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Chapter Text

Harry slammed into the table and slid about ten feet along the wood, knocking off goblets and plates with enough noise to silence the entirety of Hogwarts.

Because he was in Hogwarts, despite having no plans to visit the school that day. Only Hogwarts had tables quite this long. The ringing silence being slowly overtaken by whispers was also pretty unique to a bunch of students who’d been shocked silent for all of a single moment. And then there was the stew in Harry’s hair; he’d never been able to replicate the taste of Hogwarts stew and he’d certainly tried.

So yes, Harry was in Hogwarts. Which wasn’t great, because consent was important for travel plans and being magically teleported by a mysterious green portal was never going to be great, but overall Hogwarts was better than many other options. Like a cave full of inferi. Or the Dursley’s. Or the Arctic Ocean.

Harry felt his lower back throb where each metal cup had clipped his spine and groaned, but still refused to open his eyes. If he couldn’t see the many wands pointed his direction, then they didn’t exist. Instead he reached underneath himself, removed a goblet digging into his hipbone and set it gently on the table with a quiet thump.

“I’m sorry for ruining your dinner,” Harry said to whomever happened to be near. He still didn’t open his eyes to confirm. Confirming meant he had to plan and he didn’t want to plan. He wanted his back to stop hurting. That couldn’t possibly be too much to ask.

“It-it’s alright?” The voice was young, possibly not a first year, but certainly no more than third.

Harry hummed. “I don’t believe you. But I appreciate the lie.”

Before he continue a conversation that he had honestly no idea how to complete, there was a series of other thumps that sent a vibration or two through the table under his back. One was gentle, but solid, and the other happened in two quick beats, like a foot then a knee hitting the wood.

“Did you,” Harry asked the darkness of his eyelids, knowing the answer but wanting the words said for future teasing purposes, “really just jump through a portal of dubious criminal origins and no confirmed output location just because I got pushed through?”

“Yes,” Hermione declared even as he listened to the sound of her steps as she strolled down the table (of course she’d landed on her feet) and felt the cool jasmine dust of her magic wash over him. There was a shifting sound and he imagined some of the teachers or older students had been about to protest her use of magic, before recognizing the clear diagnostic incantations she was directing Harry’s way.

Ron shifted, and Harry could pictured his crouched form clearly, one knee down for balance, yet ready to shift whichever way was needed. He’d stay low to reduce the intimidation factor as well, since he towered over people even without standing on a table.

“Harry, mate, you should know that’s how this works by now. You get into trouble, we follow, and we all get out. It’d be stupid to mess with something that works.”

Harry hummed in acknowledgement but threw an arm over his eyes.

He could feel Hermione and Ron exchanging a look. “So, Harry, mate, best friend o’mine. Have you actually looked at the trouble you’ve landed in this time? Because, I got to admit, it’s a bit of a doozy.”

“Nope.”

Hermione sighed, or maybe it was Ron. Their sighs were starting to sound awfully similar. Maybe it was a couple thing? Harry was pretty sure the student who was sitting closest to his head suppressed a laugh.

Ron was the one that spoke. “We’ll we’re in-“

“Hogwarts, I know.” As if Harry would ever not recognize his home.

“Great, do you know-“

“That being in Hogwarts should be impossible? That these wards are not the ones that Hermione helped rebuild from the ground up and I added power to for three days straight? That there are at least four magical signatures in this room that should not be an option? That it’s fucking July and there should be no one in the school in the first place? Yes, yes I do. Why do you think I’m keeping my eyes shut?”

“Willful denial,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded. “Yes, that too. Besides, what if I’m hurt? Shouldn’t move if I’m hurt.”

“You’re not,” Hermione answered, apparently done with her diagnostics. “Just some bruising on your back.”

“Besides, not like pain would actually stop you,” Ron added.

Harry said nothing, because Ron wasn’t exactly wrong. Hermione sighed again. “Come on, you baby. If you get up now I’ll even give you a potion for those bruises.”

“Bribery will not work on me.”

Ron snorted. “Bribery’s about the only thing that works on you, mate.”

Again, Ron wasn’t exactly wrong. Many had learned that the hard way when threats backfired spectacularly, usually with many brightly coloured and dangerous lights.

Harry still sat up, because pain potions were great and also because there was very little he wouldn’t do for Hermione.

“Speaking of things that don’t work,” Harry said as he accepted and downed the potion, “I don’t suppose one of you can confirm what happened?”

“You mean with the idiot threatening the child with a stolen artifact in the middle of Diagon Alley?” Ron asked. “Don’t worry, kid’s safe. You managed to get him completely clear with all your usual heroic dramatics before getting yourself punted through an unknown portal.”

Harry ignored the sass in Ron’s voice. “Good. Would hate to have gotten into all this trouble for nothing.”

Harry fought against a sigh as he finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw, naturally, was Dumbledore. Harry wasn’t sure if this was because he’d already been turned in the direction of the familiar magic signature, because the man was standing at the front of the Hall, or because that was just the way Harry’s life worked.

“Hullo, Dumbledore. Thanks for not trussing us up like spring chickens and carting us off to the Auror cells.” Harry leaned his head on the arm that was flung over his knee. He really wasn’t sold on actually seeing the mess around him, but what was done was done.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. Harry didn’t let that fool him; if they’d made one move towards the students Dumbledore or one of the staff now interspersed throughout the Hall would have done much worse than trussing them up. One thing that Dumbledore and Harry had always agreed with, however, was that you could always learn quite a lot by letting things play out.

Harry and his friends had been a surprise, but hadn’t quite made themselves a threat yet. He’d have to make sure they stayed that way.

“Hello, dear boy,” Dumbledore said and Harry was quite proud of his lack of flinching, “it’s quite all right. The wards seem rather insistent that you’re friendly.”

“Oh very friendly. Very friendly indeed,” Harry replied while fighting a blush, conscious of the way the wards were brushing against his skin like Crookshanks when he had the good treats in his pocket.

Hermione and Ron snorted, both completely aware that the wards loved Harry. Which was apparently true no matter what version of Hogwarts Harry was in.

Harry was maybe technically Lord Slytherin now, what with Right of Conquest, and that maybe technically made him a Founders Heir, which maybe technically meant that the not-sentient but not-not sentient School was even more fond of him than when he was attending Hogwarts.

Harry hadn’t really dealt with that with his own Hogwarts though, just enjoyed the magic equivalent of a castle-hug whenever he visited, and certainly had no intention of mentioning it now. He had learned about acceptable risks, thanks very much Hermione.

“Good, good. Perhaps you can help me with a small conundrum.” Dumbledore peered down his spectacles. “Hogwarts seems to be rather sure that three of you are students, or at least were students. And yet, I find myself at quite the loss. You see, I have been Headmaster for quite some time, and a Professor for longer, but, alas, I have no recollection of any of you. Somehow,” Dumbledore stroked his beard, “I doubt this is because you were unmemorable students.”

“Ah.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s fair. But we are, were students. Proud Gryffindors.” He gave an affable grin, only to get distracted by the Slytherin table and some comment about Gryffindor disruptiveness and brashness.

Harry’s gaze locked on Snape’s. Harry wasn’t even sure Snape had been the one to speak, but their eyes caught and held for an immeasurably long moment. Snape’s eyes looked bruised, not physically, exactly, though the boy could use some sleep. They were more like ghost bruises, bruises of phantom punches and cruel hands. How the hell no one realized what the boy was going through, Harry would never understand (then again, no one had ever guessed what Harry was going through, and Harry hadn’t turned himself into a master spy).

Harry blinked once, deliberately, and tilted his head to include the rest of the Slytherins without obviously turning his back on Snape. Not because Harry couldn’t trust Snape, but because the boy would surely read the move as a snub. “Hey, now. I’ll have you know the only reason I wasn’t a Slytherin was because I met a Slytherin bully on the train and asked the Hat to put me elsewhere.”

“That’s, that’s not how the Hat works?” One of the Ravenclaws said. Harry thought she might be related to Penelope Clearwater; they had the same cheekbones.

Hermione leaned around Harry, smiling tiredly as her eyes flicked constantly around the room. “Was for me. Nice even split between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.”

Several heads turned towards Ron, who grinned. “Don’t look at me. Gryffindor through and through!”

“Well, yeah-.”

“-you’re a Prewitt!”

Ron turned to grin at the two red-heads sitting at the Gryffindor table. “And you must be Gideon and Fabian-“ Ron was cut off by Harry’s silent silencio. Ron looked at his girlfriend for a moment, who wasn’t looking at wither of them but instead glaring at the school emblem on one of the larger banners, then turned and scowled at Harry.

“Nope. Not until we get the all clear from Hermione.” Harry shook his head, curls bouncing. “I’m not fucking the timeline over if I can help it.”

“Just need another moment.” Hermione sounded distracted, having turned her perusal to the staff table. At least three of the staff looked cowed and everyone else was blinking from the timeline piece of information. Which, really, Harry thought should be obvious. Then again, dark lords, giant snakes, and zombie lakes. His standard for normal events was probably a little skewed, and that wasn’t even considering he’d already gone time travelling.

Harry let out a breath of air in a deep sound that possibly came from the bottom of his lungs, but also might have been lurking around the edges of his soul. He rubbed his hands over his cheeks and up under his glasses to briefly cover his eyes. His hair still felt tacky with soup.

“Okay, come on, mate,” Harry said to Ron. “Help me here.” Harry slid down off the table, and turned to face the ruined meal and scattered plates the Hufflepuffs hadn’t done much to fix. “What a waste. Dobby and your mother would be ashamed of us.”

Harry raised his wand, smiling absently as the Holly wood hummed, and decided to take a page out of Dumbledore’s book and cast silently. A couple of precise swishes and flicks had the plates and goblets rolling off the ground to settle back on the table. There was a series of quiet bangs and thumps and then a series of odd pinging sounds when Harry scowled and gave a firm jab with his wand and all the dents and dings popped back out of the tableware.

No half-assed jobs done on his part.

Ron tapped Harry’s shoulder and nodded to the slowly spinning ball of spilled food and drinks that the redhead had summoned and contained. It wasn’t huge, exactly, since they’d apparently come crashing near the end of dinner, but it was definitely still sizeable. “What do you think?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and thought that they’d lived too long in a tent on rations for that amount of waste not to sting, but also that they were hardly going to give floor food to the kids. He reached for one of the now empty pitchers and gave it a dramatic twirl, appreciating the gasps when it grew into a large barrel.

Ron directed the food-waste in as Harry dragged a scrap of parchment and a muggle pen out from his possibly illegally enlarged pockets. With a hasty scrawl Harry wrote a note to the house elves and tacked it on to the barrel.

After a beat’s pause, he also reached into the pocket and pulled out a sealed jar of candied ginger. It had been one of Dobby’s favourites and Harry had taken to picking it up whenever he’d passed through Diagon (he may have also taken to hoarding preservable food, but that was neither here nor there and also something that he was pretty sure Hermione still did and she was always right).

“What?” Harry said to Ron’s exasperated yet fond look. “I asked the house elves to send the ruined food to the creatures for classes. That’s extra work. And we ruined their efforts for dinner. Something to make up for that seems perfectly reasonable!”

“Sure, mate.”

“I’m being courteous. I’m a courteous person!” The little firstie next to Harry giggled. Harry thought that was unfair considering they’d only known each other for less than an hour.

Ron looked at Harry blandly, the kind of bland only achievable form someone who has shared his least favourite sandwich with you on a train and suddenly found themselves bound in a pact of loyalty, lions, and shitty communication skills. “So courteous. That’s why you called that bloke in the Diagon Alley-“

“Shh!” Harry didn’t silence Ron this time, but that was because he was in the middle of setting a barrel and jar of candy on a table and watching it pop away. “First of all, that bloke had committed at least three petty felonies and was in the process of shoving me through a mysterious portal. A portal that was green. Green! When has anything good ever come for that, I ask you? So he was rude and I don’t need to be courteous to rude people. Secondly,” Harry waved his arm for emphasis, “firsties. Don’t use that kind of language around the kids, Ron!”

Ron’s response was cut off by the firstie, who was probably also a split between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, because he reached up and tugged on Harry’s sleeve. Harry met brown eyes for longer then a couple of seconds and came to the abrupt realization that this kid was probably a Diggory. Not Amos, certainly, which meant this kid had probably died in the next few years.

Harry took in a rattling breath that only Ron recognized as shaky, and grinned at Probably-Diggory.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I’ve heard worse,” Probably-Diggory said.

“Sure, but I’m already on thin-ice with your Professors with the whole crash-landing intruder thing. I’m not going to make it worse by teaching you bad language.”

“Okay.” The kid tugged on his sleeve again, very lightly, “But are you going to teach magic? Cause that barrel thing was cool.”

Harry laughed, and reached forward to ruffle the kid’s hair, appreciating absently how many older kids tensed slightly so they’d be quicker to come to the rescue. McGonagall was also only a few broom’s lengths away and the only Professor to have approached them from the back.

“That was just silent transfiguration, kid. Professor McGonagall will teach you in a couple of years.”

“Really?”

Any reply Harry would have made was cut off by Hermione’s clear clap and quiet, “Okay.”

Harry gave a quick wink to Probably-Diggory and an approving nod to the rest of the Hufflepuffs before moving with Ron to stand closer to Hermione.

“I just need one question to be sure enough in my conclusions to start forming a plan of action.”

“So glad you’ll be forming a plan, girlie.” One of the professors who hadn’t left the table, a man with rumpled robes and several prominent scars, gave what could be only called a condescending smirk as he spoke. Harry did not like this man.

Hermione didn’t either, clearly, as she ignored him completely to smile up at the woman next to Dumbledore. “Excuse me, Professor, but could you please tell me your name and post?”

The woman, tall, older, and the kind of frail that spoke of dignity instead of weakness, leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand and letting a slightly mischievous smile flit about her lips.

“Well, now. And here I’d hoped being the first Squib Professor of Hogwarts would have achieved me a place in at least some of the History books. My name is Ariana Dumbledore, young lady, and I’m the Care of Magical Creatures Professor.”

Hermione hummed. Harry blinked. Ron whistled. The castle bristled.

It was kind of amazing, actually, how quickly all the students (including a number of Slytherins) tensed more in that instant than they had since the actual impact of Harry’s spine against wood and metal.

Harry wondered what Ariana Dumbledore had done to earn that kind of loyalty, that kind of love. He’d defeated a Dark Lord and still wouldn’t expect that kind of genuine response from anyone except the Weasleys and the DA.

Remus Lupin, in particular, seemed ready to leap to the defence of this woman. Harry had been scanning the room as Hermione talked, because threats could from anywhere at anytime and he was a soldier no matter how far away his own war actually was, and Remus would be a threat. Harry was immediately and entirely certain that if they hurt Ariana, even just with words, Remus would never forgive and certainly never forget.

And harmful words were what Remus was expecting, if the way his fingers clenched at the wood of the table indicated. Words he couldn’t block, but had heard many times before.

Harry didn’t have to wonder at that relationship, not really, for all it was one his Remus hadn’t experienced. Harry had already spent hours holding a young Teddy as the boy cried his way though full moons, wondering what might have happened if Remus had something more than the support and love of his best friends (an experience that Harry wasn’t knocking, certainly, or undervaluing, since the support and love of his best friends were the only reason he was alive).

But Harry had always recognized his Remus as someone who understood what it meant to be alone. Who’d understood that Hogwarts was home yet a home that could and would routinely be taken away.

And adult, a teacher, a Care of Magical Creatures Professor who was competent enough to recognize that Remus wasn’t a creature, to talk about the words and cruelties sent the way of people who were seen as inferior when that was the farthest possibility from the truth? Well, Harry couldn’t even imagine, not really.

He could understood devotion, though, and found himself fervently hoping that this grown version of Ariana, this woman that Dumbledore’s sister had become, was worthy of alternate-Remus’s regard. (Harry had certainly never felt he was worth what his Remus had seen in him, and would spend the rest of his life trying to be).

Hermione slid her hand down Harry’s arm to briefly squeeze his wrist, because she was far too all-seeing, then dragged his antlion back to her conclusion. “We’re in an alternate dimension.”

Ron whistled again.

Hermione just nodded. “Technically, time travel wouldn’t be incorrect, but since the dimensional changes are significant and time could simply pass at a slower comparative rate, I feel more comfortable with the dimensional classification.”

Harry’s mind focused on two immediate paths. One was less painful than the other, so he went with it.

“Ron.” Harry’s voice was iron and copper.

“Yes?” Ron turned sharply at Harry’s tone.

“When we get back: Remedial training.”

Ron crossed his arms. “Heck yeah. Full course. I’ll start planning.”

Hermione tilted her head and leaned into Ron. “And a policy review. I can push it through Kingsley.”

“Good.” Harry nodded before he started pacing, Ron and Hermione watching with understanding eyes. “This can’t happen again. Dimensional Travel. Dimensional travel because some two-bit thief stole a stupid yet apparently extremely dangerous magical artifact from some puffed-up Lord who wouldn’t know security if it bit him in the face despite surviving a full-fledged war. A war. And don’t get me started on the Aurors who thought it was a good idea to escort a criminal through Diagon Alley during the summer lunch rush with said stupid yet unidentified artifact unsecured.”

Harry spun on his heel so that his long coat flared around his knees, absently grateful for the paranoia and cooling charms that had led him to wear a coat with fully stocked expanded pockets in the middle of July.

“What if it wasn’t us? I mean, it’s always us. Always me. But what if it wasn’t? What if the landing point wasn’t Hogwarts? What if it was someone who didn’t carry three months of food in their pockets? What if it wasn’t someone who had people willing to hop into danger without thought but with training and supplies and plans? What if it was a kid?”

Harry stopped, face turning white. Hermione immediately stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Harry also immediately returned the hug, his arms curving tightly around her back, because Hermione’s hugs were amazing and she had trained him well.

“It was supposed to be a kid, Mione,” Harry said into her hair. “I fell in because I pushed a kid out of the way.”

Hermione’s arms tightened, all pointed elbows, but it was Ron who spoke. Or, well, scoffed.

“Don’t get all proud. Sure, you saved the kid, but that’s not why you fell. You’ve yet to master floo travel, much less a portkey. Portal seems like the most magical way to go, so of course you fell.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry still mumbled it into Hermione’s hair, but looked up to glower at his friend. “And I can still out-fly you any day.”

Ron shrugged, because that was true, and grinned, because he’d successfully distracted Harry from his spiral.

“So you’re an Auror?”

Harry had to remind himself that he couldn’t just bury himself into Hermione’s hair forever, despite the fact that Hermione’s tightening hands seemed to indicate she wouldn’t mind. He also had to remind himself that this wasn’t his Hogwarts, and he really didn’t have the right to be annoyed at Dumbledore for letting the whole watch-things-play-out plan go so far. Not when it was really working in their favour.

Just because Harry would have scooped mysterious strangers away from children within the first five minutes regardless of whether ancient and semi-sentient magical castle liked them, didn’t mean everyone would. Harry was admittedly rather paranoid and tired of child-sized corpses.

He also didn’t really want to talk to the students, though. He’d been doing his best to keep focused on his friends and not interact with these students. He’d failed a bit with Snape and Remus, but he still hadn’t spoken to them. He wasn’t sure he could handle speaking to them.

And yet.

Harry turned and stared at his young alternate-father. (Harry was older than this version of his father. Harry was older, though just barely, than the age his father had died).

“No,” Harry answered before continuing to stare, to take in every line of his alternate-father’s face and every angle of his stance.

James Potter just grinned, not put-off by the abrupt response even as the moment stretched utill Ron realized Harry really wasn’t going to say anything else.

Hell, Harry couldn’t have if he wanted to (and he didn’t), because he’d made the mistake of looking away from James, and there was only one person who was going to be standing just off and behind James’s shoulder.

There was a smirk on Sirius’s face and a casual readiness to his stance that Harry figured would fool almost everyone in the room, even as Harry didn’t believe it for a single damn moment. Not when Sirius Black met Harry’s eyes with a gaze of steel frozen in the act of weeping.

Sirius, Harry was certain, had caught their mentions of war. Had caught the comments about food and waste and hoarding. Had caught the way that Hermione and Ron were never more than a grab away from Harry, gravitating towards his back and sides. Had caught the fact that Harry scanned for exits, threats, and adults. Had caught the panic leeching into Harry’s tone when talking about kids.

(Sirius, his Sirius, had been the only one Harry had ever told about the Dursley’s. Hermione knew, Ron suspected, Fred and George had pulled bars off his window, but Sirius had been the only one Harry had told. There had been no laughter that night and holy shit Harry still missed him).

As Hermione continued to hold of Harry’s breakdown by sheer force of hug, Ron picked up the quaffle and answered James’s question and Sirius’s regard because Ron was a true best friend.

“We’re consultants. Harry and I completed Auror training and Hermione some extra Ministry stuff but ended up deciding it wasn’t for us.”

“Wasn’t for you?” James cocked his head, sure he’d get a response.

Ron just shrugged, the coat George had specialized for him for Christmas bunching slightly on his shoulders. “Didn’t much like being told what to do. Had some bad experiences with that. Ministry still wanted us on the payroll, so ended up consulting.”

“And consulting means creating training regimens?” James asked, a smirk playing on his lips this time.

“Yup.” Ron popped the sound. “And just cleaning up the Ministry’s messes in general. You have a lot of questions,” he added when James opened his mouth again.

James grinned and pointed at Ron. “Yup. If you’re a Prewitt-“

“He is!” Yelled Fabian or Gideon from behind James.

“He’s a giant just like pops!” Yelled Gideon or Fabian from beside his twin.

“-then you’re” James pointed at Harry, “a Potter.”

Harry didn’t flinch, but he did step away from Hermione and pull his big-boy cloak on. He was a soldier and a consultant and much more besides. He could handle a baby James with a smug smirk on his lips and a baby Sirius with shadowed stars in his eyes.

He could.

“Are you sure about that?” Harry asked with his own raised eyebrow and slight smirk.

“Well.” James made a show up looking Harry up and down, settling the longest on the wild hair and the glasses Harry had never been able to bring himself to replace, once he realized they were a similar style to those of his father. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” Harry tapped his chin. “Nope, not my name, sorry.”

James spluttered and Sirius gave a snort as he patted James on the back.

“You don’t seem particularly worried about returning?” Sirius’s voice was low and gravelly, but not nearly so salt-filled with less time spent on rock surrounded by nightmares.

“I must confess myself curious about that as well.” And there was Dumbledore, finally down from his perch with his sister at his side.

Harry looked at him. “I’m not. Hermione’s got it covered.”

Everyone continued to look at him like he was supposed to expand on that information, which Harry rather thought his conversational habits so far would indicate against. Hermione, however, elbowed him in the side before making a little hand wave.

“Look, if getting back was an issue, Hermione would have reported the problem in her earlier assessment. She didn’t, which means she has at least several ideas on how to proceed, particularly since I’m pretty sure one of these two scooped up the offending artifact-

“Of course we did, mate. Just who do you think we are?”

“-and since there was also no mention of being out of your hair quickly, we will be discussing our return to our dimension at a later time. Alone, preferably, where many young ears can’t pickup knowledge that they probably shouldn’t have about jumping worlds and magic well beyond them.”

There was definite traces of approval in the eyes of both Dumbledores, but Harry was almost too busy bristling at the possible insult to his people to notice.

Hermione hummed and said, “The timeline of our return might be a little relevant. It’s not an inconsiderable amount of magic need to jump between dimensions, so the artifact is going to need to recharge before I can really start analyzing it. With what I got from the runes before they went dark and the owner's notes, I’m thinking about three to six months for analysis and return.”

Ron laughed at the surprised or confused faces around them. “So I maybe left out that the extra Ministry stuff Hermione was doing was mostly in the Unspeakable Department?”

“They have a really great library.” She turned to face Ron and placed her hands on her hips. “And speaking of, you will be helping with research once the artifact is recharged.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ron grinned. “And I know they have a great library. You mentioned it. Often. Enough to get access written into our consulting contract, even.” Ron’s eyes flicked over to Harry who was currently starring at the ceiling, ignoring them all, and then back to Hermione, who nodded with mischief lingering around her lips. “Man, Malfoy really came through with that one, didn’t he? Should have known he’d be absolutely vicious as a lawyer.”

There was a squawk from the far side of the room as a platinum blond carefully managed to avoid falling out of his chair. He the stormed up to them in as stately a manner as he could manage, trailing an even blonder Narcissa and a falsely nonchalant Snape.

“Malfoy?”

“Yup.” Ron grinned down at what must be a seventh-year Lucius. “Excellent lawyer. Really mellowed out once Volde-moldy wasn’t threatening his family.”

Malfoy wasn’t the only one struck silent by this sentence. Ron raised his eyebrows and looked around the room, clearly surprised by the slowly unfolding quiet but willing to go with it, for now.

Harry appreciated the quiet. It allowed the second thought, the second path that had presented itself with Hermione’s verdict of dimension travel, to fully unwind in his mind, like a slowly uncurling snake unfolding itself to scent around a room and taste the possibilities.

Because there were possibilities. Very distinct ones. And Harry had, at minimum, six to nine weeks to explore them.

A shooting star fell across the ceiling and Harry was watching to avoid looking at the students and his  alternate-family with their cute smirks and sad eyes. He traced the path it would have taken and found himself, once again, caught.

He was staring at his mother. At his alternate-mother. She was watching with clever eyes and sharp focus and a little frown between her brows that suggested worry. They way she angled away from the Marauders indicated she wasn’t with James just yet, but since Harry would put his alternate-family at fifth year, they wouldn’t have been, even in his dimension.

Fifth year. She was a baby. They were all babies. They’d never been kidnapped or seen someone die. Never made a choice that led to someones’ death. There was tension, sure, and a few empty seats, and students who’d grown too fast under family who didn’t know the meaning of the word. But it wasn’t a war.

Not yet.

Harry hummed. Both Hermione and Ron froze, which drew the attention of their growing cluster of people, and the whole Hall, really. The acoustics were great when the Hall was mostly silent.

“So,” Harry threw out, starring at the stars again. “Alternate dimension. As in, completely independent?”

“Yes,” Hermione affirmed, wary and somewhat amused.

“Huh,” Harry replied. He tugged on the sleeve just obscuring the scar from Umbridge’s detentions before turning to Dumbledore. “So. Voldy-shorts a problem here, too?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore blinked slowly at the name. “Lord Voldemort had been increasing is power-base slowly but surely and there have been suspicious attacks all over England, though in predominately muggle communities that do not appear to have our Ministry concerned.”

“Huh,” Harry repeated.

Harry could hear the look that Ron and Hermione shared. Ron crossed his arms and tapped his foot twice before shaking his head. “No.”

Harry turned to his friend. “Really?” Because Harry honestly hadn’t been expecting that. He listen, probably, if Ron was really against it, but Harry hadn’t thought Ron would be against it.

Ron just shook his head. “No! You can’t go and defeat another Dark Lord in another dimension: no one will believe me! I’ll win the bet, but have no proof! You can’t do that to me, mate!”

“Another?” James asked, oddly gleeful, not even caring that he was echoed by Snape and Malfoy of all people.

“You’re betting on me?” Harry wasn’t so sure why he sounded so surprised. It actually made a lot of sense. 

Hermione gave his arm a pat. “Percy and I are running the books. It’s been a great bonding experience.”

“Huh.” Harry stared at her laughing eyes. “Need me to do or fudge anything?”

Ron gestured wildly, almost hitting Dumbledore in the nose. “No! Because that’s cheating!”

Harry and Hermione both turned to Ron, though it was Harry who spoke. “I once spent three days straight researching the effects of Red Alpine Moss on magical ecosystems so Hermione would get an extra night’s sleep. I learned to make a four tier cake suspended on enough magic to ward a house because she saw it in a book and thought it would be lovely for her mum’s birthday. I went to therapy because she cried and said please. You honestly think I wouldn’t help with her illicit family gambling ring?”

“Well it sounds stupid when you put it that way.”

“Because it was stupid.” Harry nodded to emphasize his words, and maybe to not look at the way his alternate-father and Sirius were looking at him with something that might be approval.

“Also, family might be a bit of a misnomer,” Hermione interjected. Harry didn’t trust her sweet smile. “More like family, friends, and at least a quarter of the Ministry staff.”

“A quarter- don’t those people work?” Harry ran a hand through his hair.

With a sniff, Hermione continued. “Of course they do. Ministry staff are only allowed into any of the betting pools if they have at least two examples of marginal competency. Why do you think it’s only a quarter of the staff? Honestly.”

Hermione flicked her braid over her shoulder before pivoting to Ron. “And I’m willing to witness. If Harry defeats Lord Volde-shorts in this dimension it will fulfill the stakes of four Dark Lords before he’s twenty-five.”

There was the sound of several people spluttering, but Harry was the loudest.

“Four?! I haven’t defeated three Dark Lords already! Voldemort, sure, I’ll gladly take the credit for that twat but who are the other two?”

Hermione gave him one of her better get-your-act-together-or-I-will-leave-you-to-wallow-in-your-own-stupidity looks. “The Neo-Death Eaters-“

“Oh, come on.” Harry interrupted. “They were using the same hideouts as the Death Eaters! And supplies! Just because they elected a new leader and had a marginally different plan for supremacy doesn’t make them, nor their new Head Twat, a Dark Lord!”

“The Wizenmagot standards of classification disagree.” Ron pointed out to Harry. “And then there was that guy holed up in that compound by the ocean.”

“He had six followers! Six! And two were relatives, two were brainwashed, and one was his dog!”

“Yeah, but that last one was an internationally wanter serial killer who would have actually been able to bring about their plans for mass destruction. So your protests are, again, invalid.” Ron was smug. Harry wanted to rub his stupid smug face in the quidditch pitch.

“You know what?” Harry scowled, but was willing to be the bigger man and move on. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Because they were. There were steps to Dark Lord Vanquishing and apparently he would know.

Before Harry could say any of that, however, Hermione placed both palms on his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you for actually realizing that.”

“Personal growth, mate.”

“I hate you both,” Harry groaned. “You’re being mean to me.”

“No, you don’t.” Hermione tucked both of her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels with a smile.

“We just jumped into an unknown portal to keep your danger-attracting ass safe and ended up in an alternate dimension.” Ron tapped his chin. “I’m thinking that’s worth a week of being mean with a side of snippy comments. At least.”

“That’s fair and I hate that I can’t contest it.” Harry sighed. “Also, I love you dearly and you’re the best friends ever and jumping after me was stupid but thanks.”

“Don’t make this emotional.” Ron crinkled his nose. “Don’t you dare.”

“Boys. Teaspoons, the two of you, I swear. Now, how exactly are we getting ahead of ourselves?” Hermione asked.

With the ease of long practice ignoring the masses that liked to stare at him and whatever he happened to be doing, Harry ignored his avidly watching alternate-family and the other assorted students of Hogwarts.

“Right. So We need to actually figure out if Riddle the Lord of No Noses is using the same plan. Or a similar plan. Alternate dimension says only maybe.”

“You’re not suggesting that you’re planning to solve our Dark Lord problem? In just a few weeks, nonetheless?” Dumbledore’s voice held eddies of magic and belief in it, which wasn’t actually helpfully in trying to discern his emotions.

“Well, no, we just covered that.” Harry tugged on a curl, the scars on his fingers rasping slightly. “I mean, if Riddle is using the same methods to take over and attempt his twisted immortality, sure, complete annihilation is a possibility.”

“Isn’t that a little arrogant?” There was a slight sneer in Snape’s words, and Harry watched James bristle out of the corner of his eyes. Clearly his alternate-father had gotten caught up in the adventure of the matter.

“Good point.” Harry watched with no small glee as everyone startled at his easy agreement. “No seriously, really good point. If anyone elver pops out of nowhere and promises to solve all your problems, suspicion is the very least of what you should show. They’re either crazy, after something, or trying to hook you into a cult. That was some excellent use of common sense, which wizards are generally lacking, so good job.”

Snape looked taken aback and like he was trying very hard not to be pleased.

“But in this case,” Harry continued, “it would be more like re-doing my own work. Been there done that and now have several years of actual skill and training to speed things along. But his methods might be completely different in this alternate universes. So no promises yet on the Dark Lord-defeating.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant, dear boy.”

But Harry had already moved on from his alternate-mentor’s words.

“So. Steps. Really, I can think of three things that can be done to confirm Riddle’s methodology without even leaving the castle.”

“Myrtle, snake, and diadem?” Ron asked.

“Myrtle, snake, and diadem,” Harry confirmed.

“Wait, Moaning Myrtle?” Ariana asked.

All three of the dimension travellers nodded. “Is she still in the girl’s bathroom?” Hermione asked in turn.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, the poor girl.”

With Ariana’s confirmation Harry turned to his friends. “Okay, so if Riddle still got her killed, I’m prepared to say he started on the same path. Question is, do we go for the snake or the diadem next? I mean, diadem would be quicker, but…”

Probably-Diggory wiggled his way into the circle, and it was Sirius, of all people, who caught his enthusiasm and kept him back with a calming palm to the shoulder. Sirius, who’d been protecting a small boy for much longer than most knew.

Harry barely heard Probably-Diggory ask if they were really going to fight the Dark Lord. He was too busy scanning the far table, wondering if he’d be able to recognize another tiny Slytherin with the heart of a Gryffindor.

He’d about given up when the smallest tug of shadows caught his attention, not at the table, but behind Narcissa and Snape. Regulus Black had apparently crept forward on silent feet to join his cousin and brother. He had obsidian eyes set above porcelain cheekbones and a spine that gave not an inch.

His hands though, were still young. His hands trembled as they buried themselves in his robes and reached just the slightest bit out to brush Snape’s cloak before once agin being obscured from view.

“The snake.” Harry’s voice cracked out, his abrupt decision causing several backs to straighten and Ariana to eye him speculatively.

With practiced poise and understanding, Hermione and Ron didn’t question him. They let the hot cinnamon and sunlit dust of their magic weave through his own molten eddies in quiet assent and firm support.

They directed everyone several steps back without a word, ignoring the questions and somehow even getting the Dumbledores to retreat momentarily.

Harry smiled, perhaps more genuinely than he meant to, if Snape’s narrowed eyes were any indication.

“Fawkes, darling, could I have a moment?”

There was a pause, only weighted on behalf of Ariana and Dumbledore, before flame flicked to life and the phoenix caught to life in front of Harry.

The bird studied Harry for another long moment, licks of flame flicking down his wings and along his tail, before Fawkes recalled the fire and settled on Harry’s arm.

Humming a tune he’d learned from his own Fawkes, Harry reached out with gentle fingers, stroking down the phoenix’s back and letting the warmth settle into his bones. Fawkes let out an answering coo before preening Harry’s hair.

“Hey, beautiful.” Harry leaned slightly into Fawkes’s gentle beak. “If you could let me borrow the Sorting Hat for a moment, I could fix that plumbing problem Hogwarts has been having for far too long.”

With a quick peck on the ear that Harry knew was a gesture of worry, the bird flamed away, drawing loud oohs from an enthralled Probably-Diggory and most of the rest of Hogwarts beside.

Another flash and Fawkes was back, Hat in claws and dropped into Harry’s outstretched hands. Fawkes preformed one tight circle and went to sit on a very contemplative Dumbledore’s shoulder.

“Hullo, Hat,” Harry said.

“Hello. Rather old for a sorting, aren’t you?” The Hat asked through a tear of fabric.

“Oh, no.” Harry wanted the Hat nowhere near his head. He had enough trouble without being announced the Lord of Slytherin, if the Hat could even tell that much. “I’ve come far on my journey of personal growth and am quite content in being a lovely mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin, thanks muchly.”

“I don’t know,” Ron threw out as Harry plunged his arm into a chuckling Hat. “I think you’ve grown into quite the Hufflepuff, myself. Very friendly, remember?”

Harry paused, hat up to his shoulder. “What.” He tilted his head. “No, really. What? I’m anti-social, rude, and punched the last bloke who wanted to be my friend in the face.”

Hermione snorted as she leaned on Ron. “That man was a creep, and if you hadn’t I would have.” Her smile softened. “And you’re very ‘to the ends of the Earth’ for the friends you do have, which is very Hufflepuff. Also, defeating Dark Lords- the first one at least-“ Hermione was swift to add when Harry opened his mouth, “took a lot of hard work and effort.”

“Right.” Harry blinked at his grinning friends before re-focusing on the hat. “I’m taking that as a compliment. Possibly counter-productive to my current goal, but a compliment.”

His fingers brushed cool metal and he grinned at the pulse of familiar magic that tingled through his veins. As he looked up, ready to share his success, he caught the absolute horror on the faces of both Slytherins and Gryffindors, while the Hufflepuffs where practically wriggling in excitement, particularly Probably-Diggory who seemed to have decided to adopt Harry when he’d apologized to earlier.

A quick glance at the miffed Ravenclaws had Harry wincing. “Yeah, sorry to the ‘Claws, but straight up intelligence is not really my thing. I’m definitely more of a brute force or back door kind of person. It’s why I keep these two around though.”

“Wait, two?” Ron asked.

“When was the last time you lost a game of chess?”

Ron tilted he head to think. “Two years ago? George still won’t let me live it down. And he cheated.”

Harry nodded, pulling the Sword of Gryffindor fully out of the Hat and tossing the fabric back up to Fawkes who disappeared with a puff of flame. “My point stands.” Harry swung the sword a few times before spinning it around in his hand much like he would he wand.

Ariana looked at her brother. “I don’t believe that the Sword of Gryffindor is normally in that Hat.”

Dumbledore, for once, said nothing, but stared with sparkling eyes.

Harry snorted. “Nope. But help is always available at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” He held out long enough to enjoy the silence that rang out after his possibly stolen words, because he really had learned quite a lot from Dumbledore. “Right. Let's go basilisk-slaying.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ariana’s voice again cut through the sudden uproar.

Harry turned to her. “She’s insane. It’s really the only humane thing to do.”

“I don’t think-“ Headmaster Dumbledore started to say before Harry interrupted him by whirling back to Hermione.

“Wait. We need to check. She could not be insane!”

Hermione reached out to place her pam on Harry’s arm, the one not holding the sword. “We’ll check, but even without Riddle playing with her mind, she would have been in the Chamber of Secrets a really long time. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Harry sagged, sword tip scraping along the stone for a moment. “Right. You’re right.”

“The Chamber of Secrets is a myth.” Dumbledore murmured, face ashen white. And Harry would be lying if he said that wasn’t just a bit comforting. This Dumbledore, at least, clearly hadn’t known about the giant deadly snake or mysterious hidden chamber hidden under the classrooms of many vulnerable students.

“Yeah, not so much.”

“If this true, you’ll be taking us with you.” The grizzled man with multiple scars and a self-important attitude spoke up again. Harry would bet his shiny new sword this was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“Sure. Not you,” Harry said, noting Ron nodding beside him.

“Look here, I’m the Defence Against the Darks Professor and most suited-“

Harry tuned out the professor’s speech to award himself several points and an ice cream in the future. Hopefully the near future. The future right after he slayed another basilisk. Hopefully his courtesy to the house elves meant they’d help.

“See, that’s why you can’t come, though.” Ron explained when the DADA professor finally drew breath. “Defence Against the Dark Arts professors are like, useless at best and murderous at worse.”

“I’m sorry, murderous? How often has that actually happened?” Harry didn’t need to turn around to identify the speaker, somehow, but he did anyways. Lily Evans, looked, oddly, more concerned than disbelieving. Harry looked away before he could start staring again, because he knew he wouldn’t stop (that was his mother).

“Ah,” Ron was quick to continue and draw the attention back onto himself. “Four times?”

“Wait.” Harry ripped his eyes away from his younger not-mother. “Do we have to count third year? He didn’t mean to and he made it up to me! Also, fourth shouldn’t count either. That one trapped me in a ritual sacrifice. I needed to be alive for that.”

“Honestly.” Hermione huffed, a smile twitching at her lips and she joined in. “I wish the two of you would remember that some things are worse than threats of death.”

“Expulsion,” both Ron and Harry chorused.

Hermione laughed, which made her boys grin with success. “Well, yes. But also memory charms and torture. And sheer incompetence.”

Almost the entire room was looking at them with various levels of horror, but Harry was feeling pretty great. He always did, with these two by his side. Though, the teachers in particular looked a little rough. Dumbledore and Ariana kind of looked like they wanted to bundle the three veterans away in warm blankets and colourful socks. Which, Harry wouldn’t be against, but not until the work was done.

He pivoted swiftly, not finding the Professors he was looking for by the front of the room and certain he’d seen them at some point. Ron made a subtle gesture and Harry quickly clocked both figures. McGonagall, as it turned out, was still standing behind them and in front of her Lions. Flitwick was by the main doors, blocking their exit inconspicuously.

Harry approved.

“Professors McGonagall and Flitwick can come.”

“Why those two?” Dumbledore asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Because Professor McGonagall is a badass and Professor Flitwick is a literal duelling champion? Besides, you’re needed here to keep the students safe and while the chamber isn’t actually near the dormitories you might want to keep them here for, like, an hour, just to be sure. We won’t be long.”

Harry turned and pivoted away, long coat flaring slightly in move that was maybe copied from a grown-Snape. He swung the sword onto his shoulder as Hermione and Ron fell into easy step behind him.

Harry really didn’t want to talk much more anyways, and he couldn’t have them getting their bearings enough to actually question his competency. Falling through a portal into a perfectly warded building, demonstrating sheer power with silent cleaning spells and transfigurations, being on good relations with a Phoenix, and drawing the sword of Gryffindor would only keep them on their toes for so long.

He needed to get this done before the idea of interference set into anyone’s mind. Or contacting the ministry.

His boots hit the stone of the entryway outside the Great Hall and Harry couldn’t help but smile. It was probably a good thing no one saw it, since he imagined it was rather dark.

There was a monster in a school with hundreds of children, and that was unacceptable (children who’s first reaction to strangers wasn’t fight or fear).

There was a monster in his home threatening his family, and that was untenable (his baby family, alternate or not, who were all so cute with their suspicions and their concerns and their aliveness).

There was a monster in this dimension full of his favourite people, and that was undesirable (irritating, rude, unallowable).

Harry wasn’t about to let down his friends (or family).

Chapter Text

Harry stared at the muffins in front of him with great solemnity. Choosing between the regular chocolate chip and the cranberry nut was proving to be very difficult. Possibly because he’d just travelled dimensions and agreed to re-take out a Dark Lord and he was a little bit tired. 

“You should go with the one on the right.”

Harry tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because it is closer.” 

“I accept your reasoning.”  

Harry selected the chocolate chip muffin and began to break it into bite-sized pieces. He was very touched when the several foot long snake in front of him uncoiled enough to push the tea closer to his hand. 

“Is that-“ Remus didn’t finish his sentence, probably because he already knew the answer. 

“Yes,” Harry told Remus and his not-mum, unsurprisingly the only Gryffindors up at this time. “This is the basilisk. His name is Maurice and he isn’t insane but staying locked in a disgusting sewer isn’t really the best way to keep things that way so I took him out. We’re friends now.” 

“For some reason I thought he’d be bigger,” Lily said, not coming closer but not stepping away.

“We shrunk him,” Harry explained. That was not normally an option with animals but Maurice was a fucking basilisk. He had magic in spades and thus logic need not apply.

“Wicked.” Diggory plopped himself down across the table from Harry and Maurice before rocking slightly forward in his seat. This wasn’t exactly unusual, since Harry had chosen to sit at the Hufflepuff table again, though it showed a questionable lack of caution.

“You have a distinct lack of self-preservation for a Hufflepuff,” Harry told the boy.

Diggory beamed like he’d been given a compliment. “Cedric.”

“What.” Maurice, sensing something off in Harry’s tone even though he hadn’t spoken in Parseltounge, poured himself into Harry’s lap, head still raised enough that he could see everything going on around them.

“My name! It’s Cedric.”

Harry ran his hand over Maurice’s scales as his heart broke just a little bit more. He hadn’t realized his Cedric had been named after a (probably deceased) uncle.

“You’re adorable. Have a muffin and also please let me teach you about self-preservation. We’ll make it a club. You can bring friends so it's not so creepy.”

Baby-Cedric beamed even brighter and Harry squinted at him. 

Lily was now laughing at Harry but he really liked the sound so wasn’t actually put out. Also, Baby-Cedric did take a muffin so Harry decided it was a win all around. 

A soft clearing of a throat had Harry turning around. He grinned up at McGonagall and Ariana Dumbledore, whom he’d been informed preferred to go by Professor Ariana to avoid the confusion of two Dumbledores. 

McGonagall looked stern, but Harry had drunk a lot of tea with his Minerva as they reformed several classes, including Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry knew the older woman was amused. That was another reason he’d wanted her to come with them last night. She was, most certainly, a badass, but she also would be a staunch ally once they proved they weren’t harmful to her kids. 

A little bit of basilisk wrangling, a couple of magical vows, a few hints of what their schooling was like, and a rant or two about acceptable risks in a school full of children and McGonagall was tentatively won over on the side of the benevolent interlopers. Which was good, because McGonagall took her kids’ safety very seriously but also had a hidden fondness for mischief as long as it taught you something.

Harry could work with that.

Ariana was a different story. Harry didn’t know her well enough to form a base of her likely personality. He knew her eyes twinkled more gently than Dumbledore’s, her hands held a wiry strength, and she cared very much for the creatures in her classes. Which, Harry supposed, he could also work with.

Ariana smiled at him, Lily, Remus, and Baby-Cedric. “I hear the basilisk wasn’t insane and you were able to rescue her from the chamber.”

Harry hummed. “Him, actually. Not sure if that’s a dimensional variant or if I got the wrong gender when I was twelve and fleeing for my life. Probably the former.”

Ariana and McGonagall shared a look Harry recognized. It was the I-told-you-the-backstory-was-awful-and-you-didn’t-beleive-me-look. 

With a slight cough, Ariana continued. “I was wondering if you and the basilisk might be interested in helping me with a class or two.”

Harry stared at her. He also felt Maurice unwind from the pool in his lap to travel up his arm and also stare at her. Ariana didn’t flinch at the basilisk’s hooded stare.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You certainly don’t have to. It’s simply not often we can work with such a magnificent creature safety.”

“You’re so sure that Maurice would be safe.”

With yet another smile at either the name or Harry’s flat tone, Ariana nodded. “I trust both Hogwarts and Professor McGonagall. The reaction of the castle wards to your presence is really quite telling and I’m rather more sensitive to the wards than most since I can’t cast any of my own magical interference. And Professor McGonagall has filled me in on both the vows you and your friends made last night and the familiar bond you made with Maurice.”

“Familiar bond?” Harry looked down a Maurice who butted his head into Harry’s chin. Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Right, I think Hermione mentioned that last night.”

“You made a familiar bond on accident?” Lily sounded incredulous. Remus, on the other hand, had sat next to Baby-Cedric, started buttering his toast, and seemed to be taking everything in stride. He probably had to put up with enough nonsense from the Marauders that he was at least partially prepared for the nonsense that was Harry’s life.

Remus and Hermione should possibly start a support group.

Harry shook his head, mentally flipping through the events of last night. He didn’t really know how to describe finding the basilisk, going on a rant about idiot dark lords Imperio-ing snakes as well as followers and innocents, and a possible break down that only said giant snake really understood because the rant was in Parseltounge. He also figured that their agreement for Harry to protect the newly re-named Maurice from Imperios, Maurice to protect Harry from danger in general, and both of them to protect the hatchlings probably wasn’t usually enough to create a Familiar Bond. 

Unless the Bond was between a Slytherin basilisk and the current Lord Slytherin.

“Look,” Harry said when the moment had gone on just a beat or nine too long. “It’s been a very long day.”

“I rather think that an understatement,” McGonagall said dryly. 

Harry nodded solemnly. 

“Hey.” He poked Maurice. “What do you think about helping with a class. You’d get admired by a bunch of hatchlings. Probably. After they got over the fear. Maybe we wouldn’t return you to full size.”

“I would love to help the hatchlings!”

“Cool. Thanks.” Harry ran a hand over Maurice’s scales. 

“Maurice says he’d happy to help the hatch-students.” 

Ariana clapped her hands and opened her mouth only to be interrupted by a group of Slytherins, including Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus.

“You’re a Parselmouth?!” Harry figured it was only years of rigorous political training that prevented Lucius for indulging in his dramatic side and slamming his hands on the table.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor McGonagall rebuked. 

“Sorry, Professor,” Narcissa replied, placing a gentle hand on Lucius’s shoulder. “It is rather shocking. There hadn’t been a Parselmouth since-“

“The Dark Twat.” Harry nodded as he finished. Then frowned. “At least in England. There are a couple in other countries, if anyone bothered to look.”

“How were you not in Slytherin?” Severus asked, he calm demeanour on slightly cracked. 

Harry just blinked at him because Harry was pretty sure he’d already covered that yesterday. 

Remus set his glass down with a solid tup. “Perhaps because the House system reflects only several aspects of our personalities and magical aptitudes as established when students are eleven years old. Personalities, much like people in general, change, particularly as children grow, which is happens both as they age and learn. Which is what happens in a school.”

Remus looked over at the Slytherins and down his nose in a move that he had to have copied from McGonagall. “Then there is concept of free will and the, frankly almost unheard of, possibility that a hat doesn’t decide who you will be for the reset of your damn life.”

“You’ve been thinking on that for a while, haven’t you?” Harry asked kindly after a long moment of silence. 

Remus huffed. “It’s part of a thirty-two inch paper I may have written when I got tired of trying to come up with counter-arguments to various plots and shenanigans on the spot. It’s helpful to be prepared. I’m fine with pranks but-“

“But they’re only funny if everyone is laughing.” Harry nodded.

“Can we see this paper?” Asked Ariana.

Remus sighed, but put down his fork to dig in his bag and hand the older woman a rolled up parchment. 

“You carry this around with you, Mr. Lupin?” McGonagall had the faintest twitch to her lip that Harry knew was the same as Dumbledore’s sparkle or George rolling off the bed in hysterical laughter. To be fair, the Slytherins were making some excellent faces. 

“It may have turned into stress relief. Please ignore any part that reads like a rant since those were added instead of hexing students in the hallways.” He tilted his head at the Slytherins. “All students. From any house. Including my own. Particularly my own.”

Lily and Baby-Cedric patted his arm, Baby-Cedric passing him a bowl of fruit. Lily looked at Harry. “This is why Remus is my favourite Gryffindor boy.”

“Understandable,” Harry acknowledged. 

“I’m honoured,” Remus said. “But please never say that in front of James. Ever.”

Severus snorted as Lily frowned. 

“It’s tiring being the responsible one.” Remus looked up and shared a commiserating glance with Narcissa. Harry wasn’t actually surprised when she, perhaps begrudgingly, returned it, considering she still had a hand on Lucius’s arms and was standing slightly in front of Severus. 

Harry tapped on the wooden table, drawing all eyes, and he smiled when a new tea pot appeared in front of them. He thanked the House Elves aloud, drawing more bemused glances from everyone but the professors, and proceeded to pour the tea into another cup and hand it to Remus. 

“This is a restorative tea. Very good for exhaustion.”

Remus hummed happily as the scent reached him. “Thank you.”

“Meals at Hogwarts don’t work like that,” Lucius declared, eyeing the pot suspiciously. 

“Yes, well. Not everyone befriends the House Elves.”

“You haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours,” Lily pointed out.

Harry hummed because while this was true, this particular less than twenty-four hours had included exchanging candy for the mess he’d made of the Great Hall, obtaining a very large Basilisk he needed to feed, and a rather vivid nightmare of Teddy falling into a green portal that had Harry seeking refuge in the kitchens in the wee hours of the morning. 

“We’ll leave you to your breakfast,” Ariana said, putting her hand on McGonagall’s arm to start drawing her away even as the Gryffindor Head of House continued to peruse Remus’s parchment. “I’ll look over my lesson plans and get back to you and Maurice with more information about the lessons.”

She paused and looked back, demonstrating that dramatic timing was clearly a Dumbledore family trait. “And ten points to Gryffindor for a very well thought out essay. And ten to Hufflepuff for excellent hospitality.”

Baby-Cedric beamed at her from where he was pouring tea for the Slytherins and adding to the plate of food he’d directed their way. 

Narcissa looked at the tea for a moment before gracefully sitting down.

“Narcissa!” Lucius exclaimed. 

“You may leave if you wish.” Narcissa turned to Harry. “I have some questions for Maurice if you would be so kind to translate.”

Harry eyed her, cheek held on his palm and elbow on the table. Maurice coiled around his arm as Harry mentally translated her words to ‘ask some questions while using the fact that I’m conversing with a Parseltounge and an ancient basilisk as a perfectly respectable Slytherin shield. 

“Sure. I’ve got about forty minutes before Ron wakes up and drags Hermione from the library. Ask away.”

Harry had certainly experienced worse companions during breakfast.  

Harry had decided to enlist Flitwick and Hermione to further ensure that his efforts to teach Baby-Cedric weren’t creepy. This was very fortunate since telling a Hufflepuff to bring his friends meant that at least half of the entire Hogwarts first years was present, along with a third of the second years and a smattering of third years.

Flitwick was enjoying himself immensely, considering Harry had made sure to announce this was a Things-Everyone-Should-Know Club and not strictly a self-defence club. Harry was absolutely going to get to the self-defence, but first he was planning to cover Developing a Reasonable Sense of Caution, Spells to Get Help, and Cleaning Up After Yourself. There were a lot of charms in those groupings. 

The DADA professor had briefly tried to interfere, proved himself misogynistic in the first ten minutes, and gotten trounced by Hermione in a duel while Harry narrated all the man’s mistakes to the watching students. 

It was honestly a pretty great way to spend a Saturday morning. 

After the first half hour he’d settled into explaining basic cleaning charms to a group of Slytherin and Ravenclaw firsties. This was partly because these kids were from prominent Pureblood families so didn’t learn these charms when they had House Elves or staff to do it for them, but mainly because once mastered the charms would allow the kids to go muck about and get absolutely filthy only to return pristine with families none the wiser. 

Apparently, the Parseltounge thing had made he rounds and the Slytherins generally found Harry acceptable even if he was a little mad and occasionally said completely crazy things like calling Voldy Moldy a stupid noseless idiot. 

Harry had taken advantage to set his secondary plot in motion. The moment Harry had seen second-year Regulus (and Harry had thought the kid was two years behind Sirius, not three, but also didn’t really care if that was a Dimensional Variant or Harry’s faulty memory), Harry set Baby-Cedric on the boy. Baby-Cedric was the very clear precursor to Harry’s Cedric in terms of charms and genuine niceness. They were close enough in age and Regulus clearly needed a friend.  

It took all of thirty minutes for a babbling Cedric to drag Regulus over by the hand and promptly get the older boy to watch Cedric’s casting and help him get the spell right. On Regulus’s slightly overwhelmed face Harry recognized the look of a kid used to spending a lot of time alone suddenly faced with someone who actually wanted to spend time with them. They’d be fine. 

Harry had just finished demonstrating a charm that worked particularly well on grass stains (and blood, but that wasn’t necessary to explain) when a problem arose. One that was completely Maurice’s fault. Harry had spelled Maurice up in size since they were outside and several classes had already gotten the Basilisk Lesson and the accompanying Reasons Not to Fear the Giant Snake That Was Actually a Softy. Maurice was currently about five times as long as Harry was tall and Harry was greatly amused that the students seemed to think that was his full size. 

Harry and Ariana had been sure to cover was that Basilisk’s were very intelligent. Harry and Maurice communicated best over Parseltounge, but that didn’t mean that Maurice didn’t understand English. He didn’t have perfect comprehension, but he could still get the gist of most conversations. 

The kids had therefore been talking to and at the basilisk constantly, and Maurice has been loving the attention. However, this had also clearly backfired because Maurice was charging over to Harry with three first years on his back and a group running behind him, all while hissing rather urgently. 

“Harry-friend, Harry-friend, tell the hatchlings that they are wrong! Very wrong. The mosssst wrong.”

“About what?” Harry very reasonably asked as he helped the thankfully giggly students off his giant snake.

“They said that Master Slytherin was a bad man! That he hated half the students! That I was supposed to eat half the hatchlings!”

“Ohhh. Yeah, I should have seen this coming.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. 

“Is there a problem, Harry?” Asked Flitwick as he approached with Ron. 

“Eh, not really? Not more than usual. Maurice just finally heard the general opinion on Salazar Slytherin. Look,” Harry turned to the still hissing snake. “Pick one sentence and I’ll translate. One. I’m not going to try and translate general muttering.”

It took a solid minute but Maurice finally settled on one main point. Harry turned to Flitwick, Regulus, Baby-Cedric and the other Ravenclaw and Slytherin students and nodded. “Okay. Maurice says that Master Slytherin valued all magic  in all forms. There was none of this ‘Mudblood’ nonsense and Maurice was supposed to protect all students, not some students, and to suggest otherwise is a great affront to his noble duty.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Regulus was the first to speak. “His duty. Was Maurice Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk?”

“I mean, yes?” Harry looked to Ron. “I thought that was obvious?”

“Eh,” Ron gave a seesaw motion with is hand before coming to lean on Harry’s shoulder. “The legend is that it’s Slytherin’s monster in the Chamber of Secrets, but the idea that the snake everyone’s been sneaking tea is thousands of years old and actually knew the Founders is a little out there.”

“Actually knew the Founders,” Flitwick whispered. The kids looked at little reassured that their Professor was also having trouble with this realization. 

“Maurice was pretty young when he went into the Chamber, so his memory’s a bit spotty.” Harry rubbed the underside of Maurice’s jaw which finally stopped the general disgusted hissing-mutters. “But he’s very clear on his duties and position as a protection to the school. The preservation and hibernation charms on the Chamber were extensive and he really shouldn’t have been woken without a very real threat. We figure that these wards were either non-existent or very faulty in my dimension, which is why that basilisk was bat-shit insane while Maurice here is really very pleasant.”

“You expect us to believe that hundreds of years of lore are just, completely wrong?” Harry didn’t recognize the Slytherin student that spoke, but figured they looked to be Regulus’s year mate. 

“No.” Harry surprised them with that answer. Even Flitwick. Even Maurice.  

Not Ron.

“Look,” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Do I want you to believe that blood and magic are not the ultimate ways to decide someone’s worth? Absolutely. But, kid, I’m a child soldier. I fought a literal war on the subject and I know it’s not that simple. It will never be that simple as long as people are involved to make it more complicated. 

“I agree with Slytherin about valuing all magic of all kinds, but not so much about his actually historically true stance on hating muggles. But, firstly, Slytherin is dead. So is Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. I love them all for their legacy, but I’m not going to blindly follow anyone’s creed or orders. Been there, done that, never again will I not have a choice.

“Secondly, and possibly more importantly for you lot, I actually find his stance on muggles understandable, for all that I’ll never agree with a blanket statement that an entire group of people are bad. I understand due to the muggle tendency of the time towards burning magic users at the stake. Which, hmm, seems very similar to the Death Eater tendency for muggle hunting, just saying. But, while I haven’t been burned at a stake, I have been set on fire a couple times, and it sucks. Really really sucks. I can fully support Slytherin’s precautions to prevent that. To protect the children under his care from experiencing that.”

Ron’s elbow was digging into Harry’s shoulder blade and Harry didn’t care. He knew his friend was tense because he wanted to be in this best position to protect them both. 

Harry shrugged the best he could without disturbing the redhead. “I think Hermione has a reading list if any of you want independent collaboration about the muggle situation when Hogwarts was built. She definitely does about the Founders and all four of their options on preserving all magic. And I take Maurice swimming every few evenings in the Black Lake if anyone wants to stop by for some questions after this has all settled in you mind for a bit.”

“I think the students will not be the only ones taking you up on that offer, Flitwick said softly. 

Harry went to reply, but got distracted by Ron who did an impressive barrel roll away from him. Harry would have turned to face the threat, but found way-too-many pounds of basilisk dropping around his shoulders and dragging him to the ground. 

“Harry-friend hurt. Harry-friend set on fire. Fire. Harry-friend in pain. Never again. Harry-friend safe now. Safe.”

“What is going on?” Hermione asked as she finally walked over. Her complexion was looking a lot better and Harry was briefly very smug for getting her out of the library and into the sunshine. Then Maurice shifted and Harry was suddenly very aware of several organs he didn’t normally pay much attention. 

“Maurice decided I needed love and affection and is now squishing me. Help.” 

Hermione studied them. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Hermione!”

“You do need love and affection.” Hermione reached up and patted the basilisk on those nose. “Good work, Maurice.”

“Huh.” Ron put his hand on his hip. “I didn’t know snakes could preen. And mother-hen.”

“Can you show me how to roll like that?” Asked Baby-Cedric. 

“Course! Dodging is a very important skill, mate.”

Regulus on the other hand approached Hermione and softly asked about the reading list, which had Hermione and an entire trail of little student-ducklings heading back towards the library. 

Harry comforted Maurice enough to be able to breathe, then decided being trapped by a protective basilisk was an excellent reason to have a nap in the weekend sunlight.

When he woke up, the sun was hidden by the forest, Ron and several students were also napping on Maurice, and Hermione was leading a book club next to them with Regulus, Snape, Remus, and Lily in attendance. 

Harry closed his eyes again. Not because he didn’t want to see what was happening, but because he wanted to prolong the moment. 

Harry was on the way to front gates when he spotted three quarters of the Marauders coming from the Greenhouse. Unfortunately, he was also spotted. Harry hadn’t exactly been sneaking, but he probably would have preferred that his baby not-family didn’t see him in Battle-robes. 

“I will not be taking questions at this time.”

“What if we ignore the fact that you’re clearly about to kick some ass and instead ask about your name? Which is Potter.” James crossed his arms with a smirk.

“No, it is not.” 

“It is very suspicious that none of you will give your last names.” Sirius grinned. 

“And Harry is a family name! There’s like, three Harrisons, a Harold, and at least two Hadrians in my family tree.”

Harry sighed and stroked along Maurice’s scales. He really liked to be draped around Harry’s shoulders. The basilisk was also very excited for tonight’s mission and it’s progress against the man who Imperio-ed him and threatened the hatchlings. 

“That’s so lovely for you.” James narrowed his eyes at Harry’s response. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

James opened his mouth again, then closed it. 

“Are you really going to take down the Dark Lord?” Sirius asked. 

Harry was prepared to brush him off and continue down the path to the gate, but there was something in Sirius’s expression, something that James and Remus caught, if their exchanged glance was any indication.

“Yes.” Harry spoke clearly and confidently in the tone he’d perfected for instructing Aurors that were usually older than him. 

Something loosened in Sirius’s shoulders and the boy looked up through his fringe. “Good. He’s really, he’s not good. My family isn’t directly involved with him, not yet. But there were stories. Rumours. When I was home for the summer. And, well, I have access to a lot of books most students don’t. I know what a Dark Lord can do and some of how they do it. It’s- I’m glad you’re dealing with him now, before it starts.”

“Because this was the start, wasn’t it?” James looked at Harry and their were ghosts of futures in his eyes, of a childhood almost ended in violence. “This was the start of the war.”

“One of them,” Harry acknowledged, because he was never going to withhold information from children. He’d protect them, always, but he knew all too well what happened when you kept information back from kids who had a right to know. Them seeking it out in other dangerous ways was the best possible option.

“This won’t be a war,” Harry told his not-family. “This is a strike team. An Auror operation of the kind I’ve been on many times before. You’ll be safe.”

“And you?” Remus asked.

“I’m not alone.” Harry nodded towards the gates where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him. 

This seemed to satisfy the boys. 

“Speaking of alone, aren’t you missing someone?”

Sirius scowled. “Peter wanted to finish his Herbology work. We said we’d help, but.” He shrugged, somewhat grumpily.

Remus patted him on the shoulder. “Hopefully he’ll finish up and join us on the quidditch pitch.”

Harry waved and waited until they’d made it almost all the way up the path before taking a sharp turn to the Greenhouse from where they’d come and sent a quick patrons to his friends, warning them he had one last thing to do before they could head to Malfoy Manor and steal the Diary out from under the current Lord Malfoy. 

Conversations with Lucius during the Death Eater trials had indicated that Lucius, while highly loyal, had been indoctrinated early by his own fiercely loyal father. There was strong reason to believe the Diary was already there and, if not, that there would be a clue to it’s location. 

The three Marauders heading towards the pitch, however, had left Harry with an opportunity he’d been keeping an eye out for almost since they got here, certainly since Hermione gave them the all clear to meddle.

He knocked on the doorframe of the greenhouse but Peter still jumped. 

“Not going with the others to the quidditch pitch?”

“Uh, no. Herbology homework.” 

Harry studied the empty greenhouse and threw up a couple of his better wandless silencing spells and detection charms with a quick mutter. “The boys didn’t stay to help you?”

“They offered,” Peter said sharply. “But it’s my work. And I’m not the best flyer, always.”

Harry hummed and continued to lean against the doorway as the moment stretched uncomfortably.

“Is this where you tell me why you don’t like me?” Peter asked, his back trembling faintly as he carried the pot to a table.

“Yes.” 

Dirt spilled out of the pot with the force Peter slammed it down. “Oh.”

“You’re not really used to straightforward honesty, are you?” Harry came to stand beside him.

“Not really. People talk around me a lot.”

Harry let out a breath. “Yeah, I get that.” He ignored the incredulous look Peter shot him to use a bit of wandless magic and wave of his hand to send the dirt back into the pot. “But I don’t really lie. Never been much good at it.”

Peter’s eyes tracked the ‘I must not tell lies’ that remained etched into Harry’s skin. 

“I know you recognize Battle-robes. That you can sense my magic roiling and ready for a fight. That you saw Hermione, Ron, and I preparing for something. You’re observant, frightfully so. You’re the only one, the only one in a school full of students and professors, who actually noticed that I don’t like you. I know you’ve guessed that we’re about to strike the first truly significant blow against an evil that isn’t really our problem and for people that will never be ours.”

Harry took the last few steps forward, knowing he was looming over a school boy but also knowing he would do worse to keep his family safe.

“James would call me loyal. Sirius would call me brave. Remus would call me kind. But you, Peter, what would you call me?”

Peter trembled slightly as he looked up at Harry, hands and nose twitching as if he was fighting off the urge to transform. 

“Afraid,” Peter whispered, never breaking Harry’s gaze and proving why he was in the House of the Lions. “You’re afraid. This man, Dark Lord, whatever, he terrifies you.”

Harry breathed out, deeply. “More than you can ever know. He killed me, once, and that is not near the greatest offence I would lay at his feet. He stole many things from many people and I know deeply, viscerally, what he would like to take again. What the world will look like if he succeeds. Exactly how many people in this castle will be left.”

He let the ghosts in his voice sit between them a moment, fragments of battlegrounds he’d been so desperate to keep from all the other children. 

“I will not let my fear cripple me from protecting you.” Peter flinched and Harry laid a hand on his head, firm but with a gentleness that surprised even himself. “Particularly you. Everyone has fears, Peter Pettigrew. I’m about to go stare down one of my greatest so you don’t have to meet, to understand, to share that fear. So a bunch of people I’ve never known, will never really know, never have to even imagine that fear.”

Harry stepped back, his hand settling on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m telling you this to make you afraid. Not of him, but of yourself. I know you, Peter, I know you better than either of us ever intended. A version of you that I pray you never meet did awful, terrible things out of fear. And, as much as I hated that, hated him, I always understood.”

“Because you act out of fear, too.” Peter’s voice was small, hesitant, but perfectly audible.

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “I’m going to kill this Voldemort, eventually, just as I killed mine. And possibly some of his followers. Death is always a horrible thing and I’ll certainly try not to, but battle is not a place for hesitation. Fear makes some people hesitate. But it makes others act. It makes you and I act, Peter. We always know what we have to lose.

“I don’t like you because I see another man’s face overlapping yours. But, Peter,” Harry raised his other hand so he held both the boy’s shoulders. “That is my failing. That is my fear. You aren’t him. You haven’t committed his actions. I’m removing the triggers and all the likely ways for you to be him. Your future is entirely your own.”

“So why do this then, why want me to be afraid?” Peter was angry, yes, but angry in a way that was hidden behind a mask, a shield, something he never intended to let into the light of day.

“So you’ll act. Peter, you think you don’t belong with the Marauders.”

His head shot up and now Harry could see his fear. Just as he had in quiet moments when the other Marauders were a step ahead, a step louder, a step more confident. Harry didn’t like Peter, but he didn’t hate him, not this Peter. Not this Peter who was so young and so scared and so familiar in ways Harry never wanted to admit.

Peter sneered, wrenching himself out of Harry’s reach. 

“So what? I don’t. I know that. It’s fine. James is popular and perfect and Sirius is talented and powerful and Remus is kind and smart and I’m just the kid that was born in the same year. That got thrown in their room. That they help pass his classes and drag along like a little mascot and-“

“Those are not very nice things to say about your friends.”

Peter’s mouth clicked shut and he turned to look at Harry with confusion painting his white knuckles. 

“And they do great disservice to the secrets those friends have entrusted you with.” Harry tilted his head. “Do you really think that any of them are the type to keep false friends, hangers on, for no reason other than their own ego? That none of them have their own reason for desperately wanting stronger bonds?”

Peter opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off by sinking to the ground. He leaned against the table leg, the wood pressing into his spine as Harry kicked his legs out and crossed them at the ankle.  

“You can spare me the personalized list of why you don’t deserve friends; I’m well acquainted.”

“How the fuck could someone like you-“

“I grew up in a cupboard under the stairs.”

Peter knocked over another pot and neither of them went to clean this one up.

“Didn’t know why my family hated me till I turned eleven and Surprise! Magic exists. Ron was my first friend. Ever. I was eleven and met my first friend on a train because he didn’t like the sandwich his mother made so was happy to share. He was clever and had a loving family and understood all this magic culture stuff in an intrinsic way that I still cannot match. 

“Hermione came along that year after we helped each other out of a spot of trouble. Even then, even at eleven, she was the brightest witch of our age and spent way too much of her time making sure I wasn’t drowning in all this new knowledge. I did not deserve them, Peter. I knew that as I knew nothing else, and that was before they went to war at my side. Was before we fought and faltered and failed and survived together.

“I told them that once, drunk off my ass on an anniversary that I will never let come to pass here. And do you know what they said? Ron said he was poor and the youngest and least talented of seven siblings and how could I possibly think I didn’t deserve him? Hermione cried and said she’d never had a friend before that didn’t try to use her or mock her for her smarts, that I brought learning to life in way she never would have seen from just her books.”

Harry didn’t look up, didn’t look for the expression on Peter’s face. Harry’s voice fell, wove softly in between the murmurings of plants and magic. 

“What would they say, Peter, if you told your friends your fears? How you see them? I imagine each of them could come up with a similar list. James, well, he is the hardest, but I imagine that being the perfect, popular son comes with a lot of weight. Might even come with a lot of fake friends who only want his reputation or his family connections. Sirius, well, I think we both know that his family expectations carry a different weight, one measured in blood and bruises. And Remus, poor Remus’s secret is the most savage and cruel of them all, in some ways.”

Harry sighed. 

“Your fear that you aren’t worthy of them is foolish. Useless. A fear they probably share. But you do not need to earn your friendships, not in the way you’re torturing yourself over. You don’t need to earn their love. You don’t need to be worthy of them because, ultimately, it’s not your choice if they love you. And they do. They don’t always understand you, but I’ve been looking for the flaw with the same focus that brings down criminals and it’s just not there; they love you. 

“So, Peter Pettigrew, recognize that they’ve made their choice and act accordingly. You’ve been given a gift, and, more than that, the time to enjoy it. Perhaps, instead of worrying that you never deserved them in the first place, you can give a gift in kind. You can remind them when they falter, as everyone does, that you choose to love them in return.”

Harry hauled himself up after a long moment where the only sound was the moving and rustling of leaves. “Okay. I’ve said my piece. Thanks for listening, and all that.”

“Wait!”

Harry turned and raised an eyebrow. “I actually have somewhere rather important to be?”

“You just, you can’t just say all that and leave! I mean. I could tell everyone. You, there were a lot of secrets in what you just told me.”

“There were. And you could,” Harry agreed as he dusted off his coat. “Are you going to?”

Peter met his eyes again and slowly shook his head. 

“Then what are you going to do, Peter Pettigrew?” Harry paused at threshold of the greenhouse, biting roses nipping at him even as he kept his hands just out of reach. “How are you going to act?”

Harry made it not two hundred feet from the greenhouse door when he heard a clatter and slam. He turned in order to repair the greenhouse door and watch Peter run up the castle path, only to veer left to the quidditch pitch. 

Harry didn’t move until the figure disappeared from sight and Ron’s terrier patronus came bounding up the path with an order to hurry his brooding ass up before they died of old age.

With closed eyes, Harry took a deep breath into his lungs. He flexed fingers that had dug tiny little crescents into his palms. And then he hurried. He would always hurry to his friends. 

Chapter Text

Harry stared at the ceiling in the hospital wing and wondered if it was sad he could make a comprehensive comparison to the one in his time and dimension. They were mostly the same, though his had several additional scorch marks and one beam had been permanently stained purple. 

He continued to study the ceiling, attempting to ignore the throbbing in his arm from the trap he'd triggered on their way out of Malfoy Manner (and wasn’t that embarrassing, Draco’s Grandfather didn’t have near the security Lucius did and Harry still got caught by the chandelier trap). A very young Madam Pomfrey had returned his arm to its natural and not-plant-like state, but it still felt odd and she’d warned him he’d be a little woozy for about a day as an after-effect of the recovery potion. 

Harry had waved Hermione and Ron off to bed after they’d shared a moment of deep appreciation for how simple destroying horcurxes was when you had a place to sleep, medical care, and a basilisk to destroy each one promptly and efficiently. 

He was also trying to ignore the conversation happening a few beds away. Apparently, it had been a rough full moon. Also apparently, his not-godfather hadn’t learned true paranoia and sneakiness until at least sixth year. Neither Sirius or Remus had thought to check behind the curtain of the nearby cot before starting their only mostly whispered conversation. 

Harry had been content to stare at the ceiling and try to ignore them, not really wanting to deal with cranky werewolves and Animagi who’d been running around all night. 

He didn’t remember ever choosing differently, except one minute he was trying to decide if he should turn part of the ceiling purple for familiarity’s sake and the next he was looming over Remus’s bed. He distantly noted that Remus looked afraid and Sirius looked like he was ready to tear Harry’s throat out (which meant he was terrified) but Harry’s ears were too busy ringing. 

“That’s bullshit.”

Neither boy answered him, not quite understanding. Harry growled and pulled out his wand, which had Sirius scrambling to do the same. Harry put up an actual silencing ward before tucking his wand away and crossing his arms. 

“That’s bullshit,” Harry repeated. “You are not a monster.”

Remus’s eyes scrunched and shaded, the strength of a spine that continuously broke and rebuilt draping across his back. If only he used that strength in a way that didn’t hurt himself. 

Harry reached out to Sirius first, brushing a hand through the boy’s long hair and ignoring the way he both flinched and leaned into the contact. Harry used their surprise in the aftermath of the gesture to step forward and place both of his palms on Remus’s scarred cheeks. 

Harry’s palms were so large they easily framed the boy’s lower face draped over his throat so Harry could feel the reassuring pulse.

“You, Remus Lupin, are not a monster.”

“You don’t understan-“

“You’re a werewolf.” Harry ignored the flinch of both boys. “A werewolf with a terrible sense of self-worth.” 

Harry brushed his thumbs under the eyes of the boy who could one day become the man who’d saved Harry. Who’d loved him through everything. Who’d lived longer than any other Marauder and spent as much of that time with Harry as possible, despite a stupid war and stupid werewolf regulations and stupid magic protections. 

The man who entrusted Harry with his son.

Remus blinked when he felt Harry’s tears hit his skin, eyes crinkling in confused concern. 

“The kindest man I’ve ever known was a werewolf. He worked so hard. All he wanted was for his friends, his family, to be safe. To be free. You do not get to disparage that man. You do not get to call him a monster.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“But you did.” Harry brushed his own tears off Remus’s face, fingers lingering on the lines under the boy’s eyes. His Remus had so many more, so many more lines etched by exhaustion and time and loneliness. This boy still had far too many lines. “If you’re a monster because you’re a werewolf, then logically, all werewolves are monsters in your opinion. Unless there’s another criteria you’re not mentioning? Another reason you think you’re an awful person?”

Sirius whined and grabbed Remus’s hand as Harry retreated slightly at Remus’s silence, standing back up to his full height. 

“My son is part werewolf.” His voice was whisper soft but cracked through the empty infirmary. 

“He doesn’t turn at the full moon but he gets very irritable because of the pain in his bones. He’s very possessive of his people and throws fits when he feels the need to know his pack is safe. He eats raw meat and snaps at strangers and teething was a fucking nightmare.” Harry let his sleeves fall back and saw both boys gain wide eyes at the faint impressions still tracing Harry’s skin, enough werewolf in his baby’s teeth to resist classic healing.

“He’s also a metamorphmagus. His favourite colour is blue. He prefers pie to cake and apples to oranges and loves to climb trees with his cousin. He insists on getting his grandmother flowers for every Sunday brunch and spends at least ten minutes deciding on which ones to take. He wants to travel the world with his Aunt when he’s older and help all the people and creatures who’ve had a sadder start than him.”

Harry took a deep breath. One that rattled through his bones. “My son is part werewolf. But that is not all he is. I love all that he is. Each and every part. He is, however, not a monster because he is much more than one part of himself. Which, if you weren’t recovering from extensive pain after an awful night, I would hope you’d recognized sounds awfully similar to your paper on students being more than one aspect of their personality, of their magical aptitudes, of their house.”

Harry turned to Sirius when Remus was silent, hope and hate waring in his eyes. Both boys flinched slightly under Harry’s silent regard. Harry sighed and used gentle movements, the same gentle movements he’d used on Teddy when the boy was in too much moon-pain to do more than snarl. Sirius shivered as Harry drew back the sleeve on the boy’s robe, vanishing the messy bandages and casting several healing charms his own Pomfrey had taught him.

Harry had no doubt that Moony had gotten a little rough and injured Padfoot last night. No doubt that Sirius had tried to cover it up and laugh it off. No doubt that this was the trigger for this particular spiral.

No doubt that there would be other spirals, in the future. 

Harry sighed again. 

“That path you walk on is difficult, Remus Lupin. I’d tell you that you don’t walk it alone, but you already know that.” Harry nodded to the hand Sirius was using to cling onto his friend. “Instead I’ll tell you, from personal experience, that it’s rather stupid to make a difficult path harder by focusing entirely on how much you hate the shoes you walk in. And you get tired eventually, when you waste all your energy yelling at blockheads who will never listen when you tell them to stop walking beside you.”

Harry blinked slowly, trying to figure out if he had anything else to say. He found he didn’t, and that the two boys seemed rather speechless for once. So Harry gave them each a pat on the head and left. He didn’t want to try going back to sleep in that room with his own words swirling in the eddies of the air, for all his arm had started throbbing. 

That boy was not his Remus, for all they shared the same bones. He didn’t deserve to have to sit and listen to all the words Harry had never had the time, the understanding, the maturity to say to his Remus. He didn’t need the updates about a son he’d never gotten a chance to meet, much less love with the all-encompassing and ever-growing intensity that Harry felt.

James had given Harry his life. Sirius had given Harry hope that he could do more than survive. Remus had given Harry a reason to continue to get better and live.

Harry ached with the inability to do the same for these boys who were not his family but could have been.

Harry ached for his family and needed to find Hermione and Ron. Needed to tell them he missed his Teddybear and then climb into bed so his nightmares could be defeated before they’d even begun with Hermione’s hugs and Ron’s warmth. 

He only made it to the end of the hall.

“Wait!”

Harry waited. He would always wait for that voice. Always wait for just one more moment with Sirius Black. 

“Uh. Thanks.”

Harry smiled. He couldn’t help it. 

“We’ve been trying to tell him that for a long time.”

“You’re probably going to need to keep saying it in one way or another for many years to come.”

Sirius growled lowly, to himself, to fate, to Greyback for biting Remus in the first place. But he nodded, face flickering in the low, intermittent light cast from the brackets along the walls.

“I can do that. He’s my friend. Mine.” Sirius flinched when he finished, probably not intending that last word to come out as dark as it did.

Harry crossed his arm above his head and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Kid, my two best friends are sleeping in a room somewhere above us and I’m about to go wake them up by crawling into their bed because I’m sad and lonely and miss my son and both have told me many times that I need to go to them when I feel like that. I would die for them.”

Harry said it simply, but something in Sirius’s stance told Harry that the boy had heard the certainty. That he’d felt the certainty that came from Harry actually having died for his friends. 

“I’m never going to judge you for a bit of possessiveness towards your family.”

Sirius looked up, grey eyes steel-sharp and edged in well-worn desperation. “I agree with Jamie, you know. That you’re a Potter. Not because of the hair or the glasses, but because of the kindness. Potters are kind in a sharp way, in a fierce way, in a way that picks you up and brings you along and makes faces at anything that tries to get you in the dark.”

Harry said nothing. He hadn’t known that.

“My family isn’t like that.”

Harry tilted his head. “Yes. They are.”

Sirius made a low whine in the back of his throat. 

Harry huffed. “I’m not talking about your friends, though James certainly considers you his. But I’ve known a Black or two.”

“Than you know we’re fucking insane.”

“Yes. You are.” Harry stepped forward, not daring to cup his face like Harry had done with Remus but skating gentle fingertips over Sirius’s cheekbone. The sound of Bellatrix’s laugh and Sirius bark and the the frigid waves of the Veil of Death ghosting around his ears. “But fucking Merlin, do Black’s love deep.”

Because Sirius had broken out of Azkaban for Harry. Regulus had died for his House Elf and his family. Tonks had fought a war to give her husband and son a better life. Narcissa had lied to Voldemort’s fucking face for her son. Andromeda had lost a daughter and a husband yet still let herself love Teddy and Harry with a fierceness Harry had never experienced. Even Draco had dragged himself and his family name tooth and nail from the mud beneath Voldemort’s boots to give his mother even a fragment of the life he thought she deserved. 

“Maybe,” Harry whispered with his fingertips right below the silver eyes of a Black. “Maybe it’s time to let the Blacks know you love them too.”

Sirius stepped back. “I don’t love my family.”

He spat it out like a weapon, like spellfire, like he thought that this would be the moment Harry would turn away. 

The joke was on Sirius. Because Harry was a Black, had been since Sirius’s will had been read, and Harry was facing his worst nightmares to give his not-family a chance of never having them. Harry would never turn away.

“I get that,” Harry said, the spider-infested shadows of his cupboard curling throughout his voice. “But all of them?”

Harry watched Sirius’s head dip. Watched the boy flinch with the weight of words and blows that he’d taken so his brother didn’t have to. Harry reached into one of his pockets, one of the really deep ones, and pulled out a bag with a brass clasp. He slid his other down Sirius’s arm and turned the boy’s palm up so Harry could place the bag there.

“I can’t promise things always get better. Not without lying.” Harry withdrew as Sirius closed long fingers sound the bag that held a month’s worth of preservable food, medical supplies, and basic warding equipment. 

“But it won’t get better without trying. If you need to run, run. You know better than me that the Potters will take you. But if you can’t bring Regulus, if he’s actually safer where he is, explain. Remember that as much as you would do for him, he would do for you. And you might be older, but he’s just as much a Black as you.”

“And Blacks love deep?” There were gossamer webs in his voice, strong and tight and on the edge of being brushed away. 

“Blacks love deep. And their love is an honour.”

Harry sat on a staircase. He felt it move occasionally but didn’t look to see where it settled. The staircases at Hogwarts always took him where they needed to be. Even, perhaps, if he wasn’t inclined to move. 

Ron and Hermione stepped off the landing and onto the stone, settling on either side so they bracketed him as the staircase moved again, now completely unattached to a landing at all. Harry looked down through the rail through the dark shaft of staircases, all completely quiet and still in the very early light. 

One by one the lights popped out and the portraits left until only Harry and his friends remained on their solitary staircase that had once connected to the highest point in the castle that wasn’t a tower. 

Hermione’s arms slipped over his and she lay her head on his shoulder. Ron used his massive size to drape his arm over them both. They waited.

Harry waited too, though he wasn’t sure for what. 

The Diadem was gone their second day here. The Diary at the end of their first month. They had a plan for the locket; Harry could sense its faint anger and general location now that there was a proper Lord Slytherin able to claim the artifact. They had several spells going to track the Cup. The snake wasn’t an issue. Neither was Harry. 

They hadn’t talked about the ring. 

It would be simple to go dig it out of the ground in that decrepit hut. Hermione could handle the curse, if indeed it was cursed as extensively, without too much difficulty. But they didn’t. They all knew they wouldn’t have to.

“I am the Master of Death,” Harry admitted. 

Hogwarts shifted, winds shrieking through rafters and ripples briefly forming in the glasses of water kept on nightstands. Harry had considered doing this elsewhere. Anywhere else, really. But Hogwarts was his home. He’d died in her shadow. He’d come back as her heir. She would protect him as he had her. They would let nothing touch their students. 

“Accio.” Hermione smiled when Harry verbally used the spell. He feel the tug against his jacket sleeve where her face rested. Which was why he did it. 

The stone, cloak, and Elder wand sat in his outstretched hands as if they always been there. He could tell they were from this dimension, but Death was constant. 

He banished the cloak and the wand back to their current wielders with a soft, “Look after them.”

The stone in its ring he stared at. He’d never gone looking for his stone in the forest, though he’d always suspected that didn’t matter in the slightest. He was tempted to give this stone to Maurice to eat, the large basilisk coiled lightly on the landing and draped along the stairway so the three of them could learn against his cool scales.

He didn’t.

There was a shard of soul in a stone that summoned the dead. Harry drew his own Elder Wand, always at hand though hardly every used, and set the stone aflame. The fire was green, a cousin to Fiendfyre but one that would never dare disobey Death’s Master. 

“Rest.”

Riddle’s soul didn’t scream so much as cry. A long hunting noted that ended when the stone crumbled to ash that dusted Harry’s palm and traced the edges of the wand. 

He banished the ashes to the Forbidden Forest. The trees would guard the remains, just as the Potters would guard the cloak and Dumbledore lay the wand to bed. There would be no Master of Death in this Dimension, not when Harry left. 

He closed his eyes and stayed that way, with the warmth of his friends chasing away the chill until morning. 

Morning came in the form of Regulus Black, who came upon the three of them when trying to go to the library before breakfast using a shortcut on the stairs that dumped him on their landing instead. He retreated right away, to Ron’s amusement, but actually shortly returned with Baby-Cedric. 

Regulus and Baby-Cedric each grabbed one of Harry’s hands. They didn’t ask any questions, Regulus calmly pretending this was completely normal and Baby-Cedric babbling about all the cool magic he was going to learn today. 

Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione, now hand in hand with a smaller Maurice draped over Hermione’s neck. They smiled at him and followed. 

Hogwarts hummed when they stepped into the Great Hall, a warm bubbling magic that travelled through his legs and made the spelled sky with its early morning sunshine seem extra bright. 

Telling the Ministry of Magic that a couple of Time and Dimensional travellers were loitering around Hogwarts was a spectacularly bad idea. They weren’t as incompetent as when Harry was attending school or as corrupt as directly after Voldie had taken over, but that wasn’t saying much. 

Thankfully, Dumbledore agreed. 

Harry and Ron had taken advantage of Hermione’s latest library binge to update Dumbledore on their progress. Well, Ron did. Harry mostly sat back while petting Fawkes and providing the occasional pithy comment. It felt odd to update Dumbledore like he was still the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and not just because Harry had taken that role over upon the man’s death. 

Dumbledore, frankly, wasn’t that involved this time around. Not with the take down itself. He was, however, a very connected Wizard and Harry certainly saw the logic of funnelling information to and through the man. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew quite a lot about Voldemort’s operations. They didn’t need to know exact locations and names, not when they knew how the man and his people thought and acted. Close discussion with Dumbledore and an Alastor Moody that had both legs but only one eye had provided several locations for Auror raids, likely muggle targets, and areas to protect. 

There weren’t as many as Harry had feared. Voldemort had been preparing assets for decades, sure, but the war itself hadn’t hit yet. The fear wasn’t rampant and fear had always been Riddle’s greatest weapon. 

Harry sighed and ran his finger tips through Fawkes’s tail.

“He really quite likes you,” Dumbledore said, peering over half-moon spectacles. 

Harry opened his eyes, peering back. “I really quite like him.”

He had many fond memories of curling up in a chair, or on a staircase, or in the dungeon just feeling Hogwarts magic with Fawkes on his lap or in his hair. 

“I must admit to some surprise that you have remained in my office. Is there something else you need to discuss?”

Harry shifted in his chair. Dumbledore’s comment was fair enough. Harry had been avoiding the man rather neatly. Or rather, avoiding being alone with the man. When Ron and Moody had flooed out of the office and over to the Ministry so Ron could run amuck playing the poor innocent bystander and lead the Aurors to multiple Death Eater dens (after Harry and Hermione had planted so much evidence), Harry should have left. 

He’d thought about it, but he was tired. Not so much from the Death Eater stomping and the slow destruction of everything Tom Riddle valued most, but from the Conversations. From the living memories that were around every corner. Honestly, he was generally pretty glad when he got to go beat up some Death Eaters or skulk around an alley known for the really dark magic. That was easy. That was familiar in a way he knew in his bones.

This was familiar in way that pricked along his skin.

But. Well, he was a grown man. And he loved Dumbledore as much as any other ghost walking around. Hell, certainly more than Peter, and Harry had managed to handle that interaction without screwing things over. He was pretty sure. The kid wasn’t completely avoiding him at least. 

Ron had looked back at Harry just before he stepped in the fire. The redhead knew, and went forward anyways because he always was Harry’s best friend. Ron and Hermione would pick up any pieces and magic them back together. Like usual. 

“No particular reason.”

Dumbledore hummed. “I trust your extra excursions are going well?”

“I will not be telling you about those.” Harry would not be telling anyone about the horcruxes. The fewer that knew the better. Though Dumbledore was far too clever not to notice the number of times the trio left didn’t necessarily match what they reported. 

“That’s quiet alright. I understand the value of secret.”

Harry must not quite have hid his flinch.

“Ah. I see. You have been hurt by secrets I have kept before.”

“Not you.”

“But also not not-me.”

Harry smiled. 

“I’m sorry.” Sincerity draped Dumbledore like his long white hair. 

Harry closed his eyes again. 

“I know.”

“Yet you have not forgiven him?”

“I forgave him long ago. Too quickly, according to my friends. But we always do great and terrible thing for those we love.”

“I suppose we do. That rarely makes the terrible less terrible.”

“It doesn’t. Sometime, though, it’s all for the greater good.”

Dumbledore was the one to flinch this time. Harry admitted to himself that he had wanted that reaction. And that it didn’t make him fell any better. Harry sighed. 

“You won a war. Or positioned the board so I would win. It was awful and you hated it as much me. Maybe more. Probably more.”

“You will not tell me how to avoid my own mistakes?” Dumbledore set his chin on long, steepled fingers.

“Mistakes are how we learn. Who am I to deny you the chance to learn just a bit more in your old age.”

Dumbledore smiled and covered his mouth with one wide sleeve. “Ah, I do so love to learn. And, despite the adage about old dogs and new tricks, I find myself constant learning from all the youth that runs through these halls.”

Dumbledore stood when Harry did, gamely wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders when Harry collapsed forward and leant into the man who could have become his grandfather. 

“You are not my Dumbledore, but I love you because you are Dumbledore and you’ve always been magic to me.” Harry tightened his arms, perhaps not as careful of the beard as he could have been. Dumbledore smelled of sugar, of the warm sweetness that lingered after powerful storms. 

“Thank you for protecting them,” Harry whispered.

Dumbledore did not respond. Despite all his mistakes, he was still the wisest man Harry had ever known. 

Harry could not have handled him speaking. 

Instead, Harry withdrew, eyes that sparkled like quiet stars watching him all the way. 

Harry’s hand traced across the stones as the staircase behind the gargoyle brought him down. He patted the gargoyle on the nose and headed down the hall where he made the mistake of stepping on one of the moving staircases.

He knew this staircase was supposed to go to the corridor that would eventually lead him to the library and Hermione. Harry knew Hogwarts and did not make mistakes. The staircase, however, decided to veer to left and attach the third floor. Harry did not get off.

The rug beneath him twitched and he sensed he was about to get unceremoniously dumped onto the landing. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” he told Hogwarts. 

The castle ignored him and the staircase began to tip.

“Fine, fine. You win. But only because I owe you for making sure no one felt the ring thing.”

He made it down the hall before he heard what Hogwarts wanted him to see and scowled at the wall.

“Really? Now? I’m going to institute a No Emotional Talk rule until at least twenty-four hours after the last one. Bah.”

Harry did not kick the wall because he was an adult and also Hogwarts didn’t deserve that. He did however scuff his feet and approach the corner very slowly with a bit of a pout. This meant he was just in time to hear Severus roar, “-and I’m trying to apologize!”

Harry knew that the situation by the tree hadn’t happened yet. That Severus hadn’t been bullied so cruelly and called his not-mother a name in his anguish that their relationship would never recover from. Harry had been watching as he slowly and methodically destroyed the excuses children used to hurt each other based on house pride. He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d solved very problem or cruelty, but he’d been watching.

He didn’t know what Severus was apologizing for. So Harry did what he’d done since he was eleven and presented with his first mystery. He eavesdropped. It wasn’t even hard, considering the two never thought to peer around the corner or lower their voices. Or cast a silencing spell. Really, he should probably add those to the plan for the next club meeting. 

He shortly gathered that names were still the issue. Several of Severus’s Housemates (older students who were not quite young enough to be susceptible to Harry’s version of anti-dark lord propaganda but still young enough he couldn’t feed them to a basilisk) had started insulting the Muggle-borns in the library. Severus had not defended Lily, and even called one of her friends a slur, though not the infamous ‘Mudblood,’ when pressed. 

Lily was not amused. She was hitting hard with the temper Harry had heard so much about and accusing Severus of being fickle. Or maybe of being a sheep. Certainly for falling for all the Pure Blood Nonsense and only recanting now that others were starting to listen to Harry and the Dark What’s-His-Face wasn’t a threat.

Which. Harry found himself in the odd position of being on Severus Snape’s side.

“I am in the odd position of being on Severus’s side.”

At the sound of his voice, both children yelped and stormed around the corner to glare at Harry. Lily was ready to let loose with her temper, Severus with his glare. Severus’s glare was slightly undercut by the mix of curiosity and embarrassment that Harry could see hidden in the lines of his face.

“You were eavesdropping!” Lily accused. 

“Yes.” Harry didn’t move from his lean against the wall, both arms and legs crossed. “It’s a valid strategy that has served me well over the years. Also, you were very loud.”

“What do you mean you’re on my side?” Severus asked with all the suspicion of a child who has never had an adult on his side. 

“Lily is being unfair. Names are awful and I don’t agree with discrimination of any sort to Muggle-borns. Hermione is my equal in all the ways except the ones where she is my better. But, Lily, Slytherin is not Gryffindor. As much as they aren’t evil and I want to feed this stupid house divide to my basilisk, the politics there are real and dangerous. The could-lead-to-death kind of dangerous.”

Harry held Lily’s gaze as Severus stiffened. 

“I’m glad you recognize how ridiculous Pure-Blood Supremacy is, but you’re missing the fact that Lord What’s-His-Face is bloody terrifying. He’s cruel. He’s a monster. He went after the Pure Bloods first. You will never need to see him, to meet him, to understand the fact that he’s the most charming man you’ll ever come across. Severus doesn’t have that luxury. 

“Kid, you’re blaming Severus for falling for a lie that adults twice his age not only fell for, but spread. That’s not peer pressure, it’s indoctrination. It’s a threat; believe us or die. As for the words and names he’s called you and your friends? It sucks and I don’t approve but it’s also a way for him to keep himself safe. He has to sleep next to and near these kids, many who are significantly more powerful or learned than him simply because they’re older.”

Lily was quietly crying now, which made Harry feel really very shitty. But Severus was looking at him with shards of broken night in his eyes. “Belief doesn’t matter to the dead. You can’t believe in anything if you don’t survive.

Harry hesitated, but he’d come this far. 

“You’re blaming an abused child for seeking safety and lashing out.” 

Severus reared back. “How dare-“

“Broken children recognize broken children, no matter how old they grow.”

Lily’s hand reached out to grab Severus’s and he didn’t shake her off as they both stared at him. Harry turned to her. “But you know that. You know he’s hurting. That’s why you’ve stayed at his side so long. So what is the real problem, Lily? Why are you so scared you’re lashing out at the friend you only want to protect?”

Lily burst into tears, which was not the reaction Harry was anticipating. Nor Severus, but he proved himself once again he better man by taking Lily into his arms in a gentle, though supremely awkward, hug.

“The-they’re going to take you away from me!”

“What?” Severus asked as Harry nodded, everything making sense. 

“You’re my first friend, Sev. My first real friend. The other kids back home always thought I was weird and Tuney has spread all these awful rumours and the other years have been hard but this is the first year you’ve actually started sounding like them! You say the things they say and antagonize James and the others with more than house pride! They’re turning you into one of them and taking you away from me!”

“I-I won’t go anywhere. As long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

“Right.” Harry clapped, startling the both of them but this was getting awkward and he was really done with his not-mother’s tears. So done. “Feel free to talk that over at a later date, when I’m not eavesdropping.”

He handed Severus a bag he’d dug from another one of his really deep pockets. 

“This is a Wizarding tent, not a particularly large one, mind, but decent enough. If you’re ever not safe or something at home, don’t give me that look, I know the signs and would have killed for one of these to set up somewhere that wasn’t my Aunt and Uncle’s, go run and hide. Or something. I mean, I should probably tell you to tell an adult you trust. But. Trust is hard. So get yourself safe first. There’s food and water stocked in there, too. Set up in a park or something. Then tell an adult. If you can.”

Lily sniffed. “My backyard has room for a tent. And my parents are adults. And very trustworthy.” Harry nodded, glad to hear that about his not-grandparents.

“There you go.” Harry nodded again. “Now. Tomorrow morning I’m going to grab Hermione and a very particular Ravenclaw and write to every Newspaper I can think of and probably some that don’t exist. Because Lily was right and I’ve been way too focused on Hogwarts and the physical Death Eaters and therefore haven’t been spreading certain truths about the Pure Blood Nonsense and the true origins of half-blood Voldemorty.”

Severus was looking in his new tent-bag surreptitiously while not taking his eyes off Harry. His white-knuckled grip on the fabric was all the acknowledgement Harry needed. 

“But for right now? I am so done with emotional conversations. I was done about hour ago or, hmm. You know what? I was done last week after the Hospital Wing Chats. So. No more talking. None. Maurice and I are going to play hide and seek. Hogwarts Castle is the boundry. Who wants to join?”

Both kids looked at him in shock. Lily reached back out to Severus’s wrist though, hold tentative. “It could be fun? We could be a team?”

He looked down his nose at her but didn’t get to speak.

“A team for what?” asked Hermione as she turned the corner with a load of books in her arms.

“Ah,” said Harry. “I was looking for you.” 

“For what?” She peered over her stack. 

“A hug.”

Hermione promptly dumped her books into her expandable bag with only a little forced help from Severus. She wrapped strong arms around Harry and he melted into her hold, just a little. 

“I won’t be distracted though, teams for what?” Hermione asked Lily and Severus who were looking slightly uncomfortable. 

“This menace who pretends he is an adult was attempting to convince us to play hide and seek with him and the basilisk.”

 Hermione squeezed Harry once before stepping back, grinning, and running away. Over her shoulder she called, “I’m in!” 

“Shit.” Harry put his hands on his hips. “She’s almost impossible to beat. Quickly, we need recruits! Baby-Cedric would probably play, and he’d bring a bunch of the Puffs. How about Regulus? Hm, it’s Friday evening, he’s probably with Baby-Cedric anyways.”

As he was talking he pulled out some papers and sent a quick flying paper airplane (ministry style but Hermione edition) to Ron telling him he’d accidentally challenged Hermione and required backup. He also sent one to Baby-Cedric and his crew. 

Both kids looked at each other before Lily nodded definitively. “Send one to the Gryffindor Common Room. James an Co. will get most of them up and involved.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “You want the boys involved?” 

He very deliberately didn’t look at Severus who was also looking at Lily in shock. 

Lily let out a sly grin that Harry recognized from the mirror during some of his sneakier moments. Ron had dubbed in the ‘grab your shit and duck’ smile. 

“You’re It, right? Sev and I are going to join you. The Marauders will receive no mercy.”

Severus blinked as Harry threw back his head and laughed. “Deal!”

They both looked to Severus whose brow finally evened out as he huffed. “Fine. But you’re going to need more of those message planes. If we’re doing this there need to be enough participants to make our complete victory satisfactory.”

“Yes!” Lily threw herself around Severus’s neck and the boy actually blushed. 

Harry grinned but tilted his head and followed Lily’s hand when she pointed down the hall.

“I guess Maurice isn’t on our team?”

Harry swore when he saw Maurice’s tail, no longer napping in his pocket, slip around a corner. 

“You hide in the bloody pipes you forfeit, you ungrateful reptile!” 

Maurice hid in the pipes. Severus and Lily found every single participating Gryffindor and Slytherin. Baby-Cedric lasted the second longest out of the students and greatly impressed Regulus. Harry and Ron had to resort to battle tactics to find Hermione, who won. 

Hermione had won because she and McGonagall were having tea on the roof over Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore was thrilled with his newly transfigured balcony and announced his new plan to hold all his parent-teacher meetings there, regardless of weather. 

Harry laughed so hard he cried. 

Narcissa found Harry sitting on top of a staircase that went nowhere after the Winter Holidays. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had taken down three Death Eater bases and utterly destroyed their potion supply train. Then they’d eaten a lovely meal while hiding in the Room of Requirement and no one had a breakdown over missing the rest of their family, so it was a win all around.  

She sat politely on the top step, skirts folded neatly underneath her and waited until Harry finished making notations on his map and placed the parchment on a growing stack of others. 

He folded his hands in his lap and pretended he couldn’t smell the blood or feel the tremble of her back where it pressed into his shin. 

“End him.” Narcissa’s voice was as soft as it had been when asking if her son still lived. “End him before he drives my sister mad, ruins my fiancé, and destroys my family.” 

She turned and placed a golden cup on the ground before him. He didn’t ask what she’d seen in the parlour rooms of the old and powerful that had convinced her this was worth the risk. If it was the systematic breakdown of Voldemorts supporters that convinced her he could be stopped. If it was the quiet questions that had been travelling around Hogwarts since Harry got there and found Salazar Slytherin’s basilisk alive and well. If it was the newspaper stories running in every publication Luna’s future father could think of that described the half-blood’s assent to corrupted power and what he did to their children and his own damned soul.

He didn’t ask how she knew he wanted this cup, not with the bandages lining her skin.

Harry just drew his wand. 

It was a matter of moments to cast the strongest silencing ward he knew and tap into the wards of Hogwarts herself for the protection of her students. Maurice poured down his arm, gaining size until he took up the entire top landing behind them and ate the damn thing by biting it precisely in half. 

Narcissa didn’t flinch as the venom hit the metal and Tom Riddle’s soul screamed and raged and mourned. 

“I will.” 

She nodded and stood, both of them pretending it was the moving stair that made her stumble as she walked down and away. 

“Oi, Potter!” 

Harry turned. So did his army of firsties. 

James let out a loud, “Ha!” 

Peter and Remus seemed more concerned with the army. Harry had always known that Remus was the brains behind the Marauders, but was a bit concerned that Peter seemed to be next in line. At least in terms of common sense. 

Peter had been cautious of Harry since their talk in the greenhouse, but also brutally honest. He watched Harry constantly, but seemed to be aggressively befriending his current friends, to their great bemusement, and slowly relaxing under their support and Harry’s distant approval.   

Harry sighed at the boys but almost smirked when Peter nodded in a clear, yes, this what we have to put up with and now so do you gesture. Harry also crossed his arms, which made Maurice hiss softly and readjust across Harry’s shoulders. 

“Potter,” Harry said. “You just yelled loudly across the hall. It’s a completely justified reaction to turn and look, particularly since it’s you. I think everyone should turn to look when you yell as a reasonable precaution. I’ve heard about the pranks.”

James opened and closed his mouth, briefly stymied by logic and more completely stymied by Remus’s hand over his mouth. 

“I feel the need as a Prefect to ask about the large number of children behind you.” Remus looked like he didn’t really want an answer. 

“Hello Regulus, Cedric,” Peter added.

Baby-Cedric waved with the hand not attached to Regulus’s arm. Regulus tried to shift back into the other kids behind them and failed utterly. Harry was really rather proud of Baby-Cedric’s octopus tendencies. 

“We’re raiding the kitchens,” Harry told the Marauders. 

“I’ve been conscripted!” Baby-Cedric exclaimed. 

Four sets up eyes tracked back to Harry with varying levels of glee and fear.

“I’ve coordinated with the House Elves. Some of them were bored. They know we’re coming and have prepared traps accordingly. Everyone in the army has also agreed to preform or learn cleaning charms during the aftermath.” 

“I’m very good at cleaning charms,” Peter stated.

“Help me,” said Regulus. 

Harry immediately turned to the boy. “You don’t need to participate. I can strike your name of the list.” Maurice handed Harry the parchment that had been held in his tail. “I know this is a lot and you can withdraw at any time. You will be forfeiting the pudding, though.”

Regulus looked torn. Before he could make the mistake in looking into Baby-Cedric’s pouting face (Harry had made that mistake and was now the leader of a Dessert Warband), Sirius spoke.

“Pudding?”

Harry nodded. 

“Alright. Where do I sign up?” 

Harry handed him the parchment. “There’s no infighting. Once you’re a Dessert Bandit, house pride means dirt and no divisions will be allowed until we have either won or surrendered. Breaking this rule or squirrelling out of clean up will result in dessert forfeit, which includes tonight and will be enforced by the House Elves for the next two to six weeks depending on the infraction. Your name will also be handed to the Self Preservation Club as a volunteer target.”

“Fair, fair.” Sirius looked to Regulus before he signed, holding the paper up and out of a grabbing James’s reach. “What do you say, Reg? Shall we show them how Siriusly a Black takes desert?”

Regulus stared at his brother for a long moment. Harry wondered if Sirius could see the disbelief and slight fear in the kid’s eyes. The moment broke when Regulus scrambled forwards to pull a perfectly maintained quill out of his pocket. Sirius accepted the quill and signed his name before handing the feather to Narcissa and not a squawking James. 

“When the bloody hell did you get here?” James asked.

Narcissa looked down her nose at him as she handed the parchment to a quiet Peter. “Where else would I be when the Black name was called into question?” She smirked at her disbelieving cousins. “Dessert is a very Sirius concern.”

Regulus glowed as she slipped her hand through his arm and Sirius barked a laugh that only Harry and possibly James recognized as more relief than humour. Baby-Cedric darted forward and grabbed the hands of both Peter and Remus telling them that their abilities with cleaning-spells made them high-value and to please come to the back where they could be protected. 

James fell into step beside Harry as they started forward again. 

“I’m not giving up.” James eyed Maurice around Harry shoulders but decided to elbow Harry anyways.

“I didn’t think you would.”

“You’re pretty cool, you know.” James’s voice was soft. Harry doubted any of the bickering kids in the hallway were paying a damn bit of attention. “Peter’s stopped with his weird self-isolation thing. Sirius hasn’t known how to talk to his brother for years. Remus is standing taller, calmer. So you’re pretty cool. Even if you won’t admit you’re a Potter.”

Harry blinked.

“Thanks, kid,” Harry told his not-father. “That means a lot.”

“So,” Ron started. “When you said that the emotional talks were killing you and you were going to find another way to nudge the lot towards house unity and all that rot, I didn’t think you’d go with sweets.”

“Yeah, me neither. Why the heck has no one tried bribery with sugar before? They’re a bunch of kids. I know not everyone likes sweets, but still. Kids.”

Hermione just hummed as she ducked a stunner and turned an incoming swarm of locusts into daisies. “Did you plan for the professors to join the House Elves?”

“No?”

“Mate.” Ron’s back was solid against Harry’s as they spun a protection circle that Hermione continued to snipe out from behind. 

“I may have mentioned my plans to Ariana and Flitwick. And McGonagall.”

“I heard Dumbledore’s planning on making it an annual event.” 

“Yeah. McGonagall and Flitwick are going to try and talk him into biannual. They want to do one at the start of the year and one at the end, so the kids can see how they improve. Flitwick’s never seen such an interest in household charms and McGonagall’s had a lot of question about all the mugs I transfigured to make my Squirrel Division. Ariana’s also really pleased with the increased interaction with the House Elves and all the questions that are being asked about Creature Rights.”

Hermione smiled. “I know that last one was planned.”

“Eh.” Harry punched a Death Eater in the face just to enjoy his expression at the audacity. When Harry turned around, he didn’t even have to raise his wand back up. “Is it just me, or are the Death Munchers way weaker?”

“Not just you,” Ron said as he finished body-binding the last of them and summoned a rag to stuff in the nearest one’s mouth before they could decide between pontificating or listing all the ways they’d make Harry and his friends meet their doom. 

Harry was not concerned. He’d had a lot of things try to make him meet his doom. Three-headed dogs. Inferi. A pink toad. Multiple Dark Lords. Snape. Prepubescent Slytherins. A teething part-werewolf toddler.  

These grunt’s were nothing. They had nothing. And it was time they knew it.

Harry crouched down and let his Slytherin Grin settle on his face. The grunt nearest flinched, which was fair because this grin was Draco Approved. Or the flinch could have ben the no longer shrunk basilisk looming up behind Harry.

“I’m going to need you to take this possibly illegal dose of Vertitiserum and tell me everything you know. Starting with the spells on the box Voldy Shorts keeps in his study. I very much want my Locket back.” 

“So I’ve had an idea.”

“I tremble in fear.” Harry did not move himself from Hermione’s lap. Her hands were gentle as they carded through his curls. 

This didn’t stop James and Sirius from sitting down next to them under the tree the trio had commandeered. At least that was what Harry thought had happened from the sound of Ron’s snort and rustling clothes. 

Cheeky buggers. 

“You mean I had an idea,” Sirius pointed out. There was an odd sound that it took Harry a moment to realize was James waving Sirius off. 

“Irrelevant. Marriage!”

“I hope you’ll be very happy together.” Harry took great joy from the immediate laughter of his best friends and the delayed squawking of his not-father and not-godfather. Even Hermione was chuckling, though quietly so as to to disturb Harry.

“No! No. For you. How you can be a Potter but not a Potter. You married out of the family. Or you parents did. Either way, you’d have a different name!”

Harry hummed. “Nope. Name’s still not Potter. Not married either. Nothing funny with my parents’ names.”

“You have a son, though,” Sirius pointed out.

“Teddy. So cute. Godson, technically. Adopted him officially a couple years ago. Miss him so much.”

 Neither of the boys said anything for several long moments. Long enough for Harry to start dozing again, sun warm on his sore muscles. 

“Is he okay?” Asked James. Or maybe Sirius.

“He will be.” Hermione said, fingers whisper gentle as they brushed over his forehead. “When you’re safe.”

Chapter Text

“Hello Definitely-a-Potter! Is it my turn for the life-affirming talk?” James smirked as he asked. 

“Don’t be a bully.” Harry threw down a notebook full of prank ideas. He’d crossed out several, though not as many as he’d feared. Added a couple too, or a couple spells that would be more efficient. But that was for later.

“Listen to Remus,” Harry continued. “He’s not the best at standing up to you, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Pranks are funny only when everyone is laughing. And you can’t possible have listened to all those talks with Maurice and I and still think Slytherins are blanket evil. Don’t be a bully. Not when you’re so much better than that.”

James didn’t blow up, which kind of surprised Harry. Harry had been putting this conversation off, partly because he hadn’t actually seen a lot of particularly concerning behaviour, partly because even heroes were cowardly sometimes. 

But Hermione said the artifact was almost charged and definitely stable. They were going to move on Voldemort very soon. Harry was running out of time.

James leaned forward before hoisting himself up into the stone window ledge. He looked back at Harry, one leg dangling over the edge. 

“I think I’m getting that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and James when back to looking towards the Forest. 

“Your talks and Maurice are some of it, sure. And I’ve flipped through the books Remus has from Hermione’s reading list. But. It’s not just that. Peter said something, too, and he was shaking to say it, but so very earnest. I, I made him uncomfortable and I hate that. Sirius is also talking to Regulus again and I’m pretty sure he’d belt me one if I took it too far. And Lily and Sniv-Snape have always been friends. I don’t like that. I blamed it on the Slytherin thing but I just didn’t like it. And she’s made it very clear I accept their friendship or go jump off the Astronomy Tower.”

“I find it hard to believe it’s the first time she’d said something like that.”

James snorted. “No, but it’s the first time she said almost the exact same thing I said to a seventh year teasing Peter about his transfiguration that same morning. I, if he’s as important to her as my friends are to me, that yours are to you, then I messed up.”

Harry hummed, leaning on the wall beside the window with crossed arms. “You did.”

James scowled. 

“But hey, that’s what kids do. That’s why you go to school: to learn.”

James’s scowl deepened. Harry wasn’t surprised. It’s not like he would have appreciated a talk on his mistakes when he was younger. Depending on the year, he would have absolutely blown up. 

“So what have you learned, James Potter? And, more importantly, does that change who you want to be?” Harry studied the suit of armour across from them instead of returning the gaze he could feel boring into his cheekbone. “Because that’s the remarkable thing, isn’t it? You have the ability to choose and the time to change you mind.” 

Harry let the silence sit for a moment before pushing off the wall.

“Who did you choose to be?” James asked just before Harry would have walked out of earshot.

Harry paused and turned halfway around to stare at the face that was so similar to his own. 

“Someone who would always be there for my friends. Someone who would never let their choice be taken away again. Someone who fought to protect rather than harm.”

He turned and started walking again. 

“Someone who would have made my father proud.”

They didn’t tell anyone when they left. No one noticed, either. The three of them had years upon years of practice at pretending they were fine when they were not.

And this time they were actually mostly fine. 

“Is it weird that I’m not afraid?” Ron asked as Hermione did his final gear check. “It’s Riddle. I should be afraid. I was always afraid.”

Harry looked didn’t look up from the map he was studying in the starlight. He’d memorized it shortly after creating the map from the information the Death Eater Wannabes gave up when faced with an angry Maurice, but it never hurt to look one last time. 

“No, Ron. I don’t think so. I’m wary, but not afraid.” Hermione patted his shoulder in a way that meant his gear checked out. “We’ve done this before, with a Riddle that was significantly more insane, more established, and more powerful. We also didn’t know what the hell we were doing back then. I mean, we even have a plan this time.”

“I’m afraid.” Both his friends turned at Harry’s voice. “If we get this wrong- this is their chance. They can be happy.”

Hermione and Ron both dog-piled onto him for one long moment before dragging him up. 

“Well, now I’m afraid. Thanks mate.”

“A little fear is good for you.” Hermione smiled beneath her battle-braids.

“Keeps you sharp,” Harry agreed, piling his hand on both of theirs. 

When they stepped apart, their shoulders were back, their smiles were gone, and their spines were steel. 

Hermione swept under the invisibility cloak and apparated away, the quietest of them all. She was in charge of subverting the Yaxley house wards. Harry and Ron started walking, knowing that by the time the reached the edge of the woods that ringed the hunting retreat the wards wouldn’t register either of them a threat. By the time Harry reached Riddle himself, the wards would register everyone else as the threat. (The Department of Mysteries had not been happy to see Hermione go down to part time work.)

They hadn’t driven Voldemort to this particular estate, since they hadn’t known this place existed before last week, but they hadn’t given him many other options either. Several of the Pure Blood families had been having problems with fire, lately. Or Ministry raids. Or floods (Maurice really liked pipes).

They’d stolen paperwork from each location, cross-referenced it with the names that Dumbledore and Moody had already obtained, then checked it against the information from the Death Eaters they’d personally captured, trussed up, and occasionally framed before dumping on the Ministry. 

They had future knowledge on their side, along with Ron’s strategy, Hermione’s lists, and Harry’s ruthlessness. They also had surprise. Riddle was still a murderer and a shit human being, but he hadn’t announced himself yet. Had mostly attacked muggles so far. The ministry and the newspapers had been chasing rumours when the trio had arrived. 

Harry and his friends were treating a myth like a terrorist and thus acting on a scale no one else could. Or would. And Riddle had not been prepared. 

Harry walked through the front door, his magic extending out and rolling forward like a cloud of emerald anger. He felt the moment Riddle realized his wards were down. Felt the moment Harry’s childhood nightmare realized that his minions were otherwise occupied by a tank of a red-headed soldier and his precise sniper of a girlfriend. 

Harry was the distraction, the attention grab, the dramatic reveal that had Riddle puffing up on his throne ready to monologue instead of actually help his stooges. 

“Hullo, Voldemort.”

“You.” The man raised his wand, and Harry was vaguely impressed at how not snake-like he looked. He’d still lost a lot of his good looks, but he passed as human. 

“Me. Do you even know who I am?” Harry asked as they began to circle each other. 

“The thorn in my side these last months.” He flung a nightmare curse followed by a bone breaker almost casually. Harry stepped away from the first, blocked the second, and sent back a series of strong stunners. 

None came close to hitting the man, but then again, Harry hadn’t expected them to.

“A little slow there, huh, Tom?”

Voldemort actually flinched and almost had his robes turned into a flock of canaries for the trouble.

“How do you know that?” Voldemort demanded, sending out with ruthless efficiency a flaying curse and something that Harry didn’t recognize, but was happy to quantify as “really fucking bad” just based on the awful, jaundiced colour of the spellfire. 

Harry had been dodging pans and fists since he was three, however, and not a single spell touched him as he danced away. Harry mixed his own spells, happily jumping from stupefys with the occasional expelliarmas thrown in to darker spells Aurors technically needed permission to use. 

“Who are you?” The man roared, room well and truly on fire.

Harry cast a bubblehead charm and added an extra impervious to his already flame-proof robe. “My name is Harry.”

Harry also summoned a series of Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes smoke bombs that exploded in Voldemort’s face and sent him briefly reeling. Harry knew from experience that the man would be seeing stars in the corner of his eyes for at least five minutes. So Harry took advantage and cast more bright spells, happily summoning his patronus when Voldemort tried to summon some sort of shadow wraith. 

“Filthy mud-“

Harry set Tom’s robes on fire. Which, really. Flame retardant robes were a must. Hermione would be so disappointed in Riddle’s planning. 

“I’m a half-blood, actually. Just like you.”

An odd look came into Voldemort’s eyes, and Harry didn’t care to parse it. “I’m the Heir of Slytherin, you insignificant worm.”

Harry stopped. Standing still for the first time since he entered the room, robes flaring and startling Voldemort into his own momentary stillness though he tried to cover with a spiky spell Harry deflected wandlessly. 

“I’m Lord Slytherin, you fucking megalomaniacal prat,” Harry all but hissed. “And I want you to stop using my name and get the fuck away from my school. You will never recruit or threaten my students again.” 

Voldemort didn’t bother to turn when the spell Harry shot missed him by a solid foot, sneer starting to overtake his face. He did turn, however, when the first drop of venom hit his shoulder. He turned and looked up at the recently enlarged basilisk looming behind him.

He turned and looked right into incandescent, viridian eyes. 

Harry slowly walked over, not surprised when he poked Voldemort’s shoulder with the elder wand and the man turned to dust. The bastard clearly hadn’t even noticed his horcurxes being destroyed and Harry didn’t want to think what that meant for how little soul remained even before the final two were even considered.

“Well. Guess that’s sorted. Come on then, Maurice. Let’s see if Ron and Hermione left anyone for you to intimidate.”

“Would you make me smaller, first?”

“I mean, sure. But don’t you like doing the looming-terror thing?”

“I do…”

“Maurice.”

“There are many ways to enter the pipes here.”

“Maurice!”

“Just a little flood?”

“No. We’re burning the place to the ground. That’s easier when the ground isn’t wet.” 

“Very well, Harry-friend.”

Harry ducked through the remains of the doorway and continued down the hallway to where he heard Ron cackle. He looked over at the dejected basilisk and sighed. 

“What is it with you and water? Isn’t revenge on the man who cursed you and used Slytherin’s name in vain enough?” He ran a gloved hand through his curls. “Okay, how about we intimidate the rest of the Death Eaters into surrendering, drop them off at the Ministry with the confessions Hermione’s so helpfully prepared, and then I leave you at the Black Lake when we get back to Hogwarts. You can play with the Giant Squid and I’ll come get you in the morning.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Just try to not terrify any morning walkers again.”

“I accept your terms! Hurry along, Harry-friend. We have stooges to intimate and lakes to splash in!”

“I’m so glad you prioritized.”

“Tea?”

Harry looked up in McGonagall’s eyes, but accepted the mug. She joined him on the bench, both of them looking out at the ground from the protected alcove tucked behind one of the turrets. Harry wasn’t hiding but he also wasn’t surprised McGonagall was the one to find him. She’d shown him the spot, after all. 

“What for?” Harry asked. 

“A thank you.”

“Oh.” Harry looked into the swirling tea.

“Are you going to tell them?” McGonagall’s voice was soft, but not pitying or accusatory. Just faintly curious.

“Nah. Newspapers will have the story out shortly. How you’d figure we were done?”

“Hm. A Head of House’s intuition.”

Harry smiled, because it was kind of nice to know that some things didn’t change. 

The had a nice afternoon, the two of them. They drank their tea, ate some of the biscuits Harry kept in his food stash-pockets, and occasionally commented on the students or professors scurrying across the lawn.

“You shall be missed, when you’re gone.”

Harry hummed. “You’ll get me back. Probably.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” She smiled, small and slightly teasing. It was one of Harry’s favourite smiles.

Harry sighed, smile tugging his own lips. He didn’t imagine any version of himself would completely avoid time in McGonagall’s office. “That’s probably for the best. Also, your Ginger Snaps are the best. You should keep those well-stocked.”  

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Harry was eating dinner when the flash of light happened. It was green, like the portal that had started this particular adventure, and warm, like phoenix fire. The light was also accompanied by a childish shriek that had Harry bolting upwards from the Hufflepuff table and releasing his magic in a cloud of protective fury.

He’d feel bad about the way the students and several staff members flinched back later. Maybe. Probably not. Maybe this would finally convince the last few doubters that Harry really did have the power to vanquish the Dark Loser once and for all and had done so. In the mean time, people needed to point their wands somewhere that was not his son. 

Teddy, thankfully, was shrieking more in laughter than fear or pain. The presence of Fawkes settling proudly on his head also rapidly increased the removal of wands in the boy’s general direction. 

Harry felt Hermione’s spice and Ron’s warmth brush against his magic, helping him centre himself enough to pull it back slightly. Teddy still felt the moment that Harry’s magic reached him. The boy whipped his head around and took off at at run, forcing Fawkes into flight. 

Harry caught Teddy and swung him around in a circle, letting the peals of his laughter wrap around his bones and weigh his magic back into place. His little godson wasn’t in pain if he was making those sounds, portal travel or not. 

Small arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“I missed you,” Teddy whispered into Harry’s ear.

“And I you, cub.” Harry buried his face into his son’s bright blue hair, content to let the scent of the boy finish settling him since he could feel Teddy inhaling against Harry’s neck, doing the exact same thing. 

“What,” Harry said a moment later, “exactly, is gong on?”

Dumbledore looked amused though Flitwick was the one who laughed. “We were hoping you could tell us!”

Ron looked up from where Fawkes was perched on his arm and currently winning a staring contest. Ron shrugged. Hermione didn’t look up from the small circular portal that was still floating dead center of the Great Hall.

“One moment, please,” Hermione said with the kind of utter calm that meant she either had everything completely under control or she was going to die pretending she did. 

Harry then turned his gaze on his son, who wiggled in Harry’s arms in a way that meant he was guilty of something. Teddy cracked within thirty seconds, which was about ten more than usual.

“Peeves was babysitting but he was boring and the Baron was with the Grey Lady and so I went to wait with Grannie M in her office because I’m re-spon-able but she had to go deal with Earl the Giant Squid so I was alone. But! Fawkes came back before I could be lonely and then the rock-charm-thing started glowing and smelled like you and I wanted you and Fawkes started glowing and then there was light and then there was you! 

“And I know I’m suppose’ be careful with glowing things because “nothin’ good comes from things that glow, watch out cub, get an adult, a re-spon-able one so not they Weasley Auntie or Uncles please and thank you, cub,” but Fawkes is old so he counts and now I have you so I don’t care.”

Teddy finished his tale with a pout and so won over at least half the Great Hall. Particularly Harrys’ not-mum and Baby-Cedric, the latter actually cooing. 

Ron just raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with the Weasley Auntie and Uncles?”

Harry raised an eyebrow back. “Christmas pudding, rubber ducks, Cleansweep, gnomes.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Ron nodded. “Fair enough, mate. Merlin knows Charlie and Bill only pretend to be responsible with their respectable jobs and all that rot.”

“I’m sorry, which one of you two decided the Giant Squid’s name was Earl?” Hermione turned from the portal and the glowing artifact she was holding in one hand to send them a Look.

“It’s a re-spec-able name!” Teddy cried. 

“Wait, Peeves was babysitting?” Ron asked. 

Harry winced. “You know the ghosts love me. And my son. And Hogwarts in general.” Which probably had something to do with the fact that Teddy was Harry’s heir and thus the actual heir of Slytherin and Harry made significant facial movements at Hermione and Ron because they were Not Talking About That. 

“I think you’re all missing the problem, here,” Harry continued. 

“Somehow, I think you will as well.” This was muttered by Severus, who’d joined the usual suspects away from their respective tables to cluster around the dimension-hoppers much as they had done at the start of this mess. Harry was absurdly touched to see that Baby-Cedric was keeping his word and hanging off Regulus like a limpet. Also that Sirius was nodding, despite James affront, at Severus’s words. 

Harry ignored those words to point at Fawkes. His Fawkes, since this dimension’s Fawkes was sitting on Ariana’s shoulders with an expression that only someone who’d spent extensive time as a perch for said magical bird-brain would recognize as amusement. Harry ignored that, too.

“You,” Harry told his Fawkes. “We’ve been over this! No adventures or shenanigans until Teddy is at least twelve. Twelve!”

Fawkes bowed his head and let out a low sound. Harry caved just as quickly as he always did. 

“Yes, alright. Thank you for accompanying him and making sure he was all right. But still, let’s try and keep the underage adventures to a minimum. Please?”

Harry huffed at the eyes of his not-professors on him. 

“Twelve?” Asked Ariana.

“I’m finding parenting without being a complete and utter hypocrite rather difficult,” Harry admitted as he shifted Teddy’s weight in his arms. 

Thankfully, this was the moment the portal sparked, which commanded Hermione’s attention. She fiddled with something, waving her wand in a complicated motion before drawing out a series of runes that made Harry’s head hurt and the Runes professor swoon. 

The glowing portal slowly grew until it was the just taller than Hagrid and widened until all four Marauders could stand side by side. Hermione reached into her bag to pull out the equally glowing artifact before holding it up to portal at door knob height. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ron muttered to a nodding Harry. 

The new knob turned, and the portal opened like a perfectly respectable door (if Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement were used as a measure for respect). 

Headmistress McGonagall stepped out with dignity wrapped around her shoulders like her tartan wrap. She looked out at the hall, eyes sharp and assessing. 

“Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Headmistress McGonagall.”

“It’s good to see you, Albus.”

“And you, Minerva.”

The two McGonagall’s exchanged stately nods, before Harry’s former Head of House turned her attention to him and his two best friends, once again flanking him to either side.

She sighed. 

“You’ve already graduated. It is no longer my responsibility to retrieve you from your messes.” Her face softened after a moment of intense staring. “It’s certainly always you three.”

Ron received a pat to the shoulder while Hermione managed a quick hug. When Minerva approached Harry, Teddy giggled. “Hi, Grannie M!”

James and Sirius choked. 

“Hello, Theodore.” She gave him a pat on his blue hair and then moved the hand to Harry’s jaw. “I’m glad to find you in one piece.” 

Harry leaned into the pressure, not even flinching when her thumb pressed on small cut that he hadn’t bothered to get looked after. 

“Hi, Headmistress. Mostly. Well. I uh. I may have defeated another Dark Lord. Or well, the first one again. Because firsties! And baby-not-family. And um. I also adopted a currently-mini basilisk? Who I named Maurice.”

“Indeed?” She patted his cheek and turned to face Hermione.

“Witnessed and approved. Payment for all bets will be prompt upon my return.”

“Minnie!” Harry exclaimed, causing several more splutters at the nickname. 

“I’m certainly not so foolish to bet against you.” Her eyes flicked to James who was mouthing the name. “He has permission to call me by my first name. You do not. I’m sure your Professor McGonagall would be happy to supply a detention if ever you forget.”

“Permission?” Peter squeaked, and then looked very regretful to have spoken at all.

“Yes. It is part of my master plan, you see.” Minerva’s attention slid over to Severus in a motion only Harry caught. “I’m following in the path of my predecessor and using a bit of cunning to ensure my replacement.”

A few more things were said, mostly by a bouncing Baby-Cedric and a calm Ariana, but Harry didn’t hear any of it. He felt Teddy shift in his arms and Ron bump his hip and Hermione pat his arm, but it still took Dumbledore’s light tap to Harry’s nose to make Harry fully functional again. 

“Replacement?!”

Minerva nodded. “Eventual.”

“I’m not even a professor!”

“Yet you’ve taught at least one class every year since you left your Auror position, redesigned the Defence Against the Dark Arts Owl exam with the Ministry Aid, are my standing substitute professor for three different courses in case of injury, curse, or dismemberment, and have agreed to run a Newt Level DADA special course this year. I have complete faith you will be a full professor by the time young Theodore is attending classes.”

Harry sputtered, and this time it was Severus who patted his arm. Severus. 

“Only if you want to, dear.” Minerva smiled with both kindness and sorrow. “You know I would never ask you to do something you don’t want to do.”

Harry’s teeth clacked shut. He did know that. He peered at the eyes he’d spent many late afternoons having tea with. “You know about the Castle-hugs and the Stairway Thing, don’t you?”

“Do you really want to have that conversation now?”

Harry blinked at that very sound point. “I do not.”

Minerva patted him on the head and that wasn’t supposed to actually be comforting, damnit. “You have time. I have no intention of retiring anytime soon, but now you have time to, hmm. I believe the term is ‘freak out?’ And once the panic is done, actually decide if you want to teach.”

“He does,” Teddy said.

All eyes turned to Teddy.

“What?” Teddy asked. “Are you really going to be okay staying at home when I start classes? You have attachment issues.”

Ron started dying of laughter while Hermione hid a smile.

“It’s okay, Dad. I do, too. I want you to be at Hogwarts with me. We could go together! How cool would that be?”

“Can I get that in writing? Or you know, an unbiased pensieve memory?” Harry directed the question at Hermione, knowing that the opinion probably wouldn’t last and he’d want to be able to lord it over Teddy’s head for all time, particularly at birthdays and his eventual wedding. He also needed to check that his son’s ‘attachment issues’ were based on werewolf possessiveness and not trauma like Harry’s own. He was pretty damn sure it was the werewolf thing, but that wasn’t sure enough when it came to his son.

Minerva laughed, which surprised several of the Gryffindors and all of the Slytherins. 

“Regardless, Hogwarts’s Headmasters do tend to view the castle as home in one way or anther.” Her eyes slid from Dumbledore to Snape and back to Harry. “Even if they do not all experience ‘Castle-hugs’ and ‘the Stairway Thing.” 

“I quite agree.” Dumbledore’s eyes were dancing but his stance was serious, honest. “Though I’m uncertain if that is my place. You have shown an impressive protectiveness and concern for the students that would suit a Professor and Headmaster quite well. I would be honoured to have a man such as yourself take my seat a the table.”

And that was far more emotion that Harry was capable of handling at the moment. 

Teddy, miraculous boy that he was, also had the attention span of the child he was and tugged on Harry’s coat, completely bored with the conversation. This gave Harry a completely legitimate excuse to redirect his attention. 

“Yes, cub?”

“What’s that smell?” 

Harry blinked, but the followed his son’s gaze to Remus Lupin. The boy had crept forward and was standing just behind James. He clearly also smelled something, at least judging by the way he was staring back just as intently with an ashen face and white knuckled hands around Sirius’s wrist and Peter’s robes. 

“Oh,” Harry said. “Right. That’s, yeah. We need to have this conversation.” 

He felt Hermione’s hand on his back as he put Teddy down, which didn’t make the boy pleased but he didn’t protest. Harry took enough strength from Ron’s steady gaze and Minerva’s calm approval to take his son by the hand and beginning to walk the short distance to the Marauders, mentally shifting through possible explanations until he hit one simple and comprehensive enough to satisfy his boy. 

“So. This isn’t our Hogwarts.”

Teddy looked up at him with utter disdain and Harry laughed.

“Yeah, so that’s probably pretty obvious with the light and the kids and the fact that I was missing. Ted, this is a past Hogwarts. We travelled in time and place to a Hogwarts filled people who lived long ago.”

“Before I was born?”

“Before I was born, cub.”

Teddy tilted his head in thought. “Does that mean-“

He stopped when Harry dropped to his knees beside his son. “Theodore Remus Lupin, meet Remus John Lupin. Your father.”

Remus took in a deep breath that Harry figured was more instinctive than anything else, but likely served to reinforce Teddy’s scent to the werewolf. 

Teddy blinked up at the boy.

“Oh. Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” 

James grabbed the back of Sirius’s robes amidst several in-drawn breaths, everyone well aware now that this little boy had never known his father.

“Dad says you’re the kindest man he’s ever known.”

“He is.” It was Peter that spoke over Remus’s squeak. “He is. He helps everyone in all the Houses and never calls me stupid even though it sometimes take me hours to do one potion assignment. He keeps chocolate in his pocket to give to people who are having a bad day and once spent an entire weekend learning the spells to fix a firstie’s toy. He’s really really kind.”

Teddy turned big eyes from Peter to Remus and there was another gasp as his hair turned dusky brown and straight. He plowed into Remus and wrapped small yet only barely not-werewolf strong arms around Remus’s waist with a tiny sob. Remus collapsed inwards around the boy, arms settling with infinite gentleness that Harry had always known Remus would show his son. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Teddy.”

Teddy said something, but it was lost into Remus’s robes. 

“Pardon?”

Teddy stepped back, slightly. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for?” Remus asked, only looking marginally bewildered which Harry rather thought was an impressive accomplishment. 

Teddy’s hair darkened to black, distinctive curls falling over his eyes. “You have really good taste in Godfathers.”

Remus made another low sound and swept his future son up into a more secure hold, the little boy wrapping his legs around Remus’s waist and re-burying his face in the neck of Remus’s robes. 

Harry couldn’t look away from Remus’s eyes. They held sunlit forests of thanks and awe and Harry wasn’t sure how to deal with any of that. 

He decided not to and turned to James instead. 

“So do you,” Harry told his not-father.

James just shook his head, hand firmly held in Sirius’s.

Harry tilted his own head and gave a lop-sided smile. “I didn’t lie, you know. Potter isn’t my name, not legally. Harry James Potter-Black. I can’t begin to say how nice it’s been to meet you.”

They stared at him, all four Marauders, despite the fact that Harry had been mostly sure none of them had believed Harry’s many (truthful) denials. Harry stepped back when Sirius was the one to step forward, meeting those familiar frozen steel eyes with great effort. 

“You left me everything you had, even your name.” Sirius blinked at Harry’s words and Harry wrapped his arms around himself before speaking to his father’s collar bone. “You gave me everything you had, even your life.” 

With a last, deep breath, Harry turned his head to Remus, to Remus holding his son as Teddy had never been able to remember. “You trusted me with everything you had, even your son.”

Harry didn’t have words to offer Peter, but that was okay. Peter was  the only one not caught in the relation of Harry’s identity. He was the only one who understood on a deep, fear-inducing level that Harry has just admitted the Marauders had all died. Harry was providing Peter with a chance. Peter could be better. Peter could grasp onto what he had (what Harry would never have) and not let go. 

Peter was nodding, slow and sure with narrowed eyes and sharp movements. Harry smiled at the boy, and appreciated the determination in the smile the boy returned. 

With a deep, rattling breath that Harry could feel echo around Hogwarts like a spell, like a ghost, he angled back to all the Marauders.

“I will spend every moment of my remaining life trying to be worthy of the gifts you left me.”

They stared at him, just as the rest of the hall was surely doing. Harry couldn’t spare the attention for the rest of the hall though, and was deeply grateful that Hermione and Ron and Minerva were there to do so. Harry probably would have fled, except that Remus was holding his son, and Harry would never leave Teddy behind.

Remus was the one to open his mouth to speak, and Harry quickly cut him off. He wasn’t exactly sure what Remus would say, but Harry was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Also he, did have one last thing he needed to add. 

“If this is about Teddy’s mother, the answer is no. She was a strong and incredible person, but you both deserve the chance to find each other again or find something completely different without the weight of expectations shackling you down.” Harry tilted his head. “Your world is completely different than mine from this point forward, and that’s a good thing. This is your next great adventure, and I want you to explore without fate binding you to a path that will never exist.”

It was Lily that managed to slam into him, to get past his defences and actually surprise Harry into accepting the contact. Lily was probably the only one who could have succeeded. Lily, who had been completely silent as she watched from the side line, brilliant mind whirling and unwavering green eyes focused.  She’d clearly caught the way Harry’s glance had slid to her during his speech and, apparently, that was enough of a clue for his not-mother. 

She wrapped thin arms around his neck, much like Teddy was doing to Remus, and dragged him down towards the ground. Her arms tightened as she started whispering in his ear. 

“Thank you. Thank you and it’s enough and I love you. I don’t know you but I do and it’s been long enough to know I love you. We will spend every moment of our lives trying to be worthy of what you’ve given us. And if we do half as much as you have, then we’ll have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”

James followed, digging his way into the hug and wrapping shaking arms around Harry’s middle. 

“I am proud,” James whispered into Harry’s coat. “Not because of the four Dark Lords Thing, well, yes because of the Four Dark Lords Thing, my son is a badass and so bloody cool, but because of your heart. Because of what you brought to Hogwarts and my friends when you really didn’t have to. I am so very proud of you.”

Harry was crying now. He’d avoided it, mostly, so far. But not anymore. 

Sirius didn’t cry. Sirius walked slowly forward until he stood over the still kneeling Harry and took Harry’s face in his hands, fingers skating over Harry’s cheeks and brushing away tears. 

“I can imagine no greater honour than being your Godfather.”

Harry almost started sobbing but a quietly crying Teddy was deposited back into his arms. Harry buried his face in his Godson’s hair, taking a deep breath and murmuring comforting nonsense to his baby who understood some of what was going on but was likely mostly crying because Harry was. 

Remus now stood arm in arm with Sirius, trembling slightly and with amber eyes reflecting the golden light of candles and dreams.

“I may be the kindest man you’ve ever known,” Remus started, “but you are the kindest man I’ve ever known. I’m not stupid enough to tell you to take care of our son, or to try and thank you when I know you won’t accept. So. I love all that he is. I love all that you are. And I hope neither of you ever walk alone again.”

“We won’t.” Harry smiled, and found smiles he’d never thought to see in person directed back at him.

James pulled Lily away, even as she rushed back for one last hug and visibly clutched James’s hand so tight it would likely bruise. James held his forehead against Harry’s for one long moment, then brushed Teddy’s hair away as he stepped away, reaching for the hand Sirius didn’t have tucked against Remus. 

Peter was the only one not clinging, and instead he was glaring at anyone like he’d bite them if they dared interfere. Harry approved. 

He turned and found himself in step with both Hermione and Ron. Ron accepted Teddy’s weight easily as Harry passed the boy to his uncle, veering slightly away from the straight path to where Minerva was guarding the portal door.

He walked over to the trio of Slytherins standing the closest, one single Hufflepuff in their midst. 

“You loved your son,” Harry told Narcissa, her back straight with a lattice of steel. “And never faltered, not once, in trying to keep him safe.” 

She nodded, just once. 

Harry put one large palm on Regulus’s head, ignoring the way the boy flinched because immediately after he leaned into the pressure. “Don’t ever let Sirius or anyone else joke that you aren’t brave. You’re one of the bravest people I have ever met.”

The boy gave a jerky nod, leaning into Baby-Cedric when Harry let go. Baby-Cedric giggled when Harry bopped him in the nose. “Diggorys are good people. The best people.” 

Harry accepted the hug because he’d known it was coming. Baby-Cedric was a hugger. “Thank you for landing in my soup,” the kid said.

With a little laugh, Harry let go and turned to stare at Severus. The boy was glaring at Harry like he was daring Harry to go for a hug. Which was honestly kind of tempting, just to see the reaction. 

Instead, Harry bent down so he could whisper into Severus’s ear, a little magic making sure that only the boy heard him. “You broke. You broke and hurt and survived unimaginable things and came out of it all a hero. You were my hero, Severus Snape, and I will never forget. So don’t you forget.”

Harry didn’t wait for an acknowledgement that might not come, instead striding back towards his friends. He paused once, before accepting Teddy back, to turn to the staff table. Flitwick was crying even as he smiled and accepted a handkerchief McGonagall had transfigured from a fork, her spoon already damp from her own eyes. Ariana was beaming. Dumbledore had returned to his seat and was sparkling merrily. 

Harry bowed, in thanks, in respect, he wasn’t really sure. He wasn’t really expecting Dumbledore to get up and return the gesture, but he wasn’t really surprised, either. Dumbledore had always been an odd man. 

He was surprised when most of the teachers copied him. He was flabbergasted when most of the students did the same. There was also a lot of waving and calls goodbye or thank yous as Harry finished walking down the aisle between the tables, Teddy using all his strength to hug his arms around Harry’s neck. 

Harry turned back, just once, while standing at the portal door. His family was standing together. Supporting each other. Harry raised his arm in one final wave before following Fawkes into the swirling green, Hermione and Ron at his heels. 

He dropped to one knee when he came out the other side, but didn’t drop Teddy or feel like puking so considered it a successful trip all around. 

The moment he placed one palm on the stone floor to lever himself up, however, he was flooded with magic and warmth. He felt the elves in the kitchen and the ghosts in the halls. He felt the Weasleys that had clearly amassed to pester Minerva and worry together. He felt Luna and Neville in the Greenhouses. He felt the warmest Castle-hug he’d ever received.

“Welcome home, my boy,” said Dumbledore from his portrait. Snape looked up from their chess game, but his glare was the ‘I see you’re not dead’ sort and therefore also surprisingly welcome. 

“Thank you,” Harry told them both. “Thank you,” he told his son, who looked at him with tired, bemused eyes that quickly turned to delight when Harry stood and spun him around in a circle. 

Ron came through and rolled his eyes at Harry without missing a beat, even as Hermione stole a now giggling Teddy and gave him proper hello hugs.

Minerva returned to her desk to retrieve tea and biscuits, sending them over to the large round table off to the side of the room with a careful flick of her wand. Ron and Hermione sat gratefully, Teddy in Hermione’s lap and the bag that now housed both artifact-doorknobs carefully placed away from small hands. 

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry said. “Tell them we’re home, would you pease, Prongs?”

The stag pressed his long forehead into Harry’s, letting Harry feel the soft, phantom fur, before bounding off in search of the Weasleys and their friends. 

“Mate, come eat a Gingersnap. They’re delicious and we didn’t finish dinner.”

Harry sat down at the table and ate a Gingersnap. He listened to Hermione talk through the artifact and it’s properties with Minerva as Ron told Teddy about the great Kitchen War. 

Maurice slid out from his pocket to wind around Harry’s neck in three loose loops. 

“I like this Hogwarts. Her Magic feels like Harry-friend.” 

“It’s my home,” Harry told the basilisk, pressing his cheek into cool scales. 

He thought about his father and his pride in the ways Harry had talked to the students. He thought about his mother and her love for both Harry and her friend. He thought about Sirius and Remus and the safety they found within these walls. He thought about Severus and Regulus and Baby-Cedric and the entire Self-Preservation Club. 

He thought about the desk that was sitting on the other side of the room. He thought about sitting across from Dumbledore, when Harry had barely been able to see over the top. He thought about sitting across and beside Minerva as they adjusted parts of the education system into something that would better protect the students. 

He thought about telling his childhood monster that he would never hurt Harry’s school or his students again.

“It’s my home,” Harry repeated. 

Magic thrummed through his bones as Hogwarts agreed.