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Chapter Text

Hello! This is my first fanfic, and English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes!
This is going to be my take at Slytherin/dark Harry with a touch of Nottpott. I'm not sure I'll be able to post regularly, but I'll try my best!
Don't like, don't read!
Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the other characters mentioned. They belong to J. Rowling, and to her only. Only the plot is mine, partially at that, and the OCs! 

Chapter Text

The curse came bowling at Harry just as he was coming down from the ladder of the divination classroom after a boring, yet somehow highly disturbing class with Trelawney. 

As usual, she had predicted a gruesome death for him, this time by a cornish pixie infestation in his backyard. The woman had screamed bloody murder about his body being deposited on a high tree by the blue mini-demons, and impaled multiple times with him bleeding to death. 

Harry had scoffed at that mentally, barely managing to suppress the urge to roll his eyes and plastering a scared and uncomfortable look on his face. 

As if he’d let those foul beings roam free in his garden in Privet Drive. Sure, it was technically Petunia’s garden, but he had taken multiple hours a day, every day, every summer, to take care of those flowers. They were his pride and joy, his babies. No way in hell would any of those flying smurfs get their tiny hands near his precious flowers. Nuh uh. Not on his watch. 

His thoughts about cornish pixies and delusional teachers were suddenly disturbed as a spell hit him from the back that made him immediately land on his knees, dropping his books in the meantime. By the several gashes that methodically appeared on his back, Harry could guess just which spell had hid him.

“Not so mighty now, are you, Potter?” a voice snarled behind him. Harry turned his head just a bit right as another spell, this time a bright orange one, was also thrown at him. He barely managed to dodge that one, completely twisting away, now facing his attacker. He hissed under his breath at the pain, but gave no other indication that there was something wrong, although the blood soaking the back of his robes was indication enough. 

“What’s your problem, Fletchley?! Attacking from the back now, huh? Too scared to face me head on?” 

“Shut up, Potter! You cheating slimy snake!” shouted Justin, his face almost as red as a weasley’s hair. 

“Diffindo!” Another spell left the Hufflepuff’s wand and this time Harry had no chance to get out of the way, the cutting curse hitting him square in the chest. He yelped from the pain of another few new cuts right below his collarbone and on his belly. 

Fortunately Justin was a barely mediocre wizard and his spells weren’t deadly. 

Unfortunately that didn’t mean the wounds didn’t hurt like a bitch. 

Harry immediately flicked his hand and his holly wand snapped in it from the wand holster hidden in his sleeve. 

One overpowered stunner and a strong body binder later Harry was standing on his feet again, having healed the cuts a bit. He began walking slowly away from the classroom, leaving behind the unconscious boy and making his way back to Gryffindor tower.  

As he turned the corner, he came face to face with blond locks and silver, misty eyes. 

“Harry.”

“Luna.”

“Come. You must get away from the cornish pixies that keep surrounding you.” As she said that, the ravenclaw girl took his arm and slung it around her shoulders. Harry felt himself relax a bit, knowing Luna wouldn’t let him get hurt. 

He had met the girl on the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of the summer. She had been roaming around, searching for her lost belongings. Harry, seeing the younger girl in a somewhat distressed state, had volunteered to help her. They had searched the whole train, top to bottom, while talking and getting to know each other. At the end, they had found nothing, but had formed a bond based on mutual understanding and compassion for each other. 

While Luna was often aloof and seemed like her mind was not where her body was, she had an unique perspective and possessed a calm demeanor that often served to calm Harry’s fiery personality and make him think things through. The two had clicked immediately as Harry proved to be her anchor to the real world and the only person to understand her, even partially, when she began to speak gibberish.  

Harry also suspected that said gibberish was more than that, but for now he wouldn’t try to dig deeper into it as their friendship was still new and fragile. 

“What’s up with everyone and cornish pixies today?” he grumbled under his breath. 

Beside him Luna giggled sweetly while still supporting almost half of his weight and dragging him somewhere. 

“It’s true. Look, just a minute ago one was trying to make mischief and get you in trouble. A whole hoard buzzes around the school waiting to get to you.” She smiled at Harry and said nothing more. 

Something in Harry clicked then, and it only made his theory about Luna that much more realistic. 

“Where are we going?” he asked. 

“To Ravenclaw tower, silly. So I can heal you. I don’t think you’d want to go and drink Milk of the Poppy, right?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t. Thank you, Luna.”

“No problem Harry.”

They reached the entrance to the common room in silence. Harry looked around. He knew that one had to solve a riddle to enter, but nothing more. 

Suddenly the ornate eagle on the door before him became alive and opened its beak. 

“ I make you weak at the worst of all times. 

I keep you safe, I keep you fine. 

I make your hands sweat, and your heart grow cold. 

I visit the weak, but seldom the bold. 

What am I?”

“Fear” Harry found himself saying, before even Luna could respond. 

The eagle closed its mouth and looked from him to Luna a few times. 

“Students from other houses are forbidden to enter  the Ravenclaw common room.” it said. 

“He is a special case. As a Snake from The Den, he is allowed in the Eagle’s Nest.” Luna replied. 

The eagle grew silent again and looked at both of them. After a minute, he nodded and a doorway materialized. 

Luna led him deeper in her common room. There was no one inside, seeing as the next class had already started. The blond girl helped Harry sit on one of the deep blue chairs and took off his outer robe. 

The shirt he had underneath was soaked in his blood from front to back so it had to go as well. Luna took both pieces of clothing and threw them in the burning fireplace. Harry sputtered momentarily as he saw his clothes turn to ashes. 

“Blood is a dangerous thing, Harry.” Luna reprimanded him. “You wouldn’t want it to go into the wrong hands.”

He didn’t say anything, only nodding absentmindedly. 

Well, Luna knew something he didn’t. She always knew something he didn't. 

After she made sure there was nothing but the wood burning anymore, Luna turned to Harry again and took out her wand. She started muttering something under her nose, most likely a spell, although Harry had no idea what kind of spell had such a long incantation, but didn’t particularly care as his wounds began closing and sweet relief from the pain washed over his whole being. 

Harry closed his eyes in bliss and slumped backwards into the chair, finally relaxing. He heard Luna sitting next to him in the loveseat while tucking away her wand in a pocket or her sleeve most likely. This made him frown a bit. Carrying a wand in a pocket could be dangerous. He really should buy her a wand holster so her wand could be safe. Preferably one with anti- summoning charms embedded in it. Yes. Well, he now knew what to gift the Ravenclaw for Christmas. 

As the silence stretched Harry opened his eyes and looked around, finally registering the interior of the Claw's common room.

Blue in all it's shades along with grey and sometimes green adorned every piece of furniture. The room itself was octagon shaped with three sides acting as floor-to-ceiling windows. Three tables were scattered around, some close to the windows, some far. The chairs were from dark mahogany with deep indigo cushioning. There were also a few sofa's around the tables and a few lounge chairs near a fireplace. 

And books. Tons of books. On the two sides that weren't windows or exits there were two massive shelves filled to the brim with books and parchment. 

Harry took a moment to register the sheer amount of books, and then another one to stop his mouth from gaping. 

Next to him Luna giggled again. "Welcome to the Ravenclaw Tower Harry." 

All in all the room had a lot of space, despite the many things the room was decorated with. And it was bright. The windows made sure to provide as much light as possible and the view to the Hogwarts grounds was gorgeous. The Tower overlooked both the Black lake and a bit of the Forbidden Forest. Which also meant that the Slytherin common room was right below the Ravenclaw one. Huh. 

For now Harry tucked this piece of information in the back of his mind, just in case he needed it in some point in the future. 

"And what iz going on heere?" a new voice appeared. 

Both Harry and Luna looked to their right, to the exit that led to the dorms, to see Fleur Delacour, the part-veela, or so the rumours say, student and champion of Beauxbatons. She was dressed in the usual light blue uniform of her school, with a few parchment rolls in her hands. 

"Fleur, hello. I invited Harry here, to keep me company." Luna smiled. "He was attacked by pixies not too long ago so I rescued him." 

The french girl frowned, then looked at Harry wearily. 

"Mademoiselle Delacour" Harry inclined his head politely. 

"Monsieur Potter" she returned the greeting. "I do find myself surprized. I had ze impression you were a...Griffindor, non?"

"I am. This is a one- time thing." 

Fleur hummed and then sat in the chair opposite of Harry's. 

"Ziz you enter your name in ze Goblet, Monsieur Potter?" she asked right away. 

"No." Harry answered without hesitation. "I don't want to compete."

The Veela hummed again and looked him straight in the eye. "Will zey make you compete?"

"Dumbledore says there is no other way."

"And what doez your Magical Guardian haz to say about theez?" 

"My what?" Harry looked at her confused.

"Your Magical Guardian. The person that takez care of you when you are in ze Magical world."

"I..." Harry thought about it, and blanched a bit. "I don't think I have one."

Now both blonds frowned at that and looked suspiciously at each other. 

"Harry" Luna joined the conversation, her face far more serious than usual. "There is no way you don't have a Magical Guardian. In your case it should be your closest blood relative. Snuffles most likely."

Harry froze at this and looked at Luna fearfully at the same time as Fleur looked at her quizzically. After it became clear Luna wasn't going to elaborate further, Fleur looked at Harry again.

"I suggest, Monsieur Potter, that you seek to find out who your Magical Guardian izz. They may be able to get you out of ze Tournament as you are not oof age alreazy."

"How do I do that?" Harry asked. 

"A simple test at ze Bank, Gringotz, should be enough. Inheritance test. You must simply ask the teller to perform one, and zey should lead you to your account manager."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Mademoiselle Delacour. And thank you, Luna."

"No problem, Monsieur Potter. Pleaze, do call me Fleur. I do believe we shall be great associates in ze future."

"Then I ask you to refer to me as Harry, as well. If we are to get to know each other."

"Harry tzen. I wish you luck with ze test."

"Thank you, Fleur. Have a nice afternoon. You as well Luna. I will see both of you around."

"Bye, Harry!" both blondes chimed as he turned his back and left the Tower.  

Chapter Text

Harry exited the Ravenclaw tower and headed for his own dormitory. 

His mood had been lifted a bit by the pleasant talk with the two ladies, and renewed hope began to brew inside of him. Fleur had told him that perhaps his magical guardian, whoever it was if he had one, could maybe get him out of the Tournament. 

A grin made its way on his way and Harry became so giddy he had the urge to skip to the Griffyndor  tower. He had to stop for a second before a corner and get a grip on his emotions, because a half- naked Harry Potter ( courtesy to Luna burning his clothes earlier ) in the middle of the hall was strange enough, a grinning, skipping half- naked Harry Potter was even weirder. 

Just as he took a deep breath to calm himself, and was about to turn around the corner,  he heard a voice on the other side. A familiar voice that didn’t belong this close to Gryffindor tower. 

“I’m telling you Blaise, it had to be around here, somewhere! ” Malfoy whisper- yelled. “You heard what the portrait said! We have to search the upper floors again!”

The boy next to Malfoy, Blaise Zabini Harry recalled, groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I heard, Draco! But this is the fifth time we search the blasted upper floors! And yet we found nothing! Again! ” 

“We’ll find it” Malfoy insisted stubbornly. “I know we will!” 

“Let’s give up, Draco. We’re just wasting time. We couldn’t do the Samhain rituals, and if we keep up the search we’ll miss the Yule rituals too! We’ll find another way to sneak in what we need.”

Malfoy scowled at that. 

“Like how, Blaise?” he huffed imperiously. “By the owl post? Or we’ll just walk right in with the ingredients? As if the wards will let something so dark through! We need to use the vanishing cabinet in the Come-and-go room! It’s our best bet!”

“And what if we find the damn thing?!” Zabini raised his voice. “The portrait said it was broken! Do you know how to fix a vanishing cabinet, Draco? Do you?! ”

At that Malfoy shut his mouth and looked away from Zabini. 

Harry scowled behind the corner. The two Slytherins were plotting something, that much was clear, and by the sound of it, they were trying to smuggle in something dark for a Sabbat ritual. Why they needed the Room of Requirement was beyond him, as he didn’t know what a vanishing cabinet was. 

“Come Draco.” Zabini said. “Let’s go back to our dorm so we can talk to the others and think of another plan.” 

The blond only nodded, still in a foul mood if persistent scowl on his face was anything to go by. 

Both boys headed for the stairs. 

That got Harry into action. He backtracked a bit and hid in a little alcove behind an Abraxan’s tapestry. As he waited for the two Slytherins to disappear from view he followed them with his eyes and thought about the  conversation he had just heard between them. 

Apparently whatever they were planning, their fellow housemates were in on it. 

***

Now dressed in new clothes, as new as Dudley’s old rags could be called, Harry plopped on his bed in the fourth year dorm and began contemplating. 

He needed to find a way to sneak out and go to Gringotts and soon. A diversion was in order, lest someone finds out he is gone from the grounds. But how? How could he make it so no one batted an eye when they didn’t see him for a whole night and possibly the morning after?

Polyjuice? But then he had to confide in someone, and he wasn’t too keen on doing that. Hermione would just berate him again and again until his years fell off. Ron, Harry wasn’t sure he was even his friend anymore. He couldn’t tell Nevile, the boy was spooked from his own shadow. Dean and Seamus were out of the question as were any of his other housemates. 

Luna was always an option, ever since he met the blonde, she had matched both his wit and his craziness. But he didn’t think the girls would be convincing enough to charade as him. 

Perhaps he could cast an illusion? But would he be able to maintain it for such a long time and from so far away? He didn’t think so. 

Then what? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill voice shouting his name from outside of the dorm. 

Harry got up from his bed and went to the common room. Hermione was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, glaring at him. 

“Harry Potter!’’ she shrieked. “ Where have you been?! You missed Muggle studies! Why?!”

But Harry completely ignored her, sidestepping her. 

She turned to him still, and followed him to one of the armchairs furious. 

“Answer me!” she screamed at him. 

She was gaining the looks of the whole common room, and yet, as if ignorant of that fact, she kept shouting and berating Harry. 

He tuned her out, and even still, he was gaining a headache just from listening to her. 

“- it’s so irresponsible  to just-”

“Shut. Up.” Harry snarled. 

This finally made the bushy- haired witch stop ranting endlessly. 

Harry would’ve laughed at the look of shock and outrage on her face, had he not been so irritated. 

“Listen Granger, ” Harry sneered at her. “It is not your business what I do. Not anymore. So go shove your bossy crap at someone else, and leave. Me. Alone.”

This had Hermione taking a step back and her eyes watering. 

“Harry, I…I’m just trying to look out for you..I-”

“You are trying to boss me around.” Harry cut her off. “So go shove that at someone else. I’m done with your crap. And Ron’s.”

“We are your friends, Harry.” She stomped with her foot on the ground like a child. “Ron’s just a bit out of his mind, but he’ll come around. Please, Harry.”

“You are no friends of mine, Granger. No more. I will never, ever forgive you for this. Never.”

Now Hermione was straight up crying. Harry turned his head away from her as a sign that he was no longer paying attention. She hiccuped loudly and ran up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory. 

Harry felt a knife tear its way into his hearth. He didn’t like to see Hermione crying, he never did. But she had betrayed his trust, she had betrayed him. He could forgive many things, but betrayal of this magnitude was not among them. When he had needed her the most, a presence to comfort him and to reassure him it was going to be okay, she had not been there, instead choosing to side with Ron and stay by his side. She had done nothing against the curses and hexes that were being thrown at him, going even as far as saying he deserved it for cheating and putting his name in the goblet. 

This had been the last straw. First it had been the fiasco with the Chamber in second year. He had forgiven them then, taking it for childish fear and misunderstanding. Now, however, he would not forgive. No, not Hermione, not Ron. 

Let them get a taste of what they did to him. 

“That was a bit much, mate.” a sixth year interjected from somewhere behind Harry. “You didn’t need to make her cry. What you said was a bit harsh, the girl hasn’t done anything to you.” 

“Sod off.” Harry hissed, without turning his head around. “Don’t mess in things you don’t understand, mate. ” 

Before anyone else could say anything Harry stood up and stormed out of the common room. Rage was slowly beginning to bubble in his gut and Harry really wanted to blast something. But of course he couldn’t, because it will only prove the rumour that he was crazy. 

Harry tsked with his tongue in distaste. Fuck them all. 

He wanted to go out, in the forest, to let off some steam where no one would bother him, so he headed for the moving staircases that led to the main hall. He was still rambling under his nose, waiting for the stairs to go in the right position, so he didn’t see the person who raised their wand behind his back. 

He suddenly felt something tangling in his ankles. Just as he was about to fall he looked down, and when he saw nothing, he turned around. Scarlet robes met his sight, and everything else blurred. 

The sprained ankle made its presence known immediately. Harry began rolling down the stairs and his ribs took the first few hits, then his nose. He outstretched his arms as much as he could, to try and grab onto something, but that turned out to be a mistake as his elbow throbbed in pain that traveled onto his whole arm. He then closed his hands around his head to try and protect it. 

And then he was falling. Panic froze his whole body. His glasses had been discarded somewhere while he was rolling and he couldn’t see a thing. Harry tried to reach for his wand, but the pain in his whole body made it so that he couldn’t move any part of his body anymore. 

All too soon the impact with the ground came. He landed on his back, the impact leaving him without enough air in his lungs. His head suddenly pulsed in immense pain. Harry groaned helplessly, tears falling from his eyes because of the pain. He tried to move, but found his body not obeying. 

He looked around and after a few blurry seconds everything went black. 

***

Draco Malfoy

“We’ll find it” Draco insisted. “I know we will!” 

Blaise rolled his eyes and looked at him tiredly. 

“Let’s give up, Draco.” He said. “We’re just wasting time. We couldn’t do the Samhain rituals, and if we keep up the search we’ll miss the Yule rituals too! We’ll find another way to sneak in what we need.”

Draco scowled at that. There wasn’t any other way and they had no time.

“Like how, Blaise?” He huffed. “By the owl post? Or we’ll just walk right in with the ingredients? As if the wards will let something so dark through! We need to use the vanishing cabinet in the Come-and-go room! It’s our best bet!”

“And what if we find the damn thing?!” Blaise raised his voice. “The portrait said it was broken! Do you know how to fix a vanishing cabinet, Draco? Do you?! ”

A lump formed at Draco’s throat, and he looked away. Of course he didn’t know how to fix the damn thing.  He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy didn’t get their hands dirty. A growl escaped him despite every teaching his mother had drilled into him. They were getting desperate, and he didn’t like feeling desperate. 

“Come Draco.” Blaise pleaded and nudged his fisted hand with his own. “Let’s go back to our dorm so we can talk to the others and think of another plan.” 

The blond nodded, but couldn’t stop the persistent scowl he knew he was making. Both boys headed for the stairs and soon enough found themselves in front of the Slytherin entrance.

It was a plain thing, you couldn’t tell it apart from the other place in the dungeons if you didn’t know what to look out for. A wall like any other, with the exception of the small snake carving in the far up-right corner. Hidden in the shadows of the nearby column, it was easily skipped. 

“Belladonna” both Slytherins muttered. 

The wall opened without much noise, forming an arch leading into a corridor and deeper into the green-lit common room. When they went inside, the entrance closed behind them. 

On a few armchairs around the fireplace the Slytherin court was waiting for them.

Theodore Nott - the Lord Chancellor*. 

As the Heir Apparent to the Nott estate he held great political power in both England and Norway, where the family originates from. As a person, he held an astounding repertoire of spells and a very well developed and trained magical core. His mind was sharp and quick, and he had an unique perspective when it came to politics and play. He fit in his role well and he was a very big asset to have. both in and outside of battle. 

Next to him, on the sofa sat Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, Duchess and Lady of the Court. 

As Heir Apparent and Heir Presumptive respectively they also held political power, but the Greengrasses weren’t that well liked. While rich and pure- blooded, they stayed neutral in the Second Wizarding War, which earned them the resentment of both the Light and the Dark side. Nonetheless, the two girls have proven that they were worthy of their titles and the respect given to them. 

To their left were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Lords of the Court. 

While many thought the two  of them were outright dumb, the reality was quite different. Both heirs to their estates, they were well trained for the roles they were to take. They have learned to be subtle about their actions and not to reveal their assets. Many underestimated the Crabbes and Goyles dismissing them as inbred families not capable of producing anything better than almost-squibs. While Vincent and Gregory were nowhere near outstanding wizards, they were on the better side of average, with good grades and acceptable abilities. They had earned their positions in the court and were fiercely protecting them. 

The last of the awaiting group was Lady Pansy Parkinson, another Lady of the Court. 

At first she had won the title for purely political purposes like power, status, money, and the possibility of finding a husband, but after spending some time with the group, she had genuinely liked them and they - her, and became friends. 

Now they were all waiting for Draco and Blaise in the otherwise empty common room, to hear about their findings. 

“Something?” Theodore asked instead of greeting. 

Blaise shook his head no while pulling up two chairs for him and Draco to sit on and complete the makeshift circle. 

“Nothing. We went through the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh floor again and again, but nothing. I think we passed the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw entrances a few times, but nothing else.”

“I say we go look again.” Draco immediately proposed. “It has to be there somewhere. The portrait wouldn’t have lied.”

“We have no time.” Pansy interjected. “We can’t keep searching and hoping to find the stupid room, with no backup plan. Or else we’ll most likely miss Yule.”

“Yule is months away!” Draco huffed. “We still have about two months! We musn’t give up!” 

“Come off of it.” Daphne called. “You sound like a sodding Gryffindor.” 

“I most certainly do not!” 

“You most certainly do.” 

All members of the court snickered at Draco’s pouty face, but soon returned to the serious topic at hand. 

“We need to think of another way.” Astoria interjected. “Maybe we can check the wards all the way around for any holes?”

“Been there, done that.” Vincent grumbled.”Five times already. Nothing we can use.” 

“Any secret passages? Maybe one isn’t covered by the wards?” 

Theo shook his head with a sigh. “I checked. Nothing.” 

This earned a silence from the Court. 

“Let’s go to lunch.” Gregory said suddenly. “There is no point in trapping ourselves in here just to think and plan endlessly.” 

He received several nods and all began to rise up as it was almost the end of the morning period and lunch would start soon. Only Draco remained in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“You go ahead.” He waved off the others. “I’ll come in a bit.”

The other Slytherins looked at him suspiciously, but ultimately shrugged their shoulders in an un-pureblood fashion. 

“I’ll stay back.” Theo called after the leaving group. “To drag him out when he loses his perspective of time.” 

With that only the two boys remained. 

***

“Let me go, Theo!” Draco shouted.

Theo was dragging him by the back of the collar of his robes and out of their shared bedchamber. 

“Time for lunch, Draco. No excuses.”

“Quit dragging me!”

“Quit fighting!”

At that Theo let go of Draco and both boys righted their robes, the brunette receiving a glare from the blond. 

“Let’s go.” Theo huffed and exited through the hidden entrance, without turning back to see if the Malfoy heir was following him. 

The undignified shout behind him and the fast-approaching steps were indication enough. 

Right when they emerged from the dungeons to the main floor a commotion from above caught both boys’ attention. They looked up, to the moving stairs, and couldn’t see anything at first because of all the movement. 

Then something was falling rapidly. No, some one.

The person landed right on the concrete floor, on their back. The body twitched a bit, but otherwise stopped moving, and both boys could see a scarlet pool beginning to form around it. That prompted the Slytherins into action. 

Draco took out his wand and looked around to see if anyone was trying to ambush them, while Theo kneeled near the unconscious person with his wand in hand to begin to heal them. When Draco also got close, still at the ready, expecting an attack, he took a moment to turn back at Theo to see what was the situation. 

“He has broken bones all over his body.” Theo murmured. “ A puncture wound on the back of the head, sprained ankle and most likely a punctured lung.” 

“What do we do?” Draco asked, panic rising. This didn’t sound good. 

“We’ll take him to Pomfrey as fast as possible. I’ll conjure a stretcher and levitate him to the infirmary. You look out for unwanted guests.”

“Okay.” And finally Draco turned around to take a good look at the boy. He felt his jaw drop. “Holly Merlin.” He breathed, eyes wide. “It’s Harry bloody Potter!”

Chapter Text

Theodore Nott

With every step the Slytherins took, Draco became more and more twitchy, and it was starting to grate on Theo’s nerves. 

The blonde had taken up a slightly frightened look on his face and the hand that held his drawn wand was trembling. 

When finally the poorly hidden fear got too much for Theo, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Draco. 

“Keep yourself together.” Theo hissed at Draco lowly, irritation evident in his tone. “The faster we reach the Hospital Wing the sooner we can get out of this situation. I’d prefer we do it unharmed, so if you can’t get a grip and look out for ambushes, then you levitate him!” 

Draco paled a bit further at that. He gulped silently and shook his head, taking a deep breath. A determined look  overtook his face and he nodded, gripping his wand tighter. 

“Let’s go.” he whispered. 

Both continued ahead, a stretcher levitating between them, and on it an unconscious and almost dead Harry Potter. 

***

The doors to the Hospital Wing were wide open and the matron - Poppy Pomfrey, saw them even before they crossed the threshold. 

Immediately she took over the levitation charm Theo was using to move the stretcher around, and put it on one of the unoccupied beds. 

Dispelling it away, the mediwitch began to mutter spells under her nose, one swish of her wand after the other. When a piece, no a scroll of parchment, appeared, the scowl on her face deepened. 

Her demeanor changed more and more with every second she read out of the scroll. Her eyes glazed over and a haunted look reflected in them. She paled a bit, and what looked like a shudder went through her body. 

The two Slytherins observed quietly from the sidelines as Madam Pomfrey began to fuss around the wounded Gryffindor and saw as horror slowly overtake her body. 

“He needs to go to St. Mungos.” she whispered finally. “Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott. Open the floo to St. Mungos, please. I need to keep up a spell to stabilize him.”

This made alarms rise in both boys’ minds. 

“No St. Mungos.” Theo said with finality. “ He can’t go.”

“Mr. Nott, he is about to die, and I can’t do anything to help him. I’ve cast what I could, but I don’t have the necessary potions here, nor the clearance to administer them. He needs healer and fast!” 

“We don’t know who did this, ma’am. Or if they would have access to him in St. Mungos.”

“He needs immediate medical attention!” 

“Professor Snape is a qualified healer.” Draco piped in. “My mother also has received her training as a medic.” 

Pomfrey looked at the two Slytherins for a second, then seemed to make up her mind, and nodded. 

“Mr. Malfoy, please floo your Professor Snape, and then your mother. Usually I wouldn’t let this happen, but this is dire circumstances. Mr. Nott, please reach into the cabinet over there and search for a blood replenisher. I can’t move from my position.”

Silently the boys went into action, Draco going in the furthest corner toward the fireplace and Theo towards the cabinet to find the right potion. 

Soon both the fireplace lit green and the doors burst open. 

Severus Snape

Severus Snape had just finished his last class of the day, and was getting ready to head for lunch, when his fireplace lit up in blue, indicating an incoming floo call. 

The man signed. He had just finished a double period with the third years, teaching them how to brew the Confusing Concoction.

The results were beyond worse, as many had butchered their ingredients in random ways and messed up the sequence in which to add them, but at least no cauldron exploded and no students were hurt. 

Whoever was calling him better had a valid reason to disturb him in the middle of the day, for their own good. 

Snape Accepted the call with a wave of his hand and stood up, nearing the fireplace in his private chamber.

When the head of his godson appeared in the burning coal, a thousand scenarios went through the potion master’s head, every next worse than the previous. Yet nothing prepared him for what Draco said at that next moment. 

“Harry Potter is nearly dead in the hospital wing. Come quickly. I’m flooing mother as well.” 

And then he was gone. 

The words took a moment to register in his mind, but when they did, a full blown chaos erupted. 

Severus Snape prided himself in being both an accomplished Legilimens, and an Occlumens Master. Now however, almost every wall around his mind cracked and shattered, unfathomable panic nestling in his gut. 

He scrambled for his potions bag and began rapidly shoving potion after potion, barely caring to read the labels as his instinct overtook him. 

Once done he grabbed it and raced to the Hospital Wing, not even caring if someone saw him. 

When he burst through the doors, the first thing he saw was the green flames of the fireplace on the other side of the room. 

Narcissa Malfoy

The Lady of the Malfoy estate had been enjoying a beautiful day in the gardens, tending to her beloved flowers, and waiting for lunch to be served.

It was a guilty pleasure of hers, tending to the gardens, one only her son and husband knew about. 

It was a way to escape from that house, the one she was raised in, when she was little and things got too heated. 

Nobody had known she was doing such peasant-like work, and she had made the house elves swear not to tell anyone unless specifically asked. If her mother - Druella had known, or - Merlin forbid, her aunt Walburga, Narcissa would have been punished cruelly. 

But the young daughter of the Blacks had made use of her lessons in politics, lies and schemes and learned to blatantly lie to her family, and not even bat an eyelash. It had helped her both with the Black family and the pompous Lords and Ladies of the Noble and Ancient houses who had thought themselves on the level of a Most Noble and Ancient house like the Malfoys. Those always annoyed her. 

They thought that associating with a formerly Black lady gave them status and power of a god. Yet those same people whispered and slandered her and her family behind her back.

It was ironic, really. Back in Narcissa’s youth, when House Black was at its peak, with both a strong Heir Apparent in Sirius Black and a capable Heir Presumptive in Regulus Black, as well as three beautiful daughters to marry out, they were the most hated family. Everyone sneered at them from the shadows and cursed their names in the safety of their homes. Whether because of The Blacks status, wealth, power, or abilities, jealousy and hatred for her House ran deep. 

For those same reasons they were also the House most sought after. The ones who got to marry the Black sisters would be granted a hefty sum as a dowry, and the protection and votes of the Blacks. And the Ladies who bonded with the two heirs would live lives fit for royalty. 

First Rodolphus Lestrange - her brother in law and her sister’s husband, and later on Lucius had made a lot of use of that fact. Ted Tonks, the muggleborn Narcissa’s other sister - Andromeda, had eloped with, was never able to gain such privileges as Andy had been blasted off the family tapestry and disowned. 

While Sirius had never married, Regulus had taken a lover in his later years at Hogwarts, and to his parents’ utter rage, had bonded and married the man, going so far as naming him his Lord- Consort, and being given the same title for his husband’s estate. Who this person was, remained hidden to this day, as the secret followed Regulus to his early grave. 

And now the Line was going to die, only flowing through her Draco, but never the same it once was. 

Narcissa’s train of thought was interrupted when a house elf popped in front of her and hurriedly started babbling. 

“Miss Lady Malfoy, Sir Lord Malfoy be telling Rippy to get Miss Lady Malfoy to Sir’s private study immediately. Sir Lord Malfoy be saying it is urgent.”  

Narcissa stood up from where she was kneeling in a flowerbed of lilies and dusted herself. 

“Okay Rippy.” The woman said, reaching for the elf. “Go ahead.”

The elf nodded curtly and took her hand. With a quiet “pop” Narcissa appeared in her husband's study, looking at him and worrying immediately at his distraught expression. 

“What is going on, Lucius?” Narcissa asked. 

The Lord looked up and met the eyes of his wife. 

“Draco floo called.” Lucius began gravely. “Harry Potter has been injured and needs a healer immediately. Draco has asked for you to go.”

Narcissa felt herself becoming a bit faint. Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived? The one who vanquished The Dark Lord? And Draco, her Draco wanted to help?

“Why not go to St. Mungos, if things have escalated this much?” the woman asked.

“Draco said he suspects it was a murder attempt.” Lucius answered and poured himself a finger of one of his more high-end whiskies. “Draco said Potter was almost dead, and if he was shipped to Mungos, then his assassin may follow him there and finish the job.” 

“What has happened to the Potter boy?”

“I do not know. He was vague and disappeared fast.” 

The woman stood quiet for a moment, then looked at her husband again. 

“Should I go?” she asked. 

“If you wish to.” Lucius asked. “I do not know why Draconis has taken interest in Potter’s wellbeing, but you could at least find out about that if you go.” 

Narcissa nodded, and with one last look towards Lucius, went through the flames. 

Theodore Nott 

The sudden loud bang of the doors as well as the hissing of the green flames startled Theo, and he barely suppressed the urge to flinch, but he knew better. 

His father had taught him early on to not show weakness in front of strangers. It had been a rather…harsh lesson. 

When Professor Snape and Lady Malfoy saw each other, and located Potter on the bed, they nodded at the other’s direction and without a single word, got to work. 

Narcissa took the stabilizing spell from Pomfrey, the matron swaying on her feet after being freed of the heavy burden, while Severus began rummaging through a bag he had brought with him at the same time as he casted a few spells wordlessly. 

“Madam Pomfrey made me pour a blood replenisher grade four down his throat.” Theo told his Head of House and got a look and a nod from the man. 

Then, both Draco and Theo went and took Madam Pompfrey under one arm and guided her silently to a free bed a few meters away. 

“What is wrong with him, Severus?” Narcissa asked when she saw the greasy- haired man cast a diagnostic spell and get back the results. 

The Potion Master didn’t answer immediately, instead reading on. 

“Broken ribs, one of which had punctured his right lung. The lung is filling up with blood quickly, soon he’ll drown in his own blood. Sprained ankle, a broken wrist. Head injury and a strong concussion. Heavy blood loss, even with the replenisher. Dozens of bruises, most likely from a fall. Many broken bones over the years, most of which haven’t been set correctly and have healed the wrong way. A…a residue of basilisk venom and phoenix tears coursing in his blood.”

Narcissa stiffened at that, but recovered quickly and reinforced the spell that was keeping Potter alive. 

“Boys.” She turned to the two Slytherins. Sweat was glistering on her forehead already, her grip on her wand tight. A few strands of hair had popped out of their place and for once the Lady wasn’t keeping any semblance of right posture, instead standing just the tiniest bit hunched over. It was the most unkempt Theo has ever seen The Lady Malfoy be. 

“Tell me immediately what happened. Where did you find him? How did you find him?” 

“We were on our way to lunch.” Draco answered, ready to comply with his mother’s wishes. “We were near the moving stairs when we heard a loud bang from above. We looked up, I didn’t see anything at first.” 

“Then he was falling in between the staircases.” Theo took over. “He landed on the ground floor. Began to immediately bleed from the back of his head. We pressed a cloth to the wound so it didn’t bleed so much and brought him here as soon as we could.”

“How did he land?” Severus asked. “On his back? Or on his front? Do you know how many floors he fell over?”

“He landed on his back, but I think his head took the initial pressure. I know he fell from above the third floor, but I don’t know how far.”

The healers got quiet, contemplating what to do. 

“Narcissa, when I give you the ready, release the spell. I will try to heal his lung and rips and dispel the excess blood. You take care of the wound on his head.” 

Narcissa nodded and got ready. Severus took out a potion with a nasty murky bluish color and got his wand pointed at Potter. 

“Now!” 

Spells immediately began flying toward the unconscious boy, making the other boys flinch and recoil, very well aware how terrifying and painful it could be to be on the wrong end of a fully grown wizard’s wand. 

“Sit.” Madam Pomfrey, who had just breathed deeply and stayed quiet until now, ordered and took the Slytherins by the hand, pulling them to sit with her. 

***

After what felt like an hour, and probably was an actual hour, the constant spells stopped and both healers took deep breaths, on either side of the boy's bed. 

Then promptly lost their footing and fell to the ground. 

Draco yelped in alarm and jumped to help his mother, Theo doing the same for his Head of House. 

“We’re fine.” Snape muttered. “Just medium magical exhaustion. We should be fine with some rest.” 

“Harry is stable for now.” Pomfrey informed. She had also helped with what she could, once she had regained her bearings a bit, and it was obvious she was also very tired. “I will monitor him through the night, but if he makes it to tomorrow, then he is out of danger.” 

The other two adults in the room heaved relieved sighs and looked at the child laying in the bed. 

“Did you see what I did?” Narcissa suddenly asked. “Severus? Poppy?” 

The two in question remained quiet for a bit, before Poppy tentatively answered. 

“This many injuries aren’t caused just by clumsiness.”

“The boy can’t be abused.” Severus immediately shot the idea down. “We all know he was raised like a pompous prince with some relatives of his.” 

“What nonsense are you talking about?” Theo quipped. “Potter is muggle- raised.” 

That froze the other occupants of the room and made them point wide stares at Theo. 

“Muggle- raised?” Draco whispered. 

Theo scoffed, it’s as if he’d just shared a top- secret.

“Yes. Have you seen the rags he wears under his school robes? Muggle clothes, five sizes bigger. Most likely hand-me-downs.” The boy said in distaste. “And he always talks with Granger about muggle things, meanwhile he doesn’t know the first thing about the Wizarding World. Whenever we are at King’s Cross, he always goes or comes from the muggle side, instead of flooing of sidealong apparating with someone. Sometimes he talks about some relatives of his, an uncle  and aunt, he was raised with them. Muggles, the Dursleys I believe he called them.”

That had Professor Snape choking on air, and Lady Malfoy palling.

“The Dursleys?” the woman asked. “Like Petunia and Vernon Dursley?”

“Most likely.” Theo confirmed. That was interesting. So both the Potion Master and The Lady of the Malfoy House knew Potter's relatives. 

“No.” Snape denied, a horrified expression on his face. “Not possible. No, he couldn’t have been given to that woman.” 

Immediately he stood and went over to Potter, lifting him onto his side and vanishing his shirt and outer robe with a wave of his hand. 

The view that was revealed was grotesque. 

Scars littered the skin on Potter's back, some deep, others barely scratches. Most were faded to pink slashes, but some were fresh and red. There were no infections, thank Merlin. 

And he was thin. His ribs could be counted from his front and from his back. He had some muscles from Quidditch, but they were barely- seen. 

What made bile rise in Theo’s throat was the words engraved in his back. 

“ Freak” started from his left shoulder and ended on the nape of his neck. 

“ Faggot” was centered right in the middle of his back in big letters.

“ Whore” stayed on the small of his back, half hidden from the hem of his worn- down jeans. 

He vaguely heard Draco puking somewhere on his left. 

Severus stumbled back, while Narcissa and Pomfrey put Potter on his back again. 

***

Harry felt like he was hit by a truck a few times in rapid succession. 

Every part of his body ached and protested loudly when he tried to move even the tiniest bit. His head was throbbing and pounding, and he was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. 

He tried to open his eyes, but groaned when even his eyelids pulsed in pain. 

He heard some intaken breaths and shuffling around him. 

“Can you hear me, Harry?” a gentle voice asked from his right. 

He tried to answer, but his mouth wouldn’t open and it came more like a gurgled noise than an actual word. 

“Good. Stay calm darling. I know it hurts, but if you move, you’re going to make it worse.” The gentle voice said. “I’m going to give you a pain relieving potion, okay? I need you to swallow it.”

Then a liquid filled his mouth. Harry did his best to swallow it, despite the burning pain in his throat. 

Immediately he felt more at ease and he could croak one eye open. The blurry image of a blonde woman greeted him. Vaguely Harry registered that he didn’t have his glasses on and he couldn’t identify the woman. But by the feel of the sheets and the white ceiling that greeted him, he should be in the Hospital Wing. So the woman was probably a healer. 

“Better?” she asked.

“Yu’h.” Harry slurred, still under the influence of the anesthesia that was administered to him earlier. 

“Good. I have to ask you some questions, darling. Can you give me an honest answer?” 

“Suureee”

“What happened, Harry? Who did this to you?”

Harry tried to remember, wanting to please the kind woman, and memories flooded his mind. He groaned from the pain and closed his eyes, body convulsing a bit, on instinct. 

“ T’was a gryff….trippin’ jinx…on the top of t’stais…”

“A fellow lion cast a tripping jinx on you while you were on the top of the stairs?”

“Mmhm’m.” 

“Do you know who?”

“Nu’h. Didn’...see.”

“That’s okay, Harry. We’ll figure it out once you get better.”

“M’kay.” Harry yawned a bit. Sleep was slowly crawling its way into his brain.

“Harry? Can you tell me where you got the scars? On your back?”

Harry shivered a bit at the mention of his scars, but his foggy brain couldn’t really care to feel ashamed or lie. 

“There are…lot’ things Vernon likes to…use. Knives, belt, wire, Take your pick.”

A quick intake of breath on his left warned Harry he wasn’t alone, for sure, but he took the presence for Pomfrey, as she was always at the Wing as she was the mediwitch. 

Then sleep claimed him and eased his pains. 

***

When Harry fainted once again, both adults and children shared horrified looks. 

Chapter Text

Harry blinked his eyes open, and then immediately shut them groaning. Whether it was because of the bright light filling the room, the offensive white of the Hospital Wing, or the pain that pierced his body, he didn’t know. 

“So, you're finally awake.” a voice on the end of his bed. 

“Apparently not. If you’re here, then it’s probably a nightmare.” Harry muttered. 

A huff from the voice indicated he had been heard despite his low tone. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked, annoyed at the smirking blond standing at the foot of his bed. 

Draco Malfoy, his “arch nemesis” opened his mouth, most likely to retaliate. 

“Shut it.” a second voice cut him off.

Both Harry and Draco looked at the double doors. There stood Theodore Nott, adorned in his pristine slytherin robes. 

His hair was in half up, half down style, which was unusual for the boy. Most of the time Harry had seen him, Nott’s brunette curly hair was tied up in a neat, impeccable bun. Now though it was running wild over his shoulders and down his back. 

Harry admitted mentally it suited the fair- skinned Slytherin. Not that he’d ever tell him that. 

“Be civil to each other.” Nott ordered. “If you start fighting, I’m throwing you out, Draco.”

“Why me?!” The blond shouted.

“Because I can’t throw Potter out without losing my hide to Pomfrey.”

That shut Malfoy up, and Harry snickered under his breath, receiving a glare. 

“Why are you both here?” Harry became serious again. 

He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his arms and the muscles there faltered. 

At once he was supported by arms under his own, and helped to sit on the bed. Nott had moved on his left, while Malfoy was on his right. 

“Careful,” Nott chastised. “or you’ll reopen your wounds again.”

“Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”

With both Slytherins now in front of him, he could clearly see the irritated and resigned looks they had on their faces, under their Pureblood personas. 

“We were the ones who found you after you fell.” Nott cut to the chase. “We brought you here. Snape, Pomfrey and Lady Malfoy healed you, because we didn’t want to haul you in St. Mungos where just about everyone could access your room. We also saw the scars.” 

Harry’s blood froze and his eyes widened. No, not possible. This was not happening. It couldn’t be happening. 

“We won’t tell anyone.” Malfoy hurried to reassure, seeing the panic on his face.

“Why not?” Harry bit out. “Wouldn’t you just love an opportunity to humiliate the Gryffindor Golden Boy? Especially you, Malfoy?”

The blonde flinched at his tone, but didn’t look away from Harry. 

“We all have our scars, Potter.” Nott answered instead. “Different causes, different people, but scars nonetheless. We won’t tell yours, if you don’t tell ours.” 

Then Nott pulled at the collar of his robes and revealed a big burn mark on his collarbone. 

Malfoy silently followed his example, but instead pulled up his right sleeve. There lay a long, precise scar, from his wrist, almost up to his elbow. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. 

“Muggles have this food called yogurt. If you apply it to a burn, it will soothe the pain. You can eat it if you want to, or if you have to hide it. You can also buy muggle medicine, but most salves muggles make take time to be absorbed in the skin and are very sticky and aromatized.``

Nott nodded sharply. 

“If you massage around the spot every day for a few days, you will increase blood circulation and it will fade away.” 

Malfoy also nodded and then a silence followed. 

“What do you want from me?” Harry finally asked. “I know you’re here for something.” 

“We want to take you in.” Nott immediately answered. 

Harry tried to process the words, but apparently they sounded as ridiculous and strange to everyone else, and not just him, because all three boys cringed. 

“What I mean is,” Nott coughed a bit, with a neutral expression but tension in his eyes. “we, the Slytherins, want to take you under our wing. To extend a protection our names provide us with, over you as well.”

“Why?”

“We take care of our own, Potter.” Malfoy sneered at him. 

“I’m no snake.” Harry sneered back, but the insult somehow lacked its usual bite. 

“You don’t need to be.” Nott shook his head. “You are one of us. Doesn’t mean you are a snake, but you are one of us. And we protect our own.” 

Harry looked sceptically over the two Slytherins, who still had those impassive expressions on their faces. 

“What’s the price?”

“What nonsense are you spouting, Potter?” Malfoy huffed.

“Nothing in this world comes without a price. Whether it’s the Muggle World or the Magical one. So, what is the price of your “protection”?

“Nothing, as of yet.” Nott dismissed him. “Perhaps a favor or two later on, but right now we don’t really know what you can or can’t do, so we’ll hold it off until we know you better. So. What do you say, Potter?” 

Nott was looking at him like had already won, like he already had Harry in his back pocket and he had no other choice but to agree. Malfoy was scowling at him nastily, reaffirming Nott’s position. 

It was a nice tactic, really, to give your victim the impression they were helpless and pressure them into agreeing without uttering a word. Most of the time it worked. Too bad for them, Harry was way too familiar with it, because of Dumbledore.  

A lazy smirk made his way onto his face that made the Slytherins falter just a bit.

The best way to fight someone who was pressuring you was to act as if you didn’t give a single fuck. Harry wanted to laugh, did they think he was that idiotic? 

“I have a better proposition.” He offered. “Interested?”

Nott and Malfoy looked at eachother, and then to him, and Malfoy nodded. 

“You extend that protection over me,” Harry smiled at them. “And help me with a teeny, tiny legal matter involving Gringotts.” When both boys opened their mouths to oppose him, he only raised a hand to shush them. “In exchange,” he said, “I will sneak in any and every material you need for any rituals you may do. For as long as the protection is over me. I can start with the things you need for the Yule ritual that you were desperately trying to smudge in. And no staff member or adult in general will learn about it from me, directly or indirectly, as well as any student that isn’t supposed to be involved. How about that?”

Nott froze in his tracks and Mafoy paled drastically. 

“How do you know about that.” both demanded. 

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, internally smirking. He had them now. 

“Earlier I heard you talking with Zabibi, Malfoy. Even in low voices, you weren’t very secretive about your topic of talk.”

“You let yourselves be heard?” Nott turned to Malfoy abruptly, murder in his eyes. “Did anyone else hear? Tell me, Draco.” 

“Nobody did.” Harry shook his head before Malfoy could answer. “The corridor they were in had no paintings. And even if someone was behind the other turn, they were out of earshot for them. I was behind the corner closer to the two of you.” 

“Are you stalking us now, Potter?” Malfoy sneered. “Hiding behind turns, spying on our conversations? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on us and are stalking us like an obsessed fan.”

“I’d have to ask you and Zabini the same question, Malfoy.” Harry smirked back. “What were the two of you doing so close to my common room, hm Dra-co? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were stalking me. After all, had you turned the corner instead of stopping to chat, you’d have caught me, completely shirtless, going to my dormitory.” 

The blonde yelped and stepped back, a raging blush overtaking his face and contrasting with his pale skin and blonde hair. He sputtered and began stuttering angrily, waving one hand in every direction. which made Harry chuckle. 

“No need for that.” Harry straight out laughed. “I know you were searching for the Room of Requirement. For some sort of Vanishing Cabinet.” 

Now Malfoy was stuttering in embarrassment and disbelief, while Nott looked ready to strangle him, even if his face didn’t reveal a single thing. 

“I have a way of bypassing the wards. And a way in and out of them. I can sneak in anything you need.” 

“Deal.” Nott gritted out the next moment.

“Be careful where you talk about what.” Harry warned Maloy. “You really were close to the Gryffindor Tower. The Ravenclaw Tower also.”

“And what were you doing there?” Malfoy snapped. “Shouldn;t you have been in class? Or is the Golden Boy above education and rules?”

“I was attacked.” Harry deadpanned.

That froze both Slytherins.

“Again?” Malfoy mused.

“Again.” Harry affirmed. “On my way out of Divination. Finch- Fletchley had the guts to throw a Diffindo at me a few times.” 

“The Puff? Really?” Malfoy snorted. “Didn’t think he had the guts to attack someone.”

“Apparently he does. Caught me by surprise. After I stunned him, I was walking to my dormitory. Luna found me and led me to The Raven’s Tower instead. She healed me there and burned my shirt and outer robe. She said something about not wanting my blood in the wrong hands. Then I went to Gryffindor Tower to get myself new clothes and overheard you two. You were one hall away from the entrance, you know.”

“We were that close?” Malfoy gaped. 

“Mhm.” Harry smirked. “Be glad Margaret didn’t hear you, or she would’ve reported you to Dumbledore immediately.”

Harry snorted at the two Slytherins’ blank stares. 

“The Fat Lady.” he elaborated. “She is the one guarding the entrance. She has been here before the nineteen forties. Or so she says.” 

Malfoy gaped, while Theo chuckled.

“How fitting” the brunette mused. “Loud, brash and vain, just like you, Gryffindors.” 

“Hey!” Harry fake pouted, seeing no malice, but rather amusement in Nott’s eyes. “Not like your entrance is any better! Plain and so like the other walls. Only recognizable by a small tiny detail that many skip over. At least Margaret is loyal, so even if you know the password she won’t let you in. I can speak Parsel to the stupid wall and with a single word it opens without a sound.” 

That made the other two boys sharply turn to him with widened eyes.

“How do you know?” they both asked, again.   

“You truly didn’t think I would explore Hogwarts whenever I had the chance to? No matter. We need to talk about Yule.”

“Not here.” Nott shook his head. “If you truly know where our common room is, then come there. Eleven. Do not be late.”

“Sure.” Harry shrugged. “See you then. Oh, and call me Harry. If we are to work together, then at least a first- name basis is required.”

“Theo.”

“Draco.”

And both boys left. 

***

After a few agonizing hours of Madam Pomfrey fussing over him and checking for any injuries they hadn’t seen, Harry was finally released from the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey had told him he had nearly died, and if Snape and Ms. Malfoy hadn’t come to his rescue, he wouldn't have made it. 

Harry groaned internally. Now he owed them a big ‘thank you’ for saving his life. To Snape, nonetheless. 

He would have to pen a letter to Ms. Malfoy, and pay a visit to his Potion’s Professor at some point, to show his gratitude. 

He decided not to think about those things for now, and instead to make his way towards the Great Hall for lunch. 

Madam Pomfrey had informed him that he was out for nearly a full week. No wonder he was so hungry and felt so faint. Once he stepped inside, many leveled him with glares and sneers. His own housemates were ignoring him. Some were even shuffling in their seats and turning their backs on him. 

A few waved him over tho, wanting to sit beside him. 

One of those few was Luna, who was sitting on the very end of the Ravenclaw table with Fleur in front of her.

When the girl saw she had his attention, she smiled brightly at him and again waved him over enthusiastically. 

Harry smiled slightly at her antics and made his way to them. 

“Good day, ladies.” He greeted. “May I sit with you?”

“Of course, Harry” Fleur said.

He sat on Luna’s right side and the girl engulfed him in a hug right away and climbed on his lap, her hands on his back and her head on his shoulder. 

“Did you miss me, Moon?” Harry asked affectionately. 

He got used to this a while ago. Sometimes Luna liked her private space and didn’ let anyone get close to her, avoiding conversations and touch. Other times all she wanted was a strong, long cuddle. Harry had panicked a bit the first time she had hugged him and not let go, but over the course of the six- ish month he had known her, he had learned it was something she needed and he was more than ready to comply. 

Now she had slung her legs on either side of him and hid her face in his neck. 

Harry smiled, and began petting her long blond hair with one hand, while beginning to pile food on his plate with the other. Fleur looked at them with an indulgent smile, also not surprised by Luna’s actions. 

“Are you not going to eat?” he asked another question, again not receiving an answer. 

Harry sighed, but grabbed Luna by her waist and turned her around in his lap, so she was now also facing Fleur. The little Ravenclaw’s surprised expression soon turned into a cute pout.

“Do not pout, it won’t work.” Harry said evenly, again filling his plate, and one for Luna. “You have to eat. Come on.” 

Luna,  having accepted her fate, snuggled back into Harry with her back to his chest, and took her plate in her hands with a grateful smile. 

“Did your Wolf and the Peacock agree with you, Harry?” Luna asked between bites. 

Harry only sighed and shook his head. 

“Why wolf?” He asked, knowing exactly what Luna was talking about, but not understanding one of the associations. 

“His family is from the North with Viking ancestry. He is much like the vicious wolf Fenrir, son of Loki, the god of mischief and deception.” 

“Ah. If you say so. Yes, The Wolf and The Peacock agreed.” 

“Good, Harry. That’s very good. The change has begun.” 

He only shared a look with Fleur and left it at that.

The rest of their lunch was spent in silence, all three of them preferring it to the chaos and noise of the Hogwarts population, even less so with the added guests. 

***

“ Open ” Harry hissed and waited for the bricks to slide to the side and reveal the entrance. 

He had found he could go in the Slytherin common room even without a password, on a pure accident. 

He had been walking around the castle without his cloak one night last year. It was meant to be just a little stroll around the upper floors, to tire him out and help him sleep. After everything he had learned along the year, his thoughts had been very scattered and sleep avoided him like the plague. 

Instead, his feet had taken him all the way into the dungeons, and when Harry saw Snape coming toward him, most likely doing his nightly routes, Harry had panicked. It was a well known fact Snape locked each and every room in the dungeons, especially the Potion’s classroom and the storage room. Harry couldn’t just bolt, Snape would’ve seen him before he could turn the corner. Conveniently, or not, Harry was just in front of the entrance to the Slytherin’s common room, and had no other choice but to try his luck using Parseltongue and hope for the best. 

The door had opened without a sound, and closed behind him immediately. Harry had gone inside and hid in a dark corner. Thankfully, there was no one awake, and the fireplace had burned out, so the room was in almost complete darkness. The only source of light were the tiny beams of moonlight coming through the window and the waters of the Black Lake. 

Back in his second year, Harry had been too occupied with interrogating Draco about the heir of Slytherin, to pay attention to the setting, but when he had snuck in that first time, he had taken a few minutes to stroll around quietly and familiarize himself with the common rooms. What he found most convenient was the many engravings of snakes on the wall. The many enchanted engravings that moved and talked . 

Immediately upon realizing he was a Speaker, the tiny snakes had sworn their loyalty to him, excited to have another speaker after so long. 

Now, when he went in, he was greeted with a nearly- empty room. Save for the seven occupied seats near the dying fireplace. 

Seven sets of eyes turned to him and looked him up and down judgingly. He only smirked and bowed at the waist mockingly. 

“Good night” he greeted. “Read to talk business?”   

“So you can actually get in.” Pansy Parkinson commented with a bored expression. 

“I can do much more in this room than simply get in, I assure you.” he added, with nonchalance to match her indifference. “However, this is not why I am here, and neither is why you are here.” 

After a few more minutes of silent staring at him, he was finally invited to take a seat. He did so, gladly sitting in the seat between Crabbe and Goyle, completing the makeshift circle around the table. 

“You want our protection.” Daphne Greengrass began, cutting straight to the topic. “And you want help with a legal matter of some sort.” 

“I don’t want your protection.” Harry corrected her. “It was offered to me. And yes, I do need help with a legal matter.”

“You suggested to sneak out any ingredients we might need for any rituals.” Parkinson piped in. “This means any ingredients, even the Darkest ones there are. You know they may serve for many foul rituals, many Dark rituals.”

“I don’t care what you do with the ingredients.” Harry shrugged. “I won’t be participating in the rituals, and as long as it can’t be traced back to me, I have no worries over it. After all, if you botch something, you will be the ones getting hurt. In exchange I want the protection you claim to have.” 

The Slytherins looked at each other and shared glances as if communicating silently. Harry had no doubts this was actually the case. 

“This will mean associating with us in public.” Goyle stared at him in a deadpan. “It will mean walking with us, talking with us, sitting with us. Both in public and in private. It means becoming one of us.” 

“We will share secrets with you.” Astoria Greengrass continued. “And you will probably share some secrets with us too. If you wish to end the deal at some point you will be required to take an unbreakable vow to not reveal any of our secrets, to anybody, ever.”

“Fine by me. But if the deal ends, you have to take a vow to not reveal my secrets either.” 

“A reasonable request we are ready to fulfill.” Nott nodded. 

“Do we have a deal then?” 

“We do.” The Slytherins said at the same time and a white light engulfed all of them for a moment. Harry felt his magic move around a bit, as if to make place for something, and then settle. 

No one commented, so he decided not to ask, lest they think him stupid. 

“So what can you offer for handling this legal matter of yours?” Parkinson asked.

“Pansy!” The Greengrass sister chastised. 

“What?” The brunette girl looked at them almost offended. “For all we know, he would ask us to somehow clear up Sirius Black’s criminal record and make him a free man again!” 

“If I needed help with getting Sirius out of prison, I wouldn’t have asked you. No offense, but I don’t think even you can convince your parents to do that. No, I will handle that on my own.”

That had the Slytherins turning to him and staring at him with blank looks. 

“He is my godfather.” Harry elaborated nervously. “He was wrongfully imprisoned for betraying my parents and killing twelve muggles as well as Peter Pettigrew.” 

“If he is innocent, who betrayed them?” Crabbe asked.

“Peter Pettigrew. He was my parents’ Secrets Keeper. Him, Sirius and my father were unregistered Animagi. On the 31st of October 1981, when Sirius went after Pettigrew and tried to capture him, Pettigrew blasted off the street, cut off his finger and escaped in his rat animagus form. The Aurors found Sirius on the crime scene and immediately threw him in Azkaban, even without a trial. He escaped last year, because he saw Pettigrew in his Animagus form, in The Prophet. Pettigrew was pretending to be Ron’s rat - Scabbers. 

A heavy silence followed, the Slytherins trying to filter the new information while Harry tried to deduce their reactions. 

“Well, this is about to be a very interesting alliance then.” Blaize Zabini muttered, but in the silent room it was easily heard by everyone present. 

Harry only smirked.

“It is indeed.”

Chapter Text

The full moon was shining above his head and lighting up his path. It was an eerie night in the middle of november. 

The winter chill made his skin break into goosebumps despite the layered warming and heating charms the Slytherin girls had made sure to put on both his clothing and person. 

This made Harry think about his former DADA professor, Lupin. The werewolf  would have already transformed, and was probably locked up in a warded room somewhere cold. 

Harry’s whole body shuddered. He hoped that wherever both Lupin and Sirius were, they were safe and in good health. Well, at least in better health than before. Both of them were thin, for their own reasons, and gangly. Almost sickly looking, pale as death. Harry hoped they were okay…

The Whomping Willow came into his line of sight and brought memories, good and bad, from his second and third year. The tree was still as vicious as before and still as fast. He had to do some obscure manoeuvring, jumping or sliding beneath the moving branches that were trying to hit him, until he finally managed to crawl to the hidden tunnel. 

When he went inside the Shrieking Shack he felt the border of the wards and crossed it under the Cloak. Harry had found out that when wearing it, no wards he passed through could detect him, and no tracking charms revealed his location. Only the Marauders Map could, and that was in his possession, so he wasn’t worried. 

When he was out of the wards, Harry reached inside his pocket and took out a golden Galleon. 

The Slytherins had managed to conjure a plan and make it seem as if he had never left the castle. They had told him everything he needed to do when he went to the Bank. Pansy had made sure to teach him the proper Goblin Greeting and etiquette, while Draco and Blaise took it up to themselves to teach him how to access his vaults  and what to look for and check over. 

Daphne and Astoria made sure he looked presentable and up to his status under the Invisibility Cloak. 

Theo had penned a letter to Gringotts and requested the Galleon in his hand that should act as a two-way Portkey to get him to the bank and back. 

Just a few seconds later, Harry felt a pull behind his navel and the world began spinning. 

It stopped as fast as it had started, but the following nausea didn’t skip over him. Thankfully, Vincent had been thoughtful enough, and, as another person who hated Portkeys with a passion, had given him a potion to right his stomach. 

Harry put the Portkey in his pocket and took out the potion instead, uncorking it and gulping it in one breath. 

When he finally felt like a person again, instead of a puddle of goo, he made his way to the building with marble walls that was still lit and still guarded by the usual two Goblins in armour. 

He took off his cloak in front of them and bowed like Blaise had taught him. The Goblins eyed him up and down a few times, but ultimately didn’t say anything, which Harry took as permission to enter. 

Inside, only four tellers were at their places instead of the usual dozen. 

Harry went to the one located deepest in the main hall and waited for the Goblin to look up from his paperwork. 

“Good evening, Master Goblin.” Harry greeted with a bow, when he had the Teller’s attention. “I wish to speak with the Potter Account Manager, if possible.” 

“Key?” the goblin asked. 

“I do not have it on my person, but I am ready to do an inheritance test.”

“Very well.” The Goblin, Silvertooth if the little nameplate was to be believed, flipped the sign on his station to “Out of service ” and stood up from his chair. “Follow me, please.” 

Harry obliged and was startled to see that despite his height Silvertooth was fast and took every corridor and turn in strides, so much so that Harry had to quicken his pace to keep up. 

After numerous different and yet alike halls, Harry was sure they were just walking in circles and the Goblin was playing tricks on him. He was almost out of breath and his grip on his wand became tighter with every passing second. 

Finally, they stopped in front of red double doors lined with gold ornaments. 

The Goblin knocked two  times, and then turned and walked away. 

Just as Harry began wondering what to do, he heard a gruff voice from the inside, calling him to enter. 

He did so, pushing one of the doors and closing it behind him. 

What greeted him was a cosy office with a few chairs and couches lining the walls and a big coffee table in the middle. Desk made of dark wood overlooked the sitting area, and a Goblin with long hair and wrinkled face prompted him with a wave of his hand to sit in a chair before the desk. 

“Good evening, Mr. Potter.” The Goblin greeted when Harry took a seat. “My name is Ragnarok and I’m the Potter Account Manager. Before we begin with any business you may wish to look over, we must make sure you are who you claim to be.”

“Good, because my first order of business is to get an Inheritance test which, if I'm correct, is also a way to confirm my identity.” 

“It indeed is.” Ragnarok took out a dagger, most likely goblin- made if Draco was correct in saying that the Bank uses only their own weaponry, and a piece of parchment. “Three drops of blood, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry took the dagger and cut his thumb with the tip of the blade, letting the needed amount soak into the piece. 

Then, he waited.

***

Theodore Nott 

The Slytherin court was in their usual place down in their common room, waiting for Harry to come back from the bank. All of them had made careful plans so that he could sneak out undetected and finish his business with the Bank. 

Right after dinner, Harry himself had made sure to be seen going out of the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor tower early. He had spelled his drapes shut and made them soundproof, like the Slytherins had taught him. Then he had snuck down to the Slytherin common room, to check with them that everything was alright, and out of the castle. The official explanation to anyone who found Harry’s behaviour strange, was that Snape had assigned him detention that night after dinner, and after it Harry had been too tired for anything else other than sleep, so he had made sure no one could bother him while he restored his energy. And if anyone dared to pull back the drapes of his bed and find out he wasn’t there, then the excuse was that he was exploring the grounds outside of the curfew. 

Harry had agreed that if it came to this he would rather get a detention rather than expulsion for leaving the grounds unsupervised, so a note would find him the moment he came into the wards again, to warn him of what had transpired, so he could play in the correct role.  

Now, an hour later, he was still gone and, without meaning to, the Slytherins were getting worried. Harry was supposed to pick up the first package of ingredients for the Yule ritual after he finished his business and bring it to them immediately. 

An unease settled in the room, the occupants shifting in silence. 

“Do you think he got scared out of going to Knockturn?” Pansy asked finally, breaking the silence. 

Seven sets of eyes looked at her. 

Draco snorted. “If anything, he went to Knockturn and got himself butchered for running his mouth. Potter is many things, but a coward isn’t one of them. Always the noble Gryffindor and all that.”

“Draco.” Daphne scowled at the blond. “It would be in our best interest he didn’t get himself butchered, if you remember. Besides, we instructed him on how to act many times. I think he is perfectly fine and his work at the bank is most likely taking more time than we anticipated.” 

“And if it was just an excuse to get out of Hogwarts without anyone knowing, and just vanish?” Pansy insisted stubbornly. “What if he is in another country by now?”

“He isn’t.” Theo said with an even tone. 

The others looked at him strangely, most likely not convinced of his words. 

“He will come back.” Theo assured. “Potter is too honourable to go back on his word, for one. Secondly, he doesn’t even know how to get out of London without multiple spells immediately tracking him, let alone out of the country.” 

“He probably arranged for an international Portkey behind our backs.” Pansy sneered. “He won’t come back.” 

“You give him too much credit.” Theo shook his head. “He doesn’t know his way around The Wizarding World. Even if he wanted to run away, he wouldn’t know where to go.” 

“He probably has properties all around the continent! As the last of his line, he has access to at least some of them.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know he has properties all around the continent!” Theo hisses, annoyed at the brunette girl. “He was muggle- raised, you fools. Potter most likely found out about magic with his Hogwarts letter! With Dumbledore and the Weasleys always on his tail like leeches, do you really think they would just let him claim his titles and then disappear? I don’t think so. He doesn’t know the proper greetings, the proper etiquette. I doubt he knows he is the Heir Apparent to the Potter fortune.”

“You think so?” Astoria asked quietly. 

“I’m almost sure.” Theo nodded. “He will be back. And he will bring our package, and he will most likely do it as Heir Potter.” 

Silence descended in the room, every member contemplating the decision to make such an important deal with Harry Potter. 

***

Harry felt faint. 

Chills ran down his spine and his muscles convulsed. His throat tightened around a nonexistent lump and he began to sweat, his head spinning. 

“Are you okay, Mr. Potter?” Ragnarok asked.

Harry’s mind took a bit to register that someone had asked him something and what it was.

“No.” he answered when he came to his senses a bit. 

The parchment with his Inheritance test was tightly held in his right hand, a bit scrunched up. 

    Inheritance Test - 16.11.1994

    Name: Hadrian James Sirius Potter-Black

    Date of birth: 31.07.1980

    Parents: 

    James Charlus Potter- Black II (deceased) - Bearer

    Regulus Arcturus Potter- Black (deceased) - Sire

    Lilly Jane Potter Nee Evans (deceased) - Adoptive Mother through Blood Adoption Ritual

    Sirius Orion Black (Incarcerated, on the run) - Adoptive Father through Blood Adoption Ritual

    Godparents:

    Sirius Orion Black (named by Bearer)

    Narcissa Druella Malfoy Nee Black (named by Sire) 

    Severus Tobias Prince (named by adoptive Mother)

    Alice Mave Longbottom Nee Fortescue (named by adoptive Father)

    Heirships:

    Potter Heirship (from Bearer)

    Gryffindor Heirship (from Bearer)

    Peverell Heirship (from Bearer)

    Black Heirship (from Sire)

    Ravenclaw Heirship (from Sire) 

    Slytherin Heirship (by right of Conquest)

    Lordships:

• The said Hadrian James Sirius Potter-Black has been emancipated due to a law from the Black Family Charts and is able to claim all the Lordships he is seen fit to. 

    Potter Lordship (from Bearer)

    Gryffindor Lordship (from Bearer)

    Peverell Lordship (from Bearer)

    Slytherin Lordship (by right of Conquest) 

    Potions and spells on said person Hadrian James Sirius Potter- Black: 

    Blood Adoption Ritual keyed to Lily Potter Nee Evans - 31.07.1980

    Blood Glamour keyed to Lily Potter Nee Evans - 31.07.1980

    Blood Adoption Ritual keyed to Sirius Black - 01.08.1980

    Magical Leech keyed to Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore - 31.10.1981

    Compulsion of Loyalty keyed to Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore - 31.07.1991

    Compulsion of Trust keyed to Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore - 31.07.1991

    Compulsion of Trust keyed to Weasley Family, Hermione Jean Granger, Gryffindors, Order of the Phoenix - 31.07.1991

    Compulsion of Hatred keyed to Slytherins, Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort a.k.a Tom Marvolo Riddle, Dark Magic - 31.07.1991

    Love Potion keyed to Ginerva ‘Ginny’ Weasley - 31.07.1992

    Incomplete Horcrux Ritual, which led to a piece of Tom Marvolo Riddle’s soul residing in Hadrian James Sirius Potter- Black. - 31.10.1981 

Harry began sobbing, right then and there, curling himself into a ball on the chair and hiding his face in his hands as the tears fell. 

At this reaction, Ragnarok snatched the results from his hands and looked them over quickly. Rage began to boil in the creature's veins, and he had to reign his temper so as to not let his Goblin Magic run freely. 

Ragnarok summoned a tray of tea for the both of them and let the boy cry until he calmed himself. 

Harry’s world was in ruin. His mind was raging and his body was not responding to his wishes. He knew he was crying, and could faintly recall he was also shaking. Panic, betrayal, fear and disbelief were mingling with each other and fighting at the same time. He couldn’t comprehend the situation, let alone utter a meaningful sentence. 

He just cried until no more tears fell out and his body stopped convulsing. 

Ragnarok offered him tea silently and he took the now cold cup, drinking it in one breath, much like he did the potion. 

“Would you like to continue with business, Mr. Potter?” the goblin asked after a few minutes.

“Yes please.” Harry croaked. “I wish to claim my Lordships and Heirships.” 

“Very well. Do give me a second.” 

The goblin tapped the desk with sharp claws and a few boxes appeared before Harry and their lids popped open. 

“Lordship rings go on the right hand, while heirship rings go on the left hand with no rings on the ring finger unless you are getting married, of course. You may begin.”

The first ring Harry reached for with shaky hands was golden, with a squared front and an emerald in square shape on top. On the inside of the ring was engraved the family motto “Novissima autem inimica destruetur mors”. Harry had the strength to laugh a bit, at the irony. “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.”. Ambitious words for people who are left with only one living family member. 

He placed the ring on the pointer finger of his right hand and felt a rush of unfamiliar, yet welcoming magic surge through his veins, mingling with his own. The ring resized and shrunk to fit him, the emerald gleaming in the light.

Next was the Gryffindor ring, which was also gold, with a ruby on top, and the words “Always brave” engraved on the inside. It’s magic brough the feeling of a cosy seat near a fireplace with hot chocolate and late- night games. It went on his middle finger without a problem. 

The Peverell ring was silver, without a jemstone, an engraving occupying the top instead. A triangle with a circle inside and a line right down the middle of both. It’s magic was cold, but not biting or unwelcoming, and more like refreshing. It served to calm Harry just a bit, feeling this magic somehow close to him, like he already has met it and interacted with it. It gave him a sense of safety. The ring itself slid into his ring finger on his right hand. 

Harry eyed the Slytherin Lordship and Heirship rings warily, but didn’t reach out to them, taking the Black Heirship ring instead.

Now that family magic didn’t hesitate to put him to trial. Immediately after putting the ring on, he shuddered. It felt dark and deep. Like an Ocean Deep, dark and inhabited by many dangerous creatures who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Harry felt like drowning, his lungs couldn’t take a breath. His arms and legs felt numb and his mind blackened out for a second. 

Then he regained his senses and pushed back just as viciously, all the hatred, fear and betrayal fueling his magic and making it stronger. 

A few seconds of the clashing of magics, and everything settled, the ring accepted him. 

The Ravenclaw Ring sent a stab right through Harry’s mind, and that was that. 

“Thank you, Ragnarok.” Harry said finally. “This is all for tonight. May your gold flow and your enemies tremble when they hear your name.” 

“And may your magic always be pure and strong, Lord Potter. Until we see each other again. Your portkey is set to go off in an hour and twenty-seven minutes. Do you wish to reset the time?” 

“No thank you, Ragnarok.” Harry shook his head. “Thank you for your understanding.” 

And Harry walked out of the office. 

Chapter Text

Theodore Nott

“That’s it!” Pansy shouted impatiently. 

The girl had been getting agitated with every passing minute Harry was gone, set firmly on her belief he had somehow up and vanished, never to be seen. It was now after midnight, and he still wasn’t back. The three hour mark they had agreed on had passed. 

“He’s gone!” Pansy screamed and stumped her leg like a child. “He tricked us and is now gone with our money!” 

That earned a few sighs from the boys. It was the fifth time she had exploded like this, and it was beginning to grate on everyone's nerves. 

Theo was getting nervous. He was the one who had readily agreed to this deal with Potter and had trusted him almost blindly. 

He had been watching Potter, from the moment he and Draconis had had that little scuffle in the chamber before they were all sorted in their first year. It had been obvious the boy was tiny, smaller than all of them. His eyes had darted around left, right and centre as if searching for escape routes. At the same time awe was present in the green orbs as if this was something right out of fiction books. That had been the first clue Potter was raised in the Muggle world. The second one had been the rags he had worn under the school uniform. As Theo had said, they were a few sizes bigger and definitely not Potter’s style. 

The third clue that led Theo to think Potter was also raised in a magical-non-friendly environment was all the flinches.  With every louder sound, every shout and bang, The Boy Who Lived flinched, just the tiniest bit, and never with his whole body. One palm, or foot, or even a finger at a time, but never fully. It was a practised movement, Theo could tell, the stiffening of every part of one's body except one. 

Snape and Lady Malfoy’s reactions to Potter’s relatives’ names only solidified his theories that Potter was abused. 

The hatred towards Dumbledore was another giveaway. 

In their first year Potter had watched the man with nothing but pure admiration and hero worship. That changed pretty fast in the beginning of their second year. Those looks were the same, except when Dumbledore finally turned his back around, the emerald eyes began to narrow and quiet, almost not there hisses left Potter’s mouth.  At first Theo had thought that Potter was hissing instead of cursing as to not be caught, but after it was revealed he was a Parselmouth, Theo was completely sure Potter had been cursing the old man out like none other. 

The annoyed glances and the deadpan stares the Gryffindor had been throwing at his best friends throughout the years when he thought no one was looking also made Theo rethink his opinions and beliefs about the leader of the Golden trio. 

And now all of his reasonings were about to crumble and it panicked him. With each one of Pansy’s nerve- wracking comments, the urge to slam something or someone into the wall grew greater. But he had to stiffen it, just the same way he fought against his nervous thick to bounce his leg against the ground. He was an heir to a Most Noble and Ancient House, for Merlin’s sake! He was better than the frightened little Puffs! 

One of the ornate vases exploded behind Theo’s back and he wasn’t sure whose magic had done it. Was it his, or Pansy’s? Or Potter’s, who was storming into the common room with a package in one hand, a piece of parchment in the other, and a furious expression on his face. 

“Oh, wonderful, '' Theo thought.

***

“He’s gone!” Harry heard Pansy Parkinson shouting. “He tricked us,” she shrieked “and is now gone with our money!”

This lit a spark of irritation in Harry, but he couldn’t get truly mad, not when he was still figuring out his previous situation and didn’t know what to do. He wanted to curl in some corner and cry, but he had already shed all the tears that could fall on the way to the meeting he had in Knockturn Alley. 

He was very confused, and angry, and sad, and pitiful and scared . 

A shiver ran up his spine and he flinched at the silence that followed. A vase shattered when the Slytherin Court came into view, but he didn’t care enough to check if he had done it or not. 

“My, my, I didn’t know you think so lowly of me, Pansy," he drawled bitterly, like only Lucius Malfoy could. “But no, I have not up and vanished with your money, thank you very much. Here.” Harry carefully tossed the parcel he was carrying to Daphne, who easily caught it and began unwrapping it. “The guy said he didn’t have the required amount of basilisk venom, but gave as much as he could. Or so he said.” Harry threw himself in the only free seat, right between the Greengrass sisters and let his head fall backwards. “Everything else is in there.” He added. 

He felt several stares level him, but he didn’t have the strength to look at them back, or even move anymore. 

“Everything is here," Daphne confirmed, putting the package away.

A silence followed, where Harry knew they were all staring at him.

“What’s got you looking so pathetic, Potter," Draco finally sneered.

“Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry replied, without missing a beat.

Draco’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click Harry would’ve laughed at was he not in such a mental and emotional disarray. 

“How did the meeting with the Goblins go, Harry?” Astoria tentatively asked. 

“Awful," he replied. 

“What did you fuck up now?” Draco called again from his place. “We tried so hard to teach you the proper greetings and etiquette, Potter, and you just go and screw everything- .”

“Draco.” Harry was sure this was Theodore, just as much as he was sure the brunette was giving the blonde a warning glare. It was fascinating and ironic to Harry how closed off the Slytherins were in public, and yet it had taken him barely one evening in their presence to pick up on their dynamics. 

“What happened Harry?” Daphne took her turn to speak. 

Harry just reached inside the pocket of his outer robe and took out his Inheritance test, throwing it on the table without looking. He was too tired to care who found out about this. 

With his eyes still closed, he hear the ruffling of clothes and the shuffling of parchment, undoubtedly someone had picked the results up. A harsh intake of breath to his right warned him it was Blaise, the italian immediately beginning to curse in his mother language. Or what Harry assumed were curse words, if he went by the low tone and the menacing muttering. 

This sparked the interest in the other Slytherins, and The Test began passing through everyone’s hands. With every outrageous gasp Harry’s irritation grew. He felt when it was Astoria reading it, and had the urge to just grab it from her hands and tear it before anyone else could take a look. He didn’t do it, of course, reigning in his temper with the thought that Astoria least of all has warranted his fury and he wasn't a brute. 

Once silence number three broke out Harry finally lifted his head and opened his eyes. Immediately his hands became occupied as the little third year threw herself in his lap, circling his neck with her arms and hugging him tightly. 

Despite the strange situation Harry wasn’t about to turn down any form of comfort, so he hugged Astoria back and buried his face in her brown curls which smelled of green tea for some reason. 

When he lifted his head back up, still embracing the younger Greengrass sister, Harry was met with concerned looks that definitely did not suit the aristocratic faces of the Slytherins.  

“You…” Draco opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, and opened it again like a fish. 

“Oh, Harry," Astoria sobbed in his hold. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry began patting her long hair and hummed. 

“Don’t cry” he whispered. He didn’t want the girl to shed tears for him.

“Harry..- How, how could you be so calm?” 

“I’m tired, Astoria. I already cried my eyes out. Please don’t cry for me too.”

“You…” Theo began. “You are the son of James Potter and Regulus Black,” he whispered disbelievingly. “Lord a few times over, oh Merlin.” 

“Did you claim any Lordships?!” Pansy whisper- yelled excitedly. 

Daphne hissed at her threateningly, but Harry just shrugged and lifted his left hand, showing his three Lordship Rings. The gems all shone menacingly in the low lighting and Harry could feel the family magics reacting to his emotions. The Gryffindor and Potter rings were emitting low heat, cosy and comfortable like an embrace that travelled up his arm and to his body, while the Peverell one was giving off a strong chill, not cold enough to make his hand numb, but a refreshing flick of frost that served to clear his mind a bit. 

“What about the Slytherin Lordship?” Draco asked.

“I didn’t claim it,” Harry responded. “Me and him have enough things in common, I do not wish to share a title with him even if it belongs to me by right of Conquest or something alike. I left the Heirship unclaimed as well.” 

Draco gaped like a fish once more and then shook his head. 

“We are cousins,” he whispered, eyes wide. “We are cousins, and you are Heir Black, and you are my uncle’s son, and-” 

“Draco. Shut up.” 

For a moment Harry leaned back again and revelled in the feeling of comfort that came with Astoria’s hug and the quietness before the storm Harry knew was brewing. 

“You need a cleansing.” Theo said immediately when his eyes crossed Harry’s again. “We need to get you rid of those compulsions and spells. Once this is done, your Lordship rings should protect you from such things again.” 

“Where do I do that?” 

“We can pull some strings,” Blaise immediately chimed in. “Usually Gringotts is ready to perform such procedures, but an action of this magnitude will immediately alert Dumbledore. If we do it with one of our family managers though, there will be nothing suspicious as most pureblood families get mandatory cleansings by the goblins.” 

“Why would Dumblefore be alerted?” Harry asked. “Apparently I’m emancipated because of some law of the Black Family Chart whatever those are. He is no longer my Magical Guardian.” 

“To become your Magical Guardian in the first place, he has pulled strings and favours of his own,” Vincent explained. “Most likely he has a way of tracking what you do with your vaults. It is best if we do it with one of our managers, whom we know we can trust.” 

“Won't he be alerted that I have claimed my Lordships and Heirships then?” 

“Which Goblin did you go to?” Pansy asked.

“I asked for the Potter Account Manager and  they led me to a goblin named Ragnarok. He did all this.” 

This made the Slytherins’ eyes widen at once. 

“Ragnarok? Like, long, white beard, and long nose, and battle aces all over the place Ragnarok?” 

“Yes?” 

“Holy Merlin’s Beard. You’ve met the King of The Goblin Race.”

This made Harry pale and exhale a breath. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ragnarok is the King of the Goblin Race of Britain,” Theo breathed. “There is no way he is the Potter Manager, maybe Gryffindor’s or most likely Peverell's, but not Potter’s.”

“Why not?”

“Ragnarok only ever takes the oldest accounts in the bank,” Gregory said. “Even if House Potter is Most Noble and Ancient, there is no way he’d have taken it under his supervision, when he refuses all the other Noble Houses. His work is impeccable, so he also manages the largest account at the bank.”

“Wow.” 

All of the children shared bewildered looks when suddenly Harry began to giggle maniacally. The Gryffindor was suddenly overcome with both anger, grief and panic and it all formed in a big bout of hysteria. 

“Can I crash here for the night?” he asked. “I don’t want to go back to that ragingly red common room in this state, it will give me too much of a headache.” 

“Sure.” Blaise smiled also, endearing Harry’s madness, for which Harry was glad for. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to handle another pitiful or compassionate looks from anyone. “Vince and Greg are sharing a room, Dray and Theo too. I’m alone and I have a spare bed in my room, i’ll let you borrow some of my night clothes. But you’ll have to wake up early so you can sneak out without anyone catching you.”

“No problem. Thanks Blaise. And thank you, guys.”

“Don’t go soft on us, Potter,” Draco scoffed but without malice. “Just because we are letting you stay does not mean we are friends or anything.” 

“Sure Dray, whatever.” 

Astoria got out of his lap and sat on his side again, wiping her eyes clear from tears. 

“Let’s all go to bed,” Theo suggested. “Once we have a good sleep we can think things over. Potter, you sit with us tomorrow. Everywhere. Goodnight.”

“Yes sir,” Harry saluted mockingly, a bit of a smile creeping on his sullen face. “Goodnight everyone.” 

Several murmurs answered him and they all went up the stairs, the girls separating from them and going to their dormitory. 

As it turned out, the Slytherin dormitory was very fancy looking. For every year there was one door. When Harry stepped inside, instead of a bedroom, what greeted him was a sitting room with four other doors. It was cosy, with a small coffee table and several pillows around it to sit on. Some shelves and painting lines the walls. At the opposite of the entrance wall was another floor-to-ceiling window with an underwater view of the Black Lake. 

“This door over there,” Blaise pointed to the door in the far left corner, “leads to Theo and Dray’s bedroom. The one next to it goes to Vince and Greg’s chambers. The room over here,” he gestured to the door closest to the entrance and opposite of Greg and Vince’s room, “is the bathroom. And the last door is my bedroom, and temporarily, yours.” 

Harry nodded and silently followed Blaise into their room, only meeting the other boys’ eyes in acknowledgement. 

He didn't even bother to put his things away properly, simply throwing the pouch that held his Cloak, Wand and The Map onto the nightstand beside the unoccupied bed and took off his shoes.

Blaise took out a set of pyjamas for him and Harry grabbed his wand, muttering a spell to change his clothes with the pyjamas fast.

Blaise whistled surprised. 

“You need to teach me that sometime.” he commented, but otherwise focused on also changing his clothes to nightwear. 

Harry neatly folded his uniform and put it beside the pouch, meanwhile putting his wand back in it and getting into the bed.

“Goodnight Blaise,” Harry muttered before closing the emerald green curtains around his bed.

A muttered “Night, Harry” was the only response as the boy fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning met Harry with rain and wind. Even the Black Lake was uneasy, its waters being thrown left and right and making waves due to the storm raging outside the castle. 

From the windows in the bedroom it didn’t look like much, but once Harry got ready for the day and quietly snuck out to the common room before anyone else, he could see much clearly the outside. The common room windows were also below the surface, but still closer to it and Harry could take a peek and see the different pieces of seaweeds that grew on the bottom of the lake, that were now being thrown left and right by the strong currents. If it was this bad so deep in the lake he didn’t want to imagine how it was like above. 

Harry cringed a bit, imagining the harsh winds. He had been subjected to such weather many times because he was part of the Quidditch team, and had even played in such conditions last year, against the Puffs. He never wanted to do it again, especially the dementor incident part, but he knew that was a fruitless wish. Thankfully, this year Quidich was cancelled, so this was one less thing to worry about. 

Harry took out The Map and draped The Cloak on himself. 

The coasts were clear, at least in the dungeons, so Harry got out of the common room and headed towards the staircases to the Gryffindor Tower. 

Once there he had to gently wake up Margaret from her slumber. The woman had fallen asleep with a goblet in hand, the contests of which were now spilled on the floor. She had been most likely drunk, a result from a visit of the knights of the painting on the third floor with whom she really liked to ‘chat’. 

“Harry?” the woman mumbled almost incoherently. “Is that you, lad? Are you sneaking invisible again?” 

“Morning, Margaret.” Harry took off his hood. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Ah, no problem dear. I was going to be woken up sooner or later anyway.” 

The painting of the woman had grown fond of him last year. Because of all his breakdowns due to the dementors he had often skipped classes to hide in the common room. The Fat Lady had taken pity on him,“the poor dear”, and had lied about his whereabouts the whole year. He had been very grateful and had forced himself to look past her annoying demeanour and talk to her a few times. It turns out she was a very pleasant company. 

She had been a lady of half- noble descent, her father being a duke and her mother- a witch with a commoner status. She had not been treated too well in her life. Her magical abilities were almost non- existent, so her mother had abandoned her, thinking her a squib, so she had been raised by a father who treated her like a bastard child. She hadn’t been a pretty child, or an attractive young woman, both in looks and body. She couldn’t learn to be a proper lady and had never married because no one had wanted her as a wife. 

The only thing she could do and do it she could, was singing. She had had an outstanding voice and had performed in many operas and concerts at the time and had been famous for it. Many portraits had been made for her, and one time a wizarding painter had stumbled upon her and recognized her as a witch. 

He had been a practitioner, Margaret told Harry, a young lad in the mid- seventeenth century, who wanted to become a professional magical painter but didn’t have much experience or money to pay for a teacher. He had asked her to pose so he could make a try out and see if he could apply the right magic to the painting. Margaret had agreed, ready to do something for a fellow wixen. 

As it turned out, he was an exceptional painter and his spellwork wasn’t something to joke about. The very portret that now guarded the Gryffindor tower was the same one which the wizard made. In the later years he had made a name for himself. Now all of his pieces stood in the Noble Houses and to this day were as if just- made. 

Of course, Margaret’s painting had been damaged last year by Sirius and wasn’t treated as original anymore since it had been fixed by someone else, but still, the magics were holding true to this day, centuries later.

Harry had been fascinated by this story and since that day he had always stopped by the portrait to chat and gossip. As it stands, the paintings in this castle knew everything about Hogwarts and the grounds. Every nook and cranny, every entrance, exit, room and balcony. They also knew most of what was going on with everyone, at every time, and Margaret turned out to be the woman to go to, when you needed to know something about someone. Harry now had blackmail on half of the school, and wasn’t that something. 

“And where were you the whole night, mister?” Margaret asked sceptically. 

Harry made a gesture for her to keep quiet and smiled at her a bit sheepishly. 

“I had some business to take care of,” he said.

“And the past four days?”

“In the hospital wing. There was an accident a few days ago and I had to stay there. Orders of the matron.”

“You clumsy boy.” THe woman shook her head with a sigh. “How many times have I told you to be more careful dear.” 

“I’m fine. By the way Margaret, a few days ago, do you remember who came out of the common room immediately after me? A boy, right?”

“Oh? Yes, young Mr. McLaggen came right after you, but returned almost immediately. Why? Is there something wrong?” 

Harry’s blood ran cold for a moment, hearing the name.

“No,” he answered after a moment. “No, just asking. May I go in?” 

“Password darling.”

“Balderdash.” 

“In you go. I hope you slept at least a bit, because breakfast is in an hour and a half.”

The painting swung open, revealing the red common room. 

“I slept well, don’t worry.”

“Well then, have a good day, darling!”

“You too, Margaret.”

Harry said one last goodbye to The Fat Lady and went in. Fortunately most Gryffindors were heavy sleepers and loved to wake up late, so the common room was empty. 

He went up the staircase to the fourth year boy’s dormitory and was slightly disappointed to remember how five Slytherin boys got their own sitting rooms as well as separate bedrooms while he and his four other roommates only got a circular room with cramped beds and small bedside drawers. And the Slytherin common room wasn’t that much bigger than its Gryffindor equivalent. 

“Harry?” A sleepy voice called from somewhere in the room.

Harry froze in place, looking around the dimly lit room. All of the curtains were drawn, even the ones on his bed, just like he had left them. But just out of the corner of his eye he could spot a silhouette sitting upright.

“That you Harry?” The voice called again.

“It’s me, Nev,” Harry replied quietly. “Don’t worry.”

“Are you feeling better? Why are you out of bed?” 

The blond boy drew his curtains back and looked at Harry. Suddenly Nevile narrowed his sleepy eyes and looked Harry up and down.

“You weren’t in bed at all, were you?” The blond asked suspiciously. “You were sneaking out somewhere! And you pretended to be sick!” 

“Shhh!” 

Harry panicked, but it was Neville, he didn’t have the mind to just obliviate him. 

At the end he only took off The Cloak, which was what probably gave him away in the first place, and opened his curtains to throw it on the bed.  

“Yes, I was. But listen Nev, you must not tell anyone, okay?” Harry looked at Neville seriously and said more forcefully. “I was feeling unwell, so I stayed in bed. Now I’m feeling all better! Okay?”

The plump Gryffindor looked stunned for a few seconds, but then nodded silently. 

“Thanks Nev.”

“Anytime Harry.” 

As Nevile went back to bed Harry made sure everyone else were asleep and arranged back the pillows in their correct places and climbed in. 

Theo had told him yesterday that Harry should sit with them today. It was bound to warrant even more hate from the school, and suspicious looks from just about everyone. 

McGonagall would be very disappointed, her ringing voice playing in Harry’s head even now, speaking one of the many boring lectures for bad behaviour. Flitwick would be shocked, as will most of the staff. Snape would probably curse him out, even if it’s in his own mind. And Dumbledor…Harry didn’t know, and that scared him a bit. 

But he was going to do it anyway, let them all speak. If something got in the newspaper he was sure The Slytherins can help him sue Skeeter. In fact, even if nothing got out of the paper, the reporter was still slandering him brutally because of the Tournament, so he might sue her anyway. Yes, maybe… He’d have to talk to them about it at breakfast. 

***

It was finally time. 

Harry had pretended to wake up and get ready for the day with the other boys. They have given him glares, except Neville who looked at him funny, but otherwise didn’t say anything. 

Now Harry was in front of the Great Hall, peeking inside through the open doors. It was a little bit earlier than usual, so the commotion wasn’t so great, but still, there were quite a few people already digging into their breakfasts with gusto. 

When he stepped inside, all eyes went to him. Some gaped openly, most glared daggers at him. 

Harry held his head high and walked further inside. 

It was an interesting choice, to put the two most hostile tables beside each other. When you go inside, to the furthest right was the Hufflepuff table, followed to the left by Gryffindor, Slytherin and on the other side of the room - Ravenclaw. Confrontations between the snakes and lions were easy when the only thing separating them was a three- person path leading to the head table. It was also why most avoided sitting on the sides facing that same path, because no one would easily trust the other table and turn their back to them. 

For today however it was very convenient that those houses sat next to each other, because when Harry walked down the path it looked like he was going for the place at the far end of Gryffindor table where his housemates exiled him a few weeks ago. 

Instead, he stopped at the centre of the Slytherin table, right in front of Draco and Blaise’s turned backs. When the other Slytherins, who had been following his every movement with their eyes, saw him stop to their table, the younger years began glaring and the older years began sneering and even showing teeth in a semblance of a growl. Harry was taken aback a bit, not noticing before how protective the snakes were of their own. Apparently coming from the boys’ backs also played a part. 

Marcus Flint began rising when Harry didn’t make a move to leave, but Draco raised his hands in a sign to stop. The older boy froze mid- standing and looked sceptically at Draco, who still had his back to Harry, but lowered himself back in his seat. 

The whole Great Hall had fallen into grave silence, waiting to see what was going to happen. Harry dared a quick glance towards the Head Table and saw both McGonagall and Snape rising, ready to intervene in whatever they thought this was. Dumbledore was looking at him with intrigue though, and  gestured for the other two to step back. They obeyed him, of course, but with much distaste to that fact as both their expressions conveyed. 

“Draco.” Harry drawled, a smirk on his face. “Blaise.”

The two finally turned to him and looked him up and down. Then at once parted and made place for him. Harry took it gladly and sat, pleasantly surprised when a new plate and utensils appeared for him. 

“Theo. Pansy, Daphne, Astoria.” Harry nodded to the other members of the group. “Where are Vince and Greg?” 

“They wanted to sleep in a bit, so we let them.” Pansy answered and continued with her meal. 

No one else said anything and Harry began piling food in his plate without a care. 

And then the whispers broke out. Or in the Gryffindor’s case, the shouts. 

Harry’s back was turned to them, but by what he could hear, it wasn’t good. He secretly tugged the sleeves of both Blaise and Draco, which made them look at him and lean forward a bit. 

“I know who attacked me the other day, on the stairs.” Harry whispered. “If he speaks up, should I say something about it?” 

This had the boys stiffening and then taking on considering looks. 

“Spin it in your favour first.” Theo called from his place in front of Blaise. “If he says something you can turn around, against him, go on. If not, stay quiet about it.” 

“Also, don’t raise your voice.” Draco chided in. “The moment you raise your voice you lose respect and trust, you begin to sound desperate.” 

“Don’t hunch over. Look him in the eyes, that would make him nervous.” Blaise cut in. .

Harry nodded gratefully and they all continued eating, waiting for the bomb to explode. It wasn’t long before it did. 

Something sharp hit Harry in the back of his head and made it throb. A gooey substance soaked the back of his robe and a clank was heard. 

“You slimy snake!” followed. 

Harry bit his tongue so as to not grunt in pain and reach to touch the now tender spot on his nape. A few shocked intake of breath alerted him that the situation now had everyone's attention. 

Harry turned slowly, making sure to keep his posture straight despite the pain. Several cries of “Mr. Weasley!”, “Ronald Weasley!” and “Ron!” rang through his ears. When he was finally facing his attacker, Harry’s heart clenched. There, right in front of him, stood Ron, his best and very first friend, ever, with a look of pure rage and hatred directed at Harry. 

It hurt. It truly hurt and it made Harry’s heart rip and tear, but another side of it felt numb, and finally resting in some sort of peace. It was sick, and wrong, and it made Harry nauseous, but he persisted and pushed the feeling down. 

“You slimy snake!” was the first thing directed at him. 

When Harry looked down he saw an empty plate and splotches of food on the ground. 

“Me? Now I’m a slimy snake to you, huh?” Harry responded evenly. 

“Yes, you! How dare you sit with them?! Those- those- Death Eaters in training! Those traitors, those snobs who think themselves better!” 

Ron was raging, flashing and throwing his hands in the air, making wild gestures. 

“Ron. They are just kids. Like all of us.” 

Ron, and half the school looked at him in utter disbelief. 

“Kids? Kids?! They are Dark Wizards, Harry! Evil, Dark, manipulative Wizards! And you sat with them like it’s the most natural thing in the world!” 

“None of them bears the Dark Mark. None of them has uttered a single Unforgivable in their life. They are who they are and who they were raised to be. Just because they value the old traditions and etiquette does not mean they are evil. It means they are respectful and grateful towards our ancestry. The people I sit with now are my age, our age. If you think they can be Death Eaters Ron, then I must be the next Dark Lord, if we go by your logic.” 

Ron gaped at him, and so did the others, but Harry refused to give in, looking Ron in the eye determinately. 

You could hear a pin drop in the Great Hall, everyone were frozen in their places. 

Cormac McLaggen stood from his seat suddenly and drew his wand at Harry. His hands were shaking and he was trembling like a leaf, with one hand supporting his person on the table, the other holding his wand. 

Harry only smiled what he knew was a cruel smile, a sense of coldness and calm overtaking him. After a moment he realised it came from both The Peverell Lordship Ring and The Black Heirship Ring, and he sent a pulse of his magic into them as a sign of gratefulness. 

“Finally got some bravery to show, did you, McLaggen?” Harry drawled amused. “You all call me a slimy snake, but what about you, Cormac? Drawing your wand in a room full of children, on an unarmed person? Attacking said person seven days prior? You certainly like attacking from the back. Tell me, did you get your revenge when you cast that tripping jinx on me while I was on the top of the moving staircases? Did you get a sense of satisfaction seeing me fall to my death, helpless and alone? Tell me, Cormac.” 

The boy’s eyes widened and his feet gave out, making him stumble and sit back down, even with his wand still pointed at Harry. His tremble got even worse. 

Several gasps were heard around the Great Hall and Snape finally rose, sling with a highly distressed Madam Pomfrey. 

“Mr. McLaggen!” The Matron called, anger evident in her voice. “Is it true, what Mr. Potter says?! Were you the one who cast the tripping jinx on him?!” 

The boy looked at the Matron in fright and began to stammer, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“I- I- …!” 

“It was him.” Harry commented lightly. “I remembered his voice.” 

Madam Pomfrey began to rage, truly, and hastily made her way to where Cormac was sitting. She took him by the cuff of his uniform, hoisted him up, and then slapped him right across the face. 

That stunned even Harry and made him drop his calm mask. 

The sound echoed across the whole Hall. 

“Madam Pomfrey!” Dumbledore bellowed, now standing in his place as well. 

“Do not!” The mediwitch turned to face him and pointed a finger accusingly. “Albus Dumbledore, do not! Because of this boy I had to see Mr. Potter, one of the students of this school, almost die! Do you know, how I found Mr. Potter?! Do you?! His ribs were broken, his arms and legs! His head was bleeding, his skull was cracked! One of his lungs was punctured, the boy was drowning in his own blood! He was one moment away from dying! A slap on the face is nothing compared to that!” 

Madam Pomfrey angrily began dragging him towards the entrance, making all the students in her path move away. 

“Minerva McGonagall, you are coming with me right away!” The Witch shouted, turning back. “Mr. Potter, you as well! I am going to call the aurors and have this boy punished!”

“Enough, Poppy!” Dumbledore shouted, rage replacing the usual twinkle in his eyes. “Stop this instant! I believe this is simply a misunderstanding between Messers Potter and McLaggen. It can easily be resolved.” 

“No! It is not a misunderstanding but a murder attempt!” 

Cormac was on his knees now, pleading, and crying and babbling non- understandable words. Madam Pomfrey still had a strong grip on him and refused to let go. 

“I’m sure it was not so severe, you are simply exasperating.”

“You are a fool, Albus Dumbledore! And I refuse to let you dismiss such a thing as a simple misunderstanding!” 

“I am the Headmaster of this school!” Dumbledore finally lost his composure and began advancing towards where Madam Pomfrey was holding Cormac, navigating between the stunned students with agility not commonly seen in wizards his age. “You are under my authority, Poppy! You will obey my orders!” 

“I am the Mediwitch of this school, hired under the supervision of the ICW. You have no authority over me, Albus Dumbledore!”  

And the woman boldly took her wand out with her free hand and fired a stunner at the Headmaster. Him, having not expected it, couldn’t dodge and fell on his face, right in the middle of the hall. 

“Severus!” The Mediwitch called after a few seconds. “Since The Headmaster has gone into a shock, as a fellow healer I trust you to keep him calm and administer the right potions for his state.”

The Potions Master only nodded and went up to Dumbledore’s unmoving body, pointing his wand to it and levitating the old man into the air and out of the Great Hall. 

“Minerva! Mister Potter! With me! Now!”

The Transfiguration Professor scrambled to do as told, taking Harry by his hand on her way. 

“Transfiguration and Potion classes are cancelled for the day!” she called and disappeared with the other three people. 

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy

The school descended into madness not long after Potter left with McGonagall, and even while the other teachers tried to take control over the situation, those with true authority, namely Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore, were gone and it didn’t go so well for people like Flitwick and Sprout. 

All the students were ushered to their common rooms with the promise of finishing their meal there, and classes were cancelled as a whole by Flitwick, who apparently was next in the chain of command. 

Draco stood up with his other housemates, and began walking back to the dungeons. Once inside, he and the other members of the Slytherin court, the only people he would dare call his friends, even if only in his mind, sat on their usual place around the coffee table nearest to the fireplace. 

But no one could have their peace of mind, even for a minute, as they were approached immediately by Marcus Flint, who bore a grimace of pure anger on his face.

“What was that about?!” The seventh year asked. “Why did you let Potter sit with you?!” 

“Potter is with us now,” Daphne replied. 

“ Potter? With you? ” Flint laughed sarcastically. “Do not mock me. What did you do to make him sit with you? And why did you do it?” 

“Potter’s been targeted by everyone since his name came out of the Goblet.” This time Blaise spoke up, still sitting in his chair, with a nonchalant expression. “Just a week ago someone cast a Tripping Jinx on him while he was on the Moving Staircases. You saw Pomfrey and heard what she said. He was on his Deathbed.”  

“Me and Theodore found him,” Draco continued. “After he woke up, four days later, we proposed a deal. He agreed, and that was that. But beware. He is with us, so if any of  you dare to do something to him in public, you will face us.”

The members of the Court narrowed their eyes and looked toward each member of their House, making sure to get their point across. 

Adrian Pucey had the guts to sneer back and stand up.

“I refuse to let Potter here!” he shouted. “And I refuse to be trampled up under your feet, you uncultured brats! You came, and claimed the position of the Court like it already belonged to you, when you are nothing more but spoiled idiots!” 

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, and some of the occupants recoiled, as if bitten. Most stepped back, away from both Pucey and the Court. 

“Well, what do you expect?” Draco snorted and laughed mockingly. “It’s not our fault you fools couldn't manage the task of creating a Court. We came, and we took what was being presented to us on a golden plate.” 

Pucey raised his wand and pointed it at the Court, which triggered their reflexes and soon more wands were drawn.  

Draco dared to turn his head to the side, towards the entrance, to see if there was anyone coming in, only to see Potter there, leaning on the wall. Hissing. 

Bloody Merlin, Draco had forgotten Potter was a Parselmouth. He had also forgotten just the kind of expression The Golden Boy displayed when speaking the language of the snakes. 

As he leaned there on the wall, Potter's eyes were half lidded, as if he was about to fall asleep. But beneath the long lashes two emerald orbs were almost trembling in excitement and even a bit of madness. There was a shine in them, some kind of light that could only mean trouble. Draco felt himself shiver just a bit. So that’s what people meant when they said Harry Potter had eyes like the Killing Curse.

  Potter’s head was tilted to the side, but his gaze was glued to Pucey and a small cruel smile was dancing in the corner of his lips. Not a smirk, a smile. His hands were folded in front of his chest and one of his legs was bent at the knee a bit. He was the perfect picture of a snake, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its prey to make the wrong move, so he could pounce and go for the kill. The predator who knew the one in front of him was going to be his meal tonight. 

Many outrageous and terrified cries made Draco turn his gaze back on Pucey and almost drop his wand in surprise. 

Pucey was now on his knees, with a silver python wrapped around his whole body, suffocating him to death. 

Draco was familiar with the silver snake, it was one of the carvings on the column in the corners of the common room. He had stopped many times to just marvel at it, at the details and the snake at general. It was a reminder of home, as it was akin to the golden carvings above the fireplaces in Malfoy Manor. When he had been a first year, those ornaments in the common room had him helped greatly when he had been feeling homesick. 

Now, this same snake was somehow alive and it had attacked Pucey. And Draco was completely sure it was because of Harry Bloody Potter.

 ***

“ Bind him.” 

Harry had just managed to get away from the aurors, the ICW representatives and all the teachers. Madam Pomfrey had aided him when she had seen his pleading look, and dismissed him under the pretence of his incomplete recovery, with the promise to call him back at a later date to give testimony. 

Harry had immediately made his way to the Slytherin common room, using the time where Snape won’t be there, since he was still tending to Dumbledore in his private quarters on the side of the Headmaster’s office. 

What greeted him was the chaos he didn’t know Slytherins could make. No one had seen him come in, all focused on who Harry thought to be Marcus Flint. Harry had heard the whole talk between the Seventh year and what he had soon learned was the Slytherin Court. Harry was a bit touched that the Slytherins were protecting him and going to such an extent as to threaten their upper-classmen. 

And then Adrian Pucey decided to test his luck. 

Harry refused to stand by and watch. 

Now, he had the seventh year on his knees, barely able to breathe. 

Harry saw the faces of pure shock, the gasps all the Slytherins gave, and the way those who were closest to him scrambled to get away. 

“Don't you know it’s impolite to raise a wand in a peaceful conversation, Pucey?” Harry asked, as if he was asking what was the time. “Damn, didn’t you learn a lesson when McLaggen did the same? Do you know where he is now? No? Well, let me tell you.” 

Harry pushed himself off the wall and strolled casually to where Draco and the others were standing, never raising a hand or moving in a way that showed he was feeling in any kind of danger while being in a room full of Slytherins. 

“He is in a Ministry Holding Cell, where he awaits throughout investigation for the attempted murder of the Boy-Who-Lived. Now, none of us would want for two people to be put in the same situation in one day, would we?” 

When Harry didn’t receive an answer he hissed in irritation and while it was not any particular word in Parseltongue, the silver snake tightened its hold on the boys, whose skin was becoming an eerie blue colour from the lack of oxygen. 

That made Pucey nod his head frantically as his eyes began to glaze over and he almost lost consciousness. 

“Release him.” Harry commanded. “Come to me, my dear.”

The Snake immediately did as it was told and slithered to where Harry had now taken seat. It wrapped around his neck and draped itself as if on a throne, resting Its head in the crook of his neck and hissing happily. 

“Let me be blunt, Adrian Pucey. Raise a wand against the Court again, and no one will be able to find your body. Or if they do, they won’t be able to recognize it.”

The room collectively shivered and looked at him with fear. This was the most emotional state Harry has seen any Slytherin in. 

“Oh, and by the way, any word, to anyone, about any of this, will warrant you the same fate.”

“Y-you- you wouldn't dare!” Millicent Bulstrode shouted.

Harry turned to her and made his eyes glow with his magic.  

“You think so?” he asked. 

When no one dared to move or dispute him Harry only waved his hand.

“Go back to whatever you are doing and don’t bother us for the time being.”

***

Theodore Nott

The whole room scrambled to obey Potter, and after a second Theo and the rest sat down in their previous places, putting their wands away. 

Immediately a Secrecy and Privacy wards were elected in a way only Pansy knew how to. All of them looked at Harry Potter as if they were seeing a new man. Theo was no exception. 

The boy standing before them now was a whole new layer of personality they have never seen. In the days they had… befriended Potter and helped him, he was an emotional wreck. In the times he wasn’t unconscious that is. Switching between fright, embarrassment, anger, grief, betrayal. 

Now, however, he felt like he was in a powerful position, and he was. Because apparently this whole common room was a giant death trap and he was the one who controlled who was going to fall in and who wasn’t. He looked calm, even a bit giddy. Theo suddenly realised this may be one of the rare times Potter felt in control of the situation. He could understand the feeling, it was intoxicating. 

His posture was relaxed and he was grinning like a fool, petting the damn silver snake draped around his neck. His eyes were still alight with power, and the low temperature of the room hadn’t disappeared. 

Theo dared to let a bit of his magic loose, to see if the shift in the room was caused by Potter’s magic or simply by the catatonic atmosphere. 

What he found out made him shudder and gasp. Power, at it’s finest form met him and for a second Theo could swear he could see wisps of grey magic intertwine with his deep blue one. It felt like silk, when the two magics collided, and at some places it emitted warmth, while others gave out a chilling frost. What made him almost gape openly was the under layers of family Magics intertwined below the grey veil. Theo would guess they were the sources of the heat and cold, as two of the four different magics were very bright shades of red and stayed where the warmth was, while a black and very-close-to-black deep blue ones stayed where the chill reigned. But they all flowed effortlessly into the grey and gave it a bit of warmer or cooler tones. 

Theo didn’t know what to make of it, what to think about Potter when his magic looked like that . 

When he looked at the boy in question Theo found he was already being stared at, and met the emerald eyes, which narrowed momentarily. 

Potter had felt him. Fuck. 

It was one thing to point a wand at someone while they were defenceless. It was completely another thing to try and touch one’s magic with your own. But damn him, he couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay. 

The snake was still lounging on Potter’s shoulder like it was no one's business and Theo wondered briefly if he’d be its next victim. 

He looked back into Potter’s eyes, who were still staring at him intently. A spike of fear crossed his spine, but he managed to keep a neutral expression, only tilting his head downwards a bit in a sign of apology. 

Potter saw it and hissed something, but ultimately nodded and placed his haze elsewhere, making Theo let a relieved sigh in his mind. 

This was not someone who Theo wanted to mess with. Ever. 

“What the hell was that?!” Pansy shouted, a distraught look on her face.

“Pansy, darling, I told you I can make this room do much more than simply let me in, didn’t I?” Potter smirked. “I don’t go back on my word.”

That left everyone dumbfounded, which for some reason made Potter burst out laughing. He even bent forward, holding his stomach from laughter. Draco and Pansy’s reactions were immediate and they scowled.

“Don’t you dare laugh, Potter!” Pansy shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at the boy. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Potter chuckled and righted himself, hissing something to the snake. It rose from its position and slithered to the floor, going over to one of the columns in the corner of the room, most likely the place it occupied before Potter called for it. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you guys.” 

“Scared? Who’s scared? Don’t think yourself so high and mighty Potter.” Draco sneered, but Theo could tell it was one of the blonds weak attempts to seem superior while he was, in fact, scared out of his mind.

Potter surged forward a bit, hissing, which made Draco throw himself backwards and yelp. This earned another round of laughter, in which this time Daphne, Astoria, Blaise and even Theo joined, although it was more like snickering than a full blow laugh. 

“You are all jerks.” Draco mumbled, sitting properly in his lounge chair. 

“You know you love us, Draco darling.” Pansy drawled. 

“Yes, Draco darling.” Blaise fluttered his eyelashes and smiled mockingly. “We know you love us all.”

In the next moment Blaise cried out, because both Draco and Pansy had sent Stinging hexes towards him. He patted the spots where the spells had landed and frowned, but didn’t dare open his mouth again. 

“Anyway.” Potter called attention back to him. “I came here to update you on what happened.” 

Daphne nodded. “They let you go pretty fast. I mean, it has been what? Twenty minutes?” 

Harry hummed. “It was a full blown disaster. We went to Dumbledore’s office and Madam Pomfrey floo- called. In minutes the whole office was flooded. Amelia Bones came dragging Fudge behind her. Two representatives of the ICW also came, and somehow Skeeter showed up. I was asked to tell them briefly what happened, but they all bombarded me with questions left and right, so I panicked a bit. I think Madam Pomfrey saw that and excused me, saying I have not healed properly yet so I shouldn’t overdo it. Said they will call me back to give more detailed testimony at a later date. The last thing I heard was McLaggen was being taken to the Ministry and an investigation was being launched.”

Theo hummed at that. Amelia Bones and the Minister of Magic, ey? That was fast. 

“We need to talk.” Blaise mentioned. 

“What about?” Potter asked. 

“Yesterday night I penned a letter to my Family’s Gringotts Manager.” Theo said. “The reply came this morning with the Owl Post. I have arranged for a Cleansing to be done. Also, the second package of ingredients is to be picked up.” 

“Perfect. When should I go?” Potter grinned. 

“Not so fast, Scarhead.” Draco sneered. One of us should go with you this time.”

Potter looked confused at that, looking at the Slytherins. 

“Why?” 

“Do you really think you can just waltz in and ask for another Family’s Manager? Especially a Death Eater’s Manager? It’s not as simple as that Potter.” 

“Well then,” Potter sneered right back at Draco “if it’s not that simple then who is coming with me? I warn you, only one of you can.” 

“We weren’t planning on more than one extra person anyway.” Theo nodded. “I’ll come, to supervise your interaction with my Family Manager and your Cleansing.”

“I won’t fuck up a talk with the Goblin.” 

“No, you won’t, because I’ll be there. Also, at least one family member of House Nott must be present, for the procedure to take place, it is after all under the Nott Family Name. Anyway, I will also bargain a prize for the second package, because our dealer has become bold and thinks he can trick us into giving him more money than we should. So, I’m coming. We are doing it tonight.” 

“Fine. When should I come to pick you up?”

“Eleven.”

“Done.” Potter then slumped in his chair and sighed, then shook his head. “I’m going, before Snape decides to come and ask what the fuck is going on.”

“He’d never use such crude words.” Draco sneered. 

“Even if he uses some fancy ass word, he still says the same shit.” Potter bared his teeth at Draco, and then left the Common Room.

Chapter Text

Turns out being cleansed wasn’t simply staying still while someone waves a wand above your head and murmurs incoherent to you spells. 

No, by far, it was the most pain Harry has ever felt in his 14 years of life, and isn’t that an achievement. 

When he and Nott arrived at the Bank, they were greeted immediately by Bloodfang- the Nott Family Manager, and ushered into a private hall. Without so much as a word two other goblins- healers, Harry presumed, showed him to a stone table and told him to lay on it after he strips everything but his underwear. 

Usually Harry would be mortified, absolutely scared out of his mind, to be almost completely naked in a room full of people. His scars would be on display, as would be his thin frame and scrawny limbs. However, the burning want to get rid of all those parasites that had been put on his person beat any mortification (at least for now) that Harry was able to feel due to the presence of the goblins and Nott in the room.

He quickly undressed and folded his clothes, putting them on a near- by chair, and layed down. The moment his back hit the cold stone, Harry has to hold back a hiss. His newer scars were still healing and stinging, and the sudden cold made electric currents go down his spine from the shock. 

The Goblins seemed unfazed still, and quickly strapped both his legs and arms to the table. 

“So you don’t move too much and mess up something.’’ One of them said, which definitely did not help Harry’s nerves. 

The boy looked to the side, to where Nott was now sat on a chair, facing him and just watching. 

“I have to be here, for the procedure to be done’’ Nott murmured, as if reading Harry’s mind. 

“Yeah, you said that already.” Although Harry certainly didn’t know this was the meaning behind the words, when he had first heard them just a few hours ago. 

Before he could say anything else, the Goblins surrounded the table, raising their wands, (Harry was wondering how they even had them, since by law no creature was allowed to have a wand, besides some werewolves), and began chanting. 

He could only feel the searing, unfathomable burning pain for two seconds, before he blacked out, without even making a sound. 

***

Theodore Nott

Usually Theo wouldn’t have to be present for someone else’s cleansing, but his own. His father was a reserved man, who did everything he could alone. And when Theo was the one having a mandatory Cleanse, it was nothing major. A failed compulsion here, a botched love potion there, nothing his Heir Ring hadn’t protected him from. It didn’t go too bad either, it felt mostly like tickling or a buzz below his skin, it was irritating, with the occasional stab of pain somewhere, but nothing unbearable. 

So when Potter’s body immediately convulsed, and not even a few seconds into the ritual slumped back onto the table, the boy visibly unconscious, Theo was immediately on his feet as panic crept into his gut. 

He tried to go forward, to see what was wrong, nothing should be wrong, those goblins had served the Nott family for generations, done his own Cleansing multiple times with no problems, so what was wrong now, but a hand on his wrist pulled him back. 

When he turned, ready to snap to whomever had dared to stop him, he instead found himself speechless. 

The new Goblin that had entered the chamber had a long beard, and tired, but fierce eyes. The golden crown with emeralds and rubies on his head clearly indicated who he was.

“Your Majesty” Theo quickly got back to his senses, bowing like a proper Noble Heir to the King of the British Goblins. 

“Heir Nott’’ was the gruff reply. “I must warn you, if you disturb the ritual now, it may have grave consequences on Lord Peverell’s well being. I suggest you sit back down and wait, until my goblins are finished.”

“But, there is something wrong.” Theo tried to explain. “Potter-, I mean, Lord Peverell should not lose consciousness, should he? And he looked like he was in immense pain.” 

The Goblin King hummed and looked at the table, where the ritual was still taking place. “No, naturally he shouldn’t. However, the compulsions, and potions and spells that are being now removed from Lord Peverell’s body are deep. He has lived with them since a very young age, and as you must know, children are more prone to adapting to such spells than adults. He has grown up with those spells attached, and essentially they have become a part of his being, even if they hurt him in more ways than one. In such a case, it is normal for the Cleansing to cause pain, and even a loss of consciousness, since essentially the body is feeling as if parts of it are being ripped apart, and the sensory overload is far greater than during a mandatory Cleansing. But you must needn’t worry, Heir Nott, the goblins that are now performing the ritual are very well aware of that fact, and have set up monitoring spells of every kind, so as to watch over the Little Lord’s state. I am also here, to personally overlook the procedure, and I assure you, nothing bad will happen to Lord Peverell.”

As Theo listened to the explanation, he felt the tiniest bit more relieved, and sat back down on his seat. He still had the urge to fidget, to pace, but he had learned to suppress such wants long ago. Instead, he faced the table again and watched on. By the familiar chants, he knew it was almost over now, and a little part of him was glad, because he couldn’t bear to watch Potter's body contort and flinch in pain even when the boy himself didn’t feel it.

***

When Harry finally woke up, he wished he hadn’t. 

The bright light was offensive to his eyes, even though they were still closed, and he felt as if he’d been run over by the Hogwarts Express a few times. Every inch of his body was aching, he was feeling nauseous and disoriented. He tried to open his eyes, but he groaned in pain even from that small movement. 

Suddenly his mouth was forced open and a liquid was poured down his throat. He choked, the foul taste only adding to his pain and making him cringe, but was forced to swallow it down. 

Instantly the pain receded, leaving place to awful soreness. Harry groaned, and finally opened his eyes, and then immediately startled. Seeing a gruff, gangly goblin face right after he woke up from seemingly death wasn’t on his list for the night. 

“I see you are finally awake, Little Lord” Ragnarok snickered. 

“Greetings, Your Majesty.” Harry said hoarsely. 

“Leave the nonsense out for now, Little Lord. Those titles are for the public. How are you feeling?”

Harry checked over his limbs one by one, trying to move each of them, and yep, each bloody hurt. 

“Like I died, and my body got mauled by a bear, and then I came back alive.”

That made the Goblin King grin wolfishly, which made chills run up Harry’s spine. No wonder Goblins were a feared race. If Harry had to face hundreds of *those*, he’d turn and run for his life at the mere sight of their hoards. 

“Everything is cleansed from you now, Little Lord.” Ragnarok interrupted Harry’s thoughts. “The only things left are your two Blood Adoptions done by Lord Sirius Black and Lady Lily Potter nee Evans respectively. I should hope you do not wish to remove those also? Since it will take a special type of Cleansing.”

“No, no, thank you.” Harry said as he slowly sat up, feeling nauseous. “I think I’m done with Cleansings of any kind for a long while.” 

Ragnarok huffed with a smile. “Well, if that’s so, then your Lordship and Heirship rings should protect you well enough. I do, however, recommend a mandatory cleansing every six months or so. And the next time, I hope you will come to me straight, as you should have now, and not try to do it with another family’s Manager.”

“I am sorry.” Harry apologised. Blaise and Draco had made sure to beat it into his head pretty clearly that Goblings took pride in their Gold dealings just as much as they did in their battle achievements, and what Harry was doing, while necessary, was offensive to his Manager(s). “I did it only out of necessity. I did not want to go to the Potter Manager, or the Black one, because I have suspicion Dumbledore had his webs around them, and he’d find out. I needed a third party.” 

The Goblin hummed, and sat on one of the chairs around the bed. 

“I must assure you then, that I will investigate this thoroughly. Any rotten pieces will be immediately cut down. And as for the future, I will not take offence to your actions today, as I see the need. However, in the future I expect you to come to me. I have handled the Peverell accounts for the past 134 years, and I am in no way, shape, or form under the Wing of Lord Dumbledore.” 

Harry nodded. “Understood. Thank you Ragnarok.”

THe King nodded back. “Now. Your cleansing has been paid for, as well as all the additional potions are salves we had to use on you. Our Healers gave you the clear to go back, with the condition you do not exhaust yourself for the next few days. I’m sure Pomfrey would just love to give you a note to skip for a few days, what with you almost dying a few times already.”

Harry snickered, an image of Madam Pomfrey Stunning Dumbledore popping into his head. “You know Madam Pomfrey?” 

“Why, of course.” The Goblin grinned. “Every Mediwitch from the ICW must undergo a two- year training with the Goblin Healers. Poppy Pomfrey was an extraordinary one. A potion genius, with a knack for the Healing arts, she took up to the goblin ways with ease, and in a stride. She became very respected and we keep in contact to this day. I must say, she was very worried and raging mad when she barged into my office, demanding for the Potter Manager and ‘how could he not look over the only ward of the family, the future Lord, instead letting him die!’”

Harry felt his cheeks flame in shame, but at the same time a pang of affection for the mediwitch crossed his body. She was truly going far and beyond for him. 

“You should’ve seen just today, when she cast a Stunner and Dumbledore in the middle of the Great hall.”

Ragnarok smirked. “Perhaps I should hear the story, the next time she comes for a glass of bourbon.” After a few seconds of silence, the smile dropped from the Goblin’s face. “Now, I must go attend to my duties now, as we have waisted much time. I believe your companion, Heir Nott, went out on an errand of his own, while you were still not awake, and she should be back soon. In the meantime I decided to select for you a traditional Black Robe stored in the vault. I am sure you would like to get dressed while you wait for Heir Nott, and take a look in the mirror yourself.*

Harry nodded and bid the Goblin goodbye. 

Once he was alone, he took a look at the clock - 3 in the morning. So he hadn’t been out of it for too long, only around 3 hours. Harry supposed Nott went out to get the ingredients they needed, since the time of the meeting was 1:30. He wondered where he could be, still. 

He stood up, and immediately fell. His muscles gave out, the sudden increased pressure made them spasm and not support his body properly. Harry grunted as he hit the floor, but sat up and shakily stood again, reaching for the neatly folded clothes on the bedside table. They were made of black silk, Necromantula made if Harry had to guess.

It was nothing simple. A white button down with a collar and flowy sleeves. Dress pants in black, with silvery- white embroidery. They were loose, only tight around the ankles and the waist, double layered. An outer robe, long enough that the hem brushed the floor. It was one of those that was open in the front and you could button it, or tie it with a belt. This one came with a matching belt, both adorned with the flowy silver stitches. The embroidery was nothing particular in shape, flowy but sharp, thing but strong. It reminded him of spells woven casted, used  and undiscovered, all of them meshing into the other at some point. It reminded him of ancient magics, of the secrets they hid and of the beauty they possessed. It also reminded him of the Black Family Magics, cold and isolated, but many, powerful, and always showing off their best qualities. No wonder this was a Black Family Robe. 

Harry donned it on and buttoned the three buttons on his chest, also tying the belt on his waist, leaving the lower part open. There were shoulder pads that stood out, and the sleeves were a particular shape- they were cut open almost right from the shoulders. Harry felt pride, and familiarity while wearing those robes, and wondered how they looked against his dark skin and raven black hair. He decided to ignore the voices in his head telling him he wasn’t worthy of the robes, and the history they bore, for now. 

Once he was sure everything was correctly placed and tightened, Harry took his wand, which was also conveniently placed beside the clothes, and conjured a full body mirror. Ragnarok had assured him previously that the Trace didn’t work in some of the back rooms in Gringotts, and this room was such.

Once the mirror was standing before him, he took a look at himself, and immediately yelped in surprise, flinching back. 

***

Theodore Nott

Theo was just coming back in the bank, from the meeting with the stupid dealer from Knockturn. He was fuming, the man had grated on his nerves and irritated him beyond belief. 

‘An ingredient is missing because…’

‘It’s not the right amount, because…’

‘Can you pay me extra for the hard work, it was a pain, y’know….’

Theo had sworn to himself to cut all trades with the man, because he had to spend the next hours and some minutes to go look for the missing things all around Knockturn, payed an incredulous amount of money for each thing, and wasted another bottle of Polyjuice, because the one he had essentially taken had run out. 

Now, back in Gringotts, he headed for the resting room where the Goblins told him Potter was sleeping in, to see if the Golden Boy was awake, because they had to go back immediately.  

He pushed the doors open, without so much as a knock, not caring to be polite to an unconscious boy. 

Instead, he was met with a stranger who just yelped, flinched back and fell right on his ass. 

Theo stopped in his tracks, all anger vanishing at the sight. 

‘......What?’

***

Harry yelped, flinched back violently in shock, and his feet got tangled in the robes, so he fell on his ass, which made him wince in pain. 

The doors had burst open, and Harry had taken a second before his fall to look at the newcomer, seeing Nott, storming in, angry. Now, however, the just- slightly annoyed (which by Slytherin standards meant ‘I’m going to murder the next person who speaks’) expression was gone, in favour of pure, undeniable shock, which was far more emotion that Harry had seen any Slytherin show (despite disgust, hatred and the sort, of course). 

“Uh-” Harry chuckled nervously. “Hey there, Nott.”

Harry could swear that if Nott was just a slightly less uncultured person, he’d be gaping like a fish right now. But no, there was just the slight parting to the mouth, Harry was sure it put quite a lot of strain on Nott to keep up the appearance. 

And then-

“POTTER?!”

(A/N)

So, this is how I imagined the robes

And this is how I imagined the embroidery (bear with me, I know those are chains, but it's the closest thing I found, also the pattern is all over the robes and not only the shoulders)

Chapter Text

Theodore Nott

Black. 

That’s the only word that came to Theo’s mind once he took a good look on the boy in front of him.

Theo almost recoiled just from the sight alone. 

All his life he’s been taught nothing is concrete but death and power. And when it came to wanting to gain power and not earn your own death, it meant ‘do not, under any circumstance, do wrong by the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.’ They were mad . Crazy even, the famous Black madness wasn’t named after them for nothing. Once the most powerful House in Britain, now it was left in shambles and ashes, with a reputation for necromancy, blood magic and hideous crimes that even the, eh- hem , other side of society found repulsive. 

The only Blacks left - one in jail for life, so is the other. A blood traitor who married a mudblood and got disowned. And Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black. And her son Draco, of course. Even if he didn’t carry the Black name, he was definitely of their blood. To this day Theo always managed to see a glimpse of the Madness written in his own being. The slightly unnatural gleam Draco’s grey eyes possessed for just a second, when he was truly furious. That was something that always reminded Theo of who Draconis truly was. And who he can become.

They were supposed to be the only ones. The end of the Black Line, it should’ve been over. The other Noble families rejoiced when no male heir was produced. Sirius Black, who got disowned for many reasons. And Regulus Black, who died young. It should’ve been the end of their atrocity. 

And logically, Theo knew that it wasn’t true now, that there *was* an Heir, and even a Lord. But somehow, in his mind, he hadn’t thought of Potter as an actual part of the Black family. He was too brave, and kind, and naive to belong to this family of cunning vipers, who were always ready to engulf you in their web without you even noticing, and then use you until you were no longer useful. It helped that he didn’t look anything like them too. 

Until now.  

This was not Harry Potter. Not anymore. 

Suddenly, a memory flooded Theo’s mind. He couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9. His father had taken him to a gathering of the Nobles, hosted by none other than Arcturus Black the Third. It was the last time there was a public display officially made in the Black name, but it was memorable. It was a statement, and everyone knew it. ‘We have all of this, and we always will. We may be going down now, but not for long. You’ll see this once again, hundredfold. Just wait.’

A grand ball held in the Black Castle, the Castle where, once upon a time, Arthur and Merlin themselves resided, one of the Black’s most prized and sought after heirlooms. Ceilings high enough that you needed to tilt your head fully up to see them, windows from the floor up, everything decorated in pure gold . Tiles of Asian porcelain and stone, shaped in intricate patterns. Mirrors on the walls, so no matter where you looked you’d always see everyone else. Hundreds   of candles on several Grand Chandeliers hanging upon their heads, and illuminating the whole room as if stars in the night. The hall, so long you would’ve had to patiently walk at an appropriate pace for at least a minute, to get from one side of the other. Everywhere you looked, every corner, every wall, every piece of furniture, carved with shapes and figures, so delicate and flowy they blended into each other in breathtaking sights. The roof itself was painted with many scenes. It was the only time Theo had seen a non- moving picture in a wizarding place. He had been bewildered, watching the paintings portraying spells flying in all directions, frozen in time and captured in this exact moment. Hundreds of people, seemingly standing on clouds, some begging for mercy, others- sobbing, hunched over, knowing the Doom was near. Wizards and witches engaged in a fight, some had had their wands drawn, others were portrayed using what Theo had later learned to be wandless magic. There were also those people, with wings like a bird, angels , his father had called them, reaching for the light that shined seemingly above all. A muggle belief, Theodred had explained, higher immortal beings. What the muggle religion called divinity , the Helpers of God himself. King Arthur- a Muggle, perhaps the only Muggle to ever be recognized as something more by the Magic itself, had chosen to have them drawn, a memory for eternity, of his own beliefs that somehow managed to exist along Merlin’s. 

The moment one stepped into the Hall, he felt inferior, unworthy to gaze upon something so significant, let alone take a step in. The room immediately instilled a sense of reverence, and even worship for the history engraved in every little place. 

And when the Blacks had entered, it was as if the world had held its breath, or so Theo remembered it. 

At the time Sirius and Bellatrix Black were already in jail, and Regulus Black long dead. The ones left, though, did not let it show. Matching masks perfected over years upon years of practice. Expressions not cold, but impassive, as if this whole thing was but a bore to them, nothing new or significant. And once they descended the staircases that led to the second floor or the ballroom, they truly looked like the beings they were described as, in the history of Magic. Kings, wearing crowns forged in blood and magic, ready to strike down anyone who opposed them. And when gracefully entering the floor, they looked almost like the angels overlooking this Sacred Ball. Their robes made of pure black, but each in their own shade, which stunned the onlookers even more. Carefully embroidered, as if magic  currents themselves had flown into the fabric to adore it now. 

What had put the guests in even more stupor, was that where an empty space should’ve been, it was occupied this time. Narcissa Black, A Malfoy by then, with zero to none obligations to the family who all but sold her to Lucius to cover up Andromeda’s disappearance, had stood proudly, head held high, and with a graceful step had taken her place on the right side of her father - Cygnus Black. And Andromeda Black, the disowned, the runaway, the one who dared defy her own blood to elope with a Muggleborn, stood on Cygnus’ left. 

When it was time to open the night, because the event began only when the hosts welcomed their guests officially, they did it with a dance. A French song played, from generations ago, telling the story of bravery, cunning and power. The Blacks had danced and danced, their robes flowing out with each little pull and nudge, looking like separate entities on their own, who only had one purpose in mind- to follow the hand that was guiding them. 

With the graceful movements of their bodies, each of the Wixen looked natural, as if they had grown up on the dancefloor, as if they floated and were a part of the music itself. They had entranced every living being that was watching them at that moment. 

In that same fashion they had ended the lavish night. 

This was the last time there was any sort of event hosted by House Black. Orion and Walburga had passed away not long after this night, and no one outside of the family knew where or how they were buried, if they even were. That night was the last time Narcissa and Andromeda stood next to each other, and didn’t correct anyone who gave them the last name ‘Black’. 

It was a threat. 

It was a promise.

One day the Fallen Angels will rise again.

Chapter Text

To: Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

Lord Dumbledore, as of a few days the DMLE was presented with evidence stating that you have committed several crimes, the likings of such: Child Endangerment, Child Neglect, Illegally becoming an underaged child’s Magical Guardian, Illegally preventing the wills of deceased Wixen being read and too many more. A squad of Aurors will be dispatched to retrieve your person and bring you to the Ministry of Magic for questioning. 

I suggest you cooperate and in the case that the Aurors do not find you in any of your designated places [The Hogwarts’ castle and the grounds around it; Dumbledore Ancestral Cottage of Godric’s Hollow 13] you shall be announced as a wanted criminal. 

Until you are released, the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry will be filled by the Deputy Headmistress- Minerva McGonagall. 

From: Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones

*** 

A hush fell over the Great Hall. 

The letter hadn’t been a Howler, by far not, but it was still a recording, one that played out loud. It was very rare for someone to receive such a letter, almost unheard of, for it was a breach of privacy, because no one knew where they’d be when they receive such a letter, and with whom. 

Harry had especially insisted the news be delivered to Dumbledore in such a fashion. 

The corners of his lips turned up just a nudge, and it took almost all of his willpower to not burst out laughing. Oh, what a face Dumbledore had donned when he’d finished reading the letter. 

In his colourful robes, which were a fashion crime even for Harry, and long earrings (Harry hadn’t even known the man’s ears were pierced), and gaping mouth, he looked absolutely  ridiculous. Well, he wasn’t gaping exactly , more so his mouth was slightly parted, but it was his eyes that betrayed his great shock. For the blue irises were now wide and bright, Dumbledore’s eyes looked close to popping out of their sockets. The man was staring blankly somewhere in the space before him, as if unable to process the information he’d just read. 

Harry felt glee building inside him, this is what he’s been waiting for, for weeks now . 

***

After the initial shock, Nott had regained his usual facade of indifference, but Harry could see the sliver of fear still. 

Harry was unnerving Nott with his new appearance, and honestly, he was unnerving himself too. 

After a few quiet moments between the two boys, Harry stood up and dusted his robes off, he still couldn’t believe how nice they were. His robes, his family’s . Huh. Wasn’t that a thought. He was part of the most notorious dark family in Britain. 

And now he looked like it too. 

Harry took a step closer to the mirror, looking at himself a bit more carefully. His hair was still that same ink black, but it wasn’t the short mess he was so used to seeing. No, instead it was longer, almost to his chin, and it was curly . Well, maybe more like wavy , nothing close to Hermione’s curls for sure. But he was sure if he grew his hair out more, perhaps to his shoulders or even longer, the strands would naturally curl in on themselves. 

He’d seen it on Sirius. Even after 12 years in that dreadful place that’s called wizarding prison, the gene was ever-the-present, and his hair was curly. The moment Harry had noticed it after he’d calmed down when Sirius had explained the truth, he’d wanted to run his fingers through it. It was embarrassing for Harry, but he’d always been a sucker for soft hair. And oh, now that he himself possessed it, he’d definitely spend way more time caring for it. Harry snorted mentally, the Slytherins would probably think he was turning into another Malfoy. Oh, the agony.

Then, Harry’s eyes were drawn to something else in the mirror. 

The scar . 

It was different now. 

Harry reached a hand and gently traced it. Now it wasn’t just three simple lines that were connected, it actually resembled a lightning bolt. One quite strong at that. It now began at his hairline, and split lower onto his forehead. One part deviated to his nose, while the other one stroked through his eyebrow and his eye, and ended right below it. When Harry closed said eye he saw the faint line even on his eyelid, which made him slightly worried. If the scar was over his closed eye, then there had been a possibility the eye itself would be harmed, and he’d be rendered half blind. 

A shiver ran up his spine, and as he opened his eye again, he thanked any entity he could think of, for leaving him with both his eyes. 

He also thanked them for still having Lily’s eyes. Altho with several specks of silver in them now, the emerald green was still there, and even more pronounced now, since his skin had lightened audibly. 

While he was previously lightly tanned from birth, and even more so from all the years of working in Petunia’s garden in the middle of the Summer Heat, now Harry was pale . Not ghostly pale like Malfoy, or Sirius, but definitely not the average shade of skin like Hermione, or Ron or others. His skin was light, with a peachy- yellowish tint, perhaps the only trace left of the tan he had acquired overtime. He looked down at his wrist, and yep, he could see his veins easily, a greenish colour. Not that he cared, he was never one to judge based on race and skin tone. 

When Harry finally scanned his reflection up and down and took his whole new appearance in, he saw a person who wasn’t himself, and yet it was. He mildly wondered if he now resembled his father- Regulus, for almost all traces of James and Lily were gone. 

He straightened his back then, and tried to imitate Nott and Malfoy and the other Slytherins when they were in public, then did an official curtsy. 

He heard a snort from his left, and cringed. Harry had forgotten Nott was also there. 

“Are you trying to imitate Malfoy?” the other Heir asked. “It seems so.”

“And how, pray tell?” Harry snapped quietly, embarrassed he’d been caught. 

“You looked so poised . Did the curtsy with a flourish and over exasperation only Draconis can muster. But hey, you came pretty close.” Nott chuckled and took a few steps closer. “No one would expect you to bow to the ground when you’re on a ball or something. Strive to do the bare minimum in those manners and pleasantries, enough to barely scrape the surface, but not enough for someone to get offended and start a blood feud with your family.”

Harry nodded, rucking this information in his mind for later use. 

“Well…”The Gryffindor mumbled. “What now?” 

Theo snickered and raked a hand through his hair, messing it up.  It wasn’t an action Harry had expected of Nott, and it only served to show how out of the comfort zone Nott actually was. For once in his life, Harry was sure, Nott didn’t know exactly what to do . 

“Now we return. It’s already quite late.” Nott shook his head, a manic smile creeping onto his face. “Potter, you- Nevermind. We’ll talk when we’re back. The others are probably still up and more than worried enough.” Nott looked at Harry with narrowed eyes. “Are you able to use Portkey? The Goblins said the Cleansing took a big toll on you and your magical core, and you shouldn’t over exert yourself.”

“I’m fine.” Harry grumbled, but he knew very well he’d be taking off the next few days off, to recover. “Would probably call in sick after we return, but I’d be fine.” 

Nott hummed and extended a hand, holding the new Portkey in the other. Harry quickly checked for all his belongings, his wand, and the satchell with the Map and the Cloak, and then took Theo’s hand. 

Immediately the world around blurred and Harry felt the familiar, and yet still unpleasant hook on his navel. 

After a few long seconds it was finally over, and the boys hit the ground, just right outside of Hogsmeade. Harry doubled over, but no bile arose in his mouth, for he had not eaten a single thing in hours. After an awkward cough, he finally took a deep breath and straightened himself. He peeked at Nott, but the other boy had simply turned his head to the other side. And Harry would never admit it, but he appreciated even the smallest semblance of privacy Nott was trying to give him. 

Once he cleaned his throat, Nott turned back to him and both boys began walking down to the hidden Passage that led to the Shrieking Shack. 

Theodore Nott

Theo found himself in a bit of a situation. Well, alright, quite a big bit of a situation. And it all evolved from one Harry Potter. Or, Hadrian Black, he supposed. The Gryffindor had not yet specified by which name he would prefer to be addressed. 

In any case, he was the centre of all of Theo’s problems, and somehow also the solution to all of them, which irritated Theo beyond belief. 

All of this had begun that day not even a week or so ago, when they’d found Potter almost dead, and look at him now! Not only helping Potter, but also doing most of it for free ? That wasn’t something to do in Theo’s books, and yet here he was. 

But he couldn’t help himself. Potter fascinated him. And terrified him at the same time. 

He was a force, Theo knew by now, something that once unleashed, could sweep everything and everyone, and yet it wasn’t even a fraction of what Potter was truly capable of. And also, Potter wouldn’t do that . Not because he couldn’t, he just did not want to. For the few days he had gotten to know the boy, Theo had realised that Potter absolutely despised confrontations, probably a setback from his time with those dreadful Muggle Relatives of his. He was kind and gentle, and only believed in revenge only when someone hurt the people he loved. 

A naive logic in Theo’s opinion, but hey, it worked for Potter, and he wasn’t about to mess with something that was so clearly right somehow.

As of now, he and the Golden Boy finally reached the Wards of Hogwarts, and Potter pulled out his Cloak. 

That was another thing that completely fascinated Theo. Potter had said it was a family heirloom passed generations from father to son, but Theo knew better. Invisibility Cloaks weren’t supposed to last that long. Unless there was something particular about this one. 

And there must be, for sure, because the second thing Theo had learned about this possession of Potter’s, was that it somehow bypassed any wards. As in, Potter could sneak out of the grounds just by wrapping himself in the fabric. ‘As long as the wards don’t touch any of my skin, and the Cloak instead, they don’t detect me. Or anything or anyone else under it. 

So now, Potter went inside with the package, then took off the Cloak and threw it a Theo, who put it on, made sure he was entirely covered by it on all sides (He wasn’t about to ignore one of the only sane suggestions Potter had insisted multiple times on) and also crossed the wards. 

When after a few seconds no alarm flared and no teachers appeared, Theo returned the Cloak to its owner, and took back the package. 

Silently, he made his way out of the Shak, not even needing to make sure Potter was following him since he could hear the quiet steps. 

One more thing off from the, apparently never- ending ‘to-do’ list. 

Theo just sighed and continued onward towards the illuminated by the moon Castle.

.

.

.

(A/N)

I present to you.....(drumroll)....Hadrian James Sirius Potter- Black!

Chapter Text

The grounds were very dark. Harry walked down the lawn towards the lights shining in Hagrid’s cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up; Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as he knocked on Hagrid’s front door.

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

“Yeah,” said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and pulling the Cloak down off his head. “What’s up?”

“Got summat ter show yeh,” said Hagrid.

There was an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had certainly attempted to comb his hair – Harry could see the comb’s broken teeth tangled in it.

“What’re you showing me?” Harry said warily, wondering if the Skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a stranger in a pub.

“Come with me, keep quiet an’ keep yerself covered with that Cloak,” said Hagrid. “We won’ take Fang, he won’ like it…”

“Listen, Hagrid, I can’t stay long … I’ve got to be back up at the castle for one o’clock –”

But Hagrid wasn’t listening; he was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid was leading him to the Beauxbatons carriage.

“Hagrid, what –?”

“Shhh!” said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed, golden wands.

Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid. “Ah, ’Agrid … it is time?”

“Bong-sewer,” said Hagrid, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.

Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge of the paddock containing Madame Maxime’s giant winged horses, with Harry, totally bewildered, running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to show him Madame Maxime? He could see her any old time he wanted … she wasn’t exactly hard to miss …

But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the same treat as Harry, because after a while she said playfully, “Wair is it you are taking me, ’Agrid?”

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

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

And still they walked, Harry getting more and more irritable as he jogged along in their wake, checking his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some harebrained scheme in hand, which might make him miss Sirius. If they didn’t get there soon, he was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leave Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime …

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

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

Dragons.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing on their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting – torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air, and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerised, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat’s, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn’t tell which … it was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream …

“Keep back there, Hagrid!” yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding. “They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I’ve seen this Horntail do forty!”

“Isn’ it beautiful?” said Hagrid softly.

“It’s no good!” yelled another wizard. “Stunning Spells, on the count of three!”

Harry saw each of the dragon-keepers pull out his wand.

“Stupefy!” they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons’ scaly hides –

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a suddenly silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking – then, very slowly, it fell – several tons of sinewy, scaly black dragon hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn had made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon-keepers lowered their wands and walked forwards to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.

“Wan’ a closer look?” Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly. The pair of them moved right up to the fence, and Harry followed. The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and Harry realised who it was – Charlie Weasley.

“All right, Hagrid?” he panted, coming over to talk. “They should be OK now – we put them out with a Sleeping Draught on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet – but, like you saw, they weren’t happy, not happy at all –”

“What breeds you got here, Charlie?” said Hagrid, gazing at the closest dragon – the black one – with something close to reverence. Its eyes were still just open. Harry could see a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.

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

Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the Stunned dragons.

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

“Jus’ thought she’d like ter see ’em,” shrugged Hagrid, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons.

“Really romantic date, Hagrid,” said Charlie, shaking his head.

“Four …” said Hagrid, “so it’s one fer each o’ the champions, is it? What’ve they gotta do – fight ’em?”

“Just get past them, I think,” said Charlie. “We’ll be on hand if it gets nasty, extinguishing spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don’t know why … but I tell you this, I don’t envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end’s as dangerous as its front, look.”

Charlie pointed towards the Horntail’s tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-coloured spikes protruding along it every few inches.

Five of Charlie’s fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge granite-grey eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail’s side. Hagrid let out a moan of longing.

“I’ve got them counted, Hagrid,” said Charlie, sternly. Then he said, “How’s Harry?”

“Fine,” said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs.

“Just hope he’s still fine after he’s faced this lot,” said Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons’ enclosure. “I didn’t dare tell Mum what he’s got to do for the first task, she’s already having kittens about him …” Charlie imitated his mother’s anxious voice. “ ‘How could they let him enter that Tournament, he’s much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!’ She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. ‘He still cries about his parents! Oh, bless him, I never knew!’ ”

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

- J.K. Rowling, Goblet of Fire, Chapter 19

His head was spinning. Dragons?! How was anyone expecting 3 17-year-olds and a 14-year-old to get anywhere near a dragon?! 

He had to tell the others. He wouldn’t participate, but they had to, and they needed the warning. Given, Madam Maxime already knew, so Fleur would too, soon. And Karkarof couldn’t be far behind. Which only left Cedric, really, since Dumbledore couldn’t be bothered to even remotely help his own students in this deadly-so-not-for-children tournament. 

Harry scoffed in the midst of his stride, fidgeting with his new ring, that held up the glamour of his old appearance in place. He could use this, show some sympathy towards his fellow champions.

Fleur he already had in his corner, and he quite frankly adored the radiant, brilliant, beautiful french witch, and was pretty sure she had come to adore him as well, in the shower days he’s spent in her and Luna’s company.

Cedric Diggory wasn’t his enemy in any way, the older Hufflepuff was always nice and helping, never one to gawk at Harry or turn him down. Even now, with him being entered in the Tournament, Diggory had outright said he didn’t see him as competition, but rather as someone to protect, since he was younger and unfairly made to participate, and also a ‘fellow Hogwarts champion’. He had even come personally to the Gryffindor common room the day after the stunt in the Great Hall,  to apologize to Harry for the ‘Potter Stinks’ badges that some of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs had made and paraded around, and for the attempt on his life. 

Viktor Krum on the other hand, could turn out to be a burden. Harry didn’t know the Bulgarian at all, had seen him barely twice, if he didn’t count all the times they’d crossed paths in the Halls. From what he could tell, the older seeker was cold and distant, fast on his feet and calculating. He was also physically strong, and a monster on the broom. He barely interacted with the Hogwarts or Beauxbatons students and stuck to being alone. 

Harry’s goal was to turn this whole Tournament around on Dumbledore and the Ministry, but for that to happen he needed an in with all of the champions, which means getting into Krum’s good graces and even further. 

The boy shook his head. It was getting too complicated for this late hour, and Harry wasn’t nearly done with all the stuff he had to do before he went to bed. Sirius had written to him, asking to meet with him in the Common Room at 1 am. The Slytherins had told him it would most likely be via a Floo Call, which meant Harry had to empty the common room of all the late-night occupants, and fast. 

Once he went into the Common room, he let out a sigh of relief because it was empty. A quick flick of the wand and a few muttered spells made sure it would stay that way. 

Just when he turned to the fireplace, Sirius’s head popped up in the flames. Immediately, Harry was on his knees in front of it. 

Sirius looked a bit different now. His face was more filled out and his hair was shorter. Long gone was the gaunt, haunted look that he had when Harry had last seen him, fresh out of Azkaban. 

“Sirius- how are you?”

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously.

“I’m-” Harry hesitated at that bit. Was he fine? Arguably. He was alive and still unharmed. But was he fine fine? Absolutely no. and maybe right now was the only moment Harry could get some closure for all the endless questions that had popped into his head over the days after his Inheritance Test. 

“Sirius, what do you remember of my birth?” Harry asked suddenly. 

It seemed this wasn’t the question Sirius had expected, for his face scrunched up in confusion. 

“What’s that all of a sudden, pup?”

“Just- I wanted to know. What do you remember of the night I was born?” 

Sirius stayed quiet for a bit, then sighed. 

“Alright, suppose we have some time to tell you.” He then grinned a bit. “It was on the 30th of July that Lily went into labor, actually. Me, Prongs, Moony and Pettigrew were all downstairs, drinking some Firewhiskey and catching up. Your mum was upstairs, taking a nap. Around eleven thirty she woke up with a shout, asking for James immediately. Now, all of us were pretty drunk by that time, so it took us a couple of seconds to register the words ‘Baby’s coming’, but when we did, we were all up in a panic.  

Thankfully Moony had more mind than us, and Flooed Poppy and Minnie right away. We waited hours after that, you were quite stubbornly refusing to be born, you little rascal. But, it was around four in the morning, that we finally heard your fist cries. When Prongs went up to see both of you, he came back crying and grinning like a fool. Shooed us out of the house, that one. Said it was orders from Poppy, since the babe shouldn’t be exposed to any other magical signatures beside his parents’. And so, we left, and came back only after the agonizing one month, when you were finally allowed near other wizards.” 

Harry listened intently, not daring to interrupt his godfather. But when he was done, an immediate question spilled out of his lips. 

“But what about the Blood Adoption? You Blood Adopted me on the first of August, the very next day I was born.”

“Oh, that was easy, I simply gave some of my blood for the potion you had to drink, I-” He suddenly stopped mid- sentence, and looked at Harry wearily. “How do you know about that?” 

Now, it was Harry’s turn to stiffen. He’d said too much, the Slytherins had warned him he had the tendency to do so. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I-” He sighed and looked down at the ground. “I had an Inheritance test done at Gringotts. It said some….quite disturbing things.” 

“Inheritance test?” Sirius frowned. “Why did you need one of those?”

“I had some business at the Bank, had to confirm who I was. That’s a talk for another time.” 

“Al-right? So, what did the test tell you, pup? You look troubled.”

Harry got quiet. How was he supposed to tell Sirius this, when he obviously had no idea about it? ‘Hey, Siri, turns out I’m not only your adopted son, but also your nephew, and everyone has been lying to you your whole life!’? Yeah, not really. 

“It said I’m not Lily’s.” he murmured tentatively. 

After a few seconds Sirius laughed . He laughed so hard, that for a moment his face disappeared out of the heart. When it came back, he was still smiling. 

“Oh, pup, that’s the best one I’ve heard! Didn’t know Goblins were such pranksters, always thought them to be such buzzkills! Oh, you must’ve greatly pissed them, if they pulled that on you, pup! What did you do?”

Harry looked at his godfather helplessly. 

When he saw his godson didn’t laugh, Sirius got quiet too. And slowly, realization dawned on him.

“No…Wait, no- That can’t be! Harry, pup, don’t joke around like that! Don’t, stop!” 

Harry only shook his head. “Wish it was a joke.” 

“What- what’s that supposed to mean?! How are you not Lily’s, pup-!”

“Sirius!” 

The man got quiet, but still had a distressed look on his face. 

“The test said…The test said that my parents are James and…and Regulus. That they were my bearer and sire.” 

Sirius’ eyes widened, and he let out a shaky exhale. 

“No…No, that’s not-” 

Abruptly, the firecall ended, and Sirius’ head disappeared from the fire. Harry frantically jumped forward and reached out to search for his godfather, but instead recoiled harshly when the flames licked his fingers.  

He coddled his injured hand to his chest and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited some more.

But Sirius didn’t  return. The embers had died and gone cold, leaving the room in darkness. Harry felt his heart tear some more. 

With a heavy feeling, he went up the stairs, no longer feeling up to looking pathetically at the stupid fireplace. When he went to the shared bedroom he had to dodge a ward that was placed around the entire room and activated by his entrance. 

It was a nifty trick, one that would’ve done some damage, if it wasn’t cast by Ron, Dean and Seamus. 

Fortunately, it was, and Harry only had to flick his wand to the side, to avoid the coming hex. 

He then changed into his bedding clothes with a spell and went inside his bed. 

Before he fell asleep, he made sure to heavily ward it, as what has become usual for the past few weeks. 

Chapter Text

Unfortunately sleep had decided to evade him tonight, or rather his rest was filled with unpleasant images of sharp teeth, open wide mouth and raging fires. After his third sudden awakening, Harry decided to take a walk and get his mind off of things. 

One quick summoning charm assured his Cloak was draped around his body and the Map was in his hands. He didn’t know where exactly to go, he knew he needed to talk to someone, but it was nearly 3 in the morning and Harry didn’t think anyone but the owls would be up in this ungodly hour. 

Yet, as the door to the Slytherin common room opened for him without even a word on his part, he found himself calming down. Home. Which was a strange thought, really, because for all his four years here, only the Gryffindor common room had managed to calm his nerves. The cozy red walls and the plush armchairs seated next to the fireplace always helped him relax, and the view trough the windows of his dormitory took his breath away every time. 

In recent days however, the place was becoming a dangerous territory for him. He couldn’t sit and enjoy himself any longer, gone were the quiet moments of laughter he shared with Hermione and Ron, and sometimes even Neville, after an exhausting day of classes. Now the scarlet color only irritated his vision and gave him headaches. It was too bold, too bright, too everywhere . 

Harry plopped down on one of the little couches and leant back, groaning. He couldn’t very well wake the Slytherins, lest he wanted way too many Stinging Hexes to be thrown his way. He hoped that at least the sway of the seaweed and waves outside the windows and the dull lighting and subtle colors help calm his vision. 

What he didn’t expect was to hear a pair of footsteps behind his back, coming from the dormitories. 

“Potter.” 

Harry didn’t even turn his head, just hummed. 

“You’re out of bed, Nott.” 

“Look who’s talking.’’ 

Harry didn’t reply, merely gestured to the chair near- by. 

“Snape will soon be here.” Nott warned. “He likes to check over the common room when it’s his night shift, to see if anybody’s awake past curfew.”

“Snape’s currently in his chambers, battling a headache.” Harry stated, opening his eyes to look at the high ceiling. “Heard him groaning under his nose about it when I passed by him.  Don’t believe he’ll be coming soon.” 

Nott made a ‘hn’ sound as he sat down on the pointed chair. 

“Something’s bothering you.” 

“Didn’t know you’d care.” 

“Contrary to popular belief we- Slytherins, do have hearts. They’re cold and hard, but they’re there. And contrary to your belief , Potter, you’re one of ours now. Which means when you’re in trouble we help, and you do the same for us. So yes, if something’s bothering you all of us ought to care. We wouldn’t want you getting something in your head about being a self-sacrificing hero again, would we?”

Harry snorted and grinned slightly.

“Didn’t know you had such a mouth to you, Nott. Who would’ve thought? But yes, something is bothering me.” 

Nott made a noise for Harry to continue, and crossed his legs, leaning into his chair. 

“Dragons.” Harry murmured. “Four of them, one for each of us. Nesting mothers if Charlie Weasley is to be believed.” 

The Slytherin made a startled noise in the back of his throat and Harry could see him straightening up in his chair. 

“Dragons? Four? Different breeds?”

Harry nodded. “Welsh Green, Chinese Fireball, Swedish Short-Snout and Hungarian Horntail. Recon we’d have to do something with their eggs.” 

“They’ve gone mad.”

“They have, haven’t they?” Harry chuckled. “They absolutely have.” 

Nott leaned his head on his hand and his eyes narrowed at Harry. 

“You’re worried.” The Slytherin stated, more than asked.

“I’m worried about many things Nott, you may need to be more specific.” Harry drawled. “But yes. By all laws of magical binding and contracts, or the ones you’ve told me about, at least, it should work. But magic’s magic. Anything could go wrong, and then what? What if I have to participate, and that little stunt we’re planning to pull doesn’t work? What if I have to face the dragons and who knows what else after all? How am I going to?”

Nott stayed silent. He was contemplating, Harry could tell. 

“You know where Blaise’s room is.” The brunette said at the end. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing you there, he was quite charmed by that little spell you used to change your clothes last time. Tomorrow we’ll talk about the dragons. Surely the library will have something of use.”

“The Restricted section probably, is where the truly useful fire- repelling spells would be.” Harry snorted. 

“Then the Restricted section it will be. You have no idea how easy it is to get a pass out of Snape if you’re the right person. Until then, go to sleep. You look worse than the Bloody Baron when you’re tired.” 

“Gee, thanks Nott, I’m glad I can charm you with my ruggish zombified look even so early in the morning.” 

“Zombified?” 

Harry shrugged and waved a hand dismissively. “Muggle thing, pay it no mind.” 

Nott only stared at him for a few more seconds, then stood up and left, presumably for his own bed. 

Harry stayed up for half an hour longer, chatting quietly with the snake statues in the Common Room who were more than delighted to keep him company while his mind calmed. 

When he once again felt his eyelids droop low with sleep he climbed the left staircase and quickly and quietly made his way onto the entry hall of the boy’s dormitory, and then into Blaise’s quarters. The Italian boy was scrawled on his stomach, reminding Harry of a starfish, with his mouth slightly open and softly snoring. When he entered, Blaise barely cracked one eye open, looked at him for all of five seconds, then went back to sleep. 

Harry deemed this as a sign that he was welcomed, and quickly got into the empty bed, wrapping the bedcovers around his body and up to his chin, and promptly falling asleep, this time with no dragons chasing him in his dreams. 

***

He skipped breakfast the next morning, having slept through it, but the Slytherins had no qualms about kicking him out of the bed as a ‘good morning’ when it was time for their first class of the day. 

Divination. Joy . 

Harry quickly opened the Map. Fleur was in the Beauxbatons’ carriage. Cedric was on his way to what looked to be either the Great Hall for a late breakfast, or the Greenhouses. Krum was….in the Slytherin dormitory, just a few doors down from where Harry was. 

Harry’s eyes widened, and panic set in. What was Viktor Krum doing here all of a sudden, this early in the morning? And how was Harry to get out of the Slytherin Common Room without Krum seeing him and asking questions? 

He quickly slipped under the Cloak, bid Blaise and the other boys goodbye and headed for the staircase. He had but a few minutes before Krum came out of the 7th year dormitory, and even less to get to the Divination classroom. If he ran, he supposed he’d make it. 

His plans, however, were obscured, when a hand darted out and took him by the elbow to pull him in one of the alcoved along the staircase. Harry sputtered, and tried to get out, but the Cloak was pulled away from his head and he was pressed backwards to the wall. 

The stone face of Viktor Krum was what greeted him. Harry tried to say something, but a palm was pressed to his mouth while Krum took out his wand and waved it around, murmuring spells in what Harry could only assume was the seeker’s mother language. 

When he turned his attention back to Harry and slowly removed his hand over his mouth, he looked absolutely frightening. 

“Tell me, Mr. Potter…Vhy do you haff such an illusion over your person?” 

Harry gaped, unsure of what to say. Illusion? Was Krum talking about the glamour? How could he see it? 

His silence was apparently the wrong answer, since it encouraged Krum to press his wand into Harry's neck. 

“Answer me.” The Bulgarian demanded. “Are you even Harry Potter?” 

“Yes!” Harry rushed to say, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m Harry Potter! I swear!” 

But Krum’s eyes only narrowed further. “Remove the illusion. Now.” 

Harry scrambled to take off the Greengrass family ring and hold it out on display in between his fingers. Immediately he felt the glamour slipping away giving place to his real appearance. 

He felt himself grow just a few inches as his point of view shifted. His clothes became a tad bit tighter and his vision became blurry because of the glasses. He slipped them off and into his pocket and locked eyes with the 7th year, still holding his hands up. 

The surprise in the other boy’s eyes was evident, and after only a few seconds the wand was removed from Harry’s neck. 

“Potter Lordship ring…” Krum murmured. “And Peverell…”

“You know of them.” Harry said breathlessly, heaving a sigh of relief once he was no longer held at wand point. 

“Who are you.” Krum demanded, but with less bite to his time this time.

“The name’s Harry Potter. Or, Hadrian Potter- Black really, but Harry Potter’s still fine.” The Gryffindor shrugged. “Lord Potter, as you saw. And Lord Peverell, and Lord Gryffindor, and Heir Black and what not more.” Harry sighed. “Look, this is a very long story. What you need to know is that yes, I am Harry Potter.” 

“Why do you have such a strong illusion on?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s none of your concern, Krum, really. I have my reasons, and that’s that. And by the way, the word we use is ‘glamour’. Not ‘illusion’.” 

Krum scowled, but didn’t comment on it. After a few seconds of silence, Harry slipped the ring on again and looked to the entrance of the alcove. There he saw the borders of a few wards shimmering. What caught his attention in particular was the runes that made up the said borders. They looked so very different from the runes Draco and Hermione learned about. Harry would bet his Cloak they were in the Cyrillic alphabet. 

“Have you learned of the dragons?” Harry asked instead, still looking at the wards in curiosity. 

That must’ve picked up Krum’s own interest, because he leaned backwards on the wall and crossed his arms. 

“I may haff.” The Bulgarian replied.

“And of the different breeds?”  Krum didn’t respond immediately, which was enough answer for Harry. “Swedish Short-Snout, Welsh Green, Chinese Fireball and Hungarian Horntail. Focus on those four and you’ll be fine.”

“And vhy should I believe what you say? If you’re lying to everyone about who you are, then you vill lie to me too.” 

Harry snorted. Really, Krum was right, he had no reason to trust Harry. 

“Contrary to what you may have heard about me from the ever delightful Slytherins and my dear Gryffindor friends, I’m not in for the glory, or the money. I didn’t even want to participate, and as you see I was forced into this whole Tournament. I don’t care for winning, and dragons are way too damn dangerous for me to let some pride or lust for glory overpower the fact that one of us may as well die if they’re not warned prior. I was going to tell Fleur and Cedric later today when I saw them.” 

Another silence lingered, none of the two moving, and only staring at each other. 

“Who are you trying to fool, Potter?” 

“Nobody.”

“Do not lie.”

“It’s not your business if I lie or not.” 

“The… glamour is failing.” Krum huffed. “It is not fed enough family magic to keep up, it vill fall by mid- day.” 

“How would you know?” 

Krum scoffed and looked to the side. 

“In my home country we take such magics very... seriously . I haff been taught to recognize and eliminate them.”

“You study Dark Arts.” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“We do.” Krum nodded. “Heard they were forbidden in Britain. Pity.”

“The Dark Arts are evil.” 

“The Dark Arts are merely a branch of magic.” the seeker countered. “It can harm and do good just like any spell for fire can light a candle or burn down someone’s house with the family still inside. It is merely a tool for the user to do as he pleases. Calling it good or evil is plain foolish.” 

Harry didn’t have a reply for that, so he merely stayed silent. Viktor Krum only sighed, then pushed himself off the wall and dispelled the wards. On his way out he turned his head back to take one last look at Harry.  

“I don’t know vhat it is that you wish to achieve, Potter.” The Bulgarian murmured in his heavy accent. “I only hope it is for the better of everyone, and not for the worse.” 

Harry looked back at him, a bit creeped out by the stare, but not one to back down. 

“I hope so too.” 

Chapter Text

After bringing the ring over to Daphne after Divination, because he wasn’t taking any chances, no he was not , he set out to find Cedric, which he did- in the courtyard, where the Hufflepuff was surrounded by his housemates.

When they saw him approaching, their faces fell and some even scowled and glared at him, while making sure to flash their ‘Potter Stinks’ badges at him. When Cedric saw him, he immediately sat up from where he was laying on one of the benches and nudged his friends to stop, which Harry honestly appreciated even if didn’t do much. 

“Can I have a word?” Harry asked, ignoring the other Puffs. 

“Alright.” Cedric looked a bit put off, but stood up nonetheless and followed him to the side. 

“Dragons.” Harry didn’t hesitate to say, once they were out of earshot for everyone else. “They’ve got one for each of us. Nesting mothers.” 

Cedric’s eyes widened and he looked around, then fixed his gaze on Harry again. “You serious?”

Harry nodded solemnly. He would’ve had the same reaction if he was just told this a day before the First task. 

“And Fleur and Krum…?” Cedric hesitated. “Do they…?”

“Yeah. They know.” 

Cedric nodded and ran a hand through his already windswept hair. His friends called him back, and when Harry made to leave- having nothing else to say to him, Cedric took him by the upper arm and gently stopped him.

“About the badges-” The older boy stuttered. “I told them not to wear them, really-” 

“It’s alright.” Harry assured. It really wasn’t but it wasn’t Cedric’s fault. 

***

    After another absolutely awful morning and lunch of putting up with Ron and the other Gryffindors during classes, and of course with the classes themselves, Harry found himself looking forward to the library session with the Slytherins. Last night Nott had promised him they’ll take a look, mainly through the Restricted session, with a pass of course, and he had kept his promise. 

A proof of that being the reserved table at the far end of the library, where one too many books for Harry’s liking were already spread out. He dumped his bag of books on one of the free chairs, and sat down, seeing as there was no need for a greeting and everyone were deep in their reading of the ‘Various ways to protect yourself from simple kitchen burns’ by Jaine Clameire in Draco’s case, ‘An easy guide to not die when dealing with dragons’ by R. Jenkins in Blaise’s case, and even ‘How to charm giant reptiles so they don’t skewer you alive’ by Boyan M. Krisimov in Pansy’s case. He was about to reach for one of the books himself, but his hand was slapped away by Nott. 

Harry looked at the Slytherin affronted, and was about to ask what his bloody problem was, when a long piece of parchment was thrust under his nose, and Harry went cross eyed to try and read it on instinct. He then took it and put it on the table in front of him. 

“A summary of everything we found that we thought might be useful” Nott said as a way of explanation. “More things are to be added. Your task is to perfect each one that’s already on there as best as you can. As a precaution.” 

Harry wanted to groan and slam his head into the table, the list was endless, and he could clearly see Nott was just about to add even more to it, so he quickly made a copy of it with a flick of his wand, giving the original back. 

It took hours. Harry skipped all his evening classes which he was sure McGonagall was going to heavily berate him for, but eventually he had gotten most of the spells down, at least in theory, since they couldn’t exactly practice most of them in the library where Mrs. Pince was ever-the- watchful and ready to kick out any trespassers and breakers of the rules. 

At around 7:30 the group decided it was enough for today, gave the updated List to Harry, and made their way  to dinner. 

It was uneventful, if one didn’t count all the hushed talks and murmurs. The First Task was tomorrow. Most of them thought it was going to be a total blast. Harry couldn’t agree more. 

***

The First Task is today. Harry was not having a blast, at all. 

Bagman was annoying the hell out of him, with his constant nonsense speeches and rants, and the constant pacing of the other champions wasn’t doing good for his nerves either. 

He could hear the cheer of the public outside of the tent, already seated and waiting, and even the Weasley twins taking bets. It unnerved Harry, too many things were happening at the same time, and yet too little. 

When the Headmasters and Crouch Senior finally entered the tent and made them stand in a circle, he felt Fleur holding his sleeve on his left side, so he took her hand and briefly squeezed it. 

Bagman passed around a silk bag, to Fleur first. 

“Ladies first,” he said. 

She put a shaking hand inside, the one that wasn’t holding Harry’s, and pulled out a miniature model of a dragon. A Welsh Green, which had the number ‘two’ around its neck. The little dragon was very active, looking feverishly around, and even attempting to bite her gloved fingers, which earned a nervous chuckle out of the Veela. 

Next was Krum, who’s luck brought him the Chinese fireball with number ‘three’. 

Cedric’s luck was best, in Harry’s opinion, because of the two dragons left he picked out the Swedish Short- Snout with ‘one’. 

Harry’s turn was the last. Figures. 

He didn’t even need to see the last model to know which dragon would be ‘his’, but he reached into the bag for appearances’ sake. 

His miniature model was very very spiky, and also very active, just like Fleurs. Harry sighed. Average Potter luck right there. 

After a short instruction the Headmasters were off. Bagman was about to leave as well, but suddenly he stopped in his tracks. 

“Harry…Could I have a quick word? Outside?” 

Harry scowled. “Apologizes Mr. Bagman, but me and the other champions must prepare. The first cannon will be off soon.’’ 

“Well, yes, but-” 

“No can do, Mr. Bagman. Maybe after the Task.”

Bagman made a face, but hearing some bell ring outside he turned and left quickly. 

Harry, on the other hand, immediately strode towards Fleur, not bothering to shy away from the other two’s gazes. He took her hands in his and looked her in the eyes. 

“You got a plan? Everything’s alright? You know how to deal with fire, with the Welsh Green?” 

She immediately squeezed his hands in return and nodded shakily. 

“Oui. Oui, je le fais, je suis tellement nerveux, je- Pardonne- moi - I’ve got iz Harry, I’ll be fine- But you, you have ze Hungarian Horntail, do you have e plan? “ 

Harry nodded too. 

“I have it all under control, Fleur. I’ll be fine.” 

“Zey should not have you compete, what are they zinking?! Dragons!” 

Harry shook his head. He knew it was all a madness, but it was nothing new for Hogwarts. He turned just then towards Krum and Diggory too. 

“You all got a plan? Stocked up on fire- repelling spells and knowledge of dragons?” 

Krum looked up from where he was sitting and nodded absentmindedly. Cedric looked fidgety, but also nodded. 

“We shouldn’t be helping each other, it is forbidden.” The Hufflepuff murmured. 

Harry scoffed his way, but smoothed out his expression.

“It’s not helping each other, it was a simple question.” He grit out. “And besides, the rules state we shouldn't receive help from the teachers or other students, not that we couldn’t help each other. And besides, all of us have broken the rules already, haven’t we? Maxime and Karkarof told you about the dragons, and I was shown them and then told Cedric. Big deal. We better concern yourselves with how any of us is going to get past a fucking dragon.” 

Fleur shuddered a bit besides him. 

“Are you all sure you got alternatives? Fire- repelling spells, water spells, all of the sort? And solid plans?” 

“We should be asking you that, Potter.” Krum called out. “You’re the one with less magical knowledge than us.” 

Harry shakes his head, but doesn’t comment on it any longer. They all had time to prepare, even if it was very little, it was still something. Now it was all in their hands alone to survive this. 

The Gryffindor squeezed Fleur’s hands one more time. 

“Good luck.”

“To you too, Harry.” 

Harry then went to Cedric and put a hand on his shoulder even if it was a very awkward angle due to the height difference.

“Good luck Diggory. Don’t get burned to a crisp, otherwise your housemates may blame that on me too.” 

Cedric laughed weakly, but nodded and also put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“You too, Potter. Would be a pity for Hogwarts to lose its celebrity so soon.” 

Harry snorted, but his lips quirked upwards a bit. At last, he stepped in front of the still sitting Bulgarian and extended forth a hand.

“Good luck, Krum.” 

The young man looked him up and down once, but stood up and shook his hand none the less. 

“You too, Potter.” Krum said in his heavy accent. “In my home we have this saying- Направих каквото можах, пък да става каквото ще. I did what I could, let it happen what it would.” 

“A…good saying.” Harry murmured. It’s the first time he’s heard something like that, but he decided to mull over the deeper meaning after the Task. 

Krum nodded, seemingly pleased with his answer, and went to sit again. The first cannon went off, and Diggory headed for the arena beckoned by the chant of the public. 

However, the moment he was out and away from Harry’s sight, the dragon roar came. Harry had to stop himself from flinching a bit, but chills climbed up his spine and his hairs stood to an end none the less. 

Minutes passed, which to Harry felt like days. But the cheering that erupted from the crowd at some point signaled the end of Cedric’s performance good enough. 

Not even ten minutes later the second cannon boomed and Fleur was off. Harry refused to listen too closely to the narrative sounds from the crowd, instead going over his own plan of action. 

Soon enough it was Krum’s turn, and when the Gryffindor found himself alone in the tent he bolted out of it and away from the arena at once. 

***

Theodore Nott

The Tournament, Theo could admit, was interesting so far. The Champions were supposed to be the best of their year range, probably the best in their schools, which spiked the question of what would the best do in this kind of situation? 

And none of them had disappointed so far. 

Diggory, ever the Hufflepuff, hadn’t gone for any offence, or any defense, for that matter. He had transfigurated a rock that was on the opposite side to him, into a dog. The barking had distracted the dragon and the giant reptile had cautiously proceeded towards it, completely forgetting about the boy. 

Sound and clever strategy in Theo’s opinion, quick and efficient, and while transfiguring an inanimate object to a living being was particularly tricky, Diggory didn’t seem to break a sweat. 

The only downside however, was that the Dragon got bored of the dog pretty soon, and began walking back to her clutch. When the she- dragon had seen Cedric so close to it the reaction had been immediate and a giant torrent of fire had been aimed at him. The boy barely had time to leap forward and get the Golden egg, burning his side in the process, and then run off and away, before the dragon was on his trail. Luckily, the Dragon handlers were ready and intervened, subduing the beast and leading it back to its cell, readying the arena for the next dragon and the designated contestant. 

The Lady Delacour had used an unusual tactic. Merely conjuring a shield against the dragon fire of her Welsh Green to get close, she had instead put to work her Veela charm, and put the dragon to sleep in a matter of seconds. Impressive, given she was not even a fully blooded creature, but merely one- fourth of one. 

After an audible breath of relief she had walked over to the nest most calmly, and lifted the Golden egg above her head in victory. 

What she hadn’t counted on, was that a dragon can snore in its sleep. And that it snores fire. When her outer robe caught on fire she had almost dropped the egg on the ground, but thankfully she managed to right herself and quickly put out the spreading flame with a well aimed ‘Aguamenti’ . 

Krum was up next on the ‘stage’ and all Theo saw before he rushed away from his seat to catch up with the other Slytherins was the bright light of what he was sure to be a ‘Bombarda’ leaving Krum’s wand and rushing towards the Chinese fireball’s eye. 

***

Harry met with the Slytherins halfway to the arena’s entrance for the public. All of them were there, waiting for him. When they saw him rush over Malfoy immediately held out a little bag, not too different from the one that the dragon figures were in. 

Harry immediately took it, it was bigger on the inside obviously, and pulled out a set of official dress robes. 

Black as night, as expected of the Noble House of Black, the set consisted of a cream button down, outer robe that was actually pretty short, only reaching Harry’s hips, and pants made out of several layers of fabric Harry couldn’t put name to. The pants were very loose and flowy, looking like a skirt when Harry kept his legs close to each other, and transitioned from smoky black to morning yellow in a very beautiful gradient. The last piece that completed the look was a long sleeved bolero jacket which had a sort of  cape made from black and yellow mesh pinned to it.  

The whole thing, save for the cape and the pants, was covered in golden embroidery. Most prominent were the Chinese golden dragons on the sleeves of the bolero and the shoulder pads. 

It was a beautiful robe, one Harry almost felt guilty for putting on and wearing. Draco had picked it out from the Black vault with some help from the Lady Malfoy. It had been a gift once upon a time, she had explained in her letter to Harry, from a Chinese emperor to a Head of the House of Black as gratitude for saving the emperor’s wife’s life. The embroidery was made of actual golden thread and the fabrics used were the finest Chinese hand- made silks. 

It practically screamed ‘rich and royal, and so high above all of you’. 

Harry smiled as he gently cradled it in his hands and returned the bag to Malfoy. This was a piece of him. Of his family, of his history. And Harry was going to wear it with great pride. 

With a quick flick of his wand he was wearing it, and the awful red robe he was forced to wear for the tournament that had ‘POTTER’ stamped on it was in his hands. 

Then, he quickly took off the Greengrass ring and passed it to Daphne who gleefully dispelled the glamour from it and put it on her right middle finger. 

Harry felt himself gaining his real appearance again and felt satisfaction at the way he completely fit in the robe, it wasn’t hanging off of him awkwardly anywhere, or at least he didn’t feel like it was. 

Pansy whistled lowly with a smirk when she fully saw him. 

“I’d never get used to this new appearance of yours, Potter. It was a shock the first time, and it still is.” 

Harry snorted and covered his mouth with a hand trying to fake a cough. 

He clearly remembered when just about a week ago he’d returned from his cleansing and went right to the awaiting Slytherins. They had jumped so high from surprise when they’d first seen him. They had trained their wands upon him in an instant, and it was up to Nott then, to explain to them what had actually happened back in the Bank, and that he was, in fact, Harry Potter. 

The following surprise and outright shock was so prominent on their faces Harry didn’t have the self control not to burst out laughing right then and there, so he did just that. After a few minutes of the same sight, Draco had finally snapped out of it and thrown a pillow to stop Harry from laughing any longer. It had been quite a night, and Harry had slept in Blaise’s room again, only to be woken up early by the Italian so the group could meet and discuss ways to conceal his new look for a while, which was where the whole ring passing had come from. 

As of now, Harry only grinned back at Pansy.

“Well, you better do, because you’ll be seeing this look from now on.” 

Pansy hummed and her eyes narrowed playfully before she reached over and ran her hand through his hair several times.

“There. A bit better.” 

Harry huffed, but didn’t comment on it, only rolling his eyes playfully. Astoria then gestured for him to come closer and pinned all his hair back with some kind of a golden clip. It was quite loose and his front strands were way too short so they fell in curls on his face. 

Daphne added the jewelry- a lion head brooch and a pair of long chain earrings- Harry had pierced his ears with magic a few days back and found he very much enjoyed some jewelry there. 

All his rings were visible now and glinting in the light. 

Once everyone had their turn at fussing over his clothes and appearance he stepped back and did a graceful bow the way Blaise had taught him was accepted amongst nobility all over Europe. 

The girls giggled, and he received some approving smirks from the boys. Then, their attention was drawn to the ovation from the unseen public. Krum must’ve succeeded in taking the egg already. 

Harry cursed under his breath. He had to get up to the top box with the Headmasters and the Minister right now. 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he made one last bow. “Time for the show to start. I’m off.” 

“Up you go!” Pansy shouted. 

“Don’t be late!” Daphne urged. 

“Make sure nobody sees you before you get up there!” Nott warned. 

Harry sent them all one last grin and sprinted towards the entrance to the arena and up the stairs, making himself invisible on the passing, and holding his robe so he doesn’t trip.

Chapter Text

You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time

- Abraham Lincoln

(A/N) This is how I imagined the robes and the hairstyle. As always, they are no more than some guidelines for the ones who need or want them, let your imagination run wild lovely people! 

So, this is the robe ↑ 

And this is the hairstyle. ↓ Ignore the hair is a bit too long, please. 

Theodore Nott

The final cannon went off. The cheering from the public subdues, until only the faint whispers could be heard. 

The dragon- Hungarian Horntail, was already in its place, fiercely guarding her clutch of eggs. So far, this dragon seemed most restless, and most aware of the crowd, looking frantically around whenever too much noise was made and shooting fire upwards. Only the wards above the arena protected the onlookers. 

Theo was sat back in his place, brushing off a few odd looks from his housemates. Chills went up his spine, and not from the cold weather alone. He had to fight off a smug grin, and the nervous tick to bounce his leg in anticipation. His fellow Court Members were no better, shooting looks at each other and fidgeting. He could practically see Draconis preening like a cat, even if the blond was seated behind him. 

This time Theo was going to agree with him however, because he had definitely chosen the absolute perfect set of robes. Harry appeared regal and enchanting . With his hair fashionably tousled by the girls, and his robes screaming wealth and power, he looked and radiated charm and authority. He embodied everything all of the young heirs strived to be when they took their Lordships. 

Theo looked around again, something akin to giddiness bubbling under his skin. The crowd was getting restless, Potter wasn’t coming out of the tent. And he wouldn’t be, anytime soon. 

A sudden crack resonated in the air, and it drew everyone’s eyes towards the headmaster’s box. Dumbledore had his wand out and had fired a firework charm. He then put the tip of the wand to his neck, most likely casting a ‘Sonorus’.

“Mr. Harry Potter!’’ his highly amplified voice boomed. “It is your turn to face the trial! Come out at once!” 

One second. Nothing.

Five seconds- still nothing. 

The murmurs arose once again, this time more intense. Theo could swear he heard a murmur of ‘coward’ and ‘cheater’ from the Gryffindor delegation, but he was too far away from them to do anything about it, so he looked back at the old Warlock. 

Just as he was about to shout a second time, the angry expression on his face undeniably prominent, another crack struck the winter air. This time, however, it wasn’t from Dumbledore. 

“Pardon my boorish behavior and the delay, gentlemen, my lady.” Potter appeared next to the Headmasters, which startled Bagman enough to jump away, and did a common courtesy. “I believe it’s my turn, no?’’

***

Harry was feeling giddy. 

He was already in the Headmasters’ box, and right about to reveal his location. The crowd was deliciously squirming, plunged in the dark from their surprise and lack of information on why he wasn’t entering the arena.  

He raised his wand and fired off a silent spell, mimicking Dumbledore’s, and let the disillusionment charm on his person drop. 

“Pardon my boorish behavior and the delay, gentlemen, my lady.” He said and did a common curtsy he’s learned was a sign of the lowest level of respect that was still socially acceptable. “I believe it’s my turn, no?”

Bagman seemingly almost jumped out of his skin, which was an added bonus in Harry’s opinion. 

Dumbledore turned to him sharply, and then stumbled back himself, dropping his wand and leaning back on the railing. And this was supposed to be the greatest wizarding duelist of his time that defeated Grindelwald? Wow. 

Crouch Senior however, immediately trained his wand on Harry, a reaction drilled into him from the years of being the head of the DMLE before Madam Bones. 

Harry raised his two hands in surrender, grinning a bit and placing a wandless ‘Sonorus’ on the whole box. 

“At ease, Lord Crouch. No need to reach towards violence.” 

“Who are you?!’’ The man barked, not easing up his stance. “Answer, boy!” 

“Sir, I am Harry Potter. Were you not looking for me just now?” Harry played innocent, the corners of his lips lifting a bit and his eyes narrowing. 

He heard a gasp to his left, and a quick glance confirmed his greatest wish- Reeta Skeeter was right there , with her stupid Quick- Quotes Quill, and her stupid helper holding the magical camera. How perfect . 

Karkaroff sputtered, and Madam Maxime stepped back as well, meanwhile Dumbledore regained his footing and summoned his wand back to his hand. The Headmaster was looking as pale as a ghost, and the colorful robes only accented the loss of color to his face. 

“What nonsense are you speaking?!” Crouch demanded. “Tell the truth.” 

“But I am, Sir. Look.” 

Harry slowly turned over his right hand, the one holding his wand, to reveal the rings. Or, rather, the Potter Lordship ring in particular. 

Crouch faltered, his eyes narrowing. Dumbledore stepped forward. 

“What have you done, Harry?” he mumbled, a helpless look on his face. 

Harry chuckled. He was trying to play the victim, but it won’t be that easy this time around. 

“Why, Headmaster, I’ve simply taken my Heirships! Lordships in some cases, as you can see.” Harry made a grand gesture with his hands. “Is there a problem with that, sir?” 

Dumbledore’s eyes darted around to the other Headmasters. 

“It’s foul magic, Harry. You’ve been protected so long from it, I’ve protected you so long from it-”

“My name,” Harry snapped, cutting him off. “is Hadrian , headmaster. You’d do well to remember that. Hadrian Black.” 

Harry turned to Crouch again. 

“On that note, Lord Crouch, I would like to formally refuse my participation in the Tournament on the ground of- for one- I’ve been unknowingly entered, and second- it is not my legal name that was entered and hence it makes it so, that I hold no actual obligation to fulfilling the contract.” 

The old Wizard sputtered again, and Harry heard a sharp intake of breath and a whimper from Karkaroff and Maxime’s direction. Dumbledore’s eyes, which Harry has never looked away from, grew cold. Ironically, and absolutely intentionally Harry was sure, his grandfatherly facade only intensified and an almost pitiful look came upon his face. 

“Harry, my boy, you must listen to me and end this madness-”

“It’s Lord Gryffindor to you, Headmaster Dumbledore. And what you’re calling ‘madness’ is me claiming what was my right since I was born . Will you try to go against Magic herself, Headmaster, and deny me my family’s legacy?’’

Harry could hear the frantic whispers of the crows, disbelief, worry, denial. He wanted to grin widely, almost couldn’t help himself, but he had to resist, he was facing Dumbledore right now, and in front of everyone else too. It was the very first speck hacked off of that man’s high pedestal, and he mustn’t fuck this up in any way. 

“I have come here to claim in front of all of you, judges and Ministry officials alike, my right to revoke this magical contract, both a Lord and a minor. May Magic herself strike me if I speak untruly.” 

Everyone waited with bated breath. Those of pureblood descent, and some half- bloods, would know the weight of that claim, that bind . To be asked for Magic’s judgement was risky and not without backlashes. To ask her to judge yourself was unheard of, almost, and completely insane in the eyes of most. If he pulled it off he’d make a permanent mark in their minds. Somewhat of a reminder that clearly said ‘that guy’s gone nuts, better not get in his way’. 

It was thoroughly known that if you get punished, you’re not likely to survive it. There were records in many books of monstrous accidents- lightning strikes a wizard from the clearest sky, a witch finds her home ravaged by werewolves and then in turn gets eaten alive herself, a young couple who performed a blood ritual and did a human sacrifice for it beginning to hallucinate to the point of madness that made them eat each other like cannibals until both bled out to death…And yet…

One second…

Five…

Nothing.  

He did it. 

Fuck. He did it. 

Harry wanted to slump in relief. 

This had been the trickiest part of the plan, to see what the judgement of Magic would be. If he’ll be actually able to get out of the contract, or if it was more than name binding and had something to do with his magical signature or his blood. 

It didn’t. He was clear. And Dumbledore just realized it as well, if the widening of those blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses was any indicator. Crouch also got his bearings again, and cleared his throat. 

“Mr. Potter-”

“Lord Potter, Lord Crouch.” 

“ Lord Potter ” he quickly corrected himself. “Why did you wait so long to claim this, if you were wrongfully entered then-” 

“Oh, so now any of you believe me, eh?” Harry laughed dryly. “Or is it simply in fear of the power I have now? The power to ruin you all completely, on any whim I conjure up in my head? Scary isn’t it?” 

Harry slightly turned his body to where Skeeter was, making sure to give her a good angle to watch the Headmasters’ gobsmacked expressions so she could describe them well and do them justice. 

“However, to answer your question, Lord Crouch, I wasn’t aware I could claim this right, you see, as I had no information I had the right to any of my Lordships yet. Or that I had any Lordships to claim in the first place. Anyhow, I seem to be in Magic’s good graces as of now, and I soon found out the truth of my upbringing. And would you look at that- I’m not only Lord Potter- son of James Fleamont Potter, but also Heir Black- son of Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Harry began slowly pacing the whole space, deliberately making his posture straight but relaxed, ignoring everybody else. 

“Of course, a Lord and Heir of several other Houses through both my fathers, and as one would have it, in the Black Family Grimoire and Charts there is written that as long as the Heir is last of his House- be that his father’s or his bearer’s House, he or she is eligible for any Lordship they are deemed fit for, so long as they have made 14 years of age. Hence why” Harry presents both his hands for inspection openly. “I have these. And the right to refuse the contract of the Goblet of Fire.” 

Not letting the shocked faces deter him, the young man turned to the crows and stepped to the railing of the Top Box, where everyone could see him and, using the previously cast by him Sonorus, made his announcement. 

“Students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons!” He spread his hands wide and grinned. “As Lord Gryffindor and Heir Ravenclaw I cannot express how grateful I am to have you as guests in Hogwarts! I’m greatly afraid this speech of mine is not only long overdue, but also has missed its moment by a few weeks, so I’ll cut it short. Please feel at home here. This may be a competition, but it’s also a great opportunity to make connections and learn many new things about others and yourselves. I greatly appreciate the respect and kindness you’ve shown to Hogwarts and its entirety of staff and students, and assure you the feelings are mutual.” 

He put his hands on the railing and used them to lean a bit forward. 

“Thank you all, for being here, and participating in this moment of us writing history. Now, as is my right as partial owner of Hogwarts, I give each participant of today’s Task a score of full 10! Outstanding work, Champions! Your performance today served well to show why you were all chosen amongst your peers as most capable!”

The scores across the floating board changed up immediately. His name was erased, and everyone’s numbers changed. 

“I would like to congratulate Mr. Viktor Krum of Durmstrang for taking the first place with ease- with 50 points! In second place, Mr. Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts with 48 points, and in last place- Lady Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons with 46 points! Well done, all of you! Facing a dragon is a harsh task not many wizards across the world could say they’d done, or lived through. I request all three of you wait in the Champions tent for your next clue!” 

Harry knew he was exaggerating a lot, speaking as if he’s done it himself several times, speaking as if he has decades of experience like Dumbles. He sounded laughable to some, he knew, a 14 year old speaking like an old man of things he himself would never willingly do. And yet, he found most of the onlookers’ attention focused on him completely. 

He had to remind himself that he didn’t look 14, not now, and he didn’t sound like it either. Confidence was a powerful thing, he’d learned. Acting like you knew what you were doing, not showing hesitance and uncertainty made those  who were unsure follow you no matter what. If you go to hell, might as well walk in as if you own the place, that was the saying, was it not? Now Harry truly saw what it meant. It made him giddy, having such power over the crowd. 

He made a grand 180 turn with a vast swish of his robes and made to exit the Top Box with quick, purposeful strides. Let the fools deal with the aftermath and seek him out. He didn’t hide this time, on the contrary, making a great show of letting his robes be swiped up and dramatically billowed by the wind in a very Snape- like fashion, and waving his way back to the tent of the Champions. 

***

Once inside, with the flaps of the entrance firmly in place, he was immediately smothered by a vast amount of blond silky hair, and almost choked to death by the harsh grip of none other than Fleur herself. The girl had launched herself at Harry and hugged him thigh, and he only barely managed to avoid toppling over and landing on the floor with her on top of him. 

He chuckled, and wrapped his hands around her in return, as much as her unyielding hold would let him. 

“What were you tzinking, Harry Potter?! ” she shouted in a shrill high pitched voice as she let him go and looked him over. “I waz so worriez! Asking Lady Magic to judge you, I thought she’d strike witz e lightning right there!”

The boy only shook his hand, still smiling. 

“I’m fine, Fleur. I’m fine, and the magic has accepted my rebuttal, I’m no longer a champion, but rather a judge. It’s all good now.” 

She still slapped him lightly on the arm, but then stood aside to let the other two present take a look at him. Cedric came before Harry first and held out his hand. Harry gladly took it and shook it firmly. 

“Nice work out there, all of you. I watched you from the tent, you were all amazing.” 

“Look who’s talking, Potter.” Diggory snorted. “You put on a far better show than any of us ever could. Son of the Black house, eh?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s pretty new to me too, but yeah.” 

The Hufflepuff smirked. “Good for you, kid. At least it got you out of this madness, if anything.” 

Harry shoved him on his good side playfully.

“Don’t call me kid, you skewered badger. Or next time I’ll let whatever those nutcrackers pick have a real go at you.” 

All of them chuckled at that. 

After a brief exchange of small pleasantries with Krum too, Harry sought out to return to the castle with the Slytherins. The teachers may not have resolved everything up there yet, and there’s still the matter of announcing the next clue to the champions, but since he was no longer part of any of it, he looked forward to returning early and celebrating the success of the plan with his friend. 

And wasn’t that something, the Slytherins- the people he hated and lowkey feared not even three months ago, were now his friends. His real friends. 

Who were now waiting a few steps before the tent, and then accompanied him back, and into their common room. 

To Harry’s surprise, there were many tables with drinks and finger foods set out. 

“Did you really think we won’t celebrate it?” Blaise teased with a knowing smirk. “Let’s get this party started! The others are on their way too!” 

Harry giggled in delight, still riding the high of the adrenaline from a few minutes ago. 

Safe to say, the Snakes threw far better parties than any Lion could ever dream of.

Chapter Text

Hullo people, ladies, gents and all and any fellas! 

After a few awful months of silence, I'm here to assure you that I will be posting more, and eventually finishing the fanfic. Now that school has a lighter hold on me, I'm ready to start up again! Thank you all for the many positive comments, apologies to those who cannot see the pictures. The next, awaited update will be posted tonight. Well, my tonight really, so in less than 14 hours from this post. 

Here's a little hint for you all:

.

.

Professor Moody's in a mood, so are Hermione and Ron, and Harry has a lot on his plate.

They're not in a pleasant mood at all, I'm afraid, to each their own. - average Potter luck right there.

.

.

Well, that was it. 

And for now, my dearest readers, let the waiting begin!

Toodles! :) 

Chapter Text

Okay, maybe Harry was still riding on a high from the adrenaline of the earlier events, and maybe on the one-too-many glasses of fire whiskey that was snuck in under the radar, so he didn’t exactly see the danger coming before the trap had snapped closed around him. 

The Gryffindor found himself held at wandpoint, pressed to the wall, with a hand around his neck- not suffocating, but strong enough to be a bit concerning. Moody’s death glare was even more unnerving, but Harry wouldn’t give into the man. 

“Attacking me, professor? In the middle of the day? I thought you’d be better than that.’’

Moody growled and squeezed Harry’s neck even more, before easing his grip back. 

“What do you think you’re playing at, Potter?” The man hissed. 

“That’s Black to you, professor. And I don’t know what you mean.’’ 

“Don’t play stupid, boy!’’ Moody demanded. “Do you know what kind of chaos you caused last night?! Doing what you did! You have gone insane!”  

“Me? Play stupid?” Harry grinned innocently “Never, Professor. I didn’t mean to worry anybody either, of course. I simply got myself out of a dangerous situation, isn’t that what you’ve been teaching us all year? Self awareness and caution.” 

Harry took his wand out from its holster and pressed it to Moody’s neck swiftly. 

“What could worry everyone, however, is the fact that somebody is using some first grade Polyjuice Potion to infiltrate the School, and is succeeding, by impersonating a former Auror and head of the DMLE. And given that Snape has been assigning me some detentions for missing ingredients from his lab, I’m guessing you’re the one stealing them for the potion. Another crime on your record I’m afraid.” 

Moody growled at him once more, but stepped back, which allowed Harry to unglue himself from the wall and take a proper breath while fixing his dishevelled robes. 

His rings had been warning him of some potion being used in his close proximity, but with all the students around him in every class he wasn’t able to figure out who and why. Now, however, alone with Moody and no one else in sight, it was clear as day. 

What was peculiar to Harry was that his rings weren’t warning him only of danger, but of a friend too. Particularly the Black Heirship ring. It had been buzzing with a restless cool energy, as if holding a breath in anticipation of something. 

Harry could only guess that whoever hid beneath Moody’s face was a friend of the previous Black Heir - his father Regulus. Which also meant a possible Death Eater. Average Harry Potter luck right there, people. 

“Who are you.” The gryffindor demanded. 

“Shut it boy.” The Not-Moody grumbled, turning his back to Harry. “This is not your business to meddle in. Obliviate!”

Harry quickly ducked out of the spell’s way and threw in a wordless Stunner and a wandless body-bind. Not enough to even put a scratch on the person, but it certainly bought him the much- needed seconds. 

“In the Ancient Name of House Black, as the Heir, I demand you name yourself!” 

The man froze in his place and dropped his wand, as he slowly began to morph. Aha. There it was. 

It was a trick he learned from Draco in particular. The biggest, most influential and richest Houses apparently took smaller Noble Houses as their vassals back in the Middle Ages, and most of those contracts still stood in place. As the Black Heir he could demand small things be done for him from one or another, so longer as they were his vassals. Which apparently this man was. 

He was gaunt. Taller than Moody and much thinner. He had the same haunted look Harry had seen on Sirius’ face right after he escaped Azkaban, but his eyes were alight with a maniacal glee and fury. He was pale, with fairly long straw-blond hair, and some faded freckles. 

And most importantly, a very-much not faded Dark Mark on his left forearm. 

Bloody Hell. 

***

Harry exhaled through his teeth and gripped his wand thighter, pointing it at the man. 

“I said I demand you name yourself. Now.” 

The man grunted and glared at him, but begrudgingly opened his mouth.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. 

“You are-”

“Yes, that old geezer's son.” Bartemius Junior spat out with venom in his voice. “And you’re actually Reggie’s son.” He darted a glance at Harry’s hands, at the rings. “So that stunt you pulled wasn’t just for show.”

“You knew my father.” 

“I knew both your parents.” 

“You’re a Death Eater.”

“So was Regulus.” 

A vase exploded somewhere around but neither paid it mind. 

“What are you doing here.” Harry demanded. 

The man began to squirm and thrash, but with a little push of Harry’s magic he relented and muttered through gritted teeth. “I’m here to make sure you survive the Tournament and then get you where Master wants you, so he can get his body back.”

“You’re trying to resurrect Voldemort.”

“Do not say his name!” 

All the candles in the room blew out and Crouch howled in pain, doubling over. One of the windows shattered. That’s right. Saying Voldemort’s name in front of his followers caused them pain. 

After a minute or so Crouch recovered and looked up at Harry, glaring, flicking out his tongue in that strange way, like a lizard. 

“I won’t let you do that.” Harry muttered, pressing his wand to Crouch’s throat. 

“Master is the only one who can kill Dumbledore!” the man demanded. “You’ve seen it for yourself, the Headmaster has gone senile!” 

“It is not for you to decide who dies and who doesn’t. You’re not God.” 

“There is no God, boy! No deities to save us! Only men and their ambition!” 

“Your Lord is a madman. He killed thousands!” 

“He wasn’t himself! He went mad because of Dumbledor! He-”

Harry didn’t want to listen to anymore of this. Before he knew it, his fist connected with Crouch’s jaw hard . Then again, and again. Only after the fifth punch did he stop, only to grab the still-incapacitated man by the hair and make him meet his gaze. 

“You will continue to pretend to be Moody. You won’t tell anybody that I know who you are. You won’t hurt anybody, directly or indirectly. You will do all of this until I decide what to do with you.” 

“You can’t control me.” Bartemius spat out as a few drops of blood from his busted lip landed on Harry’s white button-up. “I may be your vassal, but it’s indirectly, through my father. My bond to my Master is far stronger. The next time he calls on me he’ll override your commands and then he’ll send me for revenge, boy.” 

“Your Master is dead. ” Harry hissed, getting into Crouch’s face. “What’s left of him, that shade that Wormtail is taking care of, is just that. A shade . Imitation. Pathetic. And if I were you, I wouldn’t let Peter anywhere near it, if you’re so devoted to your Master. He’s a rat, in both the literal and figurative sense. Also, he’s an idiot. Might want to check he doesn’t screw anything up.” 

He let go of Crouch’s hair and let the man slump back, turning to the door to leave. 

Amazing. 

Another year ruined by his Prissy Graciousness, the Darth Vader wanna-be. 

***

Crouch did as he was told, apparently, because he was at the breakfast table along with the other teachers not even an hour later, again in Moody’s body. 

This fact made Harry no less fidgety however, and the Slytherins noticed it immediately. He was cushioned between the Greengrass sisters at the very same second as he took his place on the table in the Great Hall, seeing as they had the most patience out of the whole group and were the most empathetic out of the bunch. 

By a miracle, the whole Hall was silent. Completely devoid of voices, so much so that even the teachers were not speaking to one another, and only looking down at their own plates. Harry darted a glance to Dumbledor and found the old wizard already looking at him, so he quickly averted his gaze away and focused on his food. 

 It was the quietest Hogwarts has ever been. 

***

After another torturous day of classes (Harry had Morning Period with Binns. History of Magic so early in the day was not a good idea) Harry went to the library to look for a particular book on Wizengamot laws passed through the years. 

Then Hermione showed up. And then Ron. 

Harry sighed when he saw the two approach him and steeled himself for a confrontation. It had been building up over the last month, and it was bound to come to a climax at some point, for the tension to boil over. Apparently it was today, of all days. 

When the two stopped in front of him they stayed quiet, not even greeting him, so Harry didn’t bother to greet them either. However Hermione saw the book in his hands and frowned. 

“Why do you need that, Harry? You were never interested in the Wizengamot.”

“Interests change.” He mutterest curtly. 

She stayed quiet for a moment. Only a moment. Ugh. 

“You won’t need it anyway, we don’t study about the Wizengamot anyway.”

“Yes I will.” Harry said defensively. “I wouldn’t have picked it up if I didn’t need it, Hermione.” 

She opened her mouth to argue again, but Ron cut her off. 

“He’s got a title now, Mione.” The red head hissed. “He’s like those pompous Slytherins now, all high and mighty.”

“Ron!” she chastised him. 

“He’s right.” Harry intervened. “I am like the Slytherins. I have a title now, and duties to perform. And I need that book. So I’m taking it. ” 

“Oh, Harry… ” the bushy-haired girl looked at him with something too close to pity, which infuriated him. “You don’t actually believe what they told you, do you? I mean, you can’t be- you’re the son of James and Lily Potter, everybody knows that. And the way you look, they must’ve done something, I read about a really powerful glamour that-” 

“Enough, Hermione.” Harry stopped her, raising a hand. “It was not the Slytherins who told me about my heritage, I found out myself. Do not put the blame on them just because it’s convenient for you.” 

“Then they must’ve set you up!” She insisted. “I looked into it Harry, Regulus Black was Sirius’ brother and he was a Death Eater!” She whispered the last part, looking around frantically as if waiting for someone to come in and say they are all in trouble. “They want to gain your trust by making you believe their lies!” 

“Shut up!” Harry snapped, earning a glare from Madam Pince, but he didn’t care. “I am done with your nonsense! I don’t need you babying me and bossing me around Hermione, and I thought I had made myself perfectly clear the first time around! Quit it!” 

“We’re your friends, Harry!” she insisted, her eyes getting misty. 

“You stopped being my friend when you didn’t believe me about not putting my name in the Goblet. When you didn’t check up on me even though I was missing for days . And he” Harry pointed menacingly at Ron. “He stopped being my friend when he accused me of cheating and not sharing my ‘methods’ with him and hogging all the glory! And also, he stopped being my friend when he threw that plate full of food at my head!” 

“You know how Ron is, Harry-” she continued at the same time as Ron let out an undignified offended squeak about her comment. 

“I’m done with both of you.” Harry said, scowling. “Don’t seek me out anymore. Don’t talk to me anymore. Leave me alone.” 

He tried to push past them and leave, but Ron called after him.

“You would be nothing now without me, Potter!” 

Hermione gasped and Harry stopped in his tracks, turning slightly back, enough to see Ron’s face exquisitely matching his hair. 

“Nothing!” He repeated. “No one would’ve known who you were, Potter, without me!” 

Harry chuckled under his breath. “Pity. But the truth is, I’ll get attention whenever I want, wherever I want. The truth also lies in the fact that without being “the chosen One’s best friend’ people won’t look at you twice. And that’s what happened, isn’t it? You’re losing me, which means you’re losing the title as a weapon. Your days of Glory are coming to their end, Ronald Weasley.” He darted a quick look to Hermione again, just to be sure, then turned back around and left the library.

Chapter Text

“Dearest Lord Potter, 

On behalf of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy, you are invited to the annual Yule Celebratory Ball hosted at Malfoy Manor on the 22nd of December, at 8 p.m. 

The color theme is earthly natural colors and we recommend every guest look at the color-theme guide provided in the invitation. 

It is guaranteed by  the Lord of the House that any political or other arrangements are abandoned for the night and the safety of each and every guest is absolutely undoubted. 

You may bring a plus one. 

We await your reply. 

Lord Lucius Malfoy of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy 

And 

Lady Narcissa Malfoy of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy” 

***

Harry stared at the letter that had arrived just now with a beautiful eagle owl, which bore the Malfoy crest, the same crest that sat on Draco’s Heirship Ring. The very same blond looked up from his plate and peered at the letter, then rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, they invited you this year too. It’s nothing special, really, every year same food, same people. Bo ring .” He took a bite of his food then said after swallowing. “You’re also invited to stay over for the winter break with your plus one.” 

Harry’s hands began shaking a bit and his heartbeat picked up. He was invited. As a newly pledged Lord it would be very bad for his shaky image to not attend. He had to. And he could stay over. 

No Dursleys. 

He looked up and met gazes with Theo, who seemed to read his mind and nod in confirmation. 

Harry couldn’t believe it. 

He neatly tucked the letter into the inner breast pocket of his uniform (something the Slytherins had been very insistent to be put there), and returned to his breakfast too, feeling lighter than before. Sure, he would be in the same house as a known Death Eater, but he didn’t seem to be able to get rid of those anyway, so trading Crouch for Malfoy Senior seemed like a good enough deal. 

Speaking for Crouch, the man had started acting strange since their encounter five days ago. He’d been pushing more dark spells in the curriculum, making the students test them out even on each other and find counters for them, always looking Harry in the eye all the while. Like he’s challenging him, trying to make him snap in some way. 

Meanwhile, Harry was thriving , to the point that he was scaring even himself. Mostly himself. The darker the spell got, the easier it was to cast, and the more pleasure it gave him. Full body chills, ecstasy, he could feel the energy course through his veins and into his wand at the same moment that he uttered the incantation. He wanted to fall on his knees and revel in this feeling. It terrified him . Was this what the dark wizards felt every time they went out and hurt innocent people? The excitement of the hunt, the thrill of the kill, the satisfaction of the magic? Was he becoming like them now? 

He shook his head quickly to clear it of those thoughts and ate the last bites on his plate, then looked through his bag one more time to make sure he had every book he needed for today’s classes.

Right as he was about to stand up a hand pushed him gently back down. Harry looked up to meet the gaze of Severus Snape himself and held back the urge to recoil. Snape placed a piece of parchment in front of him with his other hand, then returned to the Head Table. 

Harry quickly flipped the note over. 

“My office, in half an hour. Do not be late.” 

Ah, bloody hell . 

Snape was going to interrogate him, wasn’t he? Great. Wonderful. Just perfect. Exactly what Harry needed right now. 

But fine. At least he knew Snape wouldn’t rat him out if it meant getting his Snakes in trouble too. 

What did he want to know, however. 

***

Everything apparently. From why Harry was such an idiot, to how he found out the truth, and why he was still hanging around the Court. 

Harry wasn’t going to give up such information that easily, however, which angered the git. 

“Look Potter, if you don’t tell me everything I want to know, right now, I will find out my way, and it will be very painful for you. ” 

Harry scoffed and crossed his legs. 

“Forced legilimency is against the law, and then there’s another few years in Azkaban on top of the initial sentence for forcing it on a minor, and no- just because I’m emancipated doesn’t excuse you from that tiny add-on. Also, all my rings protect my mind, so it’s going to take you quite a lot of time to go through the layers of wards.”

Harry stood up and brushed off imaginary dust of his lap, then turned and left. He was pretty sure he was accompanied by an inkpot being thrown at the door he just left through. Pity, really, because Snape always picked the best, most expensive ink. Truly, a waste.

***

The rest of the day was boring. All the excitement from the First Task had finally died off, even if people still looked at him funnily. They were adjusting to his new look however, which was a good sign. 

That night, in bed, Harry made sure to close his curtains tightly and ward his bed to Heaven and back, before producing a Mandrake leaf from his sleeve and placing it under his tongue. 

Wleh. Thanks not Nevile, for not saying this thing tastes absolutely awful.

Chapter Text

    Luna, Harry was sure, looked good in absolutely everything she wore. For the evening she had chosen a lovely orangy-brown off-shoulders gown with sheer sleeves. Her hair was down and she had put a light shimmer around her eyes and lips. 

    Harry, on the other hand, had opted for a black suit with a long coat embroidered with leaves and flowers in the same color as Luna’s dress. It was a custom made order, for both of the outfits, which Harry gladly paid for, given how beautiful his friend looked. 

    It was the 22nd of December, and Luna was just delighted to be Harry’s plus one, not that he’d have chosen anybody else anyway. They were currently at Xenophilius Lovegood’s house- it was Winter Break now, and some people had gone home and would be in Hogwarts only for the Yule Ball and the day after. Harry had been staying over with the Malfoys for five days now, and while strained, the atmosphere was never hostile, or even remotely unwelcoming. Which Harry found very surprising, given that he was sure Lucius Malfoy held much resentment for him, for various reasons. Perhaps he was holding back because of his son and wife, or perhaps because Harry had power now, but it didn’t matter. 

    It was 7 p.m, and Harry had flooed to the Lovegood residence to pick up Luna, and what a divine sight she was. Blond curly hair, greyish- blue eyes and that wonderful smile, a true vision. Harry made sure to tell her so immediately, to which she giggled and responded with ‘You also look wonderful, Harry.’ and put her arm in the crook of his elbow.  

    Together they stepped through to Malfoy Manor, where Luna exchanged a few pleasantries with Lucius and Narcissa, then went in search of Draco, who was still picking his outfit. Still . 

    Harry had to roll his eyes when they entered Draco’s room, seeing the boy holding two sets of robes and standing in front of the mirror with a distraught expression. To his utter bewilderment however, Luna immediately jumped in and began discussing fashion and different types of fabrics with Draco while looking through his closet. 

    It took another half an hour, but thankfully the three teens got ready right in time to go and greet the first arriving guests, those being Blaze Zabini and his mother- Contessa Clementine Zabini. Lucius and Narcissa did the formal introductions and then left Harry and Luna to lead them to the Ballroom and make small talk on the way, until the others arrived as well. 

    Turns out the Annual Yule Celebratory Ball truly was annual , for talk about the new decorations had reached the whole room when it filled. Some of the less dignified ladies were talking in loud voices how Lady Malfoy had ‘outdone herself’ this year and how ‘nobody’s seen such a thing, ever’. Kissarses, if you asked Harry, though he had to agree. It was a mesmerising sight. 

    The room was dimmed and coated in gently blue hues, and snowflakes fell from the ceiling, disappearing somewhere above the heads of the guest. Ice statues jumped from tray to tray on the tables, dancing and twirling in a gentle waltz. Refreshments were placed also, which were astonishingly delicious- the Malfoy house elves were truly capable. The middle of the room was open, but the music hasn’t started yet, so the dance floor remained unestablished yet. 

    A sudden ring claimed everyone’s attention and they turned to the host. 

    Lucius raised a glass of champagne with a pleasant smile. 

    “Thank you all, for honoring me, my family and my home with your presence for another year, my friends. The Winter solstice has always been a special night for us, a night when magic is at its highest. Tonight I see old faces” He tips the glass to the adults in the room. “And new ones.” then at Harry and his friends. “And I hope I will always be welcomed to this sight. To the new blood embracing our traditions. We burn the Yule log at midnight, and until then, let us enjoy music, dancing, refreshments, and each other.” 

    He raised his glass gently, and everyone followed him, then took a sip. 

    Harry couldn’t wait for the burning. Apparently it was some sort of a blood ritual, which had alarmed him at first, but the Slytherins had assured him repeatedly that it was safe and done many times over, so now his curiosity was getting the better of him. 

    When the music started, he obviously dedicated the first dance to Luna, who only proved further that she was secretly some nymph who could do nothing wrong. With fluid motions and a radiant smile, she slowly pulled Harry to the centre of the dance floor and soon they were the centre of attention. The music ended just when Harry dipped Luna low and the end of her hair barely glazed the floorboards. 

    For his next dance he switched partners with Theo and twirled around a giggling Astoria. 

    It was much the same for a bit more time, switching partners and dances. 

    That is, until he found himself pressed to somebody’s chest from behind, with hands on his waist. Harry quickly looked up and back to the person who was holding him and froze for a second. 

    “Potter.” Barty Crouch Junior whispered lowly. 

    “That’s Black to you, Crouch” Harry muttered and swallowed. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” 

    “Did your research on me, have you?” Crouch slowly took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor, placing his other one on his waist once again as the music began. “Yes, by Ministry records I’m dead. As for what I’m doing here, I was invited, of course. Despite what that Invitation said about political or other parties being null and void tonight, Potter..” Crouch leaned forward and whispered in Harry’s ear. “You’re in a room full of Death Eaters and their children. All those people here will fire an Avada Kedavra at you at one fell swoop.” 

   Harry’s step faltered for a second and a shudder went through his body.

   “If you all want to attack me, then I should warn you that I’ll be taking at least a few of you to the grave with me.” 

   “Ohh, feisty .” Crouch chuckled, twirling him. “I like it. Though you’ve always loved to bare your teeth at every turn, I hear.” 

   “What do you want?” the boy scowled. 

    “Me? From you?” The man grinned. “Simple, really. I want your help.” 

    Harry glared at the man and pressed his lips in a thin line, purposely stepping on his toes, which, to his dismay, didn’t make Crouch react at all. That stupid smirk was still on his face.

    “What help.” 

   Crouch lit up, as if being given a gift, and leaned forward again, this time pressing Harry closer too. 

   “I need you to help me resurrect my master.”

Chapter Text

    After the unpleasant dance with Crouch and the burning of the Yule Log, Harry readily went to his room at Malfoy Manor, ignoring the Slytherins’ steady gazes. 

    The Death Eater was clearly mad. Asking for help to resurrect Voldemort? The Voldemort, killer-of-both-pairings-of-parents Voldemort? The ex- Azkaban prisoner must’ve truly lost his mind because of the dementors. Poor thing. 

    Harry scoffed and flopped onto the bed. The nerve. Asking Harry for help as if he was owed it. Being an awful creep while doing it too. 

    At least the Yule Ritual had lightened his mood. It was Harry’s first time participating in such a thing, and he had been very nervous, but also very excited. The Yule Log turned out to be the lower trunk of the tree that the Malfoys had decorated with ornaments this year. Apparently it was freshly cut and carved with intricate runes. Each of the guests took a turn pouring some of their blood onto it, then a collective prayer to the gods was said as magic was let loose and poured into the piece of wood. Once that was done, the Lord of the House that was hosting- in this case Lucius, picked the Log by hand and threw it in the fire. 

    The moment the flames licked up the bark of the Log Harry felt a rush of pleasure go down his spine and a pleasant warm weight collected low in his navel. By the looks of the people around him they felt the same, though some reactions were a lot more restrained, likely due to being used to the sensation. But Harry, Harry was thrumming with magic. It slowly but surely began to sing in his veins as the boy’s smile grew, and he felt more energized than ever. 

    If all the Sabbats were truly like this- paying respects and thanking the gods for the gift of magic, and then receiving this sensation in return, he understood why the old families still practiced those rituals, risking facing Azkaban, due to the ban of the British Ministry. Harry certainly understood why the Slytherins had been so anxious to get all the ingredients they needed in time- though for what they were he didn’t know yet. Draco and Pansy had promised to include him in the ritual however, but said that all of them needed to return to Hogwarts first.  

    As Harry turned to lay on his side and face the window, looking at the full moon, something caught his attention. A figure standing at the edge of the woods that were part of the Malfoy residence. 

    The boy quickly stood up and shot to the window, leaning on the railing. The figure was just standing there, right on the border between the shadows and the moonlight. It was too far away for Harry to make out any features. His senses began screaming at him, demanding he went and chased the figure. 

    Before he knew it, one blink and then on the other, he was outside, running to the woods. He was in a trance, almost. Funnily enough, he could still think, he realized where he was going, but he didn’t know why . His body wasn’t listening to him anymore, as if put under Imperio . When he got close the figure turned its back to Harry and dashed for the woods. 

    “You shouldn’t be here.” Harry heard himself say as he slowed down. The figure was trapped, something in Harry told him so. No matter how far it went, it couldn’t leave the Malfoy property, and Harry would catch it inevitably. “You know that.” He continued, the words spilling cold and calm from his mouth. “Running away only made your punishment bigger.” 

    Harry swiftly stepped over some debris and cornered the soul to a rocky wall. It began shaking its head, still featureless, but not unexpressive. It pleaded and whined, begged for mercy. It wanted only to be with its family, to look over them. After a while he would’ve come back and served his punishment, he swore. 

    Harry reached with one hand and tapped it against the figure’s forehead. It slowly began dissolving into glitter and dust that were carried away by the wind, but no before one last plea. 

“Harry!” It shouted, extending both hands towards him and stumbling forward in an attempt to reach him. Harry didn’t move, unimpressed. He felt pity, almost. But it should’ve known better. Nobody could run away. Not from him-.

     “Harry!” 

    Harry jolted awake and quickly sat up in the bed, looking around the room, dazed. Draco was at his bedside, already dressed and ready for the day, wearing a worried expression on his face. 

    “Thank Merlin!” the blond exhaled. “You weren’t waking up, Harry! And you were thrashing and mumbling, and your magic was running wild! We were worried!” 

    The raven-head immediately felt a pang of guilt for worrying his hosts and friend so, and made it known to Draco too, who huffed and quickly composed himself. 

    “Get up. It’s already almost eleven, get ready for the day and let’s head down for lunch.” 

    Harry started.

    “Almost eleven?! Why was I asleep for so long?” 

    Draco huffed and pouted, but still answered him. 

    “Usually the first few Sabbat rituals are a bit taxing on the wixen, so my parents deemed it okay to let you sleep in and restore your magic after last night.”

    That calmed down the raven head a bit. Maybe the Ritual was the reason for the strange dreams too. 

    Harry nodded. “I’ll be down in a few.”

    “Don’t stall.” Draco huffed. “Your breakfast will get cold.” 

    With that the blond exited Harry’s room, closing the door behind himself. 

    Harry ran a hand down his face and let out a defeated sigh, feeling over and underwhelmed at the same time. 

    He had so much to do. The Slytherins were returning to Hogwarts later today so they could all prepare for the Yule Ball, and Harry would go back with them. Even if he was no longer a champion, he was still part of the jury, which meant his participation was required. 

    The boy groaned in irritation. Bloody events, bloody Tournament, and Bloody Dumbledore. 

    Harry quickly went and took a shower to freshen up, then dressed in the pre-laid robes that were waiting for him when he got out of the bathroom. Just like Draco had said, several trays were waiting for him when he went down to the dining room. Narcissa was still there, sipping a cup of what looked and smelled to be peach tea, while looking through the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. 

    “I never pegged you as the type to read this shite, Lady Malfoy.” Harry said, before his brain could catch up to him. 

    The woman only graced him with a small smile and a glance, then hummed as she sipped his tea. Harry, not one to get into trouble (not willingly, of course, despite what they all say), sat down on the table where the trays were laid out and dug in, piling his plate with all his favorites. 

    Just as he was about to bring another spoonful to his mouth an House elf popped in and bowed to Narcissa. 

    “Mistress Cissa, Itsy be tasked with informing you that a black doggy be waiting for you and wanting to speak with you.” 

    Harry froze, a flash of fear zapping him. Sirius. He was here. 

     Why? He’s still a fugitive, he shouldn’t be out in the open. Especially in Malfoy manor of all places. Was he here because of Harry? After how he cut off the floo-call the last time they saw each other? 

    The boy felt his hands tremble and he quickly set the spoon down before he could drop it and make a mess, shooting the Malfoy Lady a terrified glance. 

    For her part, she had also set down her paper and gone impassive. 

    The silence that followed made even the House elf squirm. Harry didn’t dare look the woman in the eye, and, mercifully, she didn’t seek his gaze either. 

    After a few more seconds she rose from her seat and sighed, stilling herself, and turned to the elf. 

    “And where is the dog, Ittsy?” she asked calmly. 

    “Doggy be in the waiting room, my Lady, with Bittsy.” 

    “Then have Bittsy lead him here. You are dismissed.”

    “Yes, Mistress.” Ittsy bowed and popped away. 

    Harry didn’t dare make a noise after that. Not until the doors of the dining hall swung open and not a few seconds later he was being smothered in a hug that smelled like whisky and cherry and a bit ashy. 

    Sirius’ arms wrapped around him, pulling Harry up on his feet swiftly if not desperately. The man himself was rambling about something or the other, burying his nose in Harry’s hair and pressing him to his body, but Harry couldn’t make it out. 

    Then he was being ripped away from the frantic man just as fast. Narcissa stood between them and took a few steps back, effectively putting more distance between Harry and his godfather, her wand was out and trained on Sirius, and her expression was thunderous. 

    “You dare…” she hissed spitefully. “ To come into my house, wearing the Black Lordship ring as if you have any right to it.” It was the angriest and most uncompossed Harry had ever seen the woman. “And grab at my godson like that?” 

    “ Your godson?!” Sirius barked. “Harry is my godson, mine! ” 

    “Enough!” 

    Harry stepped between both of them, angry. 

    How dare he ? 

    How dare Sirius show his face here, after everything he did? Abandoning Harry when he most needed it, promising him home and a place away from the Dursleys then not making good on his promise, storming Narcissa’s home like he was owed something. 

     “What do you want, Sirius?” Harry growled, scowling. 

    “What do I- ” The man froze once he laid eyes on him. Figures. 

    Sirius’ jaw went slack and he took a few steps back, shaking. 

    Jesus Crist and everything else that’s Holy. Of course Harry would have that effect on his godfather. 

    Just marvelous.

Chapter Text

    Using his shock, Narcissa quickly knocked Sirius out and took away his wand, then ordered one of the House elves to pop him to a guest room. 

    Harry sighed and shook his head at the antics of his criminal godfather, before sitting back at the table to finish his breakfast. 

    “Lady Malfoy?” He asked hesitantly, after a while. The woman looked up at him from her newspapers. 

    “I was wondering-” The boy cleared his throat. “I was approached, at the ball last night, by- one of your…collegues…” 

    Narcissa’s eyes sharpened. 

    “Were you threatening Harry?” She asked at once. 

    “No!- No.” He was quick to assure, knowing the woman’s temper, while hidden, was no less dangerous than any other Black’s. “It was for- something else. And I- wanted to ask you about it if…” Harry faltered a bit, uncomfortable to acknowledge that the person sitting across from him, who’d saved his life and welcomed him into his home, was part of the mass mad group who’d gone after his father and mother. “...if you’d allow me.” 

    The two held eye contact for a few seconds before the Malfoy Lady put the Daily prophet to the side and straightened in her seat. 

    “You may ask.” She replied evenly. “You deserve to know, though I may not answer. I am under an unbreakable vow, you must understand.”

    “It’s not- I don’t want any information about- raids or murders or anything. It shouldn’t be anything that falls under the protection of the oath.”

    “Go ahead.” 

    Harry also sat more properly and put down his utensils. 

    “What made you join him?” He asked tentatively. “I’ve seen him, twice, but…Once was while he was possessing another person, and another was some sort of a past version of his that haunted a diary. Neither of those seemed appealing or worth following. To me at least. But clearly, to have so many- subordinates - he must have something to him. So what is it? What was it for you that drew you in?” 

    If she was surprised by his question, she didn’t show it. Instead, she looked down at her hands and thought about it silently for a few minutes. Harry didn’t want to break the moment so he stood as still as he could. When he met the familiar onyx eyes once again, he saw determination shining in them.

     “I won’t lie to you, Harry. He was alluring. If you say a past version of him, then you must’ve experienced first- hand his ways. How he spun words with a silver tongue to make you doubt anything and everything but him. He promised us power, and freedom. He swore that the Old Ways won’t die out so long as he holds the cards, that the muggleborns won’t be a problem for us anymore. That we won’t be deemed ‘evil’ and called ‘monsters’ just for the affinity of our magic. That is why I joined him. Why our families, both House Black and House Malfoy aligned with him. My father- Sygnus Black, as well as  Orion and Walburga went to Hogwarts with our Lord, and so did Abraxtas Malfoy, Lucius’ father. They were his first followers ever, the Knights of Walpurgis.” 

    “The Knights of Walpurgis?” 

    Narcissa shook her head. 

     “Nobody knows why they called themselves this. Or, those who knew have long passed away now.”

    Harry nodded contemplatively and leaned back in his chair. 

    “And did he make good on his promises?”

    Narcissa tilted her head a bit. 

    “He had plans, Harry, not just goals. And he worked hard to make those plans happen. But then….After a while, he began to change. He became more and more irritable, his punishments grew harsher by the day, to the point they turned into a full- blown torture sometimes. His face began to change. Every next time I saw him, it was like he became more of a beast than a man. He grew bloodthirsty, and where he would’ve used political tactics to reach his goal, he began using raw power and ordering us to murder anybody who got in his way. Until one day he was reduced to a state where you, somehow, defeated him.” 

    “Do you know what happened? What changed?” 

    “I’m afraid not. My Lord has always been a secretive person, even to those who seemed closest to him.” 

    Harry nodded slowly. 

     “I….understand. Thank you for this, Lady Malfoy.” 

     She nodded in return, and reached for the Prophet again, while Harry stood up and excused himself to go see Sirius. 

     Just in time, it seemed, because the man was awake once again, and thrashing around. Harry sighed and threw a full body binder at him to quiet him down. 

    “You are dismissed for now, Nelly.” He told the House Elf, to which the creature replied with a curtsy and popped away. 

     Sirius was looking at Harry stunned, incredulous and somewhat in awe. 

    “Reggie…?” the gaunt man whispered. 

     Harry shook his head, resigned. After years of ‘You look so much like James.’, and now this. Sweet Merlin. 

    “It’s me, Siri. Harry. Not Regulus.” 

    The man flinched away from him, even despite the body-binder Harry hadn’t even released yet. 

    “Harry…? What?” 

     “Long story. I’ll tell you later. Right now I need you to take me to the Black Family House.” 

     Sirius blanched. “What?! No! Why do you need to go there?!” 

     “I need something from the Black library.” Harry insisted.

     “That wretched library is full of Black Magic! I will not take you there!” 

     Harry  sighed and quickly composed himself, not letting his temper rise. Instead, he switched his wand with another one, untraceable in its magic, that had been a gift for Yule from the Malfoys, and pointed it at Sirius. 

    “ Imperio. ”

***

     After one unpleasant side-along-apparition, Harry tore through Grimauld place like a madman. The place was old, covered in dust, and gloomy. There was a screeching portrait that hurled insults at him the moment she heard him, but a quick flick of his wand closed the curtains of the painting for good. 

     The problem now was where the damn library was. The more time he wasted, the bigger scolding he was going to get from Narcissa for leaving the Manor so suddenly. 

     He was on his way to storming yet another room labeled R.A.B. when a House Elf popped right in his path and spread his arms to block him. 

     The thing was gaunt, and old, with a hooked nose almost like a beak, and floppy pointy ears. Harry could see its bones beneath the thin layers of skin, and the scowl the creature had adopted was full of hatred, completing the picture of unpleasantness. 

    “Filthy halfblood may not enter this room.” The elf hissed angrily. “Filthy Master Sirius’ adopted son be too filthy to enter, he will only taint the precious room. May not enter!”

    “Step out of my way.” Harry commanded. 

    “No! Kreacher be not letting filthy half-blood scum into Master Regulus’ bedroom!” 

    A shock ran through Harry and his head snapped up to the initials on the door once again. R.A.B. Regulus Arcturus Black. His dad. 

    Harry slowly relaxed his rigid muscles, which contradicted his now galloping heart, and removed the hood of the cloak he’d put on. Creature yelped and flinched back, startled. 

    “You!” He pointed at Harry with an accusing finger. “How dare you take on Master Regulus’ look! Filthy half-blood!” 

    Kreacher charged at him, small fists raised, with a battle cry, but before he could launch; the first punch Harry placed a hand on top of his bald small head.

    “My name is Hadrian James Sirius Potter- Black” he murmured. “I am the son of Jamer Fleamont Potter and Regulus Arcturus Black, adopted son of Sirius Orion Black. I am Lord Potter, and Heir Black, and I am your Master , Kreacher.” Harry felt the magic settle around both of them, and knew the elf did too, by the full body shiver that rocked its small body. “Now you will step aside and let me into my father’s room.” 

    Harry removed his hand from the elf’s head and watched as its body convulsed some, as if fighting against the urge to follow through with the order. At the end however, as always, magic won. 

     “Yes, Master Hadrian…” 

     With that, Harry pushed the door open. The room was clad in the slytherin green and silver. There was a four-poster bed on one end and a big dresser on the other. The family crest was embroidered in a massive scale above the bed, with the family moto ‘Tojous Pur’ beneath it. 

     It was all so…impersonal. The only indication that someone had lived here were the books on the shelves and the clothes in the dresser. Otherwise, it was just like all the other rooms Harry had rumbled through. 

     He went and tentatively opened the closet further. It was full of official wizarding robes in muted colors. However, one particular set caught his eye. It was more of a day-to-day set, in shades of navy and emerald blues and sea greens, with a white undershirt, and golden linings and accents. After some more digging, he found a matching blue pair of boots. 

     “It was Master Regulus’ favourite outfit.” 

     Harry whirled around to look at the House Elf standing in the doorway. His demeanor had changed, no trace of the anger and hatred. Now his shoulders were hunched and he almost looked…hesitant. 

     “Is that so…” Harry mused, then extended his hands with the robes and boots in them. “Then bring them to my room in Malfoy Manor. I shall be taking this set with me to Hogwarts.”

     “Yes, Master Hadrian.” 

    Kreacher took the robes and vanished. 

    Harry looked around one last time before exiting the room. He’ll look around more another time. 

    Instead, he climbed downstairs and began checking the rooms once again, in case he missed anything. 

    What caught his attention this time was an old cabinet littered with dust. It was nothing peculiar amidst the traditional wizarding furniture that was all around the house, and yet the boy felt a nudge  at the back of his head that told him there was something inside. Something important. 

    He opened the door and immediately a dementor greeted him. 

     “Ridiculus.” Harry waved his wand, unfazed. This wasn’t the first boggart he’s come across while searching the house. The ‘dementor’ deflated like a balloon and slowly fell to the ground at Harry’s chuckles. 

    Harry reached inside of the cabinet, smacked away a doxy that was trying to ambush and bite him, and plucked a locket from one of the shelves. 

    How whole body shuddered when his skin touched the smooth glass surface of the thing. His magic spiked at once. 

    Well, well, well. 

    He may have not found any information on Horcruxes in the Black library, or found the library itself. 

    But would you look at that? 

    Harry had found himself an actual Horcrux.

Chapter Text

    The scolding from Narcissa and Lucius was, as expected, terrible. Harry didn’t care much for any authority figures besides Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin, but the Malfoys have wriggled themselves into a special place in his heart, even if he still felt some controversy due to three years of constant fighting with Draco, and by extension Lucius. So when they looked at him with those disappointed stares the boy couldn’t help but feel his gut churn and a lump formed in his throat. 

    He had to swallow it, however, because showing them the slytherin Locket was a more pressing matter than his punishment. He had to explain what he knew about Horcruxes, and showed them his Inheritance test which stated he was one too. Lucius quickly connected the dots and figured that the Diary, which had been given to his father Abraxtas for safekeeping, was also a Horcrux, and paled at the realization that he’d so carelessly threaded with something that held a, probably very big chunk, of the Dark Lord’s soul. 

    “How many…” Narissa murmured, though not finishing her sentence. 

    Harry shrugged.

    “Clearly there was the diary. I think it was his first one. This Locket is also one, though from what I sense it holds very little piece, possibly only slightly bigger than the one in me, so I’d assume this was one of his later creations, which begs the question of ‘How many more are in between those two?’. But I have no idea. I was looking for a book on Horcruxes in the Black library, but, as it stands, I couldn’t find the library at all.”

    “That’s normal.” Narcissa assured. “There are no books of value at Grimmauld, the Townhouse was used mainly by Walburga and Orion as a permanent residence. The actual Black library would be too big to fit into it anyway. Instead, it stays firmly in Castle Black. I’m afraid, however, that the location is under a very strong Fidelius charm, and I cannot tell you the location, nor side-along-apparate you there even if I wanted to.”

    “Who’s the Secret’s Keeper?” Harry asked. 

    “The Lord of the House” Narcissa sighed. 

    Ah. Sirius. Wonder-bloody-ful. 

    Harry sighed. 

    “Alright. Be that as it may. There’s bound to be something in the Malfoy Library too, right?” 

    “Even if it was, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near it.” Lucius deadpanned. “Soul Magic is a very ancient and very dangerous thing, and splitting one’s soul is a vile act that goes against Nature and Mother Magic. It is not something you should have.  I will try to find something, and perhaps ask around my circle, for information on the matter. But you won’t concern yourself with it, Harry. I will tell you the redacted version, if I have anything. That is final.” 

    “Fine.” Harry didn’t want to lose his temper, not now when they were still probably angry about the stunt he pulled. “Let it be your way.”

    “Good.” Lucius nodded, then extended a hand forward. “Now hand over the Locket.”

    “What?!” The boy bristled and stood up, taking a few steps back and cradling the Horcrux protectively. “No!” 

    “Harry, hand it over. It is black magic, and it is affecting you.”

    “No it’s not! I won’t give it!”

    “Harry!” 

    Lucius rose from his seat and took a step forward. 

    Harry retreated on instinct and reached for his wand, ready to cast and get out of here- 

    Wait. What? 

    He froze right as he was about to snap his wand out from its holster, and looked over to the Malfoys with wide eyes. 

    After no more than a few seconds he scrambled to pull the chair of the locket off from around his neck and threw the thing in one of the free armchairs. 

    “What the bloody hell was that?” He murmured, only shy of scared by the sheer force that had altered his actions and thoughts. 

    Narcissa quickly stood next to him and cradled his face close to her chest. 

    “It is Dark Magic, Harry.” she said, repeating her husband’s words. 

    “There is probably a very heavy Compulsion placed on it.” Lucius explained. “Most likely it causes whoever wears the Locket to protect it with their life. When I asked you to hand it over, it triggered the spell.” 

    “Bloody hell…” the boy ran a hand through his hair and looked around to gain his bearings once more. “I was about to- I wanted to-”

    “It is not your fault,” the Malfoy Lady assured gently. 

    Harry swallowed heavily. 

    Just what kind of mess was he in the middle of?

***

    The return to Hogwarts on the 23rd was glorious. Harry and Draco were escorted to the platform by Narcissa and Lucius both, which earned them the attention of everybody present.   

    After a small goodbye with promises to write many letters, the two boys quickly climbed the train and began looking for their friends. They found them inside one of the compartments further down the corridor. Theo, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy were already there, playing Exploding snap. 

    Harry joined in the game while Draco grumbled something about not wanting to incinerate his eyebrows again. 

    After some time Daphne and Astoria appeared, and then Luna. While the Ravenclaw’s presence wasn’t much unwelcomed by the Slytherins, the conversation still became stilted and slow. 

    Thankfully, perhaps she read the room, and after a few minutes bid Harry goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to hang out after lunch. 

    The train ride was otherwise uneventful, which Harry was glad for. At some point he’d even fallen asleep, laying down on the floor in one of the corners of the room, watching a game of Gobstones commence. 

    His dream was weird. 

    It wasn’t like the ones he’d gotten about Wormtail murdering that muggle and Crouch kneeling before babyfied Voldyshorts. 

    No, this time Harry was himself, and yet not, and he knew this was a dream. Something in his very being told him that this was a dream and he wasn’t in control of the person who’s eyes he saw trough, and yet that it was himself. 

    He was in a small village this time, standing in the courtyard of a manor, slowly walking towards it. The building looked almost abandoned, the only indication of life were the trimmed bushes in the garden. 

    Once inside, Harry swiftly yet unhuriedly strode to the second floor where the voices were coming from. Harry knew this place though. He’d seen it in his other dreams. This was where baby Voldy was staying. 

    Harry stopped just short of the room with the voices and instead looked to the right, into a room with an opened wide door. He glared down at the floorboards, furious. How dare this incompetent mortal evade him so? Who did he think he is, a god? Harry wanted to laugh. Stupid, arrogant mortal. One day Harry would have him in his clutches, with all of his little trinkets, and then he’ll see just what happens when one evaded him so. He just has to play the board right. 

    Harry continued on, now being stopped by a giant snake coiled up on the ground, hissing at him. It couldn’t see him, nothing could if he didn’t wish it so, but it could feel the threat in the air, and it was hellbent on protecting its master. Another foolish creature, another trinklet of the mortal. The snake had that same unnatural black sheen around it like the floorboards did. Harry scoffed. Hiding something so precious in something living, something that could die. Foolish man, that one was. 

    Harry sidestepped the animal and finally came upon the room where Voldemort resided. He was in a fragile form, more monster than man, more creature than anything else. And he was pathetic . Shivering in that small fraying body of an infant child, the last piece of Tom Marvollo Riddle’s soul shuddered from the smallest of cold breezes. 

    Next to him kneeled Peter Pettigrew the traitor, sniveling like a child. Another unworthy being that roamed this place. 

    But neither of them were the reason Harry was here. No, he was here for the body of the dead muggle that was laying in the corner of the room, kicked aside. Or rather, the soul standing over it. It was crying, begging, pleading. When it saw Harry it scrambled back and its pleas intensified. But they were meaningless to him. 

    Harry reached for him.

    And woke. 

***

    It was several hours after the strange dream that Harry found himself knocking on the DADA classroom. It swung open on its own accord, and the boy took it as permission to step in, and then into the adjoined chambers that were the personal quarters of the DADA Professor. 

    “What do you need, Potter?” Crouch grumbled, with Moody’s face on. “Are you here perhaps, because you’ve thought over my offer?”

    “A demand, more like.” Harry deadpanned. “But yes, I’ve thought it over. I’ll help you bring him back.” 

    “Well, isn’t that just wonderful.” 

    “If.” 

     Crouch’s one good eye narrowed. 

    “If. What?” 

    “If you do something for me.” 

    “What.” 

    Harry tilted his head to the side innocently and smiled.

    “I want Peter Pettigrew.” 

    Crouch raised an eyebrow. 

    “What makes you think I know where the rat is?”

    “I know you do.” Harry said simply. “I know he’s hiding with Voldemort, in Riddle Manor. I know he killed the muggle caretaker, and I’ve seen what your Lord has been reduced to.”

    Crouch hissed and gripped his forearm, glaring at Harry. 

    “You and I both know that whatever this thing residing there is, it’s not Tom Marvollo Riddle. It’s not the Lord you know, the one you chose to follow, the one you want back. Thankfully, I don’t want that thing back either. Instead, I will offer you a way to resurrect the real Lord Voldemort-” “Stop saying his name!’’ “- if you hand me over Peter Pettigrew, alive and coherent. That’s all I want.’’ 

    “Fine!” Crouch shouted. “Fine. You’ll get the damn rat.” 

    “After the Yule Ball.”

    “Fine. Think of it as a gift then.” Crouch smirked viciously. “Maybe after that you’d be more willing to dance with me, unlike you were at the Malfoy ball.” 

    Harry cringed. 

    “ Never say things like that with another face.” he made a disgusted noise. “It’s plenty creepy enough that you’re my parents’ age, I don’t need to have nightmares about bloody Moody asking me out to a dance.” 

    “Fair enough.” Crouch chuckled. 

    “Anyway. While you’re at the Manor, there’s a room on the second floor, the first one to the right. There’s something hidden beneath the floorboards there. I need it. But be careful, it will be protected by many deadly curses and traps. Find it a protective casing, if it doesn’t have one already. Smuggle it inside Hogwarts and give it to me with the rat.” 

    “What’s in it?”

    “Nothing you should concern yourself with.” 

    Crouch grit his teeth.

    “Don’t play me for a fool, Potter.”

    “I’m not.” Harry responded. “Don’t play me for a fool either, Crouch. You want him back, you do what I tell you to do.” 

    Harry turned to leave, but stopped on the door of the Personal chambers and turned back. 

    “Oh, and by the way, watch out for giant biting snakes. We wouldn’t want you to die of simple snake bite after everything, would we?”   

    With that Harry turned back around and left, heading for the Gryffindor tower. 

Chapter Text

    Harry was on a war path. Dumbledore had fought him on every turn, and he was going nuts! 

    He strode purposefully across the Great Hall, giving orders to the present House Elves left right and centre as they popped things in and out of existence. Thankfully, after many arguments, and even some astray spells (not that Harry or even Dumbledore would ever admit to losing their tempers in such a way) it was left to Harry to decorate the Hall for tonight’s ball. And thank Merlin for small mercies! Dumbledore wanted to turn the floor into ice! Not into an actual one, but an imitation of it, with snowflakes falling down from the ceiling!

    While the concept was good and could turn out really beautiful, it would’ve been disastrous! Harry couldn’t imagine having to dance, socialize and what-not, while having snow piled on his head! 

    So after he’d won the argument, pulling the ‘I own one fourth of this place, and I’m on my way to owning a half of it’ card, the Gryffindor’s first order of business was to dismiss Professor McGonagall (Merlin knew the woman had plenty enough on her plate already) and change the instructions that had been given to the House Elves. Unfortunately that decision came with having to think of 1001 things with which to substitute the old idea, and since time was running tight, Harry could do nothing but supervise the process himself. 

    Soon it would all be done, and Harry would have time to prepare himself. Soon. 

    But not yet. 

    “Mipsy!” he pointed to the ceiling. “Please, float some more crystal drops over there in that section, it’s looking quite sparse.” 

    “At once, Master Gryffindor!” the she-elf dutifully replied and got on with her task. 

    Harry looked around. 

    Blue lighting. Check. 

    Tables for bigger and smaller groups. Check. 

    Floating crystals. Check. 

    Tablecloths. Checks. 

    Utensils. Check. 

    Flowers. Check. 

    Warming/Cooling charms. Check. 

    Dance floor. Check. 

    Looks like everything was in place. Good. He clapped his hands when most of the elves were done with their work. 

    “Great job, everybody!” He smiled at them. “For those who are finished here, you may now go to the kitchens and begin preparing the various dishes! For those who are not yet done, finish up and also go to the kitchens! Don’t let anybody in here! Thank you! That’s all!” 

    The small creatures cheered happily and obeyed the orders, while Harry took one last look around and left, heading for the dungeons. 

***

    And Snape stopped him. Right as he was about to go in too. Bloody hell. 

    Really, how ironic. One was going out, the other going in, and they both met halfway through. 

    Snape’s eyes narrowed.

    “Potter.” he drawled after a second of stupor. “What are you doing in the dungeons?” 

    “Hello Professor.” Harry smiled innocently. “I’m meeting up with Draco and the others to get ready for the Yule Ball.” 

    “Students from other houses are not allowed in the common rooms, Potter. As I’m sure you’re aware. ” 

    Harry rubbed the back of his head in a semblance of a nervous tick. 

    “Yes, of course, sir. However, I’m no ordinary student, as we all know now. See, as Lord Gryffindor I own one fourth of this castle.”

    “Arrogant brat.” the man snarled, though Harry noted it held less venom than usual. “As Lord Gryffindor you own the Gryffindor part of the castle. And the dungeons aren’t it.” 

    “See, that would be the logical thing, right?” Harry remarked. “However, it’s not really how things are. Since all four Founders built Hogwarts together, there’s no specified ‘Gryffindor’ part of this place, nor a designated ‘Slytherin’ part of it, in the meaning of property ownership. I own as much part of Gryffindor tower as I do of the Slytherin dungeons. So, technically, I am allowed inside. Same goes for the other two common rooms. I checked in with the Bank, really.” 

    Snape glared but didn’t dignify him with a reply, and instead turned his back to him and strode away. Harry snorted. What a snob, as always. 

    Anyhow, Harry, once seen, was quickly dragged by the arms inside, by Astoria and Pansy who led him to the 4th Year dormitories. In the small living room were all five of the boys, getting ready themselves, along with the girls. Huh. How strange, so boys can’t even step close to the girls’ wing, but girls could feel at home in the boys’ rooms. 

    “My room has been taken over by the vultures for the time being.” Blaise informed him in passing, which earned him a smack on the head from Pansy. 

    Harry chuckled and instead ducked in Draco and Theo’s room, where he’d had the forethought to leave his robes in advance. 

    Theo was inside pinning cuffs to the ends of the sleeves of his robes, making final touches to his outfit. He wore a blue button-down with black suit pants and a light brown-ish vest over it. The Nott heir had also opted for a rich purple floor-length overcoat, and to finish the look, each piece had been embroidered with intricate golden stitching. 

    Harry couldn’t help but freeze and stare for a few seconds. His eyes were drawn to the mirror, where they met vivid blue-ish grey ones. 

    “Like the look, Potter?” Theo looked down onto his hands. 

    Harry felt his whole face light up red, and cleared his throat. 

    “Yeah, actually.’’ The boy tried to play it off. “You clean up nicely, Nott. Matching with your date?” 

    “No date.” Theo replied. “Our girls have dates for tonight and will be greatly taken care of, and looking for an escort for tonight in another house was too much of a hassle, so I’m going alone. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of company though, given who we are.” 

    Harry chuckled and picked up his robes, the ones he’d taken from Grimmauld. Thanks to Dobby they looked as good as new, any wear trough due to their age and staying in a dusty closet were gone, as if they were never there. 

    “You wearing that tonight?” Theo had turned to face him now, putting on the other cuff. 

    “Yeah. These belonged to Regulus.” 

    “Ah.” 

    The silence that followed was a calm one, no awkwardness at all, as Harry swiftly stripped of his clothing. Usually he didn’t want to be seen shirtless, but Theo and Draco had seen his scars, and were the only ones, along with Luna naturally, that knew of them. (He did not count Madam Pomfrey, Snape and Narcissa, those gained the knowledge through unfortunate circumstances).(Okay, Theo and Draco had also seen his scars through the same unfortunate circumstances, but they had shown him some of theirs in turn, which made the moment more fair in Harry’s mind and more intimate between friends). Anyway, case in point, he was fine changing with Theo in the room. Merlin, he was rambling in his own head. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? He was about to have an amazing night with his friends, dancing, eating and having fun. 

    Harry sighed and got onto buttoning his shirt and putting on his own cuffs with    H.P  on each one. 

    “Hey, Theo?” 

    “What?” 

    “Thank you. I-” Harry sighed and looked down. “I remember, when you and Draco carried me to Madam Pomfrey after I fell, you were whispering to me on the way. Saying how you’re going to bring me back from the dead just to kill me again, if I died, how I shouldn’t bring you so much trouble, how I should be such a hard- headed Gryffindoor right now most of all. Thank you. I think- that’s what kept me going, in those few minutes. And, of course, thank you for taking care of me. You saved my life. I owe you big time.” 

    “You owe nothing to nobody, Harry.” the Slytherin murmured. “I mean it. I did what I did, and right now I can safely say that you’d do the same for me, if our positions were reversed. Me and Draconis saved your life, yes, and the day will probably come, when you’ll save ours. You know who we are, who our parents are. And nobody knows what the future holds.” After a few seconds of silence, Theo stepped a few paces closer and nudged Harry’s shoulder. “As for what I said to you that day, I was more muttering to myself than anything. I thought you were out of it, but I suppose not so much.” 

    “Seems so.” Harry chuckled. “Help me figure this one out?” The boy lifted up the several belts of fabric that came with his robes. “I’m still not used to Pureblood fashion.” 

    “Doesn’t seem like it to me.” Theo grabbed the belts and put them aside, first helping Harry into his blue vest and the gloves. “You took to our culture like a fish to liquid.” 

    The Gryffindor choked on a laugh and tried to hold it in, but he couldn’t stop the slight tremor of his shoulders. “The expression is actually ‘like a fish takes to water’, but thanks anyway.” He said, amused at his companions' attempt to console him with muggle wordings. 

    After a few adjustings, Harry was also in his attire, almost ready to go. As it turned out, his robes didn’t actually include the sleeveless floor-length coat he’d initially thought they did, but instead consisted of the vest, and a half-skirt thing with two straps that also wrapped around his torso, which acted as the lower part of ‘the coat’. All the belts of fabric, from what Harry could gather, were a way to hide the fact that it was a two-piece. He liked it. It was more western- style, most likely his father had bought it in Spain or France, or perhaps it was gifted to him. The cut, color and embroidery were unique and new. 

    Kreacher had said those were Regulus’ favourite robes. Harry could clearly see why. 

    With a small smile on his face, he and Theo returned to the living room where inevitably, the girls were waiting, eager to put on them their own finishing touches. 

***

    Everything was perfect. The atmosphere was soft and welcoming, all the students were huddled inside the Great Hall looking around. 

    Harry had to leave his friends and let them go inside, and once the doors closed again, waited for the three Champions. And his own date, of course. 

    First to arrive was Krum, clad in crimson suit and a one-shoulder cloak sporting the same color, with golden embroidery of a rearing lion. 

    “It is the Bulgarian National animal” the older teen explained in his gruff accent, when he caught the younger one’s questioning eyes. “And red is one of the three colors of the Bulgarian flag.” 

     Harry nodded, fascinated. He’d have to research the Bulgarian ministry and Magical world. He’d been so far fascinated with the Bulgarians themselves, and their     ways. He’d  have to look further into this. 

    His thoughts were pulled away by none other than Fleur Delacour herself. The Veela had opted for a messy low bun with a few loose front strands, and was in the most  breathtaking blood-red dress Harry’s ever laid eyes on. The color was unusual for the French girl who’s always appeared to wear mostly periwinkle and other

shades of blue,

but the explanation presented itself almost at the next second, as Viktor extended a hand and helped her down the last few stairs and gifted her a rose which he placed in her hair, while murmuring what Harry assumed were well- deserved compliments, if one went by the blinding smile the lady graced him with. 

    “Congratulations.” Harry smiled at them, once the couple stepped up to him. The boy exchanged the traditional hug and kisses on the cheeks with the French, and also told her how stunning she looked tonight. 

    The Veela thanked him and giggled mischievously. 

    “Don’t give out complimentz so eazy, Harry. Tonight I tzink your lady iz the most beautiful.” 

    “Is she?” Harry grinned. “Well, I’m afraid I haven’t yet been deemed worthy to see my date, so you’re right, I must refrain from giving out compliments, lest I run out of lines once my lady shows herself to me.” 

    A giggle was heard from the top of the stairs and Harry turned to look. And wow. Wasn’t Luna just a beauty. 

    Her dress was this sea-green thing that looked more akin to water than fabric as she took each step down. Waves upon waves that clashed into foam at the shore. All golden hair, bright eyes- not aloof, Harry noted, as if she purposefully pushed away her mind because she wanted to be fully present in the moment, and flowing dress - confidence in a human form. 

    Harry couldn’t help himself and climbed the stairs, meeting her halfway- on the platform between the two staircases, and spinning her around. She giggled delightfully, holding onto his shoulders as he twirled them around madly. 

    “You are so breathtaking , my Moon.” he whispered once he put her down. 

    The girl chuckled and treaded the fingers of one of her hands through his hair. 

    “I like the new haircut.” she commented. “You look like Padfoot, and yet not quite.” 

    “Live up to my name, do I?” 

    “Indeed.” 

    Pansy had insisted on adding some odd inches to his hair, if only for tonight. It ‘brought out his roguish pirate looks’ the other girls had also chimed in. Harry had shrugged, they were the fashion divas here, so he’d trust them. Now, looking down at his own outfit, then at Luna’s, he could clearly see a pattern here. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Luna was the Veela here. She looked otherworldly, straight out of some muggle story of fairies and mermaids and magic. Harry loved that. 

    He quickly offered his elbow to her, which she took gladly, and they both descended the stairs. 

    While Harry was marveling at his lady, Cedric and Cho Chang had gotten there as well. Good. They were ready to begin. 

    “Alright. First off, congratulations once again to the champions.” Harry began, once he was in front of the others, with Luna on his arm. “And good luck for your next task. As of now, you shall walk in  first, and me and Luna will follow you a bit further away, to close the doors behind us. Your seats are at the Head Table. Once everyone has eaten and the food has settled a bit, the four of you must open the floor with a waltz, which I’m sure is no trouble to any of you. After that, you can do whatever you want.” Harry smiled. “I’m not going to be talking your ears off with the usual spiel about School Rules and all that. Just have fun, all of you. And Happy Yule.” 

    “Happy Yule, Harry!” several voices echoed. 

    With that, Harry and Luna stepped to the side, out of sight, as the double doors of the Great Hall opened. 

    The two pairs walked inside and Harry waited a few beats before also leading his lady inside, closing the doors with  a swish of his hand. 

    The students inside the Hall had formed a path, gawking and awing at the couples, and right as the champions had reached the Head table, the mass of people turned to the last two arrivals and openly stared. 

    A hush fell over the entire Hall, before the whispers broke out. But the Grydindor was unbothered, and focused on leading Luna to her seat, and pulling the chair out for her, to help her settle. 

    Once Dumbledore made his annoyingly vague and crazy speech, they all dug in. 

    Instead of buffet style, which would’ve been positively disastrous, Snape had proposed to have an order-from-menu type of situation, so there was no mess. It was clean and elegant, Harry would give the man that. 

    The menu consisted of several dishes from all three cuisines. The boy himself ordered one from each country’s customary foods- several ‘Sarmi’, which turned out to be cabbage rolls filled with rice, vegetables, minced meat and tomato sauce (as Viktor had helpfully provided when asked), a serving of Gratin Dauphinois (which Fleur recommended to him) and some roasted turkey. 

    All in all, it was very interesting for both him and Luna to try the food, and they gladly gave feedback to their international guests. 

    After another hour passed in light drinks and chatter, Viktor, Fleur, Cedric and Cho put a start to the real fun, with a graceful waltz, in which many couples (including Harry and Luna) were quick to indulge as well. After that it was a blur to Harry, but a pleasant one. 

    After a few more dances Luna chuckled and left to wander off, giving Harry a chance to go to his friends and dance with the girls too. Pansy kept complimenting him on his improved etiquette and got him on track with the most recent gossip around the school (apparently Ron had tried to ask Fleur to the ball and had been blatantly rejected, and Hermione had gotten it in her head that Viktor had been interested in her, so she’s also made a fool of herself). 

    Daphne opted to take Harry to two slow dances, in which she simply let him lead as they swayed to the gentle tones, and was content to just lay her head on his shoulder. The boy, never one to refuse closeness, especially with someone he’d come to trust so much, was more than happy to softly guide Daphne’s body in the right steps and return the embrace. 

    Astoria was excited. She’d been able to attend thanks to some Ravenclaw in the year above Harry’s, which usually would’ve blared alarms in the boy’s mind, but he knew the boy, and he knew he had no bad intentions. So far, the girl looked happy and content, which was all that mattered, really. 

    At some point, the music had switched to a few muggle hits, with Macarena right smack down the middle. The muggle- borns and half- bloods went wild, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he saw Draco’s hackles rise when he heard it. The little Greengrass sister however, had been delighted, and he quickly found himself teaching her the dance. 

    All in all, it was an amazing night, even if his feet began hurting not even halfway trough.  

    Around 10pm the party truly got into full swing with the appearance of the Weird Sisters, but by that point the Gryffyindor was in dire need of rest, a drink, and possibly a headache potion. 

    After a check in with Draco, Greg and Vince too, Harry made his way outside through one of the secondary-temporarily-conjured exits. 

    The night was crisp and chilly, but fairly warm for a December in the Scottish Lands. Harry quickly muttered some heating charms under his nose and set out to find a more secluded bench to sit on. 

Further out, he found an out-of-sight little lair, but it was already occupied, much to the boy’s dismay. That is until he was who the occupant was. 

    “What’s got you so far out?” Harry called out, making his presence known, then he sat on the bench. “You should be inside, celebrating, Theo.” 

    “Same goes for you.” The Slytherin replied, then, without prompting, handed over a vial with some sort of potion. One sniff told Harry it was the very same Headache potion he was silently praying for, so he downed it in one. 

    “How’d you know?”

    “I saw the twins spike the punch from the very beginning.” Theo confessed, not at all ashamed or guilty for withholding such information. “Figured whatever they put inside, along with loud music wouldn’t go too well. I’m just glad nobody fainted.” 

    Harry shook his head, returning the now- empty glass jar. 

    “Nah, they know their limits, and they may not look like it, but they’re pretty smart. They wouldn’t spike the drinks with something truly hazardous.” 

    “I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

    A brief moment of silence followed, where both boys looked up into the sky. Then, before he could stop himself, Harry pointed upwards. 

    “Orion is especially bright tonight.” He murmured. He pointed in another direction. “Sirius too.” He moved his finger again. “And of course, Draconis too. Our Draco, the smug bastard, at least fits his name. Bright, shiny, and attention- taking.

    “Yeah, with that hair-gel head of his, there’s no way he doesn’t draw at least a few glances at himself.”

    Harry barked out a laugh and retreated his hand. 

    “You’ve touched up on your stars and constellations, Potter.” Theo commented after a few beats. “Should we expect an O on your OWLS?” 

    “Shut up.” Harry chuckled. “...I’ve always enjoyed Astronomy.”

    “Runs in the family, it seems. I wonder, how come you weren’t named after a constellation yourself.”

    The green-eyed boy shrugged. 

    “Don’t know. I’m actually glad for it, you know? There’s only so many constellations that actually make for proper names, you’re bound to repeat some. And in the Black family, there’s been a lot of repeats. I would’ve dreaded being just another repetition plastered on a tapestry. Unimportant. Just another stepping stone in the path of House Black.” 

    The Nott Heir hummed evenly. 

    Harry, on a whim, stood up and in front of the other boy and offered a hand. That earned him a raised eyebrow, though not sceptical, but rather curious. 

    “Come on.” The Gryffindor prompted, mortification at his own actions already creeping at the edges of his mind. “I’ve danced with all of our friends tonight, except you. That has to be remedied at once.”

    “You’re ridiculous, Potter.” Theo snorted. 

    “Yet you won’t refuse me, will you?” Harry pouted, faking real sadness. “Heir Nott, you dearly mistreat my affections, how could you?” 

    “And to what music shall I accompany you, Lord Potter? We are away from the dancefloor, as I’m sure your impeccable eyesight has noticed already.” 

    Harry chuckles sarcastically.

    “Yeah, make fun of the poor lad who couldn’t see without glasses just a few weeks ago, Heir Nott, you cruel man.” In the end however Theo did take the offered hand and also rose.

    “As for the lack of music, my dear Heir, that is easily redeemable.” 

    With a flick of his wand and a swift tug at Theo, the two boys were now engaged in a slow waltz, much like the one that had opened the dancing tonight. 

    At first Harry led, using the other boy’s surprise to his advantage, but Theodore- not one to be outdone, quickly swooped Harry off his feet in a spin and switched their roles. (Thank Merlin Harry had learned the female steps too, otherwise that would’ve been a full- blown disaster) 

    Theo was a natural. With only light touches, barely felt, he guided his partner into the dance. His moves were smooth, practised. The Gryffindor was sure that the boy could dance this even in his sleep, if one asked him to. 

    Harry couldn’t help but be in awe of him. 

    His cheeks flushed when he stumbled and Theodore caught him and pulled him even closer for a few seconds, to right him mid- step. 

    Merlin, he still wasn’t good at this. 

    “Relax, Harry.” Theo murmured, dipping him low suddenly. “It’s alright. You won’t mess up next time.” 

    Harry squawked when he was dipped (He did not , he won’t admit to doing it even under the Cruciatus, thank you very much), and nodded at Theo’s world. 

    Once the Potter Lord felt the music was about to end, he used some swift maneuvering to return the favor and dip the Nott Heir just as the last tunes were played. 

    “Happy Yule, Theo.” Harry murmured, sore, the muscles of his arms stinging from continuously taking on the other boy’s weight, but smiling widely none the less. 

    “Happy Yule, Harry.” Was the breathless answer he got. 

   And then their night came to a close.

Chapter Text

   I am starting with a HUGE TRUGGER WARNING here! 

The following chapter, though short, includes as follows: 

 - Very detailed description of violence

- Mentions of ab*se and m*urder 

- Anger issues

-Desperation

-Panic attack (For the record, I have no idea how to describe a panic attack, I have not had one in my life, so I just wrote what I thought was fitting. I do not mean to downplay any symptoms or consequences of panic attacks in any way) 

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On a brighter note, he're how Harry looks with longer hair, at the Ball:

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    The next week leading up to New Years was devoid of any classes. Usually one would’ve spent it with their family, but since all of the students were already in the castle due to the Yule Ball from the previous night, most saw fit to remain in Hogwarts. 

    Which, of course, prompted epic chaos everywhere. 

    Talks were still mulling around, gossip and rumors about last night. 

    Harry, however, had more pressing matters than listening to some girls squeal over how handsome he’d looked. 

    Currently, he was heading for a certain DADA’s classroom. 

***

    Crouch was already waiting for him in his private quarters, leaning on his desk unbothered. He was with his real face on, and he was grinning like the Cheshire cat. His smirk only widened when Harry stepped inside. 

    “Do you have what I want?” The Gryffindor demanded. 

    Crouch rolled his eyes “Yeah, yeah. But why so cold? It’s like you’re not even happy to see me, Harry.” 

    “That’s because I’m not.” 

    “A curse flew at the boy and he barely dodged it, immediately dropping into a battle stance. 

    But Barty Jr. didn’t even look like he’d moved. The only evident difference between now and a few seconds ago was the utter malice and anger in his eyes. 

    “Mind your tongue, boy.” The man hissed. “Just because you’re my dead friend’s child doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that. I need your help, but it won’t be too much trouble even if you weren’t in the picture. After all, it was so easy to enter you into the Tournament. And it would’ve killed you too. Pity.”

    Harry’s blood suddenly ran cold and a chill ran up his spine.

    “You put my name in the goblet?” he whispered, almost bewildered. “You did this to me?” 

    Harry abandoned his wand, charging at Crouch. 

    The man, realizing he’d outed himself, immediately went to fire another spell, but the wand was out of his grasp before he could blink. 

    The first punch knocked him over.

    The second broke his nose. 

    Harry didn’t care for the pain in his bloody knuckles. He didn’t register the scraping of his knees against the fabric of his pants and the cold stone floor as he fell over Crouch and straddled him, continuing his assault. 

   He was seeing red. 

    All of this…For what? Because of what? Because this fucker decided to play with a 14 year old’s already messed up life? Because a fucking baby-mutant-megalominiac demanded it of him? And now he was asking for help? 

    Who did he think he was? 

    What right did he have? 

    Harry switched to his other hand, breaking Crouch’s jaw. 

    All his life he’d had to endure assholes, and jerks, and monsters. He’d had to endure Vernon, and Petunia, and Dudley, then Voldemort, and apparently Dumbledore …

    Two hands pressed to the man’s throat and squeezed . 

    If Crouch could say when Harry could live or die, then Harry was very much entitled to the same, right? Right. 

    What probably should’ve terrified Harry was the immense pleasure he took from listening to Crouch’s gags little gasps of air. The sheer enjoyment he got from feeling the man’s nails claw at his hands desperately, leaving bloody marks, the way his eyes bulged so much from the lack of oxygen they looked like they were going to pop out of his skull. 

    But right now he couldn’t, wouldn’t , think about this. Right now, he thought about revenge. 

    How many people had tried to kill him? How many had tried to break him, tame him, force him to get smaller and smaller until he was practically unseen? 

    He couldn’t do something about Vernon, not until now, because of those stupid rules about magic and minors. Voldy he had kicked into the dirt a few times, but the fucker kept coming back every damn time. But now?

    Crouch was helpless. He had condemned himself to this from the moment those words passed his lips. Harry’s fingers were closing in more around his neck. The man was passed out already. 

    Probably dead by now. 

    Another chill ran down Harry’s spine. 

    There was a ring. 

    His grip loosened. 

    There was a ring on his middle finger. 

    Harry blinked owlishly, all previous thoughts suddenly gone. 

    It was an open golden band, the two ends rising up, almost looking like beasts opening their mouths to swallow  the black stone floating in the middle of them. The magic was familiar, cold and soothing, like silk in a chilly night. 

    The boy slowly stood up, marveling at this new development. Had he put that on? When? Why? It also had the engraving of the Peverell family in it, but it wasn’t the Lordship Ring or the Heirship Ring. So what was this thing? And where had it come from. 

    “Harry.” 

    The boy jumped out of his skin, stumbling back a few clumsy steps, whirling around. Was Crouch awake? 

    But no. The Deatheater was still laying to the side, bruised and bloodied, unconscious. 

    There was a third person in the room. 

    Clad in ceremonial black robes, the Black Family moto and Coat of arms sews over the heart of the man, there stood Harry’s own reflection. 

    But wait…

    No. 

    It wasn’t Harry. The man was older, with a tad bit longer hair. He was more pale, and his gaze was far more indifferent than Harry could ever muster. 

    And he had the most strikingly gorgeous eyes Harry had ever seen. Stormy grey that shined with intelligence and danger, like an oncoming storm that promised doom. 

    “I’d rather you don’t kill him, Harry. I understand he can be rather…”the man pursed his lips and looked contemplatively  to the side “...obnoxious. And, let’s be honest, moronic. And while usually I’d kick his backside to the moon and back for even laying a finger on my son, you’ll need him.” 

    “You…” Harry was speechless. He felt faint all of a sudden. His blood pressure had probably taken a swift uphill rise. 

    “Me.” The man confirmed, a small smile quirking his lips as he finally met Harry’s gaze. “Regulus Black. Maybe not in the flesh, but in spirit definitely.” 

    Then he groaned. 

    “James is rubbing off on me, the bastard.” 

    Harry felt his jaw go slack and his heart drop into his stomach. What…? 

    “Look at the ring, dear.” The man said, “This, the gem in particular, is one of the Deathly Hallows. The-” 

    “-Stone of Resurrection.” The boy cut him off. “Holly Hell- this is the Stone of Resurrection. And you- you’re my- my…”

    “Your dad, yeah.” Regulus titled his head to the side a bit. “Though I always had in mind for you to call me papa, before you were born. But, one thing at a time.” 

    Harry’s breath hitched and he scrambled to take the ring off and throw it across the room. It bounced on one of the shelves and clanked to the ground somewhere. 

    Just around now the boy’s mind began catching up with him and he froze in fear. Holy Hell . 

    He might’ve killed someone. 

    An actual person.

    Holy Hell.

    Harry pounced on Crouch, frantically checking for pulse. 

    It was there, faint but steady. Thank Merlin. 

    What had he done ? 

    What if Snape or Dumbledore found Crouch like this? The bloody bastards would immediately pin it on him! 

    “ Vera Verto !”

    Harry snatched the goblet Crouch had turned into- Please, don’t be dead - and made a run for it. 

    He must not be seen here. When Moody doesn’t show up to classes tomorrow, they’d all get suspicious and search for him. They’d find the blood, the books, the Polyjuice Potion , fuck…

    Harry had to get away from the DADA classroom as soon as he could, without anybody seeing him. 

    Luck, as always, wasn’t on his side today, as two hands snatched him and pulled him into a hidden alcove. 

    The smell of Sea Breeze filled the boy’s lungs and, as if on their own accord, they began to take deeper breaths to take the sweet scent in. 

    Theo. 

    He was cupping the back of Harry's head, looking worriedly at him. He was also speaking, but Harry couldn't hear anything from the ringing in his ears. The world was tilting on its axis, Harry’s hands were trembling and fear took his heart in a vice grip. 

    “Theo.” Harry barely whispered, frantic. “I think I just killed someone, Theo.”

Chapter Text

Holy shit. 

Harry snapped awake, sweat running down his back and face. Next to him was a worried Blaise, still clad in his night clothes, reaching as if to shake him, all wide- eyed and concerned. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” the Italian boy murmured into the otherwise silent room. “You were thrashing in your sleep, saying something about murdering somebody.” The Slytherin huffed. “Don’t tell me we’ve got to hide a body now too, Potter.” 

Harry shook his head to get out of his stupor and grabbed his wand, casting a silent Tempus. Six fifty-five in the morning. 

26.12.1994

What? 

***

Harry hastily made his way to the DADA classroom. He cared not for the early hour. 

His skin was still prickling from the very real fear he’d felt in the dream. The joints of his fingers on both hands were aching uncomfortably, just like when he squeezes the snitch in his grasp to make sure he’s not missed it and that he once again won his House a game. Just like after he squeezed Barty Crouch Jr.’s neck as tight as he could in his rage. 

What was going on..? 

First that dream about the ghost roaming around the grounds of Malfoy Manor. 

Then the dream of the Riddle Manor. 

Now this? Killing his (fake) DADA professor? Seeing his dad? How could that be, he didn’t even know what the man looked or sounded like! There were no moving portraits or photos of him anywhere!  

The boy huffed, picking up the pace, not even bothering to knock once he was at his destination. 

The DADA classroom and the adjoined private quarters were unlocked and unwarded anyway. 

Crouch was already waiting for him in his private quarters, leaning on his desk unbothered. He was with his real face on, and he was grinning like the Cheshire cat. His smirk only widened when Harry stepped inside. 

He was alive. Alive, alive, alive, alive. 

“Do you have what I want?” The Gryffindor demanded, not letting his throat close up like it wanted to. 

Crouch rolled his eyes “Yeah, yeah. But why so cold? It’s like you’re not even happy to see me, Harry.” 

“That’s because I’m not.” he deadpanned. 

A flash of something dangerous crossed Crouch’s eyes, but it left just as suddenly as it had appeared, and the smirk the man was displaying got even wider. (How the bloody hell was this even possible?)

Barty patted a box on his desk lovingly, invitingly. 

Pretty dark little ring you’ve got there, Potter. It gives me chills, really. I’m actually contemplating why I should give it to you. Who knows what your 1-year-old brain would do with such a peculiar illegal artifact.”

“You threatening me, Crouch?” Harry raised an eyebrow. 

“Maybe. Am I?” The man chuckled. “Pardon me, Azkaban sometimes does that to you, you know? Mushes up your mind, makes you see and feel things that aren’t there. But I’m sure you’re familiar with the effect of the dementors, Harry. After all, last year they were after you, were they not? And you saw what they did to dear old Sirius. He tried to kill you, did he not?” Crouch scoffed and did that weird thing with tongue once again. “The asshole. He was always high and mighty back in our school days, hanging out with your dad and the werewolf. And the rat . Oh, yes, the rat. That’s what you’re really here for, no?” Barty straightened up. “Apologies. I tend to ramble.”

The man turned and reached over to a cage covered in a white sloth, pulling the material away. Inside was none other than Peter Pettigrew himself. 

Harry grinned. The man of the hour himself. 

“Just like you asked, dear Harry.” Crouch murmured pleasingly. “Kept him in his animagus form for you. Easier to transport and less questions to be asked.”

The Gryffindor took the cage and shook it. 

The rat inside squealed and began running around the closed space wildly. He tried to bite Harry’s fingers here and there, but only got a few smacks on his gangly snout. 

“Happy belated Yule, Hadrian." Crouch murmured. 

“Happy belated Yule to you too, Barty.”

Harry felt strangely at peace right at this moment. This man knew his parents. Was in school with them and claimed to be Regulus’ friend. In another life he might’ve been ‘Uncle Barty’ and not ‘Crouch’ or ‘Fake Moody’. He had done what Harry told him to, no questions asked, which in retrospect was an awfully dumb idea, really, to follow a 14-year-old’s demands. Yet here they both were. 

And Harry finally had the key to Sirius’ freedom and another Horcrux. 

With no words left to be said, the boy grabbed the cage and the box and returned to the Slytherin common room. 

***

Thankfully it was blessedly empty, as most of the students were either in their rooms to prepare for classes, or down for breakfast. 

Harry quickly went into the Fourth year’s abode and placed the cage inside the fireplace, flooring it to Malfoy manor. From then on Narcissa and Lucius had said they would cover it, knowing the best ways to play the table and secure a trial for Sirius, which would inevitably lead to his pardon and freeing.

He was, however, hesitant to send the box containing the Horcrux. He knew Lucius had demanded he trust the adults to help him and to handle this as it was too dangerous for Harry himself, and he had agreed, yet the boy found himself unsure. 

He was pretty certain he knew what was in the box, and Crouch’s words had only confirmed it. Yet he couldn’t help but fidget. 

The ring in his dream. The symbol of the Deathly Hollows. Regulus. 

Was it actually possible? 

Had Harry gotten a premonition, like the ones Luna did? But then, why hadn’t it played out the same way his dream did? Was the future changeable? But Luna had told him what was meant to happen would happen. 

Or was he simply going crazy? Perhaps the stress and fatigue were finally catching up to him and doing it with a vengeance. 

Harry pursed his lips, then on a whim cracked the lid open just a notch and stuck his hand inside. 

“Impulsive boy, just like James.” a voice behind the boy chuckled fondly. 

He turned around, but no one was there. He looked at the box. His hand had pulled back unintentionally. 

Harry slid his fingers inside once again. The stone was cool and smooth to the touch, bar the little engraving. The metal of the ring itself radiated magic that felt like needles. 

“You’re starting to get the hang of this, Harry.” 

This time the voice came from in front of the boy. That same man from his dream was standing there, a soft smile curling his thin lips upwards. 

“You…”

“Hello, Harry. It’s nice to finally meet face to face.” the man murmured in a silk-like smooth voice. 

“Regulus Black.”

“Indeed. Maybe not in the flesh, but definitely in the spirit.” 

Harry barked out a laugh at the sudden dejá vu he got while Regulus frowned, shaking his head, muttering something about ‘spending too much time with James’ and ‘he’s rubbing off on me’. 

Harry looked on, examining the man- ghost, in front of him. Regulus Black was thin, tall, pale. His hair was black, and curly and shiny. It reminded Harry of a crow’s just-preened feathers- elegant and beautiful. His father’s eyes were stormy, almost moving, like clouds during the rain, even more striking and vivid than they had been in his dream. 

“So, this…actually is-”

“The Stone of Resurrection, yes.” Regulus cut him off, nodding. “One of the three Deathly Hallows.” 

“Then is the legend true? About the three brothers? And the Master of Death?”

“It is. You, being from the Potter line, descend from the youngest brother- Ignotus Peverell. The only other heir is Lord Voldemort himself.” Regulus mused. “Though about the legend of becoming the Master of Death, I do not know if it is true. You’ll learn, Harry, that gods are particular. While I’ve got no doubt that Death would’ve given the Hallows as prizes for outsmarting him, which has been proven right, only the entity itself can say if he’l ever bend the knee to a mortal.”

“You speak as if they are real. Death, and the other- well, Gods ”

“Magic is real enough, isn’t it?” Regulus smiled and reached over to smooth back Harry’s hair gently. Surprisingly, the boy could feel the phantom touch, not fully corporeal, but still able to affect him. “Magic is the manifestation of the energy in the ground, Harry. It’s all around us, even in the places filled with non-magicals. And we can do anything with magic, no? So then imagine, thousands of our people, praying, believing, putting their hopes and dreams and worship into beings of their own creation, and just a sprinkle of magic along with it. Maybe those Gods started off as non- existent. Just names and personas that we- humans, needed to believe in for our own sanity. But that must’ve been long ago, because they are pretty real now. And pretty damn powerful.”

Harry tilted his head, intrigued, and grabbed the ring, going to put it on his finger. 

“Don’t!” Regulus suddenly snapped. 

Harry froze and his eyes widened. 

“There’s a protective spell on the ring. Whoever puts it on triggers a slow-working deadly curse. If you want the stone, separate it from the ring.

The boy did just that, using his magic to tweak the charm that was keeping the two things together, then put the golden band back in the box and sent it to Lucius via the floo, and the Hallow he fisted protectively in his right hand. 

“What are those dreams?” Harry blurted after a few seconds of silence. 

“The dreams?” Regulus tilted his head to the side just the tiniest bit, a subconscious habit that struck Harry suddenly as something the two of them shared. “James used to complain about strange dreams too. Seeing through someone’s eyes, or living out the day that hadn’t happened yet. But he never went into too much detail about it.”

So his dad had had similar dreams too. Could it be due to their heritage? Something to do with the Peverells. 

“Can’t you ask him?” Harry questioned. “Better yet, can’t I ask him?” The Gryffindoor looked around the room. “Where is he anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to show up too?” 

Regulus got this sour yet sad look on his face and looked to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“James…is not here, Harry.”

“Well, obviously.” the teen deadpanned. 

Regulus huffed at his son’s attitude and smiled just the tiniest bit, but still refused to look at him. 

“I mean that he’s on the other side, Harry. I stayed here, on this side of the Veil, but James and Lilly passed to the other side briefly after-... after the 31st.” 

A wave of pain crashed through Harry. So he wouldn’t be able to see them, even with the Stone? 

His eyes watered and he hastily wiped them with his sleeve. He wouldn’t cry. 

His dad cradled his face with one hand and the boy felt the touch of cool lips on his forehead. 

“They are very proud of you, Harry. All of us are.” 

The boy nodded and swallowed heavily. 

“So why did you stick around then?” he asked to change the subject. 

“For you, of course. I couldn’t let you do all of this alone.” 

Harry hummed and ran a thumb over the Resurrection stone. 

“The path you’ve taken is very dangerous, Harry. Tom Marvolo Riddle is no less dangerous than Lord Voldemort, and bringing back either of them spells disaster.”

“I know.” the boy hummed. “But Tom Marvollo Riddle had ideals. Ideas. Ways to make those come true the peaceful way.” 

“Overthrowing the government from the inside out is hardly peaceful.” Regulus snorted. 

“But it’s better than Lord Voldemort on a killing spree with his merry band of psychotic miniacs, no? Or Dumbledore and his stupid twinkling eyes and ever-present grandfatherly manipulative smile.”

“Point.”Reguluslooked around the room now too. “Fourth year dormitory?” he smiled slightly. “It’s been a while since I stepped foot here.”

“So, what now?” Harry asked. “You follow me around every waking moment of my life?” 

Regulus chuckled and slicked Harry’s hair back once more, reminding both father and son of his incorporeal state. 

“No. I’ll mostly float around, see what information I can gain for you. I suggest you keep the stone on you, if you can handle seeing twice as many dead people as usual. I’ll be with you at a moment's notice if you call for me.”

The Gryffindor nodded. 

“You do know you'll need to tell them about this, right, Harry? You can’t keep what you’re doing a secret from your friends. It will affect them actively. If anything goes wrong, and Voldemort returns as unhinged as he was when he died, they would be his first line of action- the new generation of Followers.” 

“I’ll tell them…” Harry muttered. “Eventually.”

Regulus sighed, but brushed a strand of Harry’s hair away from his face with a gentle smile. 

“All in it’s time.” the man nodded. 

With that the ghost vanished into the air and Harry let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

He felt giddy. 

Holly bloody hell. He now had Regulus Black in his corner. 

Regulus Arcturus Black aka his dad.  

Harry grinned from ear-to-ear.

Chapter Text

    Theodore Nott 

    No. No, no, no- NO! 

    Theo stood frozen in place in the doorway to the Fourth Year’s Dormitory. 

    Everybody was frozen. 

    Draco shot him a glance that seemed unintentional at first, but the Slytherin knew his blond companion and saw the fear in those grey eyes. 

    They were discovered. 

    Dumbledore had caught them. 

    The  old coot was standing somewhere off to the side of the room, hands clasped behind his back, his awful sparkly robes a sore thumb amongst the muted greens of the Slytherin Dormitory. 

    Snape and McGonagall were turning the place upside down, searching, at the slowest pace that would allow them to save face. 

    The incriminating vial of Basilisk blood sat on the edge of the small glass table in the middle of the room. 

    “There is nothing more.” Snape announced after a few moments, his wand tightly gripped in his hand. 

    Dumbledore hummed, but the light in his eyes dimmed just a tiny little bit. The fucker had hoped there to be something more, Theo realized. Something to land them not detention, but straight up expulsion or in Azkaban. 

    Theo’s fingers twitched, but he fought to hide it, holding his indifferent mask firmly in place and avoiding both his teachers’ searching gazes. Bloody Legimens, the both of them. 

    “In that case” the Headmaster turned to the five boys to whom the room belonged that were lined up. “my dearest boys, would you care to explain this peculiar ingredient we have found in your rooms?”he grabbed the vial and showed it to them, as if to rub it in. 

    “This is the first time we’ve seen this vial, Professor.” Theo stated calmly. 

    “Indeed?” the old wizard lifted his eyebrows in what they all knew was a pretense of surprise. “And can you speak for all five of you, Mr. Nott?” 

    “We can speak for ourselves, Headmaster.” Blaise piped in. “As Heir Nott stated” the italian accentuated the title. “This vial does not belong to us.” 

    “Then why was it found in your rooms, Mr. Zabini?” Dumbledore pressed. 

    Theo cursed internally. They didn’t have an explanation to this one. 

    Basilisk venom was bad enough. Rare, deadly and pricy as it was, it was often used for rituals the muggles had deemed Voodoo, but Basilisk blood was something used only in Blood rituals. 

    It was a straight one-way ticket to Azkaban for at least 5 years, maybe three given that they were underage still.  

    “It belongs to me.” a voice behind Theo said clearly. 

    All eyes turned to the hallway. 

    Harry. 

    Fuck no.  

    Theo gave the Gryffindoor a warning look, which was received, and completely ignored. 

    With a gentle nudge the Boy Who Lived pushed aside his friend and strode in the room, taking the vial. 

    “Hello Headmaster, Professors McGonagall and Snape. Might I know what you are doing, turning this place upside down? Has a boggart perhaps infiltrated the school? Or is Miss Jenkins from Third year complaining about nonexistent rats once again?”

    “Potter!” the Gryffindor head of House exclaimed, affronted. “You cannot be here!” 

    Harry tilted his head and lifted his hand, brandishing his Lordship Rings. 

    “Proffesor, with all due respect to you, as Lord Gryffindor, and Heir Ravenclaw to boon, I have access to many places in this castle, and matters like these must, by law , be discussed with me. Now, is this all that this is about? For Merlin’s sake.” The boy scoffed. 

    Too much, Potter.  Theo thought. Sure, the Lord could brandish his rings, but he was still 14 years old, and these adults would hardly take him seriously if he over exaggerated, like he was doing. 

     Harry caught his gaze and rolled his eyes just the tiniest bit. I’ve got it, his eyes replied, unprompted. 

    Theo really hoped he did. 

    “You have no right to own such a dark ingredient, Potter.” Snape drawled, strained. 

    “See there, Professor Snape, I do. With my emancipation I have a right to own any type of ingredient I see fit. With permission from the ministry, naturally.”

    “And do you have the needed permission, Potter?” Snape snapped. “I can’t fathom when you would’ve had the time to pen an official letter and be approved, then get this. Also, the wards around Hogwarts forbid something so dark be brought in.”

    Harry chuckled and brandished the vial again. 

    “Permission I do have. If you wish to dispute my claim, you’re welcome to talk to my manager at Gringots, I’m sure he’ll be more than delighted to show you the documents. As for where and when I got it, simple. Do you not recall there was a Basilisk attacking students just two years prior, Professors? The carcass is still very much intact, and still laying around in the Chamber of Secrets, to which I do have access to .” The boy twirled around the round bottle. “It was simple enough to get some blood from it.” 

    Snape’s eyes narrowed, but there was a sadistic gleam in them now. Oh, yeah, Harry had him now. One down, two more to go. 

    He turned to the still very much horrified Minerva McGonnagal. That one was going to be a bit more tricky. 

    “I was on my way to sell it. As I’m sure at least two of you know, my grandfather - Fleamont Potter, held a very successful potion business, which boomed with his grand invention of the Sleekeazy Hair Potion. It has been running low, as you must imagine, and I wanted to kickstart it once again. A vial like this sells for much, as I’m sure anybody with half a brain who’s ever brewed a potion even once in their life knows.” 

    The boy shrugged nonchalantly. 

    “Must’ve forgotten it or it slipped out of my pocket. Apologies for the commotion. But I assure you, those five boys are clean and not guilty.” 

    Harry met eyes with Dumbledore and felt the prickling behind his eyes, but knew his rings would protect him. 

    “Now, I’m sure all of us are quite busy with different stuff, so let us think this matter settled and return to our tasks.” 

    He ushered the three teachers away, much to all of their dismay, and closed the door with a sigh. 

    All of the other boys relaxed too, and took seats around the table, leaning forward. 

    “Could Daphne have forgotten to hide it with the other stuff you brought us?” Gregory asked. 

    Harry shook his head and placed the flask on the table so everyone could see it. 

    “She didn’t.” The boy shook his head. “This isn’t ours.” 

    All of them looked at him with sharp questioning gazes. 

    “I damn well remember what kind of vial I bought. And it wasn’t this one.” 

    A few glances passed between the gathered boys. 

    “Then he planted it.” Draco dared to finally say. “Dumbledore bloody planted it to get us arrested!” now the rage crept in. 

    “It’s a retaliation.” Theo murmured with a thoughtful expression on his face, a cute small crevice forming between his brows due to the frown he’d adopted. “He’s trying to get rid of us because he sees us as a threat.”

    A silence descended on the group, each with their own thoughts. 

    This cut it quite close. 

    Dumbledore was a powerful man, well respected by the mass of the Wizarding world. And he was running out of patience. 

 *** 

    It was  decided with universal consent (once the girls joined them) that the Ritual they had meant to do would be postponed, if not cancelled. 

    With Dumbledore and his cronies sniffing out their trails it was dangerous to step out of line. 

    They decided to split up for now and tone down on the public displays. 

    Harry used this opportunity (and the fact that there were still no classes and there won’t be until well into the new year) to go down to the Chamber. 

    He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the corpse of the Basilisk was still there, untouched and unrotting. It was a jumpscare, really, when he had to go down there. The monster still gave him nightmares sometimes, even two years after the whole attempt on his life thing. 

    He stood in the middle of the long pathway lined with giant snake heads and twirled the Resurrection Stone he’d made into a necklace and hid under his uniform. 

    “Yes, Harry?” Regulus materialized in front of him in a second. 

    “Hi, uh, dad. I-” the boy cleared his throat awkwardly. “I wanted to ask you a question.” 

    “Of course, go ahead.”

    Harry fidgeted with one hand with his rings. 

    “I read the Tales of Beedle the Bard again. And while it wasn’t mentioned, I dug and found out a legend. That whoever gathered the three Deadly Hollows becomes the Master of Death.”

    Regulus looked at his son and his posture changed to a resigned stance.

    “I had hoped I’d be able to spare you from this for a bit more, Harry.” He sighed and looked to the side, somewhere in the water. It gave him a sour face, watching the dark surface. “Yes. The legend is true. Master the Hallows, you Master Death. But not in the sense many believe.”

    “How then?” the boy asked. 

    Regulus scoffed. 

    “I can’t tell you.” the man grumbled, akin to a small child that had been denied his treat. “As a ghost I must follow the rules set by the Entity, and revealing the capabilities a Master would have is firmly forbidden.” 

    “I understand.” Harry sighed. “Anyway, thank you. That was all.”

    Regulus only nodded, but didn’t vanish like Harry expected him to. Instead he focused stormy eyes on him, stormy suspicious eyes. 

    “Why are you here, Harry?” he asked. “Down in the Chamber of Secrets? What are you planning?”

    “Who? Me? Nothing!” he lied. 

    But the second son of the Black family wasn’t fooled, for Harry had inherited his ability for deception not from him, but firmly from James, which meant the boy was an awful liar. 

    “Hadrian.” 

    Harry gulped. He didn’t have time for this. He quickly grabbed the Stone and tore the necklace from around his neck, dropping it gently to the ground next to his feet. 

    “I’m sorry, father.” he mumbled now, to only thin air. 

    Harry summoned a book from a pocket space (thanks Theo) and opened it, placing it on the ground. 

    Basilisk Blood - check. Blood of the caster - check. Bone of thestral - check (Harry felt sorry for the little baby foal that hadn’t made it through its birth). Raven’s beak - check. Eight Borage leaves - check. Eight petals of Eyebright - check. Four candles - check. 

    Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, and opened the vial of Basilisk blood. Dipping two fingers in he drew a big circle around himself with four arrows for each minor World direction - SE,NE,SW and NW.  In each arrow he wrote runes - for mental stability, for success, for sacrifice and for worship. 

    Then he sliced his palm with a well placed cutting curse and drew and outer circle, whose arrows this time pointed the major directions. In them he placed the candles he’d brought. The pain stung, but it was ignored easily enough. 

    The boy grabbed the bone and the two flowers and crushed them together in a conjured bowl with some water, into two gulps of stinky concoction. 

    Throwing the book away now that he’s completed all the steps, Harry took out something from the inner pocket of his robes, kneeled and placed it in front of himself. By hand he lit the four candles and began chanting quietly, coating the circular gap the Basilisk fang had left in the Diary so long ago with his own blood. In a swift motion he grabbed the bowl with his free hand and drank the awful brew he’d made. 

   Immediately it rose right back, and Harry had to fight to swallow it down. 

    The candle’s fire flared and it all went blank. 

***

    Harry awoke to frostbite. 

    His whole body was trembling and he could feel the chill. His hair and all of his left side were damp and his head was pounding. He sat up slowly, his arms shaking even with the little effort. How long  had he been laying here? Had the ritual not worked? 

    He looked around. The four candles had melted already, which meant he’d been out for at least eight hours, if not more. But everything else was how he’d remembered setting it up. 

    And yet it hadn’t worked. 

     The boy looked down at the Diary, not bloody and wet, near his knees and quickly pocketed it. Or he would’ve, if he hadn’t dropped it. Which was strange, since he hadn’t felt the leather covers slip from his fingers. 

    He reached to grab it again and saw it then. 

    His fingertips were black. Not in a dark- greyish type of black, but pure black. He tried to curl his fingers, but nothing happened. His fingers weren’t responding. 

    His other hand didn’t fare much better. 

    Harry panicked. Had he gotten frostbite? 

    But there was no wind down here, nor was it actually that cold. Maybe somewhere around zero, sure, but surely not. 

     Or was it a consequence of the failed Ritual? 

     Harry didn’t know, and didn’t care to find out. 

     Quickly grabbing the spellbook he’d brought with him and the necklace with the Stone, making sure to place them in the Pocket Space before he had the chance to drop them too, he bolted for the exit, not looking back.

So! For reference, this is how Harry's fingers are looking! (This isn't actual frostbite dw) Have in mind, Harry's fingers are black only almost to the first knuckle! (I couldn't find a better picture, sorry) 

Chapter Text

Imbolc fell on the first of February of 1995. Although subdued and away from family, the Slytherins made sure Harry’s introduction to the Old Holiday was as magical as it should be (pun intended). 

It was a day of renewal, the boy learned. When a wiccan would ask for blessings and set goals for themselves for the upcoming year. It was also a time when one would cleanse himself of the bad emotions and supposed curses put on him, or ask for forgiveness for the ‘bad’ things he’d done, so he could go into the new year with a lighter soul. 

This time, the whole House of Slytherin joined in the festivals, and Harry even saw some people from the other three houses. He sure saw a flash of two suspiciously red heads for sure, but he wouldn’t pry. Even Snape stayed away and ‘forgot’ his usual check on his House. 

Everyone did what they could with the little they had, and with Daphne and Theo’s guidance Harry dropped his blood in the fireplace and chanted a latin mantra that pleaded for closure for any of his misdeeds in the past year,  and guidance in the next one. 

That night was the most peaceful sleep he'd ever had in his life. 

The peace didn’t last long. 

“What do you mean you want to drop people in the freezing water, over 300 meters deep?” Harry blanched. Was Dumbledore actually that crazy? Surely not? 

“They will be perfectly safe, my boy.” Dumbledore stated calmly. “They will be put into an enchanted sleep that will help them breathe underwater, and the merpeople will guard them. I myself made sure of this. I’m quite proficient in mermish if I dare say so.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

The boy looked at McGonagall, then at Ludo Bagman and even Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. 

“The lake is over 300 meters deep, Merlin knows how cold it actually is down there!” he said, mortified. “It’ll be the end of February, for fuck’s sake! We’re in Scotland! The hostages will catch hypothermia! Or frostbite!” 

At his own words Harry unconsciously rubbed the fingers of his right hand together. The feeling in them had returned slowly after the failed ritual in the Chamber, but they had stayed the same shade of black around the fingertips. He wore gloves now, and still had excuses for them due to the cold and rainy weather, but not for long. 

“This is the task we have chosen” Karkaroff growled lowly, more to himself than to the boy. “We will take something precious from the champions and they must retrieve it.” 

“Some thing not some one. ” Harry insisted. “Take a prized possession, something of sentimental value! Not actual people!” 

“The task has already been chosen.” Bagman interrupted cheerfully, and patted Harry on the head as if he was just a stupid little boy that spoke stupid things. “The Goblet has accepted it, and it has picked the hostages. There’s nothing we can do about it anymore.”

Chills ran up the Gryffindor’s spine. 

“Fine.” He amended reluctantly. “But as part of the jury and Lord Gryffindor, I demand a qualified healer be present for the duration of the one hour under the water with the sleeping hostages, in case of an emergency.”

“That’s hardly needed, my boy.” Dumbledore countered. “We have everything under control.” 

“And yet you were going to let a 14 year old child compete in a deadly tournament that was specifically for those 17 years and up of age.” Harry retorted. “If that is what you call ‘having things under control’ Headmasters, I do believe I have grounds for concern.”

“Bold of you to state that, Mr. Potter.” Karkarof growled. “Given that you are the said 14 year old. You think you’re so high and mighty now, because you have a few shiny rings now? You’re nothing but a snotty little brat that we’ve let get away with too much!” 

“And yet without my consent you cannot put forth anything.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Truth is, those ‘shiny rings’ as you call them, give me a right to cancel this Tournament at any given time, if I deem it too dangerous, and even Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to override my will, and then you’ll have to look for a new host and move things over, how does that sound?” 

That got them to shut up. 

“I’m- I’m sure such things would not be needed.” Bagman stammered, finally reading the tension in the room.  

Harry knew he was acting exactly the way Karkaroff described him, like a petulant spoiled child, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let this madness pass. For one, there was a giant squid in that lake, not to mention merfolk, grindillow and whatnot else. For two, the water really was freezing cold, somewhere around 5°C. A seventh year’s magical core can only juggle between keeping up a decent warming charm, a good Bubble head charm and other offensive or defensive spells that are to be possibly cast, and they’d be submerged for maybe an hour. 

Not to mention the hostages, what of them? Asleep, floating somewhere on the bottom of the lake, with no protection from the cold? Not on his bloody watch. 

“I’m sure Professor Snape would be more than available to help oversee the hostages.” the boy insisted. “He has a healer licence and as you all know, he is a Master Potioneer. He can easily cast and maintain a Caeli Camera charm for the needed time.”

“I agree with ze boy.” Madame Maxime chimed in suddenly. “My girls, both Gabrielle and Fleur are parz Veela, as you all know. Zhey are very unreceptive to cold temperatures, and can become lethargic eazily. Given time, it can be even deadly. So I must also inzist there be someone to help if the situation arizes.” 

“Very well.” Crouch amended gruffly. “I shall petition it and see it done before the task.” With that the man walked out of the Great Hall as if more than done with being around any of the other members. 

Harry took the following silence as a confirmation of the end of the meeting and also sought to quickly return to his daily activities, though at a more sedated pace (something the Slytherins had drilled into him relentlessly).  

***

The Second Triwizarding Task came soon enough and yet not. 

Harry made sure, subtly, that all three Champions had figured out the clue in the Golden Eggs. Turns out they had taken the Gryffindor’s advice about being able to help one another and had put together their heads and figured things out pretty early on. 

Each of them had firmly assured him they had a solid plan in place and were more than ready, even confessing to wanting to get it done so they could get rid of the extensive stress even for a little bit. 

And at last, the day was upon them all. 

Everything was set up. Early in the morning Cho Chang, Gabrielle Delacour and Ioan Krasimirov were called to the Great Hall before breakfast and given a dose of the Draught of the Living Death. Snape then levitated them and once the time for the task neared, he would transport them and himself to the bottom of the lake. 

At lunch Harry caught Cedric’s eye and saw understanding shining in them at the absence of his Yule ball date / new girlfriend. Fleur was also clearly fidgety, but Madam Maxime had reassured her silently well enough. The only unbothered one seemed to be Viktor, who was missing a cousin, but was sure in Ioan’s abilities to protect himself if needed, and in his own magical prowess and determination to win the task. 

The Task started at 6 in the afternoon on the dot. The strands were filled, and this time the jury were down on the first level of the three wooden structures that had been set up over the lake, to better see when the champions returned with their prizes. 

The wind blew harshly on everyone and Harry was more than glad he was not one of the three who were now only in swimsuits. 

“On my mark!” Dumbledore shouted so he could be heard over the howling wind and the unsteady waves of the Lake. “Dive!” 

The Champions did not hesitate for a second. 

Due to the conveniently placed three magical mirrors in the air that displayed the competitors to the audience they all could see that Fleur and Cedric had taken the standard approach of a Bubble Head charm, a tricky piece of Magic of a NEWT’s level, while Viktor had opted for a partial transfiguration on himself, giving his body the boost of gills, and fins on his elbows and feet. He looked quite funny, but humiliation proved to be irrelevant  once he outswam his fellow champions. 

The three didn’t to look much around, for they knew well enough the general location of the merfolk village. 

And while, yeah, you couldn’t pin this one on Harry- all three would’ve been magically disqualified if he’d told them anything, they were smart enough to figure out a very important piece of information. 

The Slytherin common room had a whole ass wall made of glass that looked under the surface (a tidbit Cedric had bribed one of the Slytherins for). They had seen plenty of merpeople, who only ventured this far out of their village to watch the students. It was a common thing that one got used to, as Harry had soon found out. They had also seen the direction the merpeople came and went. 

With some more bribe (a kiss from Fleur and an autograph from Victor) the general direction was easily handed over. After that it was only a matter of Viktor transfiguring himself and swimming in the lake till he got close to their target, while Cedric and Fleur tracked him from above the water, on their brooms, with a handy little spell. 

The only thing left was to look up the creatures they might face in the lake, which they had had plenty of time for. 

It had paid off, clearly.

After some struggle, Cedric managed to utter a Confundus at Viktor, which made the shark-man lose his momentum, roll over and crash into a formation of rocks, though not too hard.  

Then, it was a matter of waiting. 

Fleur got entangled with some Grindylow, and Cedric came on the wrong end of a nasty Stinging Hex, the revenge Viktor enacted. 

All in all, it was neck to neck the whole time. 

In the end however, Viktor’s sharp shark teeth gave him the edge he needed in cutting the restraints on his hostage, while Cedric and Fleur found out the hard way that a cutting curse would not be enough. 

He came out first, breaking the surface just as the bell for the 45 minutes rang, closely followed by Fleur and Cedric. The scores were as follows: 58, 54 and 51 points respectively. 

The shivering wet participants were quickly taken to the medical tent and looked over by Madam Pomfrey who was promptly joined by Snape.  

At last, that was done as well. 

Now he could focus on looking for the Horcruxes again, and resurrecting the diary’s soul piece. 

Harry shivered internally. 

He hadn’t put on the Stone since the day of the failed Ritual. He couldn’t, the guilt was eating away at him. He had overreacted, by shutting away Regulus like that, especially when the man had tried nothing but show concern for his son’s health and well being, knowing his inherent inclination for trouble. 

The boy just couldn’t face him again, not yet. He wasn’t sure what he’ll be met with, anger, disappointment or something else, and he wasn’t keen on finding out. Not for now anyway. 

That same night there were three huge parties in the Hufflepuff common room, the Beauxbaton’s carriages and in Durmstrang’s ship, and no teacher in sight. 

In the commotion and celebrations a certain smiling blond slipped a certain Chosen one a very belated New Year’s gift. 

But, as the Chosen one opened it, he found he didn’t mind the late arrival, not at all. For, the pretty Ravenclaw Diadem that sat on a beautiful silk cushion indeed made up for it, and so much more. 

Merlin bless you, Luna bloody Lovegood.

Chapter Text

!!!NOT A CHAPTER!!!

So. I know I haven't updated this in a long while. I haven't given up on it, and will continue. But not right now. My grandma passed away just this morning, she's been very unwell for the past months, which led to the lack of updates on the fanfic. 

Right now me and my family are in mourning, so yeah. 

I've also decided to re- read and re- write what I've got up untill now, so new chapters won't be coming in a while. But you can look out for the updated versions of the chapters, if you want to.

That's all. 

Thank you.