Of course I was going to tell you, I wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave you hanging like that. Just give me a second,” he said, digging into the book-bag next to him. After a couple of seconds, he dug out a wrinkled piece of a parchment with a victorious huff. “Here we go: ‘In a serpent's nest I am born and out of venom my heart is carved. Forever drifting in eternal mirrors, always aware of your heart’s desire. Always open, never closed; point me, and what you wish for, you shall acquire.’” 

“Your heart’s desire?” Harry whispered, his mind flashing back to his third year. It couldn’t be the mirror of Erised, right? This was supposed to be a Zabini tradition. An Italian tradition. Still, there wouldn’t be any harm in telling Theo about it, right? 

“Weird isn’t it? What kind of mirror shows you your deepest desires?” Theo huffed, taking a bite from another roll. The first one was laying in a pile of crumbles. “We thought maybe it could be a metaphor of sorts. After all, mirrors aren’t eternal as far as we know and— Harry?”

Shaking his head, he turned toward Theo. The other boy was staring at him in worry, “Is everything alright? You spaced out.”

“I was just thinking about some memories. Have you ever heard of the mirror of Erised?” Harry almost laughed at the way Theo scrunched his nose, trying to remember. 

“I don’t think so… no. What’s so special about it?”

“I actually came across it in my first year here… God knows where it is now, though. It’s this magical mirror that shows you your heart’s desire. The exact same wording, that’s what caught my attention,” Harry caught the hungry look in Theo’s eyes and hurried to add, “You were right though, mirrors aren’t exactly eternal. That one certainly isn’t. And it was huge and impractical, not good at all for pointing.” His words weren’t doing anything to dissuade the Slytherin by the looks of it. 

“Dumbledore had it last anyway,” he muttered, looking at the roof above them. There was a bird currently fidgeting in its nest, settling in for the night. “If it’s a family tradition, they’d keep sight on one of its crucial elements, right?”

To Harry’s relief, Theo sighed in acquiescence. “I suppose you’re right, that would render the riddle useless. I really thought there was a lead there for a moment—” He broke off, rubbing his face tiredly. When Theo finally looked up, he looked so lost it tugged at Harry’s stomach. 

Harry tried to grasp at anything he knew to try to be of help. 

“Hey, but— speaking of something that will show you something hidden, remember Luna from the train? And the Ouija board’s planchette? It’s a game in the Muggle world, but maybe it was based on something real?” 

Theo smiled at him softly, “Maybe? Blaise keeps insisting on holes, he may be onto something after all..” He trailed off for a moment before shaking his head. “Thoughts for another day, perhaps. I’ll take that break you mentioned before, if you don’t mind distracting me from that dreadful riddle.”

As if Harry would deny him something that simple. “You only think it’s dreadful because you’ve yet to solve it,” he teased, skillfully dodging Theo’s shove. Instead, he grabbed the Slytherin’s hand and pulled him up as well. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

They walked over to the Tower’s landing, where it opened up to a balcony overlooking Hogwarts grounds. The cold breeze felt like heaven against Harry’s skin. He realised that no matter what that toad of a DADA professor was teaching, this was his home. There was nowhere else that he felt so calm and peaceful. 

“You’ll never believe what Umbridge’s office looks like,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them. Theo snorted, leaning over the railing to look down. 

“Let me guess, it’s the same garish pink as the rest of her wardrobe.” 

Harry barked out a laugh, shooting Theo a look before averting his eyes. The wind was gently ruffling his hair, giving him that same wild look he’d had during his visits to Privet Drive. 

“That’s lazy deduction work, Theo. Guess something less obvious.” 

“Why don’t you tell me instead, Harry. I’m supposed to be on break,” Theo smiled, closing his eyes and breathing in as he tilted his head back. Harry’s throat went dry when he caught sight of the sliver of skin over his collar. He coughed to try and get his bearings back.  

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight. So, to begin with: everything, and I mean everything, is covered in lace and cloths belonging to the mediaeval era or something—”

“I’d say lace belongs in the eighteenth century, but carry on.”

“There were vases of dried flowers around the room—”

“She does look like the type.”

“—And all along this one wall, tons of ornamental plates, each one with a different kitten wearing a bow around its neck!” 

Theo finally opened his eyes and turned to blink owlishly at Harry. “You’re joking.”

“They looked perfectly cared for—” He really did try to continue, but Theo had dissolved into a mess of giggles over the railing. 

“Harry!”

“— and you know what?” Harry went on, trying his best to keep a straight face. “I’d go as far as to say they’re collection worthy.” 

He finally caved, joining his friend in laughter. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the cool breeze and talking over their respective weeks. In particular, Harry felt only peace when he stared at the Black Lake. A real life mirror of the starry night sky.  

Chapter Text

Personally, Blaise thought, he didn’t really ask for much in life. From birth he’d had his future sorted for him. Compared to his peers, his experiences at both home and at school were carefree. The Zabini name assured him he’d only have to work if he wished to, its reputation enough to grant him access to any circles he so desired to join and the only requirement expected in turn was for him to eventually marry and produce a legitimate heir. An exchange, he thought, that was more than fair. 

However, as his curtains were pulled aside and light hit his face, sometimes life tested him. Sometimes in the form of his best friend. 

“You need to wake up, we’re running late,” Theo grumbled, stumbling on his way to the bathroom. Blaise just lay there for a moment, blinking and trying to will his brain to finish waking up. 

“I hate Mondays,” he declared, stretching his arms and finally sitting up. Taking a look around, it seemed all the boys had slept in. Draco was hurriedly trying to style his hair, Goyle kept trying to pull his trousers up and failing. Crabbe had his sweater on backwards.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Draco asked as he turned his head to inspect his hair from all angles. Blaise thought it rather looked like peacocking. Absent-mindedly, he changed into his uniform, making sure his sweater was on correctly. He was nearly done when Theo finally came out of the bathroom. 

“Seriously, Nott?” Draco continued. “I know you’re going for the dishevelled look this year, but would it kill you to make an effort? You look like you gave up on life.”

“The day’s still young,” Theo mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I just might.”

Rolling his eyes, Blaise threw an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “Don’t be dramatic. Once we get some tea on you, you’ll be back to your cheerful self.” Theo just sighed in answer, shrugging off Blaise's arm in order to walk back to his bed and grabbing the strap of his book bag. 

“As if he’s ever cheerful,” Goyle grumbled, finally managing to get his legs in the correct trouser holes. Following Theo’s lead, Blaise grabbed his book bag as well and walked over to the door. As the other Slytherins joined him near the exit to the dorms, Blaise took a moment to look him over critically. Theo’s tie was crooked. 

“Honestly,” he said in exasperation, fixing it quickly. “What would you do without me?”

Theo scrunched his nose in answer. “At least I remembered to brush my teeth. Go on, I’ll wait,” he said, barely holding in a yawn. 

Breakfast was almost over by the time they both walked into the Great Hall, most of the students were busy chattering amongst each other instead of eating. Thankfully, Blaise was quick to spot Daphne and Tracey sitting by themselves near one of the ends of the Slytherin Table reading Daphne’s copy of the Daily Prophet. Once they were seated, his relief was cut short when he caught sight of a photograph of Dolores Umbridge smiling nastily at everyone from beneath the headline: 

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER “HIGH INQUISITOR” 

Theo took a look at it before making a grab for the nearest teapot, Daphne smiled at him bemusedly as she pushed the sugar toward him. Blaise just sighed as he motioned for her to pass over the paper. 

“You might want to get some food in you first,” Tracey groaned, resting her head on her palm as she glared at the staff table. “If you eat while reading you might choke on all that bullshit — ”

“Tracey!” Daphne admonished, but her friend paid her no mind. 

“Just look at her!” Tracey grumbled, glaring at the bright pink spot occupying a chair. “She’s positively glowing…” 

Ignoring the girls, Blaise read aloud the contents of the article.

“ ‘The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,’ said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. ‘He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve — ’” 

“More like they don’t approve of Dumbledore and admitting Voldemort is back, but what do I know?” Tracey interrupted before Theo shushed her, nodding at Blaise to continue. 

“‘ This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to effect improvements at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th Educational Decree Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. ’ Well, now. Isn’t that useful?” Blaise muttered, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“I’ll bet you anything we’ll be seeing a lot more of those ‘new laws’ now,” Theo mumbled into his cup. His eyes had darkened progressively as Blaise read, yet he stared resolutely into his tea. “Forget about the Ministry dipping their fingers into Hogwarts, they’re elbows-deep at best.”  

 “‘Of course, she’s been an immediate success —’” Blaise paused for a second to scoff, reaching for the goblet of pumpkin juice Tracey was holding up to him, “‘totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the ground feedback about what’s really happening at Hogwarts. It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree

Twenty-three, which creates the new position of ‘Hogwarts High Inquisitor. This is an exciting new phase in the Minister’s plan to get to grips with what some are calling the “falling standards” at Hogwarts,’ said Weasley. ‘The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch.’ Well, good luck inspecting Snape. That’s something I’d like to see,” Blaise said, placing the paper back on the table before taking a sip from his goblet. 

“There’s not much more to it,” Daphne told them, subtly pushing a plate with toast into Theo’s line of sight. “Lucius Malfoy got to blabber about how concerned all the parents had been with Dumbledore’s ‘eccentric decisions’ in the last few years.” 

Blaise sighed, it seemed their tentative peace had just flown out the window. His mother always said politics had no place in a school, yet it seemed the British Ministry didn’t share the sentiment. Scowling, he reached over for some fruit. He wasn’t in the mood to scarf down something else before their first lesson began.

Time went by quickly, Tracey joined Daphne in badgering Theo to eat his piece of toast, which he eventually did and soon enough the four of them were on their way to the greenhouses for Herbology. As they walked, Blaise wondered if Umbridge would be joining for class.

But Umbridge was not inspecting their Herbology class or their History of Magic lesson, which was just as boring and distasteful as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape’s dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where their professor handed them their moonstone essays back.

Blaise sighed as he stared at the large, spiky black A scrawled in an upper corner. He knew he should’ve gotten Daphne or Theo to help him with it, at least he’d gotten passing marks.

“I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L,” Snape said with a smirk, as he swept among them. “This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in your examination.” 

He reached the front of the class and turned to face them.  

“The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get Ds.” 

Snape smirked as Draco sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, “Some people got Ds? Ha!” 

Blaise rolled his eyes, sniggering internally. He’d bet those Ds were in the hands of some of the Gryffindors; perhaps in Crabbe and Goyle’s as well, if Snape had been in a bad mood while grading them. As Snape turned to write their instructions for the day on the blackboard, Blaise turned to Theo who was reading over the comments Snape had scribbled in the

margins of his essay. In the right upper corner, a spiky O was scrawled, so small it could be confused for a drop of ink. 

“Seriously?” Blaise whispered to him. “You got an O?”

Theo rolled his eyes at him before whispering back. “You would’ve gotten an E if you’d bothered to do your work when you were supposed to, instead of waiting until the night before it’s due.” They both got up and followed the group to gather their ingredients.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one! Tracey was right there with me,” Blaise argued over the vials, looking for the powdered Gryphon claw. Would it kill Snape to label his ingredients with decently sized letters? He wondered as he squinted at some bottles of a fine grey powder, before noting it read ‘ African Sea Salt ’ in small spiky letters. Not that one then. 

“And she nearly failed her essay as well,” Daphne interjected, leaning over them to grab several bottles before handing two of them over to Blaise. Sighing, he noted they both read ‘ Gryphon claw ’ and was quick to thank her. 

“Any pass is a victory,” Tracey added proudly, as she and Theo weighed the Fanged Geranium. “I’ll leave the top marks to our resident geniuses.”

“And Draco,” Blaise sniggered, Daphne was quick to smother the grimace that came over her. 

“Why Professor Snape insists on giving Malfoy top marks, I’ll never understand,” she sighed, gathering her portion of the Fanged Geranium. Theo merely shrugged as they made their way back to their cauldrons. 

“He isn’t as bad at Potions as you think he is,” he said, placing his ingredients on the table. “But Professor Snape favours him, I won’t deny that.” Tracey scoffed loudly at that, but was quick to stop after Snape glared at her from across the room. After that, the four of them lowered their heads and got to work on their respective potions. 

By the end of the lesson, the flasks they delivered to Snape’s desk were varying shades of turquoise, but passable enough that their professor nodded at them in approval before they left. 

“So, homework. Theo and Daphne got O’s, and Blaise and I both got A’s, right? And those are all the passing marks, right?” Tracey asked as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the entrance hall for lunch.

“No,” Blaise shook his head. “There’s an E for ‘Exceeds Expectations’ between ‘Outstanding’ and ‘Acceptable’, then you get the failing marks.” He really needed to focus more on his schoolwork. ‘Acceptable’ would not do for a Zabini, his mother would have his head if she knew. 

“It’s fine,” Daphne encouraged them, as they sat down at the Slytherin Table. “There’s plenty of time to improve before the exam, you just need to work harder and stop leaving everything until the night before.”

“But Daph, I thrive on that adrenaline rush!” Tracey cried, pouting at the blonde. Blaise watched as Daphne blushed and shoved her back lightly. He shook his head at them both, smiling slightly before focusing on Theo. He’d been awfully quiet up until that moment. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, ladling soup into his bowl. 

Theo smiled at him in answer, “Just thinking, Professor Snape wrote some commentary about my essay in the margins and it was quite useful. I’m thinking about heading over to the library after our last lesson today.” 

“Take this one with you,” Daphne joked, sipping her soup delicately. Tracey just shrugged, dunking a bread roll into her bowl. 

“Might as well,” she added. “Everyone has us drowning in work, if we begin lagging behind we’ll be done for.” 

“We’ll make an evening out of it,” Blaise said, might as well get it over and done with. “Bring your essay, Theo. If Snape graced you with his comments, democracy demands you share them with us.”

“That’s not exactly how democracy works, Blaise,” Theo said, scrunching his nose. Blaise just hummed and focused on his soup.

After lunch, they parted ways with Theo and grudgingly headed up to the North Tower. Blaise was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Tracey elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. 

The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out Dream Oracles, look round. 

“Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney,” Umbridge said with her wide smile. “You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?” 

Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Trelawney’s seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag, and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin. 

Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses. “We shall be continuing our study

of prophetic dreams today,” she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. 

“Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other’s latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle.” She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left toward a couple of Gryffindors. 

Blaise paired off with Draco, who was eagerly watching Umbridge. She was making notes on her clipboard now. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney’s wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. 

They were standing next to Longbottom while Trelawney questioned him about his dream diary, close enough they could faintly hear their conversation.  

“Now,” said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, “you’ve been in this post for how long, exactly?” 

Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, “Nearly sixteen years.” 

“Seriously?” Draco whispered incredulously. 

“Quite a period,” Umbridge remarked, making a note on her clipboard. “So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?” 

“That’s right,” Trelawney answered curtly. 

Umbridge made another note. To Blaise it seemed like a poor intimidation tactic, but it seemed to be working on Trelawney. 

“And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?”

 “Yes,” said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher. Another note on the clipboard. 

“But I think — correct me if I am mistaken — that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of second sight?” 

“These things often skip — er — three generations,” said Trelawney. 

“Convenient,” Blaise whispered to Draco, making him snicker. 

Umbridge’s toadlike smile widened. “Of course,” she said sweetly, making yet another note. 

“Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?” She looked up inquiringly, still smiling. Trelawney had stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. 

“Just watch,” Draco murmured, watching entranced. “She’ll predict something horrible will happen to Umbridge, that’s all she ever does.” 

“I don’t understand you,” said Trelawney, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck. 

“I’d like you to make a prediction for me,” Umbridge repeated clearly.

By then, they were not the only people watching and listening sneakily from behind their books now; most of the class were staring transfixed at Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking. 

“The Inner Eye does not See upon command!” she croaked in a scandalised tone. 

“I see,” Umbridge said softly, making yet another note on her clipboard. “That’ll be all then.” 

“I — but — but… wait!” Trelawney called suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way she was shaking with anger. “I… I think I do see something… something that concerns you… Why, I sense something… something dark… some grave peril…” 

Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised. 

“I am afraid… I am afraid that you are in grave danger!” Trelawney finished dramatically. There was a pause. Professor Umbridge’s eyebrows were still raised. Draco raised his hands slightly in victory. 

“Right,” she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. “Well, if that’s really the best you can do…” 

She turned away, leaving Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Briskly, the Divination professor turned to an unsuspecting Potter and Weasley, asking about their dream diary. She then proceeded to interpret that all of Potter’s dreams foretold a gruesome and early death.  

“This is a waste of time,” Blaise muttered, rubbing his eyes. Next to them, Daphne was still watching Trelawney as Tracey kept flicking the pages of ‘ The Dream Oracle’. 

“What are you even looking for Davis?” Draco asked, finally bored enough to pay attention to his surroundings.

“I was hoping there’d be something here about scrying, but there’s nothing. These classes have been nothing but a disappointment,” she said sullenly, slamming the book closed. 

When the bell rang, Umbridge packed her clipboard back into her back and descended the silver ladder first so that she was waiting for them all when they reached their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later. She was humming and smiling to herself

when they entered the room. Theo joined them after a couple of minutes, sliding into his usual seat in between Tracey and Blaise. 

“Did she eat a fly? Why does she look so happy?” he asked Blaise, settling down and placing his books on the desk. There was a new one there, ‘Macbeth’ . He wondered where Theo was getting those books from, not the library for sure, unless they had suddenly added them to their collection. 

“She was inspecting Trelawney. As we expected, it didn’t go well,” Blaise answered, keeping his eyes fixed on their professor while the rest of the class sat down. After a few moments,  Umbridge called them all to order and silence fell. 

“Wands away,” she instructed them all smilingly, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out sadly returned them to their bags. “As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, ‘Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.’ There will be no need to talk.”   

Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. After reading the first paragraph, Blaise gave up on the lesson and raised his head to look around the classroom.

Granger wasn’t reading and her hand was up.

Again.

He turned to Theo, rolling his eyes when he noticed that his friend had his copy of Macbeth open over Defensive Magical Theory and was reading that instead. He nudged him with his foot, before subtly staring at Granger again. It seemed that Umbridge had noticed her too, but was pretending she hadn’t as of yet. Instead, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face-to-face, then she bent down and whispered something he couldn’t hear. 

By then Theo had already nudged Tracey in turn, who had dutifully nudged Daphne. Umbridge and Granger were still whispering to each other while Potter and Weasley tried, and failed, to look like they weren’t listening. 

“Yes, I do,” Granger said suddenly in a clear, carrying voice that attracted the rest of the class’s attention. “Mr. Slinkhard doesn’t like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they’re used defensively.” 

“Oh, you do, do you?” said Umbridge, also raising her voice and straightening up. “Well, I’m afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard’s opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.” 

“But —”

“That is enough,” said Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House.” 

The class erupted in mutters. 

“What for?” Potter said angrily. Next to Blaise, Theo jerked upright, his head whipping around in Potter’s direction.

“For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,” said Umbridge smoothly. “I am here to teach you using a Ministry approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —” 

“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,” Potter interrupted her loudly, “there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.” 

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Blaise had ever heard. 

“I think another week’s detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said sleekly. Blaise pressed his lips together tightly as Theo’s head dropped to his hands with a groan. 

That afternoon they reconvened to study as agreed on, gathering around one of the tables near the back, far away from Pince so that they could talk freely. They were all careful to avoid the Potter issue, noting how tense Theo got about the subject.

“Honestly, Tracey,” Daphne was saying, going over the other girl’s notes. “You need to focus. Jupiter only has four main moons, where did you get seven from?”

“I know!” Tracey cried, flailing her quill around. “I’m trying! There’s just too much information!” 

“I’m sorry to say this,” Daphne began, shushing Tracey’s wailing, “but we’re establishing a study schedule. You can’t take only the practical exam, you need to pass the written one as well…”

Tuning out the girls, Blaise focused again on what Snape had written in Theo’s essay, taking note for future assignments. Compared to this essay, he could understand how his own was lacking. Next to him, Theo was busy researching snake’s nests, trying to understand what could come out from them that could lead them to the bookshop. Well, he was trying to, Blaise thought, his hands kept twitching. 

“Alright,” he declared, standing up and tugging on Theo’s arm. “We’re taking a walk, I need a break.” 

Sighing, Theo ripped a spare piece of parchment and placed it as a bookmark, following him after stretching out his back. They headed out the library and into the corridor, which was thankfully empty. Most of the students were outside, enjoying the last days of warmth and sun. 

“There’s something bothering you,” he said, turning to face Theo. “And whatever it is, I would like to help in any way I can. So please tell me how.” Theo’s face had gone blank while he spoke, but eventually he sighed and broke down. When that happened, Blaise could clearly see how dark his eyebags had gotten and mentally kicked himself for not noticing before. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine— ” Blaise shot him an incredulous look, making Theo snort before continuing. “Very well, I’m not doing my best. I just have a lot going on, and I’m not certain as to how to proceed. Or what the best choices are.”

Blaise nodded, it made sense. “Does one of those choices involve a certain Gryffindor?”

Theo blushed in answer and Blaise laughed, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders and beginning to walk. “Of course, it does. Now, what has Potter done?” 

“It’s just— he keeps getting these detentions and ruining whatever is left of his reputation, and you know eventually Umbridge will report all of this to Fudge and somehow it will all reach my father… ” He breathed in deeply, tugging his sleeves over his hands. “If he finds out I’m spending my time with Harry —  that’s pretty much the opposite of laying low and not calling attention to myself…”

Blaise frowned, he hated how useless he felt whenever Theo brought up his father. Nott Senior was a piece of work, and absolutely horrible to his son. When the bruises had begun appearing on Theo’s arms, Blaise had run to tell his mother. In turn, his mother had spoken about it to the Malfoys over tea, acting as though it was just a preposterous rumour. Eventually, it seemed the Malfoys had spoken with Nott Senior about it, considering the bruises faded and never appeared again.

If it was up to him, Theo would spend every holiday with him, far away from that awful manor and his father, but Nott Senior disagreed with him and that was that. At least Whilbie was there to take care of Theo. 

“But Potter makes you happy, doesn’t he?” Blaise asked reluctantly, he knew it wasn’t good for Theo in the long run. But what was? 

“He does,” Theo said with a small smile. “It’s just… is the risk worth it?” 

“Is Potter worth it?”

Theo sighed, running a hand through his hair. They came to a stop next to a window, and paused their conversation in order to look at the sunset, painting everything in an orange glow.

“He is,” Theo whispered, breathing in deeply. Blaise looked down at some Ravenclaws playing gobstones, one of them was getting sprayed. 

“There’s your answer, then. Don’t worry too much about your father,” he told him, as they resumed walking and turned around, heading back to the library. “We’ll figure something out, we always do.”

“Except for that riddle,” Theo retorted with a warm smile, bumping his shoulder against Blaise’s. 

“We’ll figure that out as well, I refuse to be the only Zabini who failed to figure it out. Can you imagine? The name Blaise Zabini will forever be tarnished by failure.”

They entered the library in lighter spirits than they had gone out with, but Blaise’s mind was still reeling. Theo’s parental worries aside, he had a problem to take care of, and that problem had green eyes and a scar on his forehead. 

Chapter Text

Despite Theo’s best efforts, the back of Harry’s hand was bleeding again. He did not complain during last night’s detention; he was determined not to give Umbridge the satisfaction. Over and over again he wrote I must not tell lies and not a sound escaped his lips, though the cut deepened with every letter. 

The very worst part of this second week’s worth of detentions was the reaction from Gryffindor's Quidditch team captain Angelina. She cornered him just as he arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table. It wasn’t enough that his Head of House was now well aware of his detention; she took five points from Gryffindor as an additional punishment. 

“She’s taken points off Gryffindor because I’m having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how ?” Harry groaned, flinging himself onto the bench beside Ron. 

“I know,” Ron said sympathetically, tipping bacon onto Harry’s plate, “she’s bang out of order.” 

Hermione, however, said nothing. 

“You think McGonagall was right, do you?” Harry asked angrily. 

“I wish she hadn’t taken points from you, but I think she’s right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge,” Hermione told him, keeping her eyes fixed on her breakfast. 

Harry did not speak to Hermione all through Charms, but when they entered Transfiguration he forgot his anger; Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner and the sight of her drove the memory of breakfast right out of his head. 

“Excellent,” Ron whispered excitedly as they sat down in their usual seats. “Let’s see Umbridge get what she deserves.” 

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she had seen Umbridge sitting there. 

“Settle down,” she said and silence fell immediately. “Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you — and hand one to each student —”

“Hem, hem,” Umbridge coughed in the same annoying manner she used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her.

“Right then, everyone, listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention — most of you have now successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be —” 

“Hem, hem,” Umbridge tried once more. 

“Yes?” said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line. 

“I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec —” 

“Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom,” Professor McGonagall said sharply, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Harry and Ron exchanged looks of glee. “As I was saying, today we shall be practising the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell —” 

“Hem, hem.” 

“I wonder,” Professor McGonagall said in cold fury, turning toward Umbridge, “how do you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.” Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously. 

“How can she lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!” Harry whispered to Ron, but he was grinning; his anger with Professor McGonagall had disappeared.

Harry had thought that the next time he would see Umbridge would be in his detention that evening, but he was wrong. When they walked down the lawns toward the forest for Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins, they found her and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank.

“You do not usually take this class, is that correct?” Harry heard her ask as they arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive bowtruckles were scrabbling around for woodlice like so many living twigs. 

“Quite correct,” Professor Grubbly-Plank said with her hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid.” 

Harry exchanged uneasy looks with Ron and Hermione. Across the table, Malfoy was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle; he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry. 

“Hmm,” Umbridge said, dropping her voice, though Harry could still hear her quite clearly, “I wonder — the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter — can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid’s very extended leave of absence?” 

“’Fraid I can’t,” Professor Grubbly-Plank said. “Don’t know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks teaching work, accepted — that’s as much as I know. Well… shall I get started then?” 

“Yes, please do,” Umbridge nodded, scribbling upon her clipboard. This time, she chose to wander among the students, questioning them on magical creatures. She made sure to question all of the Slytherins, and Harry’s spirit lifted when Theo made sure to answer all of her questions well, winking at him behind Umbridge’s back. Even if the other boy didn’t particularly like Hagrid as a professor, Harry appreciated his efforts.  

“Overall,” Umbridge started, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank’s side after a lengthy interrogation of Millicent Bulstrode, “how do you, as a temporary member of staff — an objective outsider, I suppose you might say — how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?” 

“Oh, yes, Dumbledore’s excellent,” Professor Grubbly-Plank answered heartily. “No, I’m very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed.” 

Looking incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and went on, “And what are you planning to cover with this class this year — assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?” 

“Oh, I’ll take them through the creatures that most often come up in O.W.L.,” Professor Grubbly-Plank said. “Not much left to do — they’ve studied unicorns and nifflers, I thought we’d cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, you know.” 

“Well, you seem to know what you’re doing, at any rate,” Umbridge remarked, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. Harry did not like the emphasis she put on “ you ” and liked it even less when she turned to question Goyle: “Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?”

Goyle gave a stupid grin. Malfoy hastened to answer the question. 

“That was me,” he said. “I was slashed by a hippogriff.” 

“A hippogriff ?” Umbridge gasped, now scribbling frantically. 

“Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do,” Harry interrupted angrily. 

Ron and Hermione groaned as Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry’s direction. 

“Another night’s detention, I think,” she said in a soft voice. “Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that’s all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days.” 

As Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle, Harry ground his teeth and  turned around to try and catch Theo’s eye, knowing very well Ron and Hermione would be pissed at him already. His stomach dropped when the other boy wouldn’t meet his eye. 

Once class was finished, Harry was about to follow the rest of his year mates back to the castle when his bookbag suddenly tore open, its contents spilling on the lawn. 

“Go on, I’ll catch up,” he told Ron and Hermione, leaning down to gather his things. His bag was fine, he knew what this was. 

He took his time getting everything in order, pausing when a pair of well-polished shoes came into view. An unfamiliar pair of well-polished shoes. Groaning, he grabbed everything and got back on his feet, knowing very well it wouldn’t be Theo’s face staring back at him. Those shoes were too detailed and showy to be his friend’s. 

It was Zabini.

Harry frowned at him. Their knowing each other was only due to Theo, and until now, neither party had many any attempts to talk since the summer holidays. 

“Can I help you?”

“I don’t know, are you capable of basic logical thought?” 

Groaning, Harry shouldered his now tattered bookbag. “I don’t have time for this Zabini, what do you want?” 

The Slytherin sneered at him, taking a step closer to him while keeping his hands in his pockets. “I want to know if you’re able to understand the connection between speaking out against Professor Umbridge and your detentions.”

Harry glared at the other boy, feeling more grateful than ever for the inches he had grown during the summer, placing him a couple of inches taller than Zabini. It made staring him down easier. 

The Slytherin didn’t back down.

“That leads to: no speaking out,” he raised his left palm. “No detentions,” he raised his right palm. Extending them both towards Harry. “Do you understand me?” Zabini asked slowly and condescendingly before lowering his hands. 

“Are you an idiot? Of course, I do,” Harry said shortly.

“Then why do you seem incapable of doing so?” Zabini asked him, finally losing his calm exterior. Harry noticed both of his fists clenched tightly and took care to side step the other boy. He’d seen that behaviour on Dudley, and there was no way he was getting punched. 

“My life is none of your business, Zabini,” Harry said, furious at the turn the conversation had taken. 

“When it affects my best friend it is my business, Potter!” Zabini snarled. “Have you taken care to notice how out of it Theo has been lately?”

Harry felt his anger leave him, blowing out of him and leaving him deflated and confused. “What?”

“His stunt with those runes? Do you know just how many sleepless nights it took for him to come up with it? Of course, you don’t,” the Slytherin continued. “All you see is that now you’re free of injuries and ready to go at it once again.”

“I — ”

“I don’t care about whatever issues you’ve got, Potter. I don’t know you and I’m not remotely interested in getting to know you. But I care about Theo, can you say the same?” 

Harry’s anger returned to him ten-fold.

“Of course I do!” he spat. “Theo’s my friend!” But even as he said them the words felt off. 

“Then act like it! Your actions have consequences for those around you!” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Harry asked coldly, feeling the sweat gathering in his clammy hands. He felt sick all of the sudden, the air he was breathing did not reach the depth of his lungs. Every blink of his eyes took him back to the graveyard, to Cedric’s sightless eyes.

“Then why, Potter?” Zabini asked, lowering his tone. Harry didn’t dare meet his eyes but he felt the Slytherin take a step back, making it easier for him to breathe. 

“I just — ” Harry tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t believe he was talking about this with Zabini. “I feel so angry all the time… I just — I feel like I’m always a second away from blowing up…”

Zabini sighed, “I didn’t sign up for this… listen, Potter— Harry. You can’t allow your emotions to get the best of you. I’m sorry, but you don’t have that luxury anymore.” As true as the words were, Harry still felt the sting of them. He finally had enough air in his lungs to look over at the Slytherin. 

Zabini had his hands in his pockets once more, and was staring resolutely at Hagrid’s hut. “I suppose you now have a first-class seat to how it feels to have the world judging your every move,” he muttered absentmindedly before shaking his head.  

“Take care of yourself, would you? For Theo’s sake,” the Slytherin added quickly, as he finally turned away from Harry and began walking back to the castle. Harry could only stare at his back dumbly, all of the fight had left his body. 

“And if you could somehow summon some self-preservation,” Zabini shot over his shoulder. “That would be great.”  

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge’s office that night and his hand ached terribly. Umbridge had inspected his hand with a deep set frown, looking more like a toad than ever,  before dismissing him for that night. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione seemed to be in a sympathetic mood rather than critical. 

“She’s an awful woman,” Hermione said in a small voice, inspecting his hand carefully. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... I was thinking that maybe the time’s come when we should just — do it ourselves.”

“Do what ourselves?” Harry asked, thumbing his pendant. It seemed to be running warmer than usual lately. 

“Well — learn Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“We can’t do much by ourselves,” Ron mumbled in a defeated voice. “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —” 

“No, I agree, we’ve gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books,” said Hermione. “Have you read the news lately?”

Both boys shook their heads in answer, waiting for her to continue. 

“Disappearances are higher than ever, and Fudge keeps blaming it all on Sirius,” she sighed before standing up, walking over to the fireplace. “ He ’s out there, wreaking havoc while the Ministry turns a blind eye… We’ve got to be able to defend ourselves, and if Umbridge refuses to teach us how, we need someone who will.” 

Hermione then turned to look at Harry, who spluttered in shock. 

“What?”

“That’s an idea,” Ron muttered, frowning slightly. 

“But I’m not a teacher, I can’t —” 

“You are the only one with practical experience,” Ron stated, leaning back contemplatively. 

“And Harry, you’re the best in the year at Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione said with a small smile. She sat back down in one of the empty armchairs, facing them. 

“Me?” Harry asked incredulously, his mouth dry all of a sudden. “No I’m not, you’ve beaten me in every test —” 

“Actually, I haven’t,” Hermione interrupted him. “You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I’m not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you’ve done!” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“You know what, I’m not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me,” Ron said to Hermione, smirking slightly. He then turned to Harry. “Let’s think,” he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. “Uh . . . first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who.” 

“That wasn’t skill! I didn’t know — ”

“Second year,” Ron interrupted him, “you rescued Ginny, killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle.” 

“But if Fawkes hadn’t turned up I —” 

“Third year,” Ron continued, raising his voice to talk over Harry, “you fought off about a hundred dementors at once —” 

“If the Time-Turner hadn’t —” 

“Last year,” Ron said, almost shouting by then, “you fought You-Know-Who again —” 

“Listen to me!” Harry snapped, annoyed at the way Ron and Hermione were both smirking at him. “Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, I didn’t plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —” 

Ron and Hermione were still smirking. 

Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling so angry. He barely noticed his pendant was heating up once more. “Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I was lucky— but I just blundered my way through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, I — STOP IT !”

He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn’t remember standing up, Ron and Hermione’s smiles had finally vanished. 

“You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — we’ve never been taught that in classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that —” Harry trailed off, blinking away the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. 

“Harry,” Hermione said timidly, “don’t you see? This—  this is exactly why we need you… We need to know what it’s like… facing him — facing Voldemort,” she trailed off at the end, her hands trembling so bad Ron stood up to rub her shoulders.

It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort’s name, and it was that fact that calmed Harry. Still breathing hard, he sank back into his chair, becoming aware as he did so that his scar was throbbing horribly again. 

“Well… think about it,” Ron said in a small voice. “Please?” 

Harry could not think of anything to say. He nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to. He faintly recalled both his friends bidding him goodnight and heading up to their respective rooms. Instead of joining them, he chose to stay seated near the fire, thumbing his pendant absentmindedly. It had finally cooled down. 

He made up his mind with a sigh, finally following Ron upstairs. As he drifted off to sleep, he only hoped Theo’s morning rituals wouldn’t be subject to any new changes. 

“Heating up, you say?” Theo frowned, deep in thought. The morning was chilly enough that, having forgotten his gloves, Harry was forced to stuff his hands into his robes to avoid the cold. Theo had smirked at him unhelpfully when he’d noticed. “When exactly did you notice?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, staring at his feet. The Clocktower Courtyard had been empty when they had first sat down, but it was only a matter of time before the early risers arrived. “I was fiddling with it yesterday after my detention with Umbridge when I noticed it was warmer than usual…”

Theo hummed for a moment before standing up, offering his hand for Harry to grasp. “Come along then, better safe than sorry.”

Harry didn’t think twice before taking Theo’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.  “Where are we headed?” 

“To the grounds. Do you know what Juniper is?” 

Harry sighed as he tried to remember, but his memory came up blank. He shook his head in answer when Theo looked back at him. The Wooden Bridge was open enough that a strong gust of wind ruffled their hair. 

“It can be either a tree or a shrub, evergreen with needle or scale-like leaves,” Theo answered, tugging his collar up when another particularly cold breeze reached them. “So keep your eyes open, we’ll be needing at least a branch.” 

Harry nodded absently, trying to will away the sleep still clinging to him. “I never asked, how did everything go with Snape?”

Theo opened his mouth to answer, only to yawn right into Harry’s face. He blinked the tears away, offering the Gryffindor a sheepish smile. “I’ve finally annoyed him into acquiescing. We’ll be having our first session this Friday, actually.”

“I — Theo, that’s great!” Harry smiled, despite feeling a heavy weight settle on his stomach. That was another thing Theo was doing for him, setting time aside to do for him… “I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough for this… It feels like lately you’ve been running circles around me, dealing with my problems and —”

He was interrupted by a tug on his arm, reeling him back a couple of steps. Theo was staring at him with a deep set frown. “I offered to help you.”

Harry blinked back at him at loss. “Well, yes. But you barely get enough sleep as it is and now with everything… I just — It feels like I’m causing you more trouble than I’m worth.”

Theo pressed his lips together, “Well, you’re wrong there. I happen to think you actually worth a lot more trouble than that,” he blurted out, stumbling a bit around the end. Looking down, the Slytherin abruptly let go of the arm he hadn’t noticed he was still holding. 

“Shall we carry on? I would like to have time for some warm tea after this,” Theo mumbled, turning and exciting the bridge, bypassing the circle of giant stones that made up the Sundial Garden. Harry sighed and followed him without another word.

Knowing he was looking for something with ‘evergreen with needle or scale-like leaves’, Harry thought, was just like not knowing what he was looking for. He settled for walking behind Theo, making sure his friend didn’t trip over any fallen branches or loose vines. It turned out to be a particularly difficult task.

“Seriously?” Harry grumbled as he pulled Theo back to his feet for what was probably the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “Are you doing this on purpose?” 

“And why would I be doing this on purpose?“ Theo spluttered, fixing his cloak in indignation, scrambling out of Harry’s grasp. His cheeks had gotten pink all of a sudden; probably due to the cold, Harry reasoned.

“Oh, there! There! ” 

Harry only sighed as he watched the Slytherin hurry towards another bush. “If it’s another false alarm, you can eat mud the next time you slip,” he said as he walked over. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like it was as Theo was busy taking a couple of clippings from it with a small pen knife. 

“Now what?” Harry asked after helping Theo to his feet. 

“Now, we burn it. Perhaps we should head over to the garden, lighting this over grass would be a terrible idea.” Harry nodded in answer, throwing a glum look toward the area Hagrid’s cabin would be usually billowing up smoke. Maybe later, if they had enough time left, they could take a short walk around it. 

“The general idea of this is to purify your pendant,” Theo was saying, drawing Harry’s attention back to him. “It’s this Ancient Norse tradition, a Smudging Ritual. Jupiter is used to invoke spirits and healing powers and to connect with our ancestors. Smudging is the burning of certain wood or herbs to create a cleansing smoke bath, in order to banish negative energies and in so, bringing physical, spiritual and emotional balance — why have you got that look on your face?”

Harry snorted, “It’s just, I can imagine Hermione going crazy over this. Just the word ‘ritual’ would be enough to send her into a frenzy.”

Theo sniffed at his answer. “Well, there’s always someone. Half-bloods and muggleborns in particular tend to purposely overlook the more… obscure branches of magic.”

“It just sounds so close to some fictional stories…” Harry mused as they sat down facing each other, with enough space in the middle to safely burn the Juniper. That, and everytime Theo mentioned some Norse deity, Harry could only picture Thor with his winged helmet from Dudley’s old comic books. He was actually tempted to show them to Theo, but he thought the Slytherin might actually implode if he ever saw them. 

“Anyways, do we need some special way to conjure fire? The spark from some mystical rocks rubbing together?” Harry asked excitedly. Theo cocked an eyebrow at him, before muttering a quick Incendio. 

Harry scowled as he sat back. “I expected more.”

“I’m sorry the ancient traditions of my ancestors aren’t flashy enough for you, Potter. Get your pendant out, you need to hold it over the smoke.” 

He did so for a couple of minutes, and they both sat there in silence until the Juniper was entirely consumed by the flames. In Harry’s opinion, it was a bit anticlimactic, but what did he know?

However, the second he put it on, he felt more at ease than he had in days. The same feeling of serenity he’d felt when he first put it on that summer day, it felt like months had passed in between. He rolled his shoulders with a groan, missing entirely the worried frown Theo sent his way. 

“You know what? Who needs flashy magic? Your Norse rituals are just perfect the way they are, I don’t know how to thank you.”   

“Just promise to tell me the second it begins heating up again,” Theo told him, tugging at his sleeves. Harry’s smile slipped from his face.

“Sure — I mean, I’ll let you know.”

“I’m serious, Harry. Swear on it. The second it begins heating up, you come find me.” Theo insisted, getting up to his feet. He held out his hand to help Harry up. “I understand normal and you generally do not go together, but this?” He sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Do you remember what I told you over the summer?”

How could he forget?

“About my connection with Voldemort? You think it’s connected?” Harry asked glumly, dusting some of the leftover ash from his trousers. 

“Awful things usually are,” he muttered, staring at his hands. “It’s a very good thing we can finally get a practical start with Occlumency. Well, I for one am done with the cold, shall we go back?”

Harry shook his head, hurrying to throw an arm over Theo’s shoulders and steering him the other way around. “But look at the sky! It’s such a beautiful morning, don’t you fancy taking a walk?”

“I don’t,” Theo grumbled, but to Harry’s delight, he didn’t shrug his arm off. “Can we at least walk along the forest line? That may block some of this wind,” he muttered as he tugged his collar up once more. Considering his goal of walking past Hagrid’s cabin was on their way to reach the forest line, Harry had absolutely no problems with Theo’s request.

“Do you think he’ll be back soon?” Harry asked when they came to a stop, right outside of the cabin. It felt like an empty echo, he couldn’t hear Fang inside or the usual sounds of Hagrid bustling inside. “From wherever it is Dumbledore’s sent him?”

“Do you have reason to distrust Dumbledore?” Theo asked him as he eyed the grounds. Harry bit his lip as he thought. Dumbledore had never done anything that wasn’t in his best interests, so why did he have so much doubt? 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Theo continued, sparing Harry from having to answer. “He’ll be back and we’ll be studying some weird new creature he somehow got his hands on.”

Harry barked out a laugh, finally turning his back on the empty cabin. “Scared of a little excitement?”

“Any day with you is excitement enough, I — is that?”

Harry turned to look to where Theo was pointing at, and was shocked to see a blonde figure along the trees. They both shared a quick look before hurrying behind her, both drawing out their wands. 

“Oh, are you both out for a walk as well?” Luna Lovegood asked them, turning from where she was petting one of the thestrals. Harry sheepishly lowered his wand, motioning for Theo to do the same. The leaves crunched under their shoes as they walked over to her. 

“Is she barefoot? ” 

“They’re quite gentle, don’t you think?” Luna was saying in that dreamy tone of hers, watching as the other thestrals walked around. “But people avoid them because they’re a bit…”

“Different.” Harry finished for her, feeling a weird feeling of kinship with the winged horses. He felt Theo’s hand behind his shoulder in silent support. “Aren’t your feet cold?”

Luna smiled at him gently. “A bit, but all my shoes seem to have mysteriously disappeared. I suspect Nargles are behind it.” 

“Nargles?” Theo asked dryly, prompting Luna to turn her wide eyed gaze on him.

“Hello, Theodore Nott. Nargles are terribly mischievous, they probably ran off with them.” Theo hummed noncommittal at her answer, giving her a look Harry had grown accustomed to and could only interpret as the Slytherin being up to no good. “You can see them as well,” she remarked, as the three of them began walking closer to the herd. 

“You’ve seen someone die then?” Harry asked, making Theo wince at his lack of tact. Luna didn’t seem to mind, as she walked around carefully amongst the roots and wines covering the forest grounds. 

“My mum,” she answered, staring into the trees. “She was quite an extraordinary witch, but she did like to experiment and… one day one of her spells went badly wrong. I was nine.” She shrugged. From his place next to Harry, Theo had gone deathly silent. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. 

“Yes, it was quite horrible. I do feel very sad about it sometimes.”

He heard Theo take a deep breath before he spoke, “I’m very sorry she’s gone.” Harry made sure to press his shoulder against his friends’.

“Have you lost someone as well?” Luna asked him, her soft and understanding smile still present on her face.

“My mother,” Theo answered, the hand he still held against Harry’s back had gone tense. His voice had taken that breathy tone he had the day he confided in Harry about his nightmares. The same tone he had when he spoke about something deeply important to him. “She was a radiant and beautiful witch before illness took her away. I look at her picture everyday, so I’ll never forget her face.”

Luna’s wide eyes were warm as she stared back at him, “Do you have someone? I have my Dad, who do you have?”

Theo’s hand finally relaxed, and Harry could feel its warmth though his cloak. “I’ve got my friends.”

Luna took a moment to look at Harry carefully, before digging into the bag she was carrying. “That’s good. Friends… That must be nice,” she said dreamily as she took out an apple and tossed it to one of the foals. It wobbled on its feet as it ran to reach it in time. “I’m happy you’re Harry’s friend.”

“Is that so?” Theo asked, his voice back to normal now. 

“Friends are important right now,” Luna said, looking back at him as though she was humouring him with obvious facts. “Think about it, if I were You-Know-Who… I’d want Harry to feel cut off from everybody else.. Because, if it’s just you alone, you’re not as much of a threat.” 

“I didn’t expect you to open up like that to Luna,” Harry said as they made their way back to the castle. The Wooden Bridge was still deserted, the only sound that accompanied them as they walked was the creaking of the wood under their feet.

“I surprised myself as well,” Theo said, staring straight ahead. “I just — I’m not sure what came over me. It felt good though, talking about her.”

“Does it feel easier?” 

“It does. I don’t feel as much pain when I think about her these days…” The other boy answered before taking a deep breath. “Everything is beginning to feel lighter lately.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us feels that way,” Harry snarked before immediately regretting it. “That came out wrong,” he said, looking Theo’s way. When the Slytherin didn’t meet his eyes, he grabbed his elbow and pulled them to a stop. “I’m really glad you’ve been feeling better, you deserve it.”

“This shadow will pass, Harry,” Theo said, his hand turning to grasp Harry’s forearm. His free hand settled on the Gryffindor’s shoulder. “Truth never perishes. You will see.”

Harry followed Theo’s example and breathed in deeply. The cold air in his lungs settled his worries. “Luna was on the right track, you know? I’m really glad you’re my friend.”

Theo smiled at him in that way that made his entire face grow warm, “So am I.” They awkwardly let go of each other and resumed their walk. Soon enough, they reached the Clocktower Courtyard. 

“I do have one question,” Theo mentioned casually as they entered the courtyard. “Who is it that is taking her things?” 

Harry turned to him, “Sorry?”

“Nargles? Really? Whatever they are, I highly doubt they spend their time taking a teenage witch's shoes,” Theo said snidely, leaning against one of the stone pillars.

“Who would’ve known, you actually like Luna,” Harry teased him, but the joke didn’t land well on him. He felt confused by the conflicted feelings, was he actually feeling jealous of sharing Theo’s friendship with another person?

“Quit being stupid,” the other boy grumbled. “I feel some sort of kinship with her… and I don’t like people taking others' things.”   

“The great Nott, finally doing something for others? With no gain of his own? The world must be ending.” Harry laughed, expertly dodging Theo’s swat. They both began walking calmly toward the Great Hall.

“I’ve always said you were a horrible influence.” 

Chapter Text

“Considering how persistent you have been in annoying me into teaching you, Mr. Nott. What is it that you already know about Occlumency?” Professor Snape asked him, standing menacingly in front of his office’s desk. Theo remembered Harry once saying the Potions Master looked like an overgrown bat, and was quick to stifle the snort that threatened to burst out from him. Antagonising the wizard who was about to access his thoughts was to be avoided at all costs. 

“I understand it to be the practice of closing one’s mind in order to prevent a Legilimens  from accessing one’s thoughts,” he answered, receiving a nod from his professor. Theo resisted the urge to fidget in his seat opposite from the desk, settling for straightening his back. 

“Very well. It is an obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one,” Professor Snape said, as he walked around his office. “Those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of others and to interpret their findings correctly, to the point of knowing whether or not somebody is lying to them.” Theo valiantly ignored the look the Potions Master sent at him, though that certainly explained a lot of things. 

“Only those skilled at Occlumency,” Professor Snape continued, “are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in their presence without detection. There is one condition for this, one which is common for most magic. Do you know what this is?”

“Time and space, professor. In this case, eye contact is essential.”

Professor Snape stopped his pacing for a moment to look at him with an unreadable glance. “It is often essential. Magic has proven time and time again, to create exceptions to its own rules at its whim. Only fools dwell in absolutes.”

Theo nodded at that, watching as the Potions Master pulled out his wand from within his robes and held it at the ready. 

“Stand up and brace yourself,” he said softly. “We are going to see how well you resist before delving into further details.”

Theo breathed in deeply and stood up. He focused on pushing back any present emotions, doing his best to settle his mind into a calm and clear state. It was nothing out of the ordinary, he’d done this before. He did this every time he shared space with his father. He could do this. 

“This time, you shall not use your wand in any way. Our first attempt will be based on mental fortitude by itself. Brace yourself now… Legilimens! ”

He could not do this.

The office swam in front of his eyes and twisted away, replaced by a flutter of memories that made him unable to focus on anything else. 

He found himself having afternoon tea with his mother, her smile bright as she wrapped his small fingers around the handle of his cup… Being dragged out of his father’s study, close to tears from the throbbing in his wrist… A stormy night at the Clock Tower — Absolutely not. 

The office came back into focus with a jolt, forcing him to grab at his seat to avoid falling over. His head was spinning as he tried to settle down. 

“A valiant effort,” Professor Snape muttered looking at him critically. “You managed to stop me before I got in too far. However, you should not have let me in at all.” Easy for you to say, Theo thought bitterly. 

“What is it like? For the caster,” Theo asked as rolled his shoulders. Nothing he had read about could have prepared him for what he had just experienced. 

“I saw flashes of what you just experienced,” his head of house answered coolly. “I’ll remind you that curfew is there for a reason, regardless of whatever it is you are up to.”

“I — ” Theo tried to come up with an excuse but professor Snape’s hand shot up to interrupt him. 

“I do not care to know what you get up to, Mr. Nott,” he drawled, readying his wand once more. “You just repelled me with your brain, however it is important you do so immediately once you’ve sensed me. Now, clear your mind. Focus.”

Theo braced himself once more. At least this time he knew what to expect… He did his best to clear his mind of all thoughts and emotions, leaving a blank slate ready to push back whenever he felt any intrusion in his mind.

“I will not go as easy on you as I did before. Let’s go again… one —  two — three — Legilimens! ”

The results were the same as his previous attempt, he might as well have not tried at all. The Potions Master breezed through his attempts to block him out like they weren’t there and the room once more twisted out of focus. He could see himself laying fresh flowers at his mother’s grave… Whilbie bandaging a particularly nasty welt on his arm… He tried his best to push him out as he had before but he couldn’t muster the level of strength he’d felt before.

Very well, if he couldn’t block him… 

Theo pulled on the feeling of intrusion, focusing on a particular memory of reading Sherlock Holmes in his bed. The second he felt the memory slipping from his grasp he poured more into it, the light coming from his wand… Goyle’s snores in the background…  

He didn’t know how much time had passed before his memory finally gave way to the office once more. He could feel beads of sweat gathering at his brow, and wiped them off with his sleeve. 

“Why couldn’t I push you out?” he muttered, looking up at Professor Snape. Snape was looking at him with a contemplative frown. 

“I warned you I wouldn’t go as easy on you,” he said, running his fingers over his wand. “How did you come upon that injury?”

“I thought you didn’t care about what I got up to, sir,” Theo deflected, lowering his head and trying to will the pounding in his brain away. 

“You’re right. I don’t,” he said sharply. Theo didn’t know if he was disappointed or not at the dismissal. Perhaps it was better that way. “Did you mean to trap me in your memory?”

“I figured, if I couldn’t push you out by will alone, perhaps I could keep you from seeing anything else of value.”

“Quick thinking on your part,” Professor Snape commented, looking at him intently. “Indeed, it is possible to become so entrapped by a memory the caster can’t access anything other than that. However, it is an obvious attempt and if you were to encounter a talented Legilimens, they could probably just exert more pressure to access other memories. That’s why the primary focus should always be on blocking their access as a whole.”

“What if I wanted them to believe they were successful? Is it possible to construct fake memories for them to see?” Theo asked. It always paid to be underestimated, and what better way to get past someone than to make them believe they had the answers they wanted? 

The Potions Master nodded in consideration, tracing his mouth with one finger as he did so. “It is possible to create a false mindscape, albeit particularly hard to accomplish successfully. Fake memories must be saturated with feelings but not so much that they will stand out from others.”

Theo nodded, he had figured as much. Yet particularly hard to accomplish did not mean impossible. He just needed time to practice. Sadly, it was the very thing he’d been lacking lately. 

“However, the first step toward becoming a successful Occlumens is not creating your own false memories or entrapping them in a moment. Those are for experienced wizards and a last resort, respectively. You’ve had enough time to recover, let’s try again, shall we? One — two —  three — Legilimens!” 

This time, the room did not twist away the second the spell hit him. He could feel the pressure he now associated with another presence inside his mind and focused on holding it back. His mind was clear, his feelings pushed down… yet that did not help him as he felt the presence gather more strength and push past him. All of a sudden, he felt him flicker past a couple of memories before Theo forced them both to watch his latest chess match with Blaise in the Slytherin common room. He could feel the intrusion push and pull at the borders of it, and everytime he pulled any information he could recall into it. 

They watched it until Professor Snape apparently got bored and left his mind, leaving him blinking away his headache as the office came into view. 

“Not bad, you did put up some resistance before falling back into boring me with one of your memories. However, you did not even attempt to push me out. I expected more of you with how much you badgered me into this.”

The pounding in his head had gotten so severe, Theo didn’t even attempt to defend himself. 

“I want you back here, same time next Friday. We will continue then.” 

“Yes, sir,” Theo muttered as he stood up, wincing at the feeling of blood rushing to his legs. Just how long had they been practising?

 “I expect you to build up your mental resistance for our next session. And do not be fooled, if I so sense you are not putting up the effort you should be, this entire experiment will be over. Do you understand me?” he asked as he pocketed his wand and walked over to the door. He turned to stare coldly at Theo until he nodded, finally opening the door for him to leave. “And do brew yourself some Potion for Dreamless Sleep, my classroom will remain open this weekend. Nights should be spent sleeping, not reading or doing whatever it is you do at the Clock Tower.”

“Of course, sir.” 

Fortunately for him, he was able to both nurse his lasting headache and brew a couple of vials during the weekend. In a rare show of camaraderie, the Slytherin Fifth Years had actually spent Sunday afternoon together outside by the lake, enjoying the autumn sunshine while they still could. Theo and Blaise spent most of this time catching up with their schoolwork, all the while lamenting the lack of time they’d had to pursue the answer to the riddle. 

However, good things often do not last and the feeling of peace was quickly dissolved by Monday morning, as they all made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

“Pardon me professor, but what exactly are you insinuating?” Umbridge was saying, her voice coming from the Entrance Hall. Theo caught Blaise and Draco sharing a quick glance at each other before hurrying up the remaining stairs from the dungeon, urging the rest of them to hurry up. 

“I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students, you conform to the prescribed disciplinary practices,” Professor McGonagall said as they finally reached the Entrance Hall. By then, a small crowd had formed already, prompting them to use Crabbe and Goyle to push their way forward. Both professors were standing on the steps leading to the Grand Staircase, and Professor McGonagall, despite standing a couple of steps lower than Umbridge, loomed over the other witch almost comically. 

“So silly of me, but it sounds as if you’re questioning my authority in my own classroom, Minerva,” Umbridge said contemptuously, walking up a couple of steps to at least be at eye-level with the Transfiguration professor. 

“What disciplinary practices is Umbridge applying?” Daphne asked from her place next to Theo, who didn’t answer. He didn’t know whether or not Harry’s detentions had been a special case or if Umbridge really was that wicked. 

“Not at all, Dolores,” Professor McGonagall replied, calmly ascending a couple of steps until they were both standing at the same level. She looked down on her disapprovingly before continuing. “Merely your mediaeval methods.”

Umbridge scoffed indignantly before gathering herself. “I am sorry, dear,” she said, making Tracey gasp at her audacity. “But to question my practices is to question the Ministry, and by extension, the Minister himself . I am a tolerant woman, but the one thing I will not stand for is disloyalty.” 

“Disloyalty?” Professor McGonagall echoed in an affronted tone, but Umbridge was not yet finished. She calmly ascended a couple more steps before turning to address her fellow professor and the gathered crowd as a whole.

“Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action,” she stated, before turning her back on them all and continuing her way up the staircase. Professor McGonagall stared at her with an impassive look before clearing her throat.

“Hurry up, all of you. If you desire to have enough time to eat before your classes begin,” she said, walking down the remaining steps and heading over to the Great Hall. The second she was far enough, murmurs broke as the students dispersed. 

“What in Merlin’s name is that woman planning?” Blaise wondered in a low voice. Draco just sent him an unpleasant smile.

“Does it matter? It’s clear the balance of power is shifting at Hogwarts, finally. Perhaps I should talk to our dear Defence professor about how greatly Father speaks about her work at the Ministry,” he laughed, straightening his robes. He confidently walked into the Great Hall, with his usual sycophants walking behind him. 

Theo snorted in dismissal.

“Typical,” he grumbled as the remaining four of them followed in their steps, sitting down at the Slytherin Table. 

“Resourceful to the very end, all Draco cares about is his standing,” Blaise said, looking over to the Staff Table. As usual, the Headmaster’s seat was empty. “Dumbledore’s not exactly putting up a fight, is he? He might as well hand over his position.”

Later, on their way to their first class of the day, they saw Filch standing precariously high on a ladder, hammering a nail and hanging a frame next to the doors to the Great Hall. The next time they walked by, Theo squinted to try and get a clear look at what it said before scoffing and carrying on. Umbridge was clearly going on a rampage, going by her apparent need to showcase the educational degree that appointed her High Inquisitor where everyone could see. 

The days that followed, easily became some of the worst experiences in Theo’s stay at Hogwarts. The pink menace that was their new High Inquisitor had taken to patrolling the hallways, taking it upon herself to ‘enforce’ the standards she deemed important. 

Theo himself had the misfortune of suffering said enforcement. Crabbe and Goyle might’ve been the first Slytherins to have Umbridge magically straighten their uniforms for them, but Theo’s snickering had drawn their professor’s attention to him. Soon enough his laughter turned into coughs when his tie was tightened to the point of choking him. 

“It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is,” he grumbled to Harry during Thursday’s lunch, during which they were both hiding out at their usual meeting place. Well, Theo was hiding out there, Harry had appeared as he usually did. 

“I’m just sad I lost the chance to see that,” the Gryffindor teased as he leaned against Theo’s arm. They were both comfortably seated on the floor next to each other, the feeling reminiscent of summer days that seemed to have taken place ages ago.

“Keep on wearing your tie that way, you’ll get to experience it first hand,” Theo muttered sleepily, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. His own tie was discarded and left inside his book-bag, far away from his sore neck.      

“Pass,” Harry shot back. “I’m being good, remember? Staying out of detention and out of Umbridge’s way.” He said that last part with sarcasm dripping from his voice but Theo didn’t pay much mind to it. As long as Harry kept that up, he was entitled to his theatrics.    

“And thank Freyja for that,” he said, closing his eyes for a second. Just a short couple of seconds. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Harry protested, moving his shoulder and dislodging Theo’s head. “I found out who is taking Loon — Luna’s things,” he mentioned, prompting Theo to blink the sleep away and focus. 

“Who is it then? Some Slytherins?” he asked, already preparing how to deal with his housemates. They’d probably be younger, the older ones tended to terrorize their respective year. 

“It’s the other Fourth Year Ravenclaws,” Harry said with a grimace.

“That’s… unexpected,” Theo answered, his mind reeling. That complicated things. 

“I was just as surprised as you,” his friend shrugged. “I asked Ginny — she’s the one who introduced us to Luna — and generally, her being there to defend her puts a stop to the teasing, but they don’t share every class. She doesn’t know who it is exactly.”

Theo hummed as he thought about it, he could either bother a Hufflepuff or bribe a younger Slytherin to report to him. Perhaps Harper would do, he was generally seen trying to get into the good graces of anyone with a decent family name. 

“Leave that to me, I have someone in mind for the task.” 

Harry squinted at him, “That sounds ominous, it’s like you’re in the Godfather or something.”

Theo sighed and rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor, he could see him fidgeting excitedly from the corner of his eye. “Go on then, explain.”

And so, he was treated to a recounting of an apparent Muggle film classic about a mafia family. Unfortunately for Harry, he needed to take a break in his story-telling every so often as to explain new muggle terms. By the end of it, Theo had been more interested in recent technology rather than the story itself. 

“I’ll tell Hermione to recommend more modern books,” Harry sighed as they descended the stairs. “You’re terribly out of touch with the Muggle world.”

“Well, I’ve never had to be in touch with it. I’d say I’m acclimatising at a reasonable pace,” Theo shot back, wrinkling his nose. It wasn’t his fault there was just so much, Muggles had certainly kept busy the last couple of centuries. 

Herbology went by quickly, and soon enough they were waiting outside the Potions classroom. The Gryffindors had been first to arrive and Theo quickly caught Potter’s eye, who then proceeded to make a show of tightening his tie with a smirk. Rolling his eyes, he heard the classroom door opening, as Professor Snape stood on the other side. 

“Inside, now,” he instructed, and they were all quick to comply. Theo and Blaise hurried over to claim their usual table near the middle of the dungeon and pulled out their copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi . 

“You will notice,” the Potions Master continued in his low, sneering voice, “that we have a guest with us today.”

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and Theo saw Umbridge sitting there, her usual clipboard on her knee. He shared a glance with Blaise, who seemed excited all of a sudden. Self-consciously, Theo tried to subtly check if his tie was placed properly.  

“We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend — instructions —” he waved his wand again “ — on the board. Carry on.” 

They all worked in silence during the first half hour, which Umbridge spent making notes in her corner. He nearly spilled his salamander blood when Blaise nudged him in his side. 

“What?” Theo hissed under his breath, making sure he had added the appropriate amount. At the very least, his potion seemed to be the appropriate colour. 

“The toad is on the move,” Blaise murmured with glee, watching behind them as she strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over a Gryffindor’s cauldron. 

“Just don’t get caught staring,” Theo mumbled, preferring instead to just listen to their conversation. 

“Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level,” Umbridge was saying, in that syrupy voice of hers. “Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus.” 

Theo rolled his eyes as he measured his Gryphon claw, was there anything in their current curriculum that the Ministry would not object to? 

“Now… How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?”

“Fourteen years,” Professor Snape replied, the direction of their voices changing as they both walked around the dungeon.  

“You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” Umbridge carried on, prompting Blaise to let out a low whistle. They were now closer to the front of the classroom, enough for Theo to deem it seem enough to chance a glance at them. The second he caught sight of their Head of House’s face though, he turned to look at Blaise with wide eyes. The other boy was already wincing. Every Slytherin knew that post was a sore subject for their professor. 

“Yes.” 

“But you were unsuccessful?” 

“ Obviously ,” he sneered, his lip curling.

Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. “And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?” 

“Yes,” Professor Snape answered quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked furious. 

“Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?” 

“She has a death wish,” Blaise whispered in glee, using the fumes coming from his cauldron as cover to continue watching.  

“I suggest you ask him,” Professor Snape said jerkily. Behind them, Theo could hear some of the potions hissing menacingly. Apparently they were not the only ones listening in.

“Oh, I shall,” Umbridge replied with a sweet smile. 

“I suppose this is relevant?” 

“Oh yes,” she said, “yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers — er — backgrounds.” 

She turned away, walked over to Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Theo turned to Blaise, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That she just dropped a nasty hint about his background? Because I do believe we’re thinking the same thing.” 

Personally, Theo thought that Professor Snape had nothing to be worried about regarding his less than stellar past. Both his father and Lucius Malfoy, alongside many others, had a good standing with the Ministry. Their professor wouldn’t be an exception, or so he hoped. 

“No marks again, then, Potter,” He heard from behind them. It seemed that Professor Snape had followed Umbridge’s example and had resumed walking around. Theo sighed, knowing there was nothing for him to do there. Of course Harry had been listening in as well, and of course the idiot had neglected his potion. 

As they left the dungeon later, Theo thanked the Norns his agreed Occlumency session with Professor Snape wasn’t that day. After that conversation with Umbridge, there was no chance he was letting the older man into his head. 

“Who decided Iguanas should be studied in the first place?” Tracey groaned as she pushed her parchment away from her, nearly knocking over her ink bottle. Theo watched as it spun over itself precariously a couple of times before Blaise reached over to stop it. 

“At least it’s an easy O, don’t overthink it,” he muttered, lowering his head to focus on his essay. Theo just shrugged and went back to the list in front of him, he was trying to remember which books he had stashed under his bed back at Nott Manor for Whilbie to send over by owl. Normally, he would’ve just taken an entirely unread selection from their library, but this year he’d had three categories to consider: riddle solving, Granger pleasing and light reading of course. If he’d taken all the books he wanted, he would’ve indubitably tipped off his father into what he was doing. 

To avoid any problems, Theo had landed on a simple solution: he’d send Whilbie the books he was done with, along with a short list of the books he’d like sent back. It was tedious, but he did have to admit it had its merits. There was no way he could’ve predicted the loops the riddle had made him traverse. He’d gone from modern books with verified facts to old mythology texts. Which were respectable in their own right, but always to be taken with a grain of salt. 

He’d gotten Granger’s requests earlier that day during Ancient Runes, she’d radically changed her usual choices of books about magical law and had delved instead into anything containing defence magic that was not included in the library’s extensive catalogue. Unfortunately, Theo was quite sure most of his family’s grimoires would not be received well. At least not yet. He could send her Finnegan’s Mastering Your Cast… He considered as he wrote the title down, it wasn’t a spellbook exactly, but it did dive into casting particularly difficult spells, and how to achieve the best results — 

“— what do you mean it’s not a good conclusion?” Tracey was asking Daphne with an incredulous look. It seemed that while he was busy thinking, not only had Blaise and Tracey finished their essays, they’d also gotten Daphne to proof-read them. 

“A conclusion concludes your work, you just kept writing facts and then abruptly finished,” the blonde was saying as she read over Blaise’s, nodding absently. 

“Well, I’d reached the minimum length, so I figured I might as well be done with it,” Tracey muttered, tapping her quill against her forehead. “What did you write as your conclusion, Blaise?”

“Something about how all these facts and more made lizards — sorry, Iguanas , such interesting creatures that are tragically underestimated by most of the wizarding community,” he answered, stretching his arms over his head with a pleased sigh. 

“Oh, but that’s just a load of dung!”

“Exactly,” Blaise said with a grin. “I’m just matching my essay’s quality to our professor’s.”

Tracey gaped at him as Daphne sighed, “At least it’s cohesive, you need to at least pretend you take the subject seriously.” 

“The subject is lizards, Daph.” 

“That’s why I said pretend,” Daphne retorted, handing Blaise’s essay back to him. 

“Perhaps you should conclude that Iguanas are useful, just not particularly interesting,” Theo advised, searching the common room for a particular Slytherin. He’d tried to find Harper during dinner, but as far as he knew, the younger boy hadn’t shown. Across from him, Tracey hummed in agreement and set out to correct her last paragraph.

“They could be somewhat interesting if Umbridge had at least bothered to bring one to class,” Blaise said as he took out his Exploding Snap cards. Daphne laughed mockingly as she helped clear their table.

“For all we know, the Ministry might not approve of using them in class,” she snickered. “Merlin forbid us having an Iguana to aid us in overthrowing the Ministry.” Theo briefly entertained the mental image of Harry menacingly holding up an iguana to a cowering Fudge before letting the thought drift away, Harper had just descended the stairs leading to the bedrooms. 

“I’ll be right back,” he told his friends before standing up and walking over to the Fourth Year. Behind him, he heard Tracey eagerly declare herself to be done with her essay. 

“Harper, could I talk to you for a second?” 

The Fourth Year blinked at him in confusion for a second before nodding, following him to a couple of secluded armchairs in the nearest corner. As they got comfortable, Theo ran a mental checklist of everything he knew about the other Slytherin. 

He knew the other boy was generally quiet, preferring to have others take the lead. He didn’t seem to have any strong personal ideas, besides those that he believed were expected of him. He was a half-blood, and therefore didn’t have a particularly good standing with most of their house. Theo particularly didn’t enjoy throwing the Nott name around, as he personally believed that everyone should stand by their own merits; but even he had to admit the benefits that came with it. 

One of those benefits was the nervous look Harper was currently throwing his way. 

“Do you need something, Nott?” He asked, fidgeting on his seat. Theo let out a deep breath as he considered the best way to approach the topic. 

“What classes do you share with the Ravenclaws?” 

If Harper was thrown off by the question, he didn’t show it. Choosing instead to lean forward as he answered, “We share Transfigurations and Charms, but we also see some of them during the elective classes.”

Obviously, Theo thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Sadly, neither of those classes worked for him, McGonagall and Flitwick wouldn’t let their classes get derailed by teasing. If they had shared History of Magic, that would’ve been another story.

“What electives are you taking then? Do you know any of the Ravenclaws you share them with?” 

“Well, I take Divination since mostly everyone does… There aren’t a lot of Ravenclaws in that class, there’s Carter and Mathews — I talk to them sometimes and well, Loony Lovegood but she’s always daydreaming or something…” Yes, Theo internally celebrated. 

“Do you share any other classes with those three?”

“Lovegood’s in Care of Magical Creatures, she usually sticks around Weasley though,” he said with a sneer. “That class used to be fun until Weasley began jinxing anyone who teased Lovegood, since then no one does anything interesting.”

“Why would her own housemates tease Lovegood?” Theo asked, feigning ignorance. 

“I don’t know, Nott. I’ve never cared enough to find out,” Harper sighed, resting his arms over his knees. “Why do you care anyway? I thought you usually kept to yourself.”

Theo leaned just a little bit forward, looking at the younger boy with a small smirk as he mentally prayed to Norns for his plan to work. 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Harper,” he lowered his voice, prompting Harper to lean even more toward him. “Professor Snape is trying to determine which one of you Fourth Year boys will be Prefect next term and, believe it or not, he’s actually considering you.”

Harper narrowed his eyes at him, but the trembling in his legs betrayed his excitement. “How would you know? You’re not a Prefect.” 

“Yet I am one of his favourite students, not to mention he’s friends with my father. You should know most of our fathers run in the same circles,” Theo made sure to drop just enough of an emphasis on the word, separating their social standing. “It’s sort of a tradition you see, he gets to see how resourceful you are, and you get a chance to prove yourself.”

“This isn’t a joke, right?” Theo internally sighed, Harper wasn’t proving to be as gullible as he’d expected.       

“Do I seem the kind of person who would lower themselves to jokes ?” He said in a sharp tone, he was getting impatient. “Now, are you interested or not?”

“Of course, I am,” Harper whispered, looking around shiftily, worried someone was listening in. He didn’t have to, it was late enough that most Slytherins had gone to bed. He could hear Daphne, Tracey and Blaise in the background as they played Exploding Snap and the remaining students were trying to study, throwing nasty looks at his friends every time they got particularly wild. “What do I need to do?”

“You mentioned Lovegood is getting teased, yes? Find out who it is. Prefects should always stop bullying, as you well know.” 

“But she’s a Ravenclaw!” Æsir above, this boy was going to be the death of him.

“Of course, she is. Who else do you expect us to run trials on? The Hufflepuffs stand up for each other, and Gryffindors? You’re more likely to get caught in the crossfire of some ridiculous duel…” Theo muttered, focusing on remaining pleasant. Threatening Harper would do no good, at least not yet. “No, Ravenclaws are more individualistic. Besides, the situation is ready for you to sneak in and find out what you need. Are you actually going to let it go to waste or even have somebody else do it?”

He clenched his jaw tightly as the other boy considered it, nearly done and he wouldn’t have to deal with Harper until it was absolutely necessary. 

“What about other Slytherins?”

“Are you considering going against your own House, Harper?” Theo lowered his tone, leaning back a bit, actually letting his feelings show on his face. Harper’s eyes widened at the motion. 

“No, I was just — making sure it was the best option and it clearly is!” He hurried to say, leaning into the space Theo had just retreated from. “Is that what I have to do? Just figure out who it is?”

“For now,” if you’re even capable of that, Theo thought to himself.  “If you’re successful we can see about going a step further, just to make sure you get some advantage on the other Fourth Years.”

“What’s in it for you, Nott?” Theo breathed in to hide his annoyment, this was the perfect example of why he hated dealing with people. 

“I get to shove it in our housemates faces that I chose better than them, of course,” Breathe in — breathe out… He tried his best to put on a slightly pleasant look back on his face. “Money’s not of importance of us, so bragging rights is the currency of choice”

“And you chose me?” For Freyja's sake, why couldn’t he just do as told. 

“I arrived late and there weren’t many of you left to choose from,” he sneered. “Are you interested or not?”

“Fine, I’ll do it and I’ll let you know as soon as I can,” Harper actually had the gall to look pleased with himself as he wiggled in his seat. If only the poor idiot knew Professor Snape couldn’t care less about him. 

“Good. Do hurry up though, the clock is ticking,” Theo said, finally able to stand up and leave. Spewing such bullshite, he thought as he walked away from the younger boy, was a finer art than he’d initially thought. It did make good practice for Umbridge’s essays, though.

He hurried over to his friends who were now putting away their cards, Tracey’s bangs were looking a bit singed. 

“What were you talking to Harper about?” Blaise asked him as he came to stand next to them. 

“Professor Snape asked me to pass on a message, apparently Harper’s skills in Potions are dangerously close to Longbottom’s,” Theo sighed, ready for the night to be over. He could feel his heartbeat drumming around his head. Bloody Harper.

“Are they now?” Daphne smiled at his comment. Theo would have worried about damaging the younger boy’s reputation if he hadn’t been so bothersome. “How terrible for him.”

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” Blaise yawned as he stretched his arms over his head. A sound idea, Theo thought and wished both girls goodnight before walking up the stairs with Blaise close behind him.    

They both made smalltalk as they changed into their nightclothes and climbed into their respective bed, pulling their curtains closed. As he sat there, Theo briefly considered downing one of his vials of sleepless potion before shrugging and deciding to do some reading before going to sleep. 

It wasn’t that late after all, he thought as he checked his watch. Just past midnight. 

Quietly, he leaned over his bed and felt for the familiar binding of his current book, grinning in the dark as he came across it. The Mabinogion was one of his favourite books if only due to the fact that his mother used to read some of its stories to him before he went to bed. Her favourite had always been one of the three romances it contained, Peredur son of Efrawg . It was essentially a departure from the Arthurian story: Perceval, the Story of the Grail , except there was no such grail. 

He couldn’t recall the last time he had read it, eagerly whispering Lumos and settling back on his pillows to read. 

Soon enough, Theo lost himself in Peredur’s journey to kill a vile creature, the Addanc, to increase his fame and honour, even meeting the Queen of Constantinople. The Queen then told him that the creature would slay Peredur through cunning, as it was invisible and killed using poison darts with their victim none the wiser. As he read, his brow furrowed as the Queen gifted Peredur a magical object that once he looked through it, would render the beast visible — 

“An object that would make him see…” he whispered and traced the words with his fingers, feeling his brain turning, everything falling into place… “A magical object that would enable him to see — BLAISE !”