Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tap, Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

…

Tap, tap tap.

…

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap-

Harry blabbered something, blinking, but the sound didn’t stop. He squinted, a hand searching for his glasses. 

Something was tapping the window. 

Harry stumbled to get up, half asleep. When he opened the window, a raven sat in his bed frame and croaked. Did ravens even croak? Or better question, who used ravens as messengers?

He hastily collected the letter, and the bird flew off elegantly. Can birds even do that?

Maybe he was asking too many questions, but his mind was still not functioning, so he didn’t care. He checked the clock on the wall, it was barely 9 in the morning.

Harry groaned, now he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. He glared at the letter, opening it.

He finished reading it, feeling lost. He looked at Neville’s weird magical cactus, that inflated a bit before returning to his initial size. Did the plant fucking shrug?

Now Harry was even more confused, and eyed Neville, who was drooling onto his pillow. What the hell did Nev feed that thing?

He woke up Ron, jostling him out of his bed.

“Bloody hell, mate! What’s your deal?!” Harry rolled his eyes, giving him the letter before moving onto Neville. He just cast an Aquamenti, and the taller boy sat up, startled.

“Wha- Harry?”

“Rise and shine, Nev. C’mon, we have to be in the Headmaster’s office in 10 minutes.”

Nev panicked. “The Headmaster? What did you drag me into this time?!”

“Hey! We haven’t done anything! Well, I don’t think we did…” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Gee, Ron, thanks for the reassurement.”

— — — —

When they finally arrived, they sat on the puff chairs Dumbledore had cast, and greeted the others.The Office had been expanded, as it now looked like a wide living room.

Hermione, Luna and Ginny were sitting next to them. Mione was sitting straight, tapping her leg nervously, while the latter two were plopped back in her seats. 

Some members of the Order were sitting in the Sofas and couches all over the room. The Weasleys, Sirius and Remus occupied the larger one, and Harry smiled at his Godfather.

The Professors (except Umbridge, thanks God) were sitting in chairs of all sizes and shapes. Snape glared at them across the room from his grey barrel chair, and Harry returned it gladly.

Dumbledore sat in the front, facing them all, in the most Extravagant Wingback Chair Harry had ever seen. And it was a lot, considering Aunt Petunia had a “stylish” phase. He shuddered, what an actual nightmare was to clean the house those days.

There was a table full of drinks and snacks in the middle, and three books embellished in gold with different images carved on their covers. One had a sword, one a Hammer, and one a Viking boat.

Dumbledore smiled at them, and cleared his throat.

“Welcome everyone! I apologize for interrupting your morning, but I have an announcement and an offer. As you can see, these three books are very valuable, and not just because of their covers.” He signalled the books, as if no one had noticed the before. “I have an announcement.After a very long negotiation, I have managed to find an Allie that will surely help us defeat Voldemort!”

Everyone looked relieved, but Snape frowned sceptically. 

“And who shall they be?” he asked, rolling his voice like he always did. 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Great question indeed, Severus. These books are the answer, so let's make ourselves comfortable, we have quite the long read ahead of us.”

Snape’s scowl deepened. “And what do you plan to do about Dolores? I'm sure she will notice all the staff disappearing for at least a day.”

“Ah, I've already sorted that out, I believe!”

If looks could kill, the Headmaster would have dropped dead under Snape’s nasty glare, but the Potions Professor slumped back onto his chair. 

The other members of the Order, especially Tonks, Arthur and Kingsley who, remembered Harry, worked in the Ministry. 

“And what about our jobs, Albus? It would be very suspicious for us to skip work, more if it's all of us.” asked Shacklebolt, and many nodded. 

“Ah, yes. Our allies know many ancient magics, and they have cast a Tempus Momentum over this room. When we leave the room, it will only have passed an hour.” 

The adults paled. 

“Albus, that is dangerous, wild magic! You are risking much more than our lives!” Moody yelled, and Dumbledore raised a hand.

“Trust me Alastor, they know what they’re doing. Now, let us begin. I will read the first chapter.”

McGonagall, Snape and Moody wanted to protest, his Head of the House was clutching her armchair tightly.

But Dumbledore was the leader for a reason, and Harry supposed they couldn’t rebut after a direct order.

Dumbledore opened the Sword Book, and started reading.

"Good Morning! You're Going to Die!"

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Neville read a lot. The library was his second favourite safe space, right after the Greenhouses, so it was only natural for him to start reading after a while. Even then, he couldn’t help but lay back a bit, startled by such an abrupt beginning.

“Dear Merlin, what an unusual way to start a book!” commented Flitwick, intrigued.

The others did not seem to share the sentiment, and Nev sighed. What the hell did he get himself into?

Yeah, I know. You guys are going to read about how I died in agony, and you’re going to be like, "Wow! That sounds cool, Magnus! Can I die in agony, too?"

“So he is dead. Maybe he’s a ghost?” offered Hermione, frowning. “He must’ve died young then, judging by his vocabulary…”

“Albus, you better not have involved more children in this war!” hissed McGonagall, glaring at the Headmaster, who didn’t respond to the accusation and continued reading.

Nev had never been so glad to have sat behind Ron and ducked his head a bit, McGonagall could be even more terrifying than Snape.

No. Just no.

Don’t go jumping off any rooftops. Don’t run into the highway or set yourself on fire.

“Don’t try suicide, Nobody’s worth it~!” chanted Harry under his breath, earning a few looks from the people close to him. “What, haven’t you heard the song? From Queen?” 

At Ron and Ginny’s confused looks, Harry stared at them, mouth agape.

“You don’t know who Freddy Mercury is?!”

Nev looked away, hoping Harry didn’t realize he had no idea who Mercury was.

 It doesn’t work that way. You will not end up where I ended up.

Hermione opened her mouth, surely about to ask something, but stopped. 

Neville raised an eyebrow, but she ignored him, mumbling really fast.

Ron sighed and rubbed Neville’s back

“She always does that, don’t worry about it.”

Besides, you wouldn’t want to deal with my situation. Unless you’ve got some crazy desire to see undead warriors hacking one another to pieces, swords flying up giants’ noses and dark elves in snappy outfits, you shouldn’t even think about finding the wolf-headed doors.

“Dark elves?” asked Harry, looking at Hermione. 

She shook her head. “I- I don’t know, I’ve never read anything about them. The undead warriors could be inferi, but other than that…”

“Don’t stress, Miss Granger, everything will be explained in the book.” Professor Dumbledore reassured her.

Stop asking questions already. 

Who knew Dumbledore could be good at sweet coating his orders?

My name is Magnus Chase. I’m sixteen years old. This is the story of how my life went downhill after I got myself killed.

Snape narrowed his eyes in recognition

“Sixteen?!” Mrs Weasley paled and brought Fred and George close. The twins let her, and Neville had to remind himself with a wince they were only seventeen. (Heck, he himself wasn’t even 16 yet!)

My day started out normal enough. I was sleeping on the sidewalk under a bridge in the Public Garden when a guy kicked me awake and said, ‘They’re after you.’

“Sleeping under a bridge?” Snape commented, lips pursed. His gaze looked so dark, that Nev shivered. 

Sirius Black, whom Harry had reassured he wasn’t a serial murderer, looked especially uncomfortable, and Professor Lupin wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

By the way, I’ve been homeless for the past two years. 

“Okay, this just keeps getting worse! Where are his parents?!” questioned Mrs Weasley, clutching her red wool shawl tightly. 

Neville and Harry shared a glance.

Some of you may think, Aw, how sad. Others may think, Ha, ha, loser!

But, if you saw me on the street, ninety-nine percent of you would walk right past like I’m invisible. You’d pray, Don’t let him ask me for money. You’d wonder if I’m older than I look, because surely a teenager wouldn’t be wrapped in a stinky old sleeping bag, stuck outside in the middle of a Boston winter. Somebody should help that poor boy!

Then you’d keep walking.

“Poor boy, he really didn’t have any hope.” added a pink-haired girl sitting next to Professor Moody, already switching to past tense. The tips of the hair turned blue, and Nev finally remembered her. It was Tonks, a metamarphomagus and Auror of the Order.

Yeah, Harry had filled him in about everything while Ron frantically looked for his other sock, and he guessed Ginny did the same with Luna.

Whatever. I don’t need your sympathy. I’m used to being laughed at. I’m definitely used to being ignored. Let’s move on.

Harry and Neville shared a look. 

“Same honestly.” whispered Harry, and Nev snorted.

The bum who woke me was a guy called Blitz. As usual, he looked like he’d been running through a dirty hurricane. His wiry black hair was full of paper scraps and twigs. His face was the colour of saddle leather and was flecked with ice. His beard curled in all directions. 

“Ice? Is it snowing?” Asked Charlie, frowning.

Nev’s heart stung. As if it wasn’t bad enough not having a roof over your head…

Snow caked the bottom of his trench coat where it dragged around his feet – Blitz being about five feet five – and his eyes were so dilated the irises were all pupil. His permanently alarmed expression made him look like he might start screaming any second.

“All pupil?” inquired Professor Sprout. Professor Vector frowned and served herself a glass of Rosé. 

“I’m gonna need more than pumpkin juice to get through this book.” She mattered, and Nev could’ve sworn that Snape, THE Severus Gothic Potions Professor Snape chuckled.

He looked back at Harry, who was also flabbergasted. “I didn’t know he could chuckle!” he whispered, and Hermione huffed. “Of course he can, he’s not a robot!”

“What’s a robot?”

I blinked the gunk out of my eyes. My mouth tasted like day-old hamburger. My sleeping bag was warm, and I really didn’t want to get out of it.

‘Who’s after me?’

‘Not sure.’ Blitz rubbed his nose, which had been broken so many times it zigzagged like a lightning bolt. ‘They’re handing out flyers with your name and picture.’

I cursed. Random police and park rangers I could deal with. Truant officers, community-service volunteers, drunken college kids, addicts looking to roll somebody small and weak – all those would’ve been as easy to wake up to as pancakes and orange juice.

McGonagall’s lips turned into a thin line. 

“No child should’ve had the necessity to learn that knowledge.” She muttered, cross-eyed.

But when somebody knew my name and my face – that was bad. That meant they were targeting me specifically. 

“Is this implying he is in danger?” questioned Tonks, and the silence was enough of an answer.

Maybe the folks at the shelter were mad at me for breaking their stereo. (Those Christmas carols had been driving me crazy.) Maybe a security camera had caught that last bit of pickpocketing I did in the Theater District. (Hey, I needed money for pizza.) 

Or maybe, unlikely as it seemed, the police were still looking for me, wanting to ask questions about my mom’s murder …

Mrs Weasley covered her mouth, horrified. “What?!”

The atmosphere turned dark, and Nev exhaled shakily. Ron and Hermione were holding hands with Harry, who looked troubled. McGonagall and Professor Vector glanced at Snape, who was gripping his chair so hard his knuckles became white.

Luna breathed deeply, leaning onto Ginny, who squeezed her hand for comfort.

It took a minute for Neville to snap out of his stupor, and another one for Dumbledore to continue the reading.

I packed my stuff, which took about three seconds. The sleeping bag rolled up tight and fitted in my backpack with my toothbrush and a change of socks and underwear. Except for the clothes on my back, that’s all I owned. 

Everyone shrank onto their seats. This chapter was turning out to be depressing.

With the backpack over my shoulder and the hood of my jacket pulled low, I could blend in with pedestrian traffic pretty well. Boston was full of college kids. Some of them were even more scraggly and younger-looking than me.

“Finally, a location. Where is Boston?” Asked Ginny, looking at Hermione.

“It’s in Massachusetts, USA.”

“The MACUSA isn’t going to assist in the war.” Snape declared. “Is this boy the one to help us?”

(How is this 16-years-old homeless orphan going to help us win the war?)

I turned to Blitz. ‘Where’d you see these people with the flyers?’

‘Beacon Street. They’re coming this way. Middle-aged white guy and a teenage girl, probably his daughter.’ 

I frowned. ‘That makes no sense. Who –’

‘I don’t know, kid, but I gotta go.’ Blitz squinted at the sunrise, which was turning the skyscraper windows orange. For reasons I’d never quite understood, Blitz hated the daylight. Maybe he was the world’s shortest, stoutest homeless vampire. 

“A vampire?” asked Arthur, befuddled.

“They normally aren’t so civilized” answered Bill Weasley, shaking his head.

‘You should go see Hearth. He’s hanging out in Copley Square.’ I tried not to feel irritated. The local street people jokingly called Hearth and Blitz my mom and dad because one or the other always seemed to be hovering around me.

“Well, at least he has someone to take care of him.” Sighed Mrs Weasley, still worried.

Mr Weasley wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you can fuss over him all you want when he arrives.” He whispered, and she smiled softly.

Neville’s heart ached, wishing someone would care fuss over him. He looked away, scolding himself. 

He hated feeling so vulnerable and wimpy. It was so stupid too, how could he even dream of asking someone that? Even the mere thought was ridiculous. 

‘I appreciate it,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Blitz chewed his thumbnail. ‘I dunno, kid. Not today. You gotta be extra careful.’

‘Why?’

He glanced over my shoulder. ‘They’re coming.’ I didn’t see anybody. When I turned back, Blitz was gone. I hated it when he did that. Just – Poof. The guy was like a ninja. A homeless vampire ninja.

Fred and George stifled a laugh.

Of course the twins would like him and not me, he thought bitterly.

He felt somewhat worse, and groaned internally. Why did his brain torture him like that? When did he become so deprived of affection?

He absolutely blamed his grandma for his suffering.

Now I had a choice: go to Copley Square and hang out with Hearth, or head towards Beacon Street and try to spot the people who were looking for me.

Blitz’s description of them made me curious. A middle-aged white guy and a teenage girl searching for me at sunrise on a bitter-cold morning. Why? Who were they?

Everyone was wondering the same thing. Where was this even going?

I crept along the edge of the pond. Almost nobody took the lower trail under the bridge. I could hug the side of the hill and spot anyone approaching on the higher path without them seeing me.

Snow coated the ground. The sky was eye-achingly blue. The bare tree branches looked like they’d been dipped in glass. 

“Even the trees are frozen…” muttered a woman sitting next to Tonks, who looked really similar to the main monster in his nightmares. 

“Harry, why is the woman next to Tonks so eerily similar to Bellatrix Lestrange?” he asked his friend, worried.

“Hm? Oh, that’s Andromeda Tonks. I think Bellatrix is her cousin or something. I’ll ask Sirius later.” 

The wind cut through my layers of clothes, but I didn’t mind the cold. My mom used to joke that I was half polar bear.

Dammit, Magnus, I chided myself.

After two years, my memories of her were still a minefield. I’d stumble over one, and instantly my composure would be blown to bits.

Neville felt guilty. He should feel like that when thinking about his parents, right? And yet he hated them. It wasn’t their fault, and he loved them, but he sometimes felt so ashamed and angry…

(If they cared that much, they wouldn’t have left him with Augusta his grandma.)

Nev tried to focus on the reading.

I tried to focus.

Neville deadpanned. Seriously?

The man and the girl were coming this way. The man’s sandy hair grew over his collar – not like an intentional style, but like he couldn’t be bothered to cut it. His baffled expression reminded me of a substitute teacher’s: I know I was hit by a spit wad, but I have no idea where it came from. 

His smart shoes were totally wrong for a Boston winter. His socks were different shades of brown. His tie looked like it had been tied while he spun around in total darkness.

“We can safely assume they’re not from Boston, then?” inquired Kingsley. “It also seems to be unprepared. Is it a facade?”

“Always assume the worst.” grunted Moody, and Tonks rolled her eyes from behind. “Better safe than sorry.”

The girl was definitely his daughter. Her hair was just as thick and wavy, though lighter blonde. She was dressed more sensibly in snow boots, jeans and a parka, with an orange T-shirt peeking out at the neckline. Her expression was more determined, angry. She gripped a sheaf of flyers like they were essays she’d been graded on unfairly.

“Like Hermione, but in blonde.” Joked Ron, and Hermione smacked the back of his head. All the students present chuckled at their antiques.

If she was looking for me, I did not want to be found. She was scary. I didn’t recognize her or her dad, but something tugged at the back of my skull ... like a magnet trying to pull out a very old memory.

Snape leaned onto Vector’s side, whispering something. The Arithmancy Professor bit her lip, and stared at the book intensely.

Father and daughter stopped where the path forked. They looked around as if just now realizing they were standing in the middle of a deserted park at no-thank-you o’clock in the dead of winter.

“No-thank-you o’clock? This dude’s incredible!” proclaimed Fred, and they both snickered between them.

‘Unbelievable,’ said the girl. ‘I want to strangle him.’ Assuming she meant me, I hunkered down a little more.

Everyone tensed at the threat. 

Well, everyone except the teens. Ginny had threatened to do much more than kill Harper just because she woke up in a bad mood, so Neville wasn’t impressed.

Her dad sighed. ‘We should probably avoid killing him. He is your uncle.’

‘But two years?’ the girl demanded. ‘Dad, how could he not tell us for two years?’

‘I can’t explain Randolph’s actions. I never could, Annabeth.’ I inhaled so sharply that I was afraid they would hear me. A scab was ripped off my brain, exposing raw memories from when I was six years old.

Annabeth. Which meant the sandy-haired man was ... Uncle Frederick?

“Wait, so he had more family and still had to live on the streets?!” Mrs Weasley was fuming, and glared at the book.

“Well, it seems as though Annabeth and ‘Uncle’ Frederick didn’t know.” Reminded Luna, and some jumped. She had been pretty quiet the entire lecture.

I flashed back to the last family Thanksgiving we’d shared: Annabeth and me hiding in the library at Uncle Randolph’s town house, playing with dominoes while the adults yelled at each other downstairs.

“Yelled? How many issues does this guy have?” questioned Ginny.

“You’re lucky you live with your momma.”

Annabeth stacked another domino on her miniature building. It was amazingly good, with columns in front like a temple. 

I’m going to run away.

“Oh, dear…” Mrs Weasley covered her mouth. 

Nev winced, remembering his last attempt at doing so.

I had no doubt she meant it. I was in awe of her confidence. 

Then Uncle Frederick appeared in the doorway. His fists were clenched. His grim expression was at odds with the smiling reindeer on his sweater.

Annabeth, we’re leaving.

Annabeth looked at me. Her grey eyes were a little too fierce for a first-grader’s. Be safe, Magnus.

With a flick of her finger, she knocked over her domino temple.

That was the last time I’d seen her.

Afterwards, my mom had been adamant: We’re staying away from your uncles. Especially Randolph. I won’t give him what he wants. Ever. She wouldn’t explain what Randolph wanted, or what she and Frederick and Randolph had argued about.

“What he wants?” asked Moody, already suspicious. “What does the boy have that would cause this dispute?”

You have to trust me, Magnus. Being around them ... it’s too dangerous.

I trusted my mom. Even after her death, I hadn’t had any contact with my relatives.

Now, suddenly, they were looking for me. Randolph lived in town, but, as far as I knew, Frederick and Annabeth still lived in Virginia. Yet here they were, passing out flyers with my name and photo on them. Where had they even got a photo of me?

“So his uncle was in the same town?!” Miss Tonks muttered, downright furious.

Everyone stared at the book in hatred. How could you leave a child, your family to suffer?

My head buzzed so badly that I missed some of their conversation. 

‘– to find Magnus,’ Uncle Frederick was saying. He checked his smartphone. ‘Randolph is at the city shelter in the South End. He says no luck. We should try the youth shelter across the park.’

‘How do we even know Magnus is alive?’ Annabeth asked miserably. ‘Missing for two years? He could be frozen in a ditch somewhere!’

Everyone tensed, knowing that could’ve perfectly been a possibility.

Part of me was tempted to jump out of my hiding place and shout, TA- DA!

Even though it had been ten years since I’d seen Annabeth, I didn’t like seeing her distressed. 

“And yet he still cared about her…” Sprout smiled sadly. Magnus would’ve been a great Hufflepuff.

But after so long on the streets I’d learned the hard way: you never walk into a situation until you understand what’s going on.

“Good decision.” grunted Moody, and the Golden trio looked away.

‘Randolph is sure Magnus is alive,’ said Uncle Frederick. ‘He’s somewhere in Boston. If his life is truly in danger ...’

McGonagall’s mouth turned into a thin line. “In danger? Is this the day he died?”

They set off towards Charles Street, their voices carried away by the wind.

I was shivering now, but it wasn’t from the cold. I wanted to run after Frederick, tackle him and demand to hear what was going on. How did Randolph know I was still in town? Why were they looking for me? How was my life in danger now more than on any other day?

But I didn’t follow them.

I remembered the last thing my mom ever told me. I’d been reluctant to use the fire escape, reluctant to leave her, but she’d gripped my arms and made me look at her. Magnus, run. Hide. Don’t trust anyone. I’ll find you. Whatever you do, don’t go to Randolph for help. Then, before I’d made it out of the window, the door of our apartment had burst into splinters. Two pairs of glowing blue eyes had emerged from the darkness …

No one dared to say anything. Harry’s breath staggered, clutching the armchair as if his life was on the line. 

In the end, didn’t Mrs Potter, Mrs Chase and his own mother do the same thing? They gave away her life for their sons. Neville couldn’t help but wonder if he would do the same for someone he loved. 

Would he be willing to die, to stop living , just to protect someone? 

The love of a mother was truly unfathomable.

 Luna rubbed his back, smiling sadly. She too, had lost her mother. How did she make her peace with that fact? Had she even done it? Had he?

The clock ticked, reminding everyone that they didn’t have the luxury of time, and Dumbledore read the last page.

I shook off the memory and watched Uncle Frederick and Annabeth walk away, veering east towards the Common.

Uncle Randolph ... For some reason, he’d contacted Frederick and Annabeth. He’d got them to Boston. All this time, Frederick and Annabeth hadn’t known that my mom was dead, and I was missing. It seemed impossible, but, if it were true, why would Randolph tell them about it now?

(Why would he? Why now?) Neville’s head fizzled, but as always he couldn’t think of an answer.

Without confronting him directly, I could think of only one way to get answers. His town house was in Back Bay, an easy walk from here. According to Frederick, Randolph wasn’t home. He was somewhere in the South End, looking for me.

“Wait, he’s not gonna…” 

“Stupid boy, he may already be there! Don’t risk it!” Shouted Moody, smacking the chair as if imagining it was Magnus.

Since nothing started a day better than a little breaking and entering, I decided to pay his place a visit.

Well, guess it was time for a family reunion.

Chapter Text

The Man with the Metal Bra

“The what now?” Ron blinked, and the other teens stifled a laugh at his expression.

Remus smiled softly at his students and Andromeda chuckled. She liked the kid, he reminded her of Dora. Her daughter, guessing her thoughts, rolled her eyes, and Ted grinned.

The family mansion sucked.

“Mansion? He’s been living on the streets when his uncle had a mansion?!” Molly was livid, and the older Weasleys snarled in anger. Sirius scowled, and Remus wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, he knew Sirius still resented his parents.

Oh, sure, you wouldn’t think so. You’d see the massive six-storey brownstone with gargoyles on the corners of the roof, stained-glass transom windows, marble front steps and all the other blah, blah, blah, rich-people- live-here details, and you’d wonder why I’m sleeping on the streets.

Andromeda pursed her lips, glaring at the book, and Remus could feel the wolf inside him shake in anger. He pushed it down. It was definitely not the appropriate time to lose control.

Two words: Uncle Randolph.

It was his house. As the oldest son, he’d inherited it from my grandparents, who died before I was born. I never knew much about the family soap opera, but there was a lot of bad blood between the three kids: Randolph, Frederick and my mom. 

Sirius flinched at the memories, rushing back through his brain. Remus rubbed his back, and the animagus leant on him, sighing. Andromeda closed her eyes, probably trying to keep the painful memories away. 

After the Great Thanksgiving Schism, we never visited the ancestral homestead again. Our apartment was, like, half a mile away, but Randolph might as well have lived on Mars.

“Understatement of the year.” Snorted Sirius, and Andromeda sighed in agreement. 

My mom only mentioned him if we happened to be driving past the brownstone. Then she would point it out the way you might point out a dangerous cliff. See? There it is. Avoid it.

After I started living on the streets, I would sometimes walk by at night.

I’d peer in the windows and see glowing display cases of antique swords and axes, creepy helmets with face masks staring at me from the walls, statues silhouetted in the upstairs windows like petrified ghosts.

“Helmets, axes and statues? Maybe this could tell us more about the threat.” commented Hestia Jones, frowning.

“There are many periods of time when they were used. Without a detailed description, we can’t identify it. But it seems they’re very old, as it says antiques. I can only roughly guess it’s from medieval times.” Explained Flitwick, and Hestia nodded, thankful.

Several times I considered breaking in to poke around, but I’d never been tempted to knock on the door. Please, Uncle Randolph, I know you hated my mother and haven’t seen me in ten years; I know you care more about your rusty old collectibles than you do about your family, but may I live in your fine house and eat your leftover crusts of bread?

No thanks. I’d rather be on the street, eating day-old falafel from the food court.

“Well, but at least you’d have somewhere to live…” Hermione mumbled, biting her lip. Remus agreed with her. He understood why he would be too proud to do it (he was a Gryffindor after all), but there were times when he had to sleep with the werewolves or die of cold. He had to leave his dignity aside to survive. 

And Magnus had been very lucky, having a strong immune system against the weather and people taking care of him. The streets could be much more cruel, he knew it very well.

Still … I figured it would be simple enough to break in, look around and see if I could find answers about what was going on. 

While it was very risky, it wasn’t a bad idea… Remus sighed, hoping Magnus won’t get in trouble.

 While I was there, maybe I could grab some stuff to pawn. Sorry if that offends your sense of right and wrong. 

He had done worse things than breaking and entering, Remus mused. Stealing when you’re hungry definitely wasn’t in his Top Ten unforgivable crimes. Sirius was thinking the same thing, as he snorted. 

Oh, wait. No, I’m not.

“He shouldn’t be! Survival is essential, and so is information!” Proclaimed Moody, making everyone jump from their seats. 

Now that Remus thought about it, they were pretty morally gray. He and Sirius would’ve killed Pettigrew if Harry didn’t intervene, and Moody easily resorted to violence. 

I don’t steal from just anybody. I choose obnoxious jerks who have too much already. If you’re driving a new BMW and you park it in a disabled spot without a permit, then, yeah, I’ve got no problem jimmying your window and taking some change from your cup holder. 

“What?” All the Weasleys looked confused, and Ted explained what a BMW and a disabled stop were.

If you’re coming out of Barneys with your bag of silk handkerchiefs, so busy talking on your phone and pushing people out of your way that you’re not paying attention, I am there for you, ready to pickpocket your wallet. If you can afford five thousand dollars to blow your nose, you can afford to buy me dinner.

“5 thousand dollars?! For handkerchiefs?!” spluttered Ginny, flabbergasted. 

“It's silk, a really expensive material and difficult to acquire. It's produced by an Asian species of larvae.”

I am judge, jury and thief. And, as far as obnoxious jerks went, I figured I couldn’t do better than Uncle Randolph.

The house fronted Commonwealth Avenue. I headed around back to the poetically named Public Alley 429. Randolph’s parking spot was empty.

“So his poor excuse of an uncle has just decided to search for him after two years?” Questioned Charlie, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“We’re missing information, so we can’t draw any conclusions yet.” Flitwick mused, and Luna Lovegood tilted her head. 

“How old is he in this chapter?” she asked, and everyone looked at her confused.

“Why do you ask so, Miss Lovegood?” asked Minerva, intrigued.

“Oh nothing, it’s just that jotnars start strongly sensing you when you reach 16.” She said with a dreamy look.

Hermione huffed. “Oh please. What are this jotnars anyways? I’ve never read about any creature like that.”

Luna smiled, amused. “Well, not everything is in books. And it’s normal you’ve never heard of them, they live up north.” 

Hermione clearly wanted to argue with her, but Remus intervened, sensing it would take them a long time.

Stairs led down to the basement entrance. If there was a security system, I couldn’t spot it. The door was a simple latch lock without even a deadbolt. 

Ted frowned. “Well, that’s weird. Expensive houses normally have many security measures.”

“Everything about this man smells fishy.” commented Tonks, and Moody grunted in agreement.

Come on, Randolph. At least make it a challenge. Two minutes later I was inside.

Harry snickered, as if remembering something, and whispered to his friends. Remus managed to get “Fluffy” and “first”, but nothing more. Neville Longbottom paled dramatically, and the ex-professor smiled at their antics.

In the kitchen, I helped myself to some sliced turkey, crackers and milk from the carton. No falafel. Dammit. Now I was really in the mood for some, but I found a chocolate bar and stuffed it in my coat pocket for later. (Chocolate must be savored, not rushed.)

Remus solemnly nodded, bringing a hand to his heart. Sirius laughed, using his boyfriend’s arm as a pillow.

Then I headed upstairs into a mausoleum of mahogany furniture, oriental rugs, oil paintings, marble-tiled floors and crystal chandeliers … It was just embarrassing. Who lives like this?

“Everyone at Hogwarts.” pointed out Sirius, grinning. He absolutely adored Hogwarts.

At age six, I couldn’t appreciate how expensive all this stuff was, but my general impression of the mansion was the same: dark, oppressive, creepy. 

Sirius’ smirk turned into a grimace. He could easily describe Grimmauld Place with those three words.

It was hard to imagine my mom growing up here. 

The atmosphere grew sad again, and Tonks sat a little closer to Andromeda, who gently stroked her daughter’s hand.

It was easy to understand why she’d become a fan of the great outdoors. Our apartment over the Korean BBQ joint in Allston had been cosy enough, but Mom never liked being inside. She always said her real home was the Blue Hills. 

We used to go hiking and camping there in all kinds of weather – fresh air, no walls or ceilings, no company but the ducks, geese and squirrels.

Luna looked down, starting to tear up. Her mother… 

Mama would take her in picnics, to pick plants and tell her stories, naming the animals and berries. They would explore the woods, racing and laughing…

Ginny squeezed her hand, but Luna pulled away softly. “I want my dad…” She whispered, hugging herself. 

A flash of light blinded them, dropping Xenophilius Lovegood in the room, still in his pajamas. He blinked, curious. “Where-” 

A misty-eyed Luna ran onto her father’s arms, burying her face in the sleeping robes. 

Xenophilius smiled softly and stroked her hair reassuringly. “What happened, my little flower?” 

“Mm… Can we just stay like this for a bit?” She mumbled against the soft fabric.

“Of course, Sunshine. Anything for you.” Xenophilius wrapped his arms around her, and the rest stayed in silence. Some moved by emotion, some yearning for that comfort. Harry and Neville looked at the floor. Would their parents comfort them the same way?

After a minute, Luna pulled away, smiling warmly at her Dad, and explained everything. Xenophilius raised an eyebrow at the covers of the books. 

“Jotnars, I presume.” His daughter nodded, and they both went to their seats, the oldest Lovegood transfiguring a plant into an egg chair.

“We apologize for the interruption.” Xenophilius spoke, and the reading finally resumed.

This brownstone, by comparison, felt like a prison. As I stood alone in the foyer, my skin crawled with invisible beetles.

I climbed to the next floor. The library smelled of lemon polish and leather, just like I remembered. Along one wall was a lit glass case full of Randolph’s rusty Viking helmets and corroded axe blades.  

“Viking helmets?” asked Hestia Jones, thinking. (Didn’t the girl say something about the north? And they existed in medieval times too…)

My mom once told me that Randolph taught history at Harvard before some big disgrace got him fired.

Hermione jolted at the name, Randolph gaining a bit more respect in her eyes. “Harvard? He must be a really good historian then.” 

She wouldn’t go into details, but clearly the guy was still an artefact nut.

You’re smarter than either of your uncles, Magnus, my mom once told me. With your grades, you could easily get into Harvard.

Hermione leaned forward, interested. Not everyday you found a smart teenager you could talk to.

That had been back when she was still alive, I was still in school, and I might have had a future that extended past finding my next meal.

As Dumbledore continued reading, Remus couldn’t help but feel identified. He, too, had a great future in many jobs before the war, even as a werewolf. But Fenrir Grayback had only reassured people’s fear, leaving him in a deplorable state of living. Really, everyone was scarred after the war.

In one corner of Randolph’s office sat a big slab of rock like a tombstone, the front chiselled and painted with elaborate red swirly designs. In the centre was a crude drawing of a snarling beast – maybe a lion or a wolf.

I shuddered. Let’s not think about wolves.

Remus raised his eyebrows, curious. Why did Magnus hate wolves too?

I approached Randolph’s desk. I’d been hoping for a computer, or a notepad with helpful information – anything to explain why they were looking for me. Instead, spread across the desk were pieces of parchment as thin and yellow as onion skin. They looked like maps a school kid in medieval times had made for social studies: faint sketches of a coastline, various points labelled in an alphabet I didn’t know. 

Everyone frowned at that. There were not enough clues to draw conclusions upon, at least not complete ones.

Flitwick, being the professor he was, listed what they have deduced. “We know it’s from medieval times, most probably Vikings. There is a map of a coastline where several points are marked. It might be important locations, but why are they relevant?”

“Maybe he’s looking for something, there are some Viking traces in Boston!” suggested Hermione, as if enlightened.

Remus nodded, thinking. “He does have an impressive collection of Viking antiques. But what would that have to do with Magnus?”

Hermione frowned at her theory being dismantled. “Maybe Magnus knows where it is…?”

Harry shook his head. “He would’ve sold it already, if it was that important.”

Randolph was looking for something, and he needed Magnus’ help. But what, and why ?

Sitting on top of them, like a paperweight, was a leather pouch. My breath caught. I recognized that pouch. I untied the drawstring and grabbed one of the dominoes … except it wasn’t a domino. 

Sirius immediately narrowed his eyes. “Stones in a leather pouch? Sounds awfully close to Old Runes.”

My six-year-old self had assumed that’s what Annabeth and I had been playing with. Over the years, the memory had reinforced itself. But, instead of dots, these stones were painted with red symbols.

“Red? Isn’t that how they used to infuse blood in runes to strengthen their magical potency?” Vector raised an eyebrow.

The one in my hand was shaped like a tree branch or a deformed F:

Bathsheda Babbling frowned. 

“It’s Nordic. Fehu, meaning Fay-Who. Literally, it means Cattle. It is normally associated with Wealth, money, food, sustenance, luck, personal, financial strength and prosperity. Some more uncommon meanings are Mobile Property, New Beginnings and Wealth.”

 “In mythology it is associated with Frey, god of peace and fertility, rain, and sunshine. He is the patron god of Sweden and Iceland. He ruled Alfheim, the domain of elves, along with his twin sister Freyja, goddess of beauty, love and beauty, fertility, sex, war, gold, ect.”

Minerva furrowed her frown, thinking. “Nordic runes, Vikings, the north…” She looked at Luna.

“Miss Lovegood, could you explain what Jotnars are?”

Luna nodded. “Jotnar or their most common name, Jotunns, are a race of giants often in conflict with Aesir.”

Sirius stared at the blond girl. “Aesir. Like the Nordic Gods?”

Everyone widened their eyes. Gods ?

“B-but they’re just myths!” protested Hermione in disbelief.

“Magic is also a myth, isn’t it?” pointed out Xenofilius, smiling at his daughter.

“It’s not the same! One thing is magic, and the other is a pantheon of gods being real!” 

“The Blacks descend from Hecate.” commented Sirius, and Harry gaped at him.

“So you’re a demigod?! Like Hercules?” Sirius chuckled. “I’m just a descendant.” 

Andromeda looked away. Regulus was the Legacy between them. And now he was dead. Ted squeezed her hand softly.

Albus cleared his throat. “While this was an enlightening conversation, I suggest we keep moving forward.”

“What- Albus!” Severus stared at him, furious. The Gods ?! His mother would’ve killed Dumbledore by now if she could. “Do you even begin to understand what you’re doing? We could have lost our minds for this!”

McGonagall nodded, serious. “This is a very dangerous card you’re betting on, Albus.” 

Albus held his hands up, placid. “Please do not worry. I’ve considered the ups and downs several times, and at this very moment it could be our only hope of winning the war. What other option do we have?”

Everyone remained silent after that.

My heart pounded. I wasn’t sure why. I wondered if coming here had been such a good idea. The walls felt like they were closing in. On the big rock in the corner, the drawing of the beast seemed to sneer at me, its red outline glistening like fresh blood.

I moved to the window. I thought it might help to look outside. Along the centre of the avenue stretched the Commonwealth Mall – a ribbon of parkland covered in snow. The bare trees were strung with white Christmas lights. 

At the end of the block, inside an iron fence, the bronze statue of Leif Erikson stood on his pedestal, his hand cupped over his eyes. Leif gazed towards the Charles gate overpass as if to say, Look, I discovered a highway!

Some chuckled, but no one was really in the mood. Some were still trying to wrap their minds around the pantheons being real. 

My mom and I used to joke about Leif. His armor was on the skimpy side: a short skirt and a breastplate that looked like a Viking bra.

“But, why?” Ron was still very much confused. Ginny and Luna stifled laughs. 

Hermione was staring at the floor, shaking. Harry frowned at her, worried.

I had no clue why that statue was in the middle of Boston, but I figured it couldn’t be a coincidence that Uncle Randolph grew up to study Vikings.

He’d lived here his whole life. He’d probably looked at Leif every day out of the window. Maybe as a child Randolph had thought, Someday, I want to study Vikings. Men who wear metal bras are cool!

Fred and George snickered, an idea already forming in their minds. McGonagall had a shiver, sensing their mischievousness. She narrowed her eyes at them, and the twins just smiled back innocently. 

My eyes drifted to the base of the statue. Somebody was standing there…

… looking up at me.

Everyone tensed. 

You know how when you see somebody out of context, and it takes you a second to recognize them? In Leif Erikson’s shadow stood a tall, pale man in a black leather jacket, black motorcycle pants and pointy-toed boots. His short, spiky hair was so blond it was almost white. His only dash of colour was a striped red-and-white scarf wrapped around his neck and spilling off his shoulders like a melted candy cane.

Luna’s eyes widened. “Alfheim!” 

Ginny, thinking she sneezed, passed her a Kleenex, making her giggle.

If I didn’t know him, I might’ve guessed he was cosplaying some anime character. But I did know him. It was Hearth, my fellow homeless dude and surrogate ‘mom’.

Some breathed in relief, but Alastor scowled. “How did he know where Magnus was?” 

I was a little creeped out, a little offended. Had he seen me on the street and followed me? I didn’t need some fairy god-stalker looking after me.

Harry smiled sadly. “I loved that show.” Truth is, he had to watch it through the slits of his cupboard, but he felt identified with Timmy Turner. A loser whose relatives didn’t love him, being bullied and a professor obsessed with him. He sometimes imagined Wanda and Cosmo popped up in his cupboard, saving him.

I spread my hands: What are you doing here?

Hearth made a gesture like he was plucking something from his cupped hand and throwing it away. After two years of hanging around him, I was getting pretty good at reading sign language.

Ron frowned. “A what?” Ted explained briefly the concept of ASL, strangely without Hermione’s comments with extra information.

He was saying GET OUT.

He didn’t look alarmed, but it was hard to tell with Hearth. He never showed much emotion. Whenever we hung out, he mostly just stared at me with those pale grey eyes like he was waiting for me to explode.

I lost valuable seconds trying to figure out what he meant, why he was here when he was supposed to be in Copley Square.

He gestured again: both hands pointing forward with two fingers, dipping up and down twice. Hurry.

‘Why?’ I said aloud.

Behind me, a deep voice said, ‘Hello, Magnus.’

Some jolted in their seats.

I nearly jumped out of my shoes. Standing in the library doorway was a barrel-chested man with a trim white beard and a skullcap of grey hair. He wore a beige cashmere overcoat over a dark wool suit. His gloved hands gripped the handle of a polished wooden cane with an iron tip. Last time I’d seen him his hair had been black, but I knew that voice.

‘Randolph.’

“I knew it would end badly!” called out Alastor, nearly climbing on his seat. 

Hermione was still frozen in her puff, clutching her hair. Neville, worried, tried to shake her arm, but she didn’t react.

He inclined his head a millimeter. ‘What a pleasant surprise. I’m glad you’re here.’ He sounded neither surprised nor glad. ‘We don’t have much time.’

“For what?” inquired Tonks, not liking him one bit.

The food and milk started to churn in my stomach. ‘M-much time … before what?’

“Uh, Harry? I think there’s something wrong with Mione…”

His brow furrowed. His nose wrinkled as if he detected a mildly unpleasant odor. ‘You’re sixteen today, aren’t you? They’ll be coming to kill you.’

“Professor!” Everyone turned to look at the students. Harry was clutching Hermione’s hand, panicked, while Ron, Ginny and Neville tried to snap her out of it.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with her!”

Nev was on the verge of tears, and Luna squeezed his hand, worried.

“I was too much for her. If we don’t fix this, she will soon be lost.” stated Xenophilius, serious.

Chapter Text

Everyone looked at Hermione with renewed concern.

She had frozen up in her seat, eyes dilated and unfocused. Ron attempted to shake her by the shoulder, and she fell to the ground with a thud, as if lifeless.

The ginger paled even further as he realized how similar she looked now.

The adults rushed to her side, and Kingsley quickly checked her pulse.

“Her heart’s still beating. She’s breathing too.”

That calmed the children enough so that they could back up and give them space.

Minerva muttered an “enervate” under her breath, but nothing happened. She looked at Dumbledore grimly. (What do we do now, Albus?)

Dumbledore had a serious expression. “Severus, if you could.”

Snape nodded briskly and pulled out his wand, performing a diagnostic spell. His frown deepened as a sheet of paper wrote itself on his hand.

“Her body is fine but shows no signs of conscious intention.” He turned to glare at Dumbledore, who guiltily avoided eye contact with him. The headmaster cleared his throat, effectively catching everyone’s attention.

“I was afraid this would happen, so I have already asked for assistance.”

Harry’s head snapped around to look at him in disbelief. “You knew?!” You knew, and you decided to do this anyway?!”

Sirius gently squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Now’s not the time, Harry.”

His godson glared at Dumbledore one last time before stepping back, and Remus wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“As I was saying, our allies have already sent a specialized healer to help Miss Granger. They’ll be arriving any moment now.”

Not convinced at all, Bill reassured Ginny and Ron it would be alright, and Charlie brought the worried twins close. 

Luna was drawing lines in her seat absent-mindedly, and Xenophilius stroked his daughter’s hair in a comforting manner.

Tonks awkwardly consoled a crying Neville, and they waited.

—

Magnus Chase was, surprisingly, having a very good day. He spent the morning with the children at Chase Space, ate a wonderful falafel at Amir’s, talked with Annabeth and Percy on the phone, and now he was chilling on his yellow boat with his awesome boyfriend rereading his favorite sci-fi saga. 

Alex, who had been using him as a pillow, was the first one to notice the raven and jumped out of the way before the bird could vomit on the supernatural romance novel he was laughing at.

Fortunately, the raven decided not to puke on his clothes and onto the floor, another great thing that had happened that day. He was starting to think it was too good.

Anyway, he quickly unrolled the paper and groaned.

Ugh, why did he give the gods his memories again?

When Odin came knocking on his door a month ago, asking for his thoughts so that a bunch of wizards whom he had agreed to help fight a magical Hitler could read them, he had spent a whole 10 seconds staring in silence. 

He was then subjected to a 142-slide PowerPoint explaining everything from chocolate frogs (he needed ten as soon as possible) to domestic elves (they are apparently okay with slavery) to blood racism. 

Of course, he was given no say in this, and so they filled 3 books with his recent quests and trauma and gave them to an old man with a really long name. Something about a door…? Well, it doesn't matter. 

He also had to pop in from time to time if there was any problem, you know, like losing their minds.

Just like now. 

Alex peeked over his shoulder and snorted. “Looks like you ran out of luck.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, his lip twitching upward. He stood up and dusted himself off, Alex mimicking him, and they shrunk the bright yellow boat into a handkerchief. 

They walked down the seaport. As he entered the branch closer to him, Alex stopped him and kissed him on the cheek before walking away with a grin.

Magnus instantly blushed, his skin shining, and dumbly smiled as he touched his cheek.

Jack protested in his head, and the blond sighed, climbing onto the branch.

—

Harry fidgeted nervously, trying not to spiral at the sight of his best friend in a coma, and Remus lightly squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t worry; I’m sure that healer will arrive any moment now.”

And Harry guessed the phrase ‘Speak of the devil and he shall appear’ was right after all, because just then someone fell out of the ceiling.

“Ugh!” A man complained as he rubbed his head. He had blonde, very badly cut hair and grey eyes that inspected the room before landing on Hermione’s limp figure on the couch.

“Ah, Mr. Chase. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Dumbledore started, eyes twinkling, but the man ignored him as he began checking the girl’s pulse.

“Didn’t Sam tell you it was dangerous to read the book to children?” He said sternly, clearly upset. “Why are there teenagers here? Why are they involved in this?”

Dumbledore looked a bit stunned that someone, especially someone so young, would call him out so promptly, but the man had already moved on.

“I need you to step back a bit.” He asked, and he was soon given space to work, Ron having to be pulled by the arms by his brother.

Harry heard the man mutter, “I’m not qualified for this,” and felt a bit less trusting of him.

But then, he placed his hands on Hermione’s forehead, and he started glowing. Literally.

Everyone stared at the man, dumbfounded. Why the hell was he glowing?

And yet, after a few minutes, Hermione suddenly gasped, eyes crinkling over.

Harry finally could breathe, as he rushed to her side, Ron following in tow. “Hermione! Are you okay?!”

The brunette just coughed softly, sitting up. “Y-yeah. I think so.” She glanced around, taking in everyone’s relieved expression. “What happened?”

“Your mind couldn’t handle it.” The man suddenly said, and Hermione sat back instinctively, her back bumping with the sofa back.

“Who are you?!”

The man smiled awkwardly. “I’m Magnus Chase. How’s the reading going?”