Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Initially, Harry was quite surprised to wake up. He was shaking, and there were still tears on his face. 

He gazed around and found himself in a dead-end alley, propped against a few metal bins. For a moment, he wondered if someone had gotten him out, but that couldn’t be right. He went through!

Harry pushed himself to his feet, feeling incredibly unsteady, and braced his hands on the brick wall behind him. 

As his mind kept racing to try to figure out what the hell was going on, he began to take notice that he was moving in slow motion. So he started waving his hand about madly in front of his face, but it looked normal.

It was like he was in a dark room, trying to make his way to the door by walking slowly and spreading out his arms and legs so he would feel anything around him before running into it.

Harry sighed and collapsed against the wall. Then his eyes widened and began to well as he began to adjust to what had just happened. He was murdered! Sent off to execution by someone he trusted! Someone that he’d been told by every role model in his life to trust!

Harry was pissed, and rightfully so. That asshole Dumbledore had him killed to save his own arse. And even after Harry killed Voldemort, everyone still believed him.

‘ I regret to have made the mistake of trusting a cunning, wayward boy twice. ’ He’d said.

“I guess I’m lucky.” He said to himself shakily, taking a deep breath and wiping at his eyes. “The Veil of Death obviously doesn’t do what they think it does.”

You are correct. A female voice with a transatlantic accent said.

“Who’s there?” Harry looked around the alley, but he was still alone. He tried to pull out his wand, only to find he didn’t have one.

I am Death. The voice said. And you, Harry Potter, are my master.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not into that kind of thing.” Harry said awkwardly. Trust him to be the one to be saved from death only to have a horny woman from the 20s trying to push her kinks on his little gay arse.

That’s not…look, the person of the Peverell Bloodline who collects all of my hallows shall have power over me. That’s how it works.

Harry’s mind flashed to the wand, the stone, and the cloak. He knew what the legend said, but even if he did believe it, he wouldn’t have expected it to be like… this.

You are immortal, you can communicate with me, as can anyone you bond with, but you alone can summon my hallows by will and use them to their utmost power. Harry wasn’t quite ready to face that, so he moved on.

“Ok, so where am I?” Harry asked.

You are in an alley off Orchard Way in Ormesby, North Yorkshire, on Tuesday, 9 June, 1942.

“I beg your finest pardon…WHAT?!” He went back in time?!

Yes, you did. I brought you to this specific universe for a reason.

“What do you mean, ‘this universe?’” Harry asked. He didn’t know if he should feel pleased or cheated that he wasn’t dead.

The Veil of Death takes a person to a universe to one that runs parallel to the one they originate from. 

Parallel universe…okay, maybe that meant that Harry wouldn’t have to deal with all of Dumbledore and Voldemort’s bullshit.

In this universe, everything that has happened in your universe, and everything that will happen is the same. Unless you decide to change it, and I’m hoping that you do.

Of course. Of course Harry was the Chosen One again. Dying would’ve been so much better.

“Why are you hoping for me, specifically, to save the day?!” Harry whined. “I need a break! Why me?! ”

Because you can save everyone from Voldemort. You can even save Tom Riddle from Voldemort.

“How?!” Harry was on the edge of his proverbial seat.

By destroying Albus Dumbledore’s influence on the Wizarding World.

~~~

Harry decided to ignore all of the actual reasons he was in 1942, because he was going to cry if he acknowledged the pressure that was still on his shoulders. 

Instead, he focused on other things.

The streets were cobbled instead of paved, something simple that Harry didn’t think he should’ve enjoyed as much as he did. There wasn’t the constant hum of electricity that was present in his time. Though, you didn’t really notice that until it was gone. 

Something he was very much enjoying about being in the 40s: the clothes. He was wearing a button down shirt, a sweater vest, trousers, work shoes, and an ivy cap. He was also very happy that his vision correction charm was still in effect.

The material his clothes were made of was soft and breathable, it wasn’t too warm, the trousers weren’t tight in the crotch, the shoes were snug, and the cap wasn’t giving him a headache. It was perfect!

Alright, here’s your story; your name is Henry Joseph Peverell, born 25 June, 1927. Your mother died recently of polio, and you never knew your father.

Okay, he still had issues, that made all the acting work a lot easier.  

Your mother’s name was Alice Peverell. Before she died, she told you to go to Ormesby Hall for work. Now go inside that shop and ask the keep for directions.

Harry took a hard left through the door of a small shop, nearly passing it. 

As he stepped in, the bell over the door rang, and the lady behind the counter spoke.

“Hello, love. Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I was wondering if you could give me directions to Ormesby Hall?” The lady’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, why d’you ask?” She asked.

“My mother died a couple days ago and she told me I could find work there.” Harry said.

“Oh, dear me.” The lady gasped. “What’s your name, love?”

“Ha–enry…Peverell, ma’am.” Harry caught himself before he could say the wrong name, then trailed off as he finished. He was doomed.

“Well, Henry, you just go up the road and turn right. It’ll be right there. Knock on the back door, I’m sure Mrs. Robinson will fix you up.” The lady said. Harry blinked. 

‘ Okay, that was a fluke, not everyone will be like that. ’ He told himself.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Harry turned and quickly stepped back through the door.

“Best of luck, love.” The lady said from behind him.

Harry followed her directions, and the walk only took a few minutes. When he made it up the road, he found himself in front of a large house. There were three levels, and it was made of well-managed red brick. Harry thought he would be staring at it forever. He would be living there?!

~~~

By the time Harry made it to the back door of Ormesby Hall, the sun was going down. He knocked sharply, and after a few seconds it opened. A tall man in black trousers, a pressed white shirt, and a black vest stood there.

“What are you doing, boy?! The sirens will be going soon, get in!” The man grabbed Harry’s arm and jerked him through the door. “Mrs. Robinson!”

Harry looked around the small dining room he appeared to be in. The room was warm, probably from the proximity to the kitchen. The floors as far as he could see were tile, and well-kept.

There were a few guys and girls sitting at the end of the long table that occupied the room, looking at him curiously and whispering.

“What is it?!” A woman called. “For Christ's sake.” She walked through an arch across from Harry, and he immediately got nervous, like when Professor McGonagall was pissed off.

She wore a long black dress with a chatelaine on the belt, her brown hair was in a shampoo and set, and her hands were folded elegantly at her waist.

“Matthew, who is this?” She demanded.

“My name is Henry Peverell, ma’am.” Harry said.

“And where is your mother, young man?” Harry did his best to look depressed.

“She died earlier this week. She told me I could come here to find work.” He said.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Henry, but we do not have the capacity to compensate anymore staff.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“Well, I don’t have a mother or a place to sleep, so maybe we can be resourceful together.” Harry huffed. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had a rough week, walking from miles away, sleeping in alleyways, and I haven’t come this far to be turned away because you can’t give me money that I don’t need.” Mrs. Robinson sighed.

“What can you do?” She asked.

“Dishes, cooking, laundry, ironing, mowing, weeding, tending to plants, I can dust, sweep, mop, wash windows, I can run errands, mend things.” Harry rattled off the list of things he’d done at the Dursleys’. He’d never really imagined they’d be this helpful. “I can do most things.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Henry.” Mrs. Robinson said. “I’ve got a leaky tap. If you can mend it, then I’ll bring you on.” Harry smiled weakly.

“Where is it?” He asked. 

Mrs. Robinson led him through the arch to a busy kitchen. People were rushing around an island, dropping off dirty dishes and picking up full platters, then leaving the room.

Mrs. Robinson gestured at a sink on the counter behind Harry, and he turned around. He knelt down and opened the cabinet below the sink and turned a valve on one of the pipes to turn off the water flowing to the tap. 

He stood up and turned it on to drain the water left inside.

“I’ll need a screwdriver.” The man who answered the door went to fetch one, and once Harry had it, he quickly took the tap apart, found the issue, corrected it, then put the tap back together.

He went back under the sink to turn the water back on, and then he tested the tap, and it worked perfectly.

“A deal’s a deal. Welcome to the staff, Henry. I am Mrs. Robinson, the housekeeper.” Mrs. Robinson said. “You can sleep in the apartment above the stable block, but tonight we have the air raid drill before you can head to bed.” Harry nodded, his mind reeling at the fact that he’d have an apartment to himself!  

“That being said,” Mrs. Robinson continued, “If you ever hear the sirens, you drop everything and run for the house.” Harry’s stomach tightened.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said.

“Supper’s over, the lights are out.” A man called.

“David!” Mrs. Robinson shouted. A middle-aged, formally dressed man walked through a crowd of staff. “Henry, this is Mr. Williams, the butler. David, this is Henry Peverell, he is joining our staff. He will be staying in the stable block apartment, so we will need a new key.”

“Nonsense, he can take mine. I have no reason to be in there, and if anyone should need him, you will have a key, as you do for every room in the house.” Mr. Williams pulled a keyring from the pocket of his coat and looked through the keys, before taking one off and handing it to Harry. It was a silver, ornate skeleton key. Harry accepted it.

He furrowed his eyebrows at the speed Mr. Williams was able to find the key, when there were probably a hundred on that ring.

“Thank you, sir. But how did you know which one was which?” He inquired.

“Each key for the house has a number engraved on the shank,” Mr. Williams showed him one of the keys, so Harry could see the number, “The two that do not are the key to the stable block apartment, and the stable master key, and the master key is worn from use. The condition of your key is so pristine because it has been rarely used.”

Harry looked over at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs to his left, and he saw a middle-aged couple and two staff, obviously a valet and a ladies’ maid. 

Everyone in the room bowed or curtsied to the couple, and Harry followed suit.

“Good evening, everyone.” The man said. “Compliments for supper, Ms. Simon.” Harry looked over and saw a stout blonde woman curtsy.

“Thank you, your Lordship.” She said.

“And who’s this?” The lady asked.

“This is Henry Peverell, your Ladyship, he’s a recent member of our staff. Henry, this is the Baronet and Baronetess Pennyman.” Mrs. Robinson introduced. Harry didn’t know what to do, so he bowed again.

“Your Ladyship.” He said politely.

“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Peverell.” Mr. Pennyman said.

“Likewise, your Lordship.” Harry gave a somewhat nervous smile, then he was startled by the red alert siren.

“Ah, I was wondering when that bloody thing would sound.” Mr. Pennyman said. 

Someone turned off the kitchen light, and Harry went with the group down to the cellar, which was draughty and dimly lit, to wait for the white alert. 

“Henry, I’d like you to meet the rest of the staff.” Mrs. Robinson said. “You’ve already met Matthew, he takes care of maintenance around the grounds, he’s meant to, at least.” Matthew raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. “This is Ms. Simon, our cook, and her assistants, Sarah and Loren.”

Sarah and Loren looked to be about Harry’s age, which was fifteen again, unfortunately. They were sitting either side of Ms. Simon, who smiled at him kindly. Harry noticed that Sarah’s hands were clasped around a small silver watch, the chain winding through her fingers like a rosary, and Loren’s head was on Ms. Simon’s shoulder. She looked exhausted. 

Harry smiled and waved, before moving on with Mrs. Robinson.

“This is the gardener, Mr. Johnston, and the footmen, Oliver, Noah, Jacob, and Charlie.” Mrs. Robinson gestured at each of them as she said their names. The boys were huddled around a crate full of wine bottles, playing a card game. 

Oliver and Charlie looked like a down-low couple, but that was a common thing amongst straight men. Noah and Jacob, however, looked like they would be the ones with a twink between them, chuckling jock-ily and saying, ‘No homo, bruh.’

“Over here is Mrs. Pennyman’s ladies’ maid, Martha, and the other maids, Poppy, Ella, Charlotte, and Olivia. And you know me and Mr. Williams.” Harry smiled politely at the maids as he forced their names into his memory. Martha was tall and looked very dignified, while the other girls were a bit shorter. Martha was probably in her thirties, and the other maids looked to be in their early twenties. They all wore the standard black dress and white apron, so Harry would have a bit more work keeping them apart.

The only reason he could keep the men apart was because he would take a broom cupboard holiday with most of them.

Harry just sort of stood awkwardly in the corner until the second siren sounded and everyone marched back up the stairs out of the cellar.

“I thought it would last longer than that.” Harry said to Mrs. Robinson.

“The real thing does, but that was just a drill.” She said. “You can go on to bed, I’ll be ‘round in the morning to give you your assignments for the day.”

“Alright.” Harry said. “Good night, ma’am. And I’m sorry that I snapped at you, earlier.” Mrs. Robinson smiled at him.

“It’s alright, dear.” She said. “Get some rest.”

As he walked to the stable block, Harry’s mind was—once again—reeling. He was only just beginning to notice that everyone’s accents were slightly more antiquated than anything he’d heard before in his life! It seemed strange that that was a major thought, what with everything going on at the moment.

And Death! She was nothing like Harry would have expected. She was this omnipotent, godlike figure, but she seemed…chaotic.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up Wednesday morning to a sharp knock on the door to his apartment, which was literally an apartment. It had two bedrooms, a lounge, a bathroom, and a kitchen.

He slid out of his heavenly bed and left his bedroom to find Mrs. Robinson standing in the lounge.

“How did you sleep, Henry?” She asked.

“Very well, ma’am.” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you sleep in those clothes?” She asked. Harry looked down, realising he did indeed.

“Yes, ma’am. I haven’t any others.” He said.

“Then I’ll have to take your measurements and I’ll send someone out to order a few outfits for you.”

~~~

After breakfast, Mrs. Robinson sent Harry out with Mr. Johnston to the gardens. Mr. Johnston was a well-built Scottish man who made Harry fantasise about very inappropriate things. He was young, Harry would guess he was in his mid-twenties.

“Alright, Henry, today I’ll have you watering the beds while I do the weeding.” He said.

“Yes, sir.” Harry said.

“Enough of that, Henry.” Mr. Johnston said. “You can call me Blake.”

Blake. That seems very screamable. Harry followed Blake to the shed to get their supplies, as if he wasn’t imagining what it’d feel like if his back was rammed against the wall of the wooden shed.

Holy thoughts, Harry. Holy thoughts. Death said. Harry jumped, having completely forgotten about her. 

Wow, you forgot about me? How does that even work? She asked.

Blake unlocked the shed and opened the doors, then stepped inside. He slipped off his coat and hung it on a hook on the wall, then rolled his shirt sleeves up. He grabbed a pair of gloves off a shelf, then handed another pair to Harry.

“There’s the watering can.” He pointed in the corner. “The garden spout is ‘round the side of the shed.” Harry grabbed the can and got to work.

“So, what’s going on?” Harry whispered to Death.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley have been reporting to Dumbledore about you for years, Granger because she thought she was helping you, and Weasley for compensation. They informed him of your rapidly increasing magical ability, and that–along with the slander in the media–threatened his image. At least Hermione wasn’t motivated by her own nefarious purposes. As much as it didn’t surprise him about Ron, it still hurt. He had always made it very clear that he was willing to help in any way, financially included.

By scapegoating you, Dumbledore made people feel bad for him, loading all the hate onto you.

I brought you to this time so you can find Tom Riddle, befriend him, and stop him from making his mistakes. And so that you can take down Dumbledore before he gets too powerful.

“But how will I do that?” Harry asked. “And how do you think Tom is going to react if he finds out I’m just pretending to be his friend?”

Once you actually meet him, I don’t think you’ll be pretending for very long. Harry could hear the smirk in Death’s voice, and it made him nervous.

“You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” He asked.

I know all the possible outcomes. For your other question; where did Dumbledore get his power?

“How am I supposed to know that, I’m not a seer.” Harry snarked.

You’re not? Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. Do you remember ever actually trying to predict something? Further, do you remember all those bad feelings you got before bad things happened to you?

“What are you saying?” Death groaned.

I’m saying that you can’t reject the possibility without ever having been open to it in the first place.

~~~

That night, after supper, Harry searched his apartment at Death’s advice.

In the bedroom wardrobes, there were hangers and spare bedsheets. In the hall closet there was an ironing board, an iron, a broom and dustpan, a small first aid kit, a gas mask, and spare blackout curtains. There was a small lamp in the lounge, and in the kitchen drawers he found candles, matches, and some cooking and eating utensils. The cabinets had a few pots, pans, and glassware. A small copper kettle sat on the stove. There was a small radio on the counter, and in the lounge cabinet, there was some stationery.

Take a candle, a sheet of paper, and a pen.

Harry followed the instruction and set up on the lounge floor. He lit the candle and left the paper on the floor in front of him.

Draw a circle on the paper and close your eyes. Keep going over it and open your mind. Harry did as he was told. He didn’t know why, but he started focusing on his breathing.

He felt grounded. Centred. And then his eyes burst open, but he wasn’t in his apartment. He didn’t know where he was. There were two boys, one ginger and one blond.

He looked at the ginger and heard Dumbledore’s voice in his head. He didn’t know what he was saying, but it was Dumbledore. Then he looked at the blond and the image of a symbol burned into a stone wall flashed in front of his eyes. A triangle, a circle, and a line. The Deathly Hallows.

Gellert Grindelwald. The image faltered. Dark lord. A sharp pain went through the centre of Harry’s forehead, between his eyebrows. Lover of Dumbledore. Harry’s hands snapped to the sides of his head and his eyes squeezed shut.

When they opened again, he was back in his lounge, the candle was out, and he knew everything.

As he looked down at his paper, he found that there were no circles drawn there, only the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, and the words he’d seen. He stared in fascination, never having experienced anything remotely like this before. Not even Voldemort’s visions could compare.

He was only pulled from his mind when it began pounding like his brain had a heartbeat.

Don’t worry. Death told him. It’ll get better with practice.

~~~

It didn’t take nearly as long as Harry thought to get used to waking up at five in the morning. After a week, he was even one of the first to get to the staff room, where Mr. Williams, Mrs. Robinson, Ms. Simon, and Matthew would be sitting with a cup of tea.

He wanted to be useful, so Harry started helping to set the table for breakfast. Initially, he messed it up a bit, what with all the different dishes and utensils. But Mr. Williams helped him out, and he learned how to do it properly in just a few minutes.

“You picked that up very quickly, Henry.” Mrs. Robinson told him. “Keep it up and you’ll do very well here.” Harry grinned.

~~~

After Harry’s first week, he was given to Ms. Simon for the day, helping her inventory the pantry. He would’ve been outside, but there was a storm, and Mrs. Robinson didn’t want him getting a cold from working out in the rain.

Working inside was fun too.

Ms. Simon was nice, and she had some good stories.

“I’ve been with his Lordship since he received the baronetcy. I was his first hire, actually, and at that time it was just me, Mr. Williams, Mrs. Robinson, and the old ladies’ maid on the staff.” Harry listened intently as he catalogued the spices.

“Twenty years, I’ve been here, and through that time, the cook, the butler, and the housekeeper have been the only constant.” Ms. Simon told Harry about all the maintenance guys they’d had, all the gardeners, all the maids and valets, and then she told him that this was her favourite group yet.

For hours, even after they moved back into the kitchen to prepare lunch, Ms. Simon told Harry all about Ormesby Hall, and let him taste all the food.

~~~

A few weeks in, Mrs. Robinson told Harry after lunch that he’d be serving afternoon tea, and to smarten up.

The service started at 3:30, so he used all of his spare time to brush up on all the etiquette he would need.

~~~

In the last week of July, Harry was sent out with Sarah and Loren to run a few errands in town. They went around to several shops, the butcher and greengrocer, first.

Until that point, it had been silent and awkward. Then Loren broke the tension.

“So, what’s a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” She asked teasingly.

“Yeah, I was sure working in the gardens would mess up those pretty curls.” Sarah added.

“Definitely not, but you two are perfect to be scullery maids.” Harry returned snarkily. “What with your skin being the colour and texture of clotted cream.” The girls laughed.

“I think I’ll like you.” Loren told him as they walked into the baker’s shop to get flour for Ms. Simon.

By the end of the day, Harry and the girls were walking back to Ormesby Hall joking and laughing like old friends. Henry felt relieved that he had someone to hang on to in this world.

~~~

Harry was getting very used to working for the Pennymans. They were very nice people, as were the rest of the staff. By the end of July, around his old birthday, he had grown close with everyone, and he’d helped out in several different areas.

The 31st of July would be a slow day, as Mr. and Mrs. Pennyman were in London for the weekend, so Mrs. Robinson sent Harry out to pick up groceries for the next week.

As he walked, he went over everything in his head.

‘Death! You can hear my thoughts, correct?’ Harry grinned when Death replied.

Of course I can. It has been interesting to listen to you talking to yourself for the past month, though. But I was wondering when you’d figure it out.

‘So to fix everything, I have to be friends with Tom Riddle and we have to defeat Grindelwald before Dumbledore has the chance, right?’

Yes, Harry.

“Hello, I’m here for Mrs. Robinson’s order.” Harry told the butcher. ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

“I’ll run to the back and get it now.”

I’d like you to practise divining every night, as you have to this point.

‘So I’m defeating Grindelwald with divination? You realise I can do wandless magic, correct?’

“Here you are, young man. That’ll be seven shillings.”

No, but that should hold you off until you can go to Diagon Alley. And no one is stopping you from practising your wandless magic.

‘And when will I be going to Diagon Alley?’

Sooner than you think.

~~~

When Harry got back to Ormesby Hall, he couldn’t see over the mound of bags in his arms, so he walked right past Mrs. Robinson and the strange man in robes, and into the kitchen.

“Thank you, Henry.” Ms. Simon said. “Girls! Time to start supper!”

“Henry.” Harry turned to Mrs. Robinson. “You have a visitor.” Harry’s blood boiled as he looked up into the eyes of the man who murdered him.

“Hello, sir. Who might you be?” He asked.

“I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps we should speak somewhere a bit more private?”

“My office is right down the hall.” Mrs. Robinson said. She led the way, followed by Dumbledore, then Harry, who wanted to keep an eye on the man.

When they reached the office, everyone went inside, and as soon as the door closed, Dumbledore spoke.

“Mr. Peverell, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Harry widened his eyes for effect.

“I beg your pardon?” He said.

“You are a wizard, Mr. Peverell. You are capable of great wonders. There is an entire world of people like you, and in most cases, those with magical powers who are not aware of our world are often introduced at eleven, as that is when magical education begins. I do not know why such wasn’t the case for you.” Repeat after me. Death said.

“My mother was telling the truth…” Harry slumped in his chair.

“Pardon?” Dumbledore and Mrs. Robinson said.

“My mother died recently, and in the few weeks before…she’d been telling me all these things about magic and how she knows I’m not a squid.” Harry said.

“I believe you mean a squib, a person who is born to magical parents but has no magic themself.” Dumbledore said. “Henry, I wonder…have you ever done things, strange things that you couldn’t explain, when you were scared or angry?”

“No. Not that I can think of.” Harry said.

“Hmm…I wonder if you’d allow me to perform a simple diagnostic charm?” Harry shook his head.

“I don’t mind.” Dumbledore drew his wand and waved it.

“You definitely have magic.” He said. “Stronger than most your age. But regardless of the circumstances, you are a wizard. I believe you are due to begin your fifth year. Here is your acceptance letter, and I shall return tomorrow at noon to take you shopping for your school supplies.

“Before I go, there are a few things you must know; you must not tell any non-magical person about magic, you must not perform magic outside of school unless you are in grave danger, that is all.” Dumbledore disapparated on the spot.

‘So that’s how he gets out of the demonstration.’ Harry was wondering when he would show them a spell.

Harry, you must take Mrs. Robinson to your apartment and tell her everything. Harry’s eyes widened.

‘What?!’

She will need to know to be of use to you in future.

“Mrs. Robinson, may I speak to you in my apartment?”

Chapter Text

“This may come as a shock to you, but I already know about magic. I merely had to put on a facade for Dumbledore. In fact, I’ve been to Hogwarts before, and I lived an entire life in another universe.

“In my original time, there was a dark wizard called Voldemort who was terrorising the magical and muggle communities. A muggle is a non-magical person, by the way. Anyways, when I was a baby, Voldemort heard a part of a prophecy that he interpreted to say that only I had the power to defeat him, so he killed my parents, and he tried to kill me, but when he tried to kill me, his killing curse–a curse that no one has ever survived before–rebounded and destroyed his body.

“Most people took that to mean that I killed him, so everyone started calling me the ‘Boy-Who-Lived,’ but what really happened was his body was destroyed and a small fragment of his soul escaped.

“Dumbledore, who was the Headmaster of Hogwarts by that point, sent someone to snatch me before the proper authorities had the chance, and hid me away for ten years with my abusive aunt and uncle, who hated magic and tried to ‘stamp the nonsense’ out of me.

“When I got my Hogwarts letter and went to school, Dumbledore swooped in as the grandfather figure who could do no wrong, and made me feel indebted to him.

“Throughout my years at Hogwarts, I faced–in order–a teacher who had Voldemort on the back of his head, along with a bunch of murderous trials shut behind a door that could be unlocked with a charm from a first year’s book, a teacher who didn’t have the slightest ability in his subject and who had written several books from his point of view depicting heroic deeds that other people had done, and the one thing he could do right was wipe the memories of the people he stole the identities of.” Harry took a breath before continuing. “Then I had a teacher who was actually great at his job, but he was a werewolf and tried to kill me, and turns out he was friends with my dad and godfather, but everyone thought my godfather was the one who betrayed my parents to Voldemort, so he went to the wizard prison Azkaban without a trial, and the only reason he kept his sanity was because he could turn into a dog and that kept the guards–Dementors, which are soulless beings that suck the happiness out of the world and can suck the soul out of your body–away from him.” Harry shivered at the mention of dementors. He really hated those things. “He escaped to do in the guy who actually betrayed my parents, who was a friend of him, my dad, and werewolf when they were in school. The actual traitor had been masquerading as the pet rat of my friend. Needless to say, he failed, and the rat ran back to Voldemort.” Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of Pettigrew. “The next year, the school brought back this thing called the Triwizard Tournament, which was a joint activity with three schools, consisting of three tasks over the course of the year. The first one was getting a golden egg from a nesting mother dragon, the second was getting a human hostage from the bottom of the lake, and the last was getting to the trophy in the middle of an everchanging hedge maze filled with dangerous creatures.” Mrs. Robinson looked horrified. “But it turns out the trophy was a portkey–a type of magical transportation–made by one of my teachers, who was one of Voldemort’s followers in disguise, that took me and one of my competitors to a graveyard in which the rat pretender was waiting to do a ritual to bring Voldemort back to his fullest strength. They killed my competitor, and then tried to kill me after the ritual, but I escaped with the dead guy’s body, and when I tried to tell everyone Voldemort was back, the Minister for Magic started a smear campaign to make everyone think I was a no-good liar.” Honestly, Harry was starting to feel better. Who knew trauma-dumping could do that? “The next year, he had a Ministry representative placed as a teacher at Hogwarts with the sole purpose of sabotaging our education, and when anyone did something she didn’t like, she would make us write lines with a quill that took our blood as ink and scratched our words into the back of our hands.” Harry winced and glanced at the back of his hand, where Umbridge’s scar used to be. “At the end of that year, Voldemort was sighted, and everything went all wonky. The next year, a guy in my year kept trying to kill Dumbledore, but he couldn’t get it right, meanwhile Dumbledore was teaching me all about Voldemort, and at the end of the year, the guy in my year managed to get a bunch of Voldemort’s followers into the castle, Dumbledore barely survived the encounter, and the Second Wizarding War started. The next year I didn’t go to school, and instead, me and two of my friends spent the year searching ‘round the country for horcruxes, which are items that conceal pieces of a person’s soul by way of a ritual involving murder. Voldemort had made seven, and in order to kill him, we had to find and destroy them all, but then we came to find out I was one of the horcruxes, so I had to let Voldemort kill me. But I survived again, because, little did I know at that point, I had all three of the Deathly Hallows, artefacts that Death herself bestowed upon my ancestor and his brothers. The person who holds all three is the Master of Death, and they are immortal. So Voldemort destroyed the horcrux inside me and I survived the killing curse again. After that, Dumbledore started another smear campaign and had me killed so he could keep his power. They threw me through the Veil of Death, which is this big arch at the Ministry that they thought kills a person, but really it takes them to a different universe that runs parallel to the one they’re from.” Harry took another deep breath, then finished his recap. 

“That’s how I got here, and now Death wants me to save Tom Riddle, Voldemort, from himself, and dismantle Dumbledore’s image before he can get too powerful by defeating the Dark Lord Grindelwald, who’s basically the magical Hitler.” Mrs. Robinson looked like she was having an existential crisis.

“Is there anything else?” She asked.

“My name in that universe was Harry Potter, and I was the descendant of Ignotus Peverell instead of Antioch.” Mrs. Robinson didn’t have a clue who those people were. “And I’m a seer.”

“And what do you eat for breakfast, then?” She asked with a snort. Harry didn’t pick up the rhetorical question.

“I’m partial to kippers and eggs.” He said. 

Is that a gay joke? Death asked.

“Right, this is all madness.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“I can prove it to you, ma’am.” Harry said. “I can perform wandless magic, that’s part of the reason Dumbledore got rid of me. And you already watched him disapparate.” Mrs. Robinson folded her arms.

“You said you are a seer?” Harry nodded.

“I’m not very good yet, but I’ve been practising.”

“What can you see?” Mrs. Robinson asked. Harry waved his hand and a candle, a sheet of paper, and a pen flew towards him. The candle stood upright on the floor in front of him, and the paper sat in front of it. Harry snatched the pen from the air and snapped his fingers. The curtains around the room slipped shut and the candle lit. Harry closed his eyes and sat the pen’s tip on the paper.

He started making circles.

A portrait of Mrs. Robinson flashed in front of his eyes. She was older. Then a casket and a tombstone that read, ‘Colonel James B. Worsley Pennyman. 1883-1961.’

“You will work here until the Baron dies, in 1961.” An image of Mrs. Pennyman in a casket formed, and then changed to the tombstone again, which now had, ‘Ruth C. Dorrien Pennyman. 1893-1983.’ Harry was about to speak again, then the portrait of Mrs. Robinson came back, and it was getting closer and closer, until Harry was staring right at the gold plate on the bottom of the frame.

“Jane Robinson, Housekeeper of Ormesby Hall. 16 December, 1887-9 June, 1966.” Harry said. “You are happy. You lived a fulfilling life.”

“Thank you, Henry, but I was expecting something a bit more short-term.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“Oh, when you step out the door in a few minutes, the planks will creak and startle you.” Sure enough, when Mrs. Robinson left the apartment, a startled shout came from behind the door.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up as he was now used to on Saturday morning, and put on his uniform; black trousers, a white button down, a black vest, and black shined shoes.

He left his apartment and went to the back door of the house. He stepped through, into the dining room, where a few people were eating breakfast.

“Good morning!” He said.

“Good morning, Henry.” Ms. Simon said. “I heard from Mrs. Robinson that you’ve got yourself an outing today.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry said, sitting down and making himself a cup of tea. “Apparently, my mother enrolled me at a boarding school in Scotland that my grandfather went to. I didn’t know until the Deputy Headmaster visited yesterday. He’s coming back at noon to take me shopping for school supplies.”

“Is that right?” Ms. Simon said. “Well, I suppose that means you’ll have just enough time to help me and the girls prepare lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry liked Ms. Simon a lot. She was a very nice lady from Northumberland, but she was very territorial over her kitchen. Everyone at Ormesby Hall reminded Harry of a small-scale Downton Abbey.

~~~

As Harry, Ms. Simon, and the girls worked, they talked about random stuff.

“When’s your birthday, Henry?” Loren asked.

“The 25th of June.” He said.

“Oh no, we’ve missed it!” Sarah said, disappointed.

“It’s alright, girls. There’s always next year.” Harry said.

“Alright, that’s everything done.” Ms. Simon said. “Girls, go set the table.”

There was a knock on the back door right as Harry was helping Ms. Simon set out lunch. Matthew opened the door and let Dumbledore in.

“Good day, Mr. Dumbledore.” Mrs. Robinson said. “We were just about to sit for lunch, would you like to join?”

“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Robinson, but I will have to decline. I have several students to visit today. Mr. Peverell, are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry said. “Bye, everyone.”

“Bye, Henry!” 

~~~

Harry and Dumbledore walked in silence to the road.

“Alright, Henry.” Dumbledore said. “If you would take my arm.” Harry didn’t want to touch him, but he did, and without so much as a warning, they disapparated.

Dumbledore was shocked when Harry didn’t stumble or throw up upon their arrival in Diagon Alley.

“Very well done, Henry.” He said. “Most people vomit their first time.” 

Harry ignored him, staring out a Diagon Alley as if for the first time. The wonder was real. He thought he’d never be back, but there he was, looking down the winding street.

“I have many students to attend to today, so I will return for you in two hours. Meet me back here and I will return you home.” Dumbledore said. “I trust you have your supply list? Oh, you must pick your electives! Here, choose three or four from this list.” Dumbledore pulled a sheet of parchment out of thin air and showed it to Harry.

“I would like Arithmancy, Divination, Magical Artefacts, and Healing.” He said after a moment’s thought. There was arithmancy in everything, so that would be helpful, and he was a seer, so divination was a given. Magical Artefacts were useful and interesting, and he’d been through enough shit to know how essential healing magic was.

“Very good, Henry. Stop at Gringotts Bank first, and then follow the signs to get your things.” Dumbledore said, not giving Harry a chance to even open his mouth before disapparating.

Harry was not expecting that, but he was very pleased to be able to do his shopping without Dumbledore hovering over him. It meant he could get a bunch of extra shit and maybe even go down Knockturn Alley.

Seeing as he only had two hours, he rushed down the alley to Gringotts and went inside to the first open teller he saw.

Ask for a blood test.

“Hello, sir. I would like a blood test, please.” Harry said.

“Name?” The goblin growled.

“Henry Joseph Peverell.” Harry said. The goblin looked him up and down.

“Follow me.” Harry followed the goblin down a long hallway. They turned a few times, then came to a door marked Ranmuk, Account Manager. The goblin knocked on the door.

“What?!” A voice snapped.

“A Peverell wants a blood test!” The teller shouted back.

“Send it in.” The teller opened the door and shoved Harry in.

“Good afternoon, Account Manager Ranmuk.” Harry said politely. The goblin behind the desk raised an eyebrow.

“Sit.” Harry did. “Name?”

“Henry Joseph Peverell.” Ranmuk pulled a sheet of parchment out of his desk and placed it in front of Harry.

“Hand.” He demanded. Harry offered his hand, and Ranmuk grabbed it roughly and slit his palm with a sharp fingernail. A drop of blood ran across his palm and dripped on the parchment before Ranmuk let go.

Harry took his hand back and ran a finger over the wound, letting his magic flow through the cut to heal it.

When he looked back up, Ranmuk had the parchment in hand and was looking at it.

“You most certainly are a Peverell. The only direct male line descendant left, it appears. As such, through the Peverell primogeniture laws, you are the only heir to the Peverell Lordship. You can take up your lordship as of the Winter Solstice.” Ranmuk monologued. “As the Peverell Account Manager, I am in charge of your finances. I will send you a monthly report of the state of your account with Gringotts. 

“Before I take you to your vault, would you like to make any investments, see a report of your estate, or see a due-contract report?” Ranmuk asked.

“Wow, that was quick. Erm…all of the above.” Harry said.

“I have a job to do, Mr. Peverell, I don’t have time to be pussy-footing around. What companies would you like to invest in?” Ranmuk asked. ‘I like this guy.’ Harry thought.

“Shooting Star Brooms, the Comet Trading Company, the Cleansweep Broom Company, and over time, I would like to have controlling shares in the Daily Prophet. Can I make muggle investments?”

“Yes, sir.” Ranmuk liked Henry a lot. He was confident and polite.

Harry thought for a moment, opening his mind, and the names of companies began flowing through.

“I would like to invest in Coca-Cola, International Business Machines, General Electric, the Standard Oil Companies of New Jersey and California, Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing, Boeing, McDonald’s, the Ford Motor Company, Walt Disney Co., PepsiCo, General Motors, and Wells Fargo.

“Further, each year, as soon as my investments reach a value of one and a half million pounds sterling, begin donating the rest to St. Mungo’s hospital. After my graduation, begin the donations after reaching three and a half million pounds sterling.” Harry instructed.

“Very well, sir. Here is your estate log, and your due-contracts report.” Ranmuk slid a small leather folder across the desk. Harry picked it up and opened it.

~~~

Assets and Holdings Overview:

1. Property Holdings:
• Peverell Manor
• Location: East Yorkshire
• Status: The manor is currently in disrepair, having been neglected for several decades. While the core structure remains sound due to the property’s wards, much of the interior requires restoration, and portions of the grounds have become overgrown.
• Description: A historic and grand estate with deep magical roots. The manor includes multiple wings over four storeys, a warded vault, and several ancient Peverell family relics. The grounds encompass woodlands, gardens, and a private lake. Other features include wrought iron gates and a ruined fountain.
• Estimated Value: 8,000 Galleons (as is); Potential value after full restoration: 16,000 Galleons
• Cairnhurst Cottage
• Location: Lake District
• Status: A well-preserved, secondary property of the Peverell family, primarily used for summer retreats. It has been maintained by local caretakers and remains in good condition.
• Description: A smaller, picturesque cottage with modern magical amenities, nestled by the lakeside with breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape.
• Estimated Value: 3,000 Galleons
• Blackthorn Estate
• Location: Cornwall
• Status: Leased to another wizarding family, generating steady annual rental income. The property is in good condition, maintained by the lessees.
• Description: A coastal property known for its proximity to ancient magical sites. It includes a modest manor house, outbuildings, and an expansive beachfront.
• Estimated Value: 4,500 Galleons
• Annual Rental Income: 500 Galleons per year
2. Financial Assets:
• Total Liquid Galleons: 30,000 Galleons
• Held in Gringotts Vault No. 394, under the sole ownership of Henry Joseph Peverell, Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship. The vault contains various forms of wizarding currency, all in prime condition.
3. Heirlooms:
• The Resurrection Stone
• Current Holder: Morfin Gaunt
• Description: One of the three Deathly Hallows, capable of summoning shades of the dead. It remains in the possession of Morfin Gaunt and has not been reclaimed. Henry Joseph Peverell, as Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship, is the rightful owner.
• Estimated Value: Priceless, due to its immense historical and magical significance.
• The Cloak of Invisibility
• Current Holder: Charlus Potter
• Description: A legendary magical artefact, perfectly concealing its wearer and immune to the effects of ageing or magical detection. Currently in the possession of Charlus Potter, it has been passed down through his family line from Ignotus Peverell. Henry Joseph Peverell, as Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship, is the rightful owner.
• Estimated Value: Priceless, as one of the Deathly Hallows.
• The Elder Wand
• Current Holder: Gellert Grindelwald
• Description: Known as the most powerful wand in existence, the Elder Wand has been wielded by some of history’s most formidable wizards. It remains in the possession of the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald. Henry Joseph Peverell, as Heir Apparent to the Peverell Lordship, is the rightful owner.
• Estimated Value: Priceless, due to its legendary status and unparalleled magical power.
• Pendant with the Peverell Family Crest
• Current Holder: Gringotts Wizarding Bank
• Description: A silver pendant with the ancient Peverell family crest. Heavily enchanted for protection and defensive magic, it has been passed down through generations as a symbol of the family's legacy.
• Estimated Value: 2,000 Galleons
4. Additional Assets:
• Family Library (Located in Peverell Manor)
• Status: Many rare and valuable texts remain intact despite the disrepair of the manor.
• Estimated Value: 1,500 Galleons
• Vault of Rare Artefacts (Hidden Chamber in Peverell Manor)
• Status: A secret vault containing various ancient magical relics and artefacts. The vault is protected by powerful wards.
• Estimated Value: 3,000 Galleons

Summary of Holdings:

• Total Property Value:
• Current: 15,500 Galleons
• Potential Value (after restoration): 23,000 Galleons
• Total Liquid Galleons: 30,000 Galleons
• Heirlooms:
• The Resurrection Stone: Priceless
• The Cloak of Invisibility: Priceless
• The Elder Wand: Priceless
• Pendant with the Peverell Family Crest: 2,000 Galleons
• Additional Assets:
• Family Library: 1,500 Galleons
• Vault of Rare Artefacts: 3,000 Galleons

Total Estimated Value of Assets:

• Current Total: 51,500 Galleons (excluding priceless heirlooms)
• Potential Total (after manor restoration): 59,000 Galleons

~~~

“Do you have a log of the artefacts the report mentions?” Harry asked. Ranmuk pulled another sheet of parchment from a desk drawer and gave it to Harry.

~~~

Log of Artefacts within the Properties and Vaults of Lord Henry Joseph Peverell

I. Peverell Manor (East Yorkshire)

1. Peverell Family Library (Main Wing)
• Location: Second Floor
• Contents:
• Ancient Grimoires: A collection of spellbooks dating back centuries, including handwritten tomes from the early Peverell lineage.
• Magical Histories: Rare first editions of books on magical history, particularly those detailing the origins of the Deathly Hallows and Peverell bloodline.
• Potions Manuscripts: Several original works on potion-making, including annotated versions of potions by early alchemists.
2. Basement
• Location: Below the ground floor, contains six chambers and a warded vault.
• Contents:
• The Peverell Armory: Contains several enchanted weapons, including:
• Dagger: A silver blade that can cut through magical protections.
• Shield: An artefact said to deflect most magical attacks.
• The Mirror of Morwyn Peverell: An enchanted mirror that shows the viewer their greatest weakness. Hangs over the kitchen hearth.
• Crystal of Eleanora Peverell: A crystal rumoured to allow brief glimpses into the future, though its accuracy is questioned. Kept on the table in the Divining Room.
• Timepiece of Adeliza Peverell: A broken time-turner that no longer functions. Often spins at random. Kept in a case in the Training Room of Peverell Manor.
3. The Ancestral Crypt (Family Tombs, West Grounds)
• Location: Underground crypt beneath the family mausoleum.
• Contents:
• The Peverell Lantern: A lantern said to glow in the presence of spiritual entities, used during Peverell funeral rites. Flame burns green, flickers when a Peverell dies, but never goes out.

II. Cairnhurst Cottage (Lake District)

1. Study of Relics (Lounge)
• Contents:
• The Book of the Peverell Rites: A tome containing Peverell Family spells and rituals, rumoured to be highly dangerous if used by a non-Peverell.
• Peverell Chalice: An enchanted goblet that purifies any liquid poured into it. Used for family rituals.
• The Wand of Godfrey Peverell: An unused wand, passed down ceremonially in the family. Made of rowan wood with a unicorn hair core, but never wielded after the death of its owner.

III. Blackthorn Estate (Cornwall)

1. Underground Storeroom
• Location: Beneath the main estate, used for storage and safeguarding less frequently accessed artefacts.
• Contents:
• The Blackthorn Lance: A ceremonial weapon enchanted to make and break formal connections.
• The Compass of Thomas Peverell: An artefact said to point the way to the place one is truly needed, though its accuracy has been called into question over the years.

IV. Gringotts Vault No. 394 (London)

1. Core Holdings
• Liquid Galleons: 30,000 Galleons 
2. Vault Artefacts:
• The Pendant of the Peverell Family Crest: Worn only by the Head of House Peverell and enchanted to protect the wearer from curses. Currently kept securely in the vault.
• The Silver Master Key for the Peverell Estate: A key that grants access to all Peverell properties and vaults.
• The Peverell Family Seal: A ceremonial seal used to authenticate documents and legal agreements. Ink stamps enchanted to glow for authentication.
• The Peverell Prophecy: A prophecy orb said to contain visions of all Peverell family members, past and future, and their achievements. Can only be activated by a direct Peverell descendant.
• The Peverell Family Genealogy: A self-updating book containing the complete genealogy of the Peverell Family.

Summary of Artefacts by Location:

• Peverell Manor:
• Grimoires, manuscripts, enchanted weapons, relics.
• Cairnhurst Cottage:
• Book of the Peverell Rites, Peverell Chalice, Wand of Godfrey Peverell.
• Blackthorn Estate:
• The Blackthorn Lance, Compass of Thomas Peverell.
• Gringotts Vault No. 394:
• 30,000 Galleons, Peverell family heirlooms (Pendant, Silver Key, Seal, Prophecy Orb).

~~~

Due Contracts Overview

This report outlines the goods, coin, and services owed to House Peverell and those due by House Peverell to specific individuals and families.

I. Goods, Coin, and Services Owed to House Peverell

1. House of Blackwood (Pureblood Family)
• Owed Amount: 15,000 Galleons
• Contract Type: Coin
• Details: This amount is owed as part of a historical agreement for magical support during the First Magical-Muggle War. The House of Blackwood has acknowledged the debt and is in the process of gathering the funds.
2. House of Malfoy (Pureblood Family)
• Owed Amount: 5,000 Galleons
• Contract Type: Coin
• Details: This debt stems from a loan provided to Armand Malfoy for the acquisition of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. This loan is currently 207 years overdue.
3. Maximilian Dolohov (Pureblood)
• Owed Service: Life Debt
• Details: A life debt is owed to House Peverell, stemming from an incident during the First World War when a Peverell family member saved a Dolohov from a stray bomb. This debt grants House Peverell an unspecified favour from the Dolohov family.

II. Goods, Coin, and Services Owed by House Peverell

1. Cairnhurst Cottage Maintenance
• Owed Amount: 3,000 Galleons
• Contract Type: Coin
• Details: This amount is due as payment for the annual upkeep costs of Cairnhurst Cottage to the local caretaker, who manages the property.
2. Lord Cyrus Greengrass
• Owed Services: Protection and Training Services
• Details: As part of a previous agreement, House Peverell is to provide the Greengrass family with protective spells and combat training for their children. This service is pending completion, with two agreed sessions remaining as of the death of Thomas Peverell.

Summary of Due Contracts

• Total Owed to House Peverell: 20,000 Galleons and one Life Debt
• Total Owed by House Peverell: 3,000 Galleons and pending services

~~~

“Thank you, Ranmuk. I’m ready to see my vault.”

~~~

With an hour and a half left, and a pouch with 300 galleons, and the five artefacts from the Peverell Vault, Harry left Gringotts.

First, he went to get robes from Madam Malkin’s, which he was surprised to see in the same place as in the future. Apart from the standard school uniform, he got a couple sets of dress robes, in emerald green and black, a set of grey robes with the Peverell coat of arms, and a cute droopy, pointed hat with a wide brim and a ribbon.

Next, he went across the alley for his wand. Ollivander’s was as dusty as he remembered, despite being nearly sixty years in the past. And when Ollivander himself stepped out, he, too, was just as dusty as in Harry’s time.

“You’re a bit old to be buying your first wand.” He said. “And yet I can’t recall ever having seen you in my shop before.”

“I haven’t been here before, sir.” Harry said. “I’m starting school as a fifth year.”

“Ah…well I’ve heard of students like you. If you are anything like them, we shall expect great things from you. Now, your wand arm please, sir.” Mr. Ollivander’s tape measure was as excitable as ever, measuring everything in sight, and a few things out of sight. 

Ollivander paid it no attention though. As soon as he set it to work, he shuffled into the back of the shop.

“I do believe a rare customer, as yourself, will go through my rarest stock rather quickly.” Ollivander called as he returned to the front of the shop with a box in hand. “Elm, thestral tail hair core, fifteen inches, unyielding.” He said as Harry took the wand, only to have it immediately snatched back.

The next wand was black walnut, with a thunderbird tail feather core, twelve and a half inches, unyielding.

Then, acacia, phoenix feather core, eleven and three quarters inches, unyielding. After that, cherry, phoenix feather, fourteen inches, unyielding. And beech, thestral tail hair core, thirteen inches, unyielding. Pine, phoenix feather, thirteen and a quarter inches, unyielding. Harry was starting to get tired when Ollivander came out with hazel, thunderbird tail feather, ten and three quarters inches, unyielding.

“Alright, if this one isn’t a perfect match, I’ll eat my hat.” Ollivander came back with a shiny, polished wooden box, different from all the others. It had gold trim and rested on soft moulding. In short, it was gorgeous. As was the wand inside. “This wand is made from the wood of a Silver Lime and the tail hair of a young thestral, it is eleven and a half inches, and bears unyielding loyalty to its true owner.”

Harry took the wand gently, as if it were a baby, and gave it a smooth wave. He couldn’t help but grin at the warmth that flowed up his arm and the gold sparks that shot from the tip.

“This is an unusual, and highly attractive wand, sir. It performs best for seers and those with a particular affinity for mysterious arts. Use it well.” Harry paid and left the shop, admiring the pale, shined wand the whole way. It was straight and tall, unlike him, and all he could think was ‘opposites attract.’

With only an hour left, Harry was in a bit of a rush. He ran to get a trunk first, so he wouldn’t have a bunch of bags weighing him down. He went to Stowe & Packers Magical Bags, and quickly found one he liked, grabbing a small mokeskin pouch along the way, completely ignoring the salesperson until he was ready to make his purchase.

The trunk he picked was about two feet wide, three feet long, and one foot deep, but when he opened it, it had a sleek wooden surface with a gold handle in the middle. When he lifted it, the wooden surface began rising, revealing a wardrobe and several cabinets. 

It took him a moment to realise you only have to touch the top for it to close, and then another moment of trying to reach the top, and then he was off to buy it.

“I would like this trunk, please.” He told the salesperson.

“Would you like personalisation, a lock, or shrinking and growing charms?” 

“All three, please.” And a few minutes later, Harry was off with his ‘HJP’ trunk in his pocket, stocked with all his clothes from Madam Malkin’s.

Next, he went to Creepy Scrawlers Stationers for personalised stationery, and then Sugarplum’s for a year's supply of salted caramels, then he got a bluebell flame jar from Flimflam’s Lanterns.

On his way back to the main alley, he stopped by a few bookshops around the side alleys and managed to get a great stock together; the Standard Book of Spells Box Set, the Complete Works of Bathilda Bagshot, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Advanced Potion Making, the Complete Potions Encyclopaedia, the Complete Herbs Encyclopaedia, the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, Household Spells and Recipes, Comprehensive Dark Arts Defence, A Guide to the Laws & Government of Magical Britain, Theory of Magic, Curses & Counter-Curses, 999 Spells They Won’t Teach at Hogwarts, Moste Potente Potions, Obscure Potions & Their Potent Effects, Magical Artefacts: the Processes of Creation & Destruction, the Encyclopaedia of Magical Artefacts, Legilimens: the Guidebook to the Mental Arts, Occlumency: Close Your Mind, Advanced Protections: Warding for the Skilled Wizard, Dark Magic That Isn’t Actually Dark, Spell Craft: the Art of Making Magic, the January Sallow Collection: Recipes, Spellcrafts, & Charms, the Divination Guidebooks Box Set, the Pureblood’s Guide to Ritual Magic, the Healer’s Guide to Healing, Wizarding Etiquette for Muggles, and the Book of Arithmancy Box Set.

Back in the alley, he went to get his potions supplies; cauldron, the Advanced Potions Ingredients Set (Year Supply), a box of ornate crystal phials with little tags, brass scales, measuring spoons, a mortar and pestle, a stirring rod, and a strainer.

Next, he ran to Wiseacre’s to get a telescope, and wound up getting one that cost thirty galleons because he couldn’t help himself.

The last three shops he wanted to see, with twenty minutes left, were right in a row. First, the Ritual Supply, where he got a ceremonial knife kit with an athame, a kirfane, and a boline, a crystal chalice, a censor, a box of ritual candles, and some chalk.

Second, Ms. V’s Divination Tools, where he got star chart templates, aged chicken bones for osteomancy, a box of crystal runes, a deck of tarot cards, a pair of dowsing rods, a pendulum, a bag of dice, a set of ogham tiles, a dream sachet, a palmistry model, and the Complete Scrying Set (a crystal ball, a scrying mirror, and a crystal water bowl). And since they were on sale, he also got a leather record journal with his initials embossed in gold on the cover for a galleon extra.

His final stop was the Magical Menagerie.

As soon as he walked in, his eyes fell on a half siberian shorthair, half kneazle kitten, who was too fluffy for his own good.

“Oh my goodness, aren’t you the most handsome cat?!” Harry rushed over, past a tank of snakes, and knelt on the floor beside the cat, who responded by flopping over onto Harry’s knees. Harry died. Five minutes later, Harry walked out of the shop with Bacon the Cat in his arms, and all of Bacon’s personal effects in his trunk.

He was perfectly happy to leave, and he even saw Dumbledore waiting for him, but then something landed on his head, and he crossed his eyes trying to see what it was.

“Please take her with you!!” Someone shouted in front of him. “I beg of you!” It was a man, presumably who worked at Eeylops’ Owl Emporium. “I’ll give you all her things for free!” The man loaded a cage fitted with self-changing wood chips, and food and water dishes, into Harry’s arms, then ran back to his shop and locked the door.

“Okay.” Harry shrugged, then turned around and walked towards Dumbledore.

“Good afternoon, Henry.” He said. “I trust you’ve enjoyed yourself?”

“Very much, sir.”

Chapter Text

The morning of 1 August, Harry’s owl, which was a screech owl that he’d named Melinoe, was out hunting, so Harry took Bacon to breakfast with him so he wouldn’t be lonely.

“And who’s this?” Mrs. Robinson asked as soon as Harry was through the door. Harry giggled giddily.

“This is Bacon.” He said. “We’re allowed to have pets at school, so I got a cat.” Loren and Sarah got up from their seats, gasping.

“He’s brilliant!” Loren said. Bacon purred as Sarah scratched behind his ears, and brushed against her hand.

“Enough, back to breakfast, girls.” Mrs. Robinson said. “We’ve work to do today.”

~~~

At the end of the day, Harry was sitting in his apartment with his candle, paper, and pen, as usual, when Bacon caught his attention. He was standing on the counter, pawing at Harry’s new tarot cards.

“I don’t know how to read those, yet.” Harry said. Bacon gave him an unimpressed look. Harry sighed and stood up, snuffing his candle and moving to the kitchen to grab his cards.

He picked up the deck, and as if on instinct, he began shuffling them, and then he spread them on the counter. He picked out the three cards he was most drawn to, and flipped them over.

The Fool, the Three of Wands, and the Two of Cups.

“I will go to a new place and find a new friend.” He said. “Wait…how did I know that?”

Because you are a seer. You have natural divine abilities. Harry jumped at the sound of Death’s voice.

“I thought being a seer just meant I can see into the future?” He said. 

What do you think divination is? Until now you’ve been performing divination through meditation and instinct. 

“But what about prophecies, how do those work?”

Harry, you are a seer, not a prophet. You see, you do not foretell.

“Oh.”

~~~

Harry spent the rest of August practising all the different forms of divination he’d picked up in all his spare time, and time seemed to fly by.

It seemed to Harry that he’d only returned from Diagon Alley an hour prior when he was standing in the staff dining room with his trunk, Melinoe’s cage, and Bacon’s carrier.

“We’ll miss you a lot, Henry.” Ms. Simon said. Loren and Sarah nodded.

“Be sure to write.” Loren said.

“Of course I will.” Harry said. “Every week.” He’d gotten used to being around everyone, and he liked them all a lot. It was like having a family.

“Before you go, Henry,” Matthew said, “I’ve just picked this up from the jeweller.” He held up an ornate gold watch on a chain, engraved with Harry’s initials. 

“We all pitched in to get it for you, since we missed your birthday.” Blake said.

“That’s so sweet!” Harry cooed, accepting the watch from Matthew. He clicked the button on the side and let it flip open. He took in the shiny glass and the mechanical sound of the clock, then closed it. “You didn’t have to get me anything, though.” Harry said.

“We didn’t have to, love. But we wanted to.” Mrs. Robinson said. “Alrighty then, Mr. Williams will be driving you to London so you can catch your train, and we’ll see you on holiday.” Harry nodded.

“Are you excited?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah.” Harry said. “I can’t wait! There are so many classes to take! I picked first aid as one of my electives.”

“Really?!” Loren asked.

“Alright, everyone. Remember, breakfast at eight and lunch at noon, I should be back by three.” David said, entering the room. “Are you ready to go, Henry?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry said.

“Wait, wait!” Ms. Simon rushed from the room to the kitchen, and came back with a small container. “I’ve got you some fixings for lunch. Don’t you know that a train from London to Scotland ought to take at least eight hours?! I’ve got you a pheasant drumstick with roast potatoes, some beef broth, a sliced cucumber, and a slice of the leftover tart from last night’s supper.”

“Thank you, Ms. Simon.” Harry said.

“Haste ye back, love.” David and Harry left, and everyone sat around the table.

“Hard to believe we’ve only had him for two months.” Mrs. Robinson said.

“Yeah, even Matthew likes him!” Loren said.

“Oh, I tried not to.” Everyone laughed. “It’s impossible not to like the boy.”

~~~

As soon as they were in the car, Mr. Williams asked Harry if he liked Bing Crosby, and they were off on the five hour drive to London.

As they went, Harry sipped his beef broth and read Wizarding Etiquette for Muggles, as that was the most mundane book he had. Mr. Williams asked once what he was reading.

“It’s a book on etiquette. I work for a baronet, already, but apparently a lot of lords send their children to Hogwarts, so there’s no shame in review.” He said.

“Good man.”

They arrived at King’s Cross at 10:30, and Mr. Williams helped Harry get his trunk, Bacon’s carrier, and Melinoe’s cage onto a trolley, and then they said goodbye.

Harry stood alone outside King’s Cross, slightly startled by the sandbags stacked against the walls. He’d gotten so used to the weekly air raid drills in Ormesby, but he forgot that the war was a daily fear in London. Just thinking about the Blitz, it was no wonder Tom Riddle was so scared of dying. He had to deal with the exposure every summer, along with an abusive matron at an orphanage full of assholes.

‘Death?’ Harry called in his head.

Yes, Harry? Death answered sweetly.

‘If I get close enough with Tom, could I take him back to Ormesby with me for the summer holidays?’

I think that is a surefire way to keep Tom human, and to grow your relationship. Harry grinned and stepped into an alcove. He let Melinoe out and told her to follow the scarlet steam engine to Hogwarts, then put her cage in his trunk and shrunk it down. He popped it in his pocket, grabbed Bacon’s carrier, and went off to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

~~~

At 11:10, Harry was sitting on the floor of an otherwise empty compartment with Bacon, who was sitting in Harry’s lap, looking hilariously shocked and concerned as they were pulling out of the station.

Harry was dying when someone opened the door.

“Sorry, could I possibly sit with you?” He looked up into the eyes of Myrtle Warren, and contained his shock the best he could.

“Yes, of course.” He moved his legs so she could get in. “I’m Henry Peverell, by the way.”

“Myrtle Warren.” She said. “Thanks for this, no one else would even open the door.”

“That’s not very nice.” Harry said. As if upset the attention was no longer on him, Bacon made a noise that sounded shockingly like a ‘hello.’ Myrtle looked over with wide eyes.

“You heard that, right?” Harry asked. Myrtle nodded. “Last night he grabbed his feet, curled up into a ball, and started rolling around my apartment.” Myrtle laughed.

“What’s his name?” She asked.

“Bacon.” She grinned.

“That’s perfect.” She said. “I wish I had a cat.” They spent the next few minutes just watching Bacon being goofy. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What year are you in?”

“Fifth, but I’m only starting this year.” Harry said.

“Really? That’s peculiar.” He nodded.

“Mr. Ollivander told me that he’d heard of others like me.” He said. “But what I think happened was my Sight took all my magic and I never registered until now. My mother died a couple months ago, and I’d never been so upset in my life. I think that emotion kickstarted me.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Myrtle said.

“Oh, I’m alright. She’s off on the next great adventure.” Harry said. “Anyway, she was in a lot of pain. She’s not suffering anymore.” After the awkwardness of death wore off, the pair got back to talking and playing with Bacon.

“So you said something about your Sight…are you a seer?” Myrtle asked.

“Yes, I am. But I can’t make prophecies–” She cut him off.

“Yeah, you’re just incredibly receptive to information through divination techniques that others would find incredibly difficult or impossible.”

“Exactly!”

They shared Harry’s lunch from Ms. Simon, and Harry told Myrtle all about living and working for the Pennymans. Myrtle told Harry all about her time at Hogwarts. How she loved all her classes, but people made fun of her because of her glasses.

“Oh, I made a spell for that!” Harry quickly pulled out his wand, and before Myrtle could even react, he was waving it. “Sahaeculi.”

Myrtle looked at Harry for a second, then slipped her glasses off and gasped.

“Henry, you’re a miracle worker!” She said. “I can see even better than I could with my glasses!”

“It’s not a miracle, Myrtle.” Harry said. “It’s just a bit of complex arithmancy and intention. I got a book on making spells and I’ve read it several times. It’s interesting, and it’s helpful.”

“That does sound interesting.” Myrtle agreed. “Could I borrow that book sometime?”

“You can borrow it now.” Harry got up and grabbed his trunk. “When you finish you can just give it back to me when you see me.”

“Thanks, Henry.” Myrtle said. “Cool trunk, by the way.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “If anyone tries to break into it, they’ll get a minor…majorly debilitating shock.” Myrtle blinked, slightly shooketh. “Now, back to the topic of people bullying you, if they keep giving you trouble, hex them. If someone’s going to be mean to you, you need to be able to be mean back. I had to learn that the hard way.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad.” Myrtle sighed.

“I used to feel bad, too.” Harry said. “Then I realised these people were being mean to me for no reason, and they would keep doing it unless I did something about it.” Myrtle looked thoughtful, and it was quiet until the trolley witch came by.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Harry had to walk into the feast and be sorted with the first years. Fortunately, he was smol, so he didn’t stand out too much.

He’d been thinking about which house he wanted to go into. Obviously not Gryffindor again. Too many bad memories there. Not Hufflepuff, because then Tom’s friends would completely shut him out.

The only plausible options were Ravenclaw and Slytherin

He was leaning heavily towards Slytherin, but if he was a Slytherin, Dumbledore would have an uncomfortably close eye on him, and it would make his work just that little bit more difficult. But if he went to Ravenclaw…stairs. 

‘My ass is nice enough, Slytherin, please.’ Harry planned to tell the hat. Not to mention, he needed to be as close to Tom as possible if his purpose was to be fulfilled.

Harry noticed that there weren’t many first years left. Just two, and then him. He was strangely excited, and slightly nervous.

“Students!” Dumbledore called. “This year we introduce a slight peculiarity. Mr. Henry Peverell will be starting at Hogwarts as a fifth year. Mr. Peverell, if you would please step forward to be sorted.”

Harry moved to the stool and sat down, and he felt Dumbledore lowering the hat onto his head.

Well, well. Second time for you, is it? Willing to take my advice this time, are you?

‘Yes, sir. Slytherin, please.’

Good luck, Harry Potter.

‘It’s Henry Peverell, now.’

Don’t die.

SLYTHERIN!

Chapter Text

Henry woke up on his first day of classes at five in the morning as he’d grown accustomed to working for the Pennymans.

He took a quick shower, enjoying the constant stream of hot water, then he brushed his teeth. When he got out of the bathroom, he conjured an iron and an ironing board, and quickly worked the wrinkles out of his uniform.

After he was dressed, he slipped his new watch into the pocket of his vest–which he ordered with all of his uniforms along with the standard jumper–and strung the chain through the buttonhole.

He quickly put his droopy hat on, swung his robe over his shoulders, and slipped Bacon into his pocket, then he grabbed his mokeskin pouch and put all the school books and materials he felt he’d need inside.

He slipped out of the Common Room at around 6:30, when everyone else was just waking up, and went up to breakfast.

~~~

It was nearing the end of breakfast when Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet approached Henry.

“Good morning, Mr. Peverell, I am Professor Dippet, the Headmaster, and this is Professor Slughorn, your Head of House. I wonder if you could accompany us to my office?” Dippet said.

“Nothing bad, of course, we just wish to speak to you regarding your unusual circumstances.” Slughorn added.

“Of course, Professors.” Henry grabbed his bag and tapped his hand against his pocket. “Come on, Bacon.” Bacon, who was sitting on the bench next to him, climbed back in, and the professors shared an amused look.

~~~

Once they got to the Headmaster’s Office, Henry was quite shocked. It looked extremely different. Dumbledore’s whirring devices and strange artefacts were gone, and all the furniture was replaced with things that looked to have been chosen for comfort instead of to ennoble the person sitting behind the desk.

Henry and Slughorn sat in the armchairs in front of the desk, and Dippet sat in the recliner behind it.

“Alright, Mr. Peverell, seeing as you are starting at Hogwarts in your Fifth Year, we have devised several mechanisms to assist you.” Professor Dippet began, “First, I have asked each of your teachers to provide you with some form of review for the schooling you’ve missed. Second, I have personally enchanted a map of the castle, as it often changes. Third, I had this book passed around the staff, and each of them enchanted it to update with the assignments you have yet to hand in to them. And finally, I have been in contact with a student who also started at Hogwarts in her fifth year, and she has agreed to speak with you. Her name is Jane Sallow, and she lives in Brocburrow, in the central valley. 

“In your free time, as all students, you are welcome to explore the Hogwarts Valley, so long as you heed the notices posted on the board in the Reception Hall, and follow the rules regarding the Forbidden Forest and respect for those who live in the communities you visit.” Professor Dippet said.

Henry was shocked. Students could leave the castle whenever they wanted? There was more to Hogwarts than the castle, the forest, and Hogsmeade? He would be meeting Jane Sallow?!

“As for me, I have your schedule here for you–” Professor Slughorn said.

“Wait, professor, would you mind if I guess my classes?” Henry asked. Slughorn smiled and waved him on. “On Mondays; Charms, Transfiguration, Lunch, Defence, Artefacts, and Astronomy.” Slughorn looked down at Henry’s schedule, then back up.

“Merlin’s beard! How ever did you manage that?!” He asked.

“I’ve always had a good intuition, but once I got magic, I started getting visions, so I looked into it, and I suspect I’m a Seer.”

“And I suspect, Mr. Peverell,” Dippet said, “That Hogwarts will have as much fun with you, as you will have with it.”

~~~

After leaving the Headmaster’s office, Henry decided to look at the map Dippet had given him on his way to Charms, just for shits and gigs, and he was sort of taken aback. It was a sheaf of parchment, just like the Marauder’s Map, but it didn’t have the people. 

‘I should do that.’ Henry said to himself. Anyway, it was an amazing tool that first years could put to good use. Sadly, it wouldn’t be useful to him.

Maybe not. But you could make it useful to you.

‘Death, are you suggesting that I charm the map to show everyone in Hogwarts?’

No, I’m suggesting that you strip the map, find out how it works, and make an atlas of your own that constantly monitors specific places and people.

‘But that’ll take ages to learn to do, and then even longer to actually do it.’

I’m not suggesting that you do it right now. I’m suggesting that you begin acquiring the skills for it, and that you work on it as you have time to do so.

Henry walked into the Charms classroom and found a seat, and then wrote down Death’s idea. Shortly after, Professor Farrell entered the room from his office and rushed down to Henry.

“Mr. Peverell! Swell to meet you.” He shook Henry’s hand. “The Headmaster has asked me to put together something for you to catch up with your peers, so I made this little review guide, and whenever you think you’re ready to try the charms, you can just come find me and we’ll put you to the test. Of course, if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask.”  Henry was not prepared for the jubilant professor, and merely accepted the sheaf of parchment with a small ‘thank you.’

By the time class had started, Tom Riddle had taken a seat across the way and was glancing curiously at Harry every few seconds as Professor Farrell began the revision lesson for the Banishing Charm.

~~~

After Charms, Henry went off to Transfiguration, which he thought would be interesting with Dumbledore teaching it. He wasn’t very excited to be learning from anyone other than Professor McGonagall, but he figured it couldn’t be that bad, considering Dumbledore had been a teacher for years.

He was wrong. It was bad. It was badder than bad. It was shit. No, it was shitter than shit shat out of a diarrhoea shitting moose with IBS.

Once again, Henry was the first in, so he found a seat. Dumbledore was already in the room, but he just ignored Henry. Henry figured he was just busy, but as soon as the Hufflepuffs started arriving, Dumbledore greeted them kindly.

‘Okay, visible bias much?’ Henry thought.

When Tom came in, there was a visible look of disdain on the Professor’s face.

“Good morning, class, and welcome to your first Transfiguration lesson as fifth years.” Dumbledore said with a smile, looking exclusively at the Hufflepuffs. “Today we will be reviewing the Switching Spell, Transitus. Can anyone tell me what the Switching Spell is used for?” Henry raised his hand.

“Mr. Peverell?” 

“The Switching Spell is used to switch the positions of two targeted objects.” Henry said.

“Correct.” Dumbledore said. “Mr. Peverell, I will also take this opportunity to inform you that we observe a strict dress code at Hogwarts, and no matter how far above your peers you believe your circumstances make you, the rules still apply to you. That’ll be five points from Slytherin.” Okay, Professor Snape. Death said. Are you just going to take that, Henry?

“Actually, Professor,” Henry drawled, “In my preparation for Hogwarts I thoroughly reviewed the Student Code of Conduct, and the dress code only mandates that students wear a black robe, a pointed hat, a nametag, and their house’s emblem and colours in some form. My outfit has met all of these standards.” Henry reached into his bag and pulled out his copy of the Code of Conduct and held it out. “Should you wish to fact check me?”

“There shan’t be any need for that, Mr. Peverell.” Dumbledore said with false pleasantry.

“And shall I be receiving those points back?” Henry asked.

“Of course, Mr. Peverell.”

At the end of the lesson, when everyone was sitting quietly, starting their assignments, Professor Dumbledore approached Henry with a sheet of parchment.

“Mr. Peverell, the Headmaster has asked that I provide you with a review for the Transfiguration material you’ve missed, so here is a list of every lesson first to fourth year. I wish you to write a foot of parchment on every spell and topic, due by the Winter Solstice.” Incredulous looks passed around the classroom.

“Thank you, Professor.”

~~~

At lunch, Henry sat with Myrtle, who was excited to see he hadn’t forgotten her.

“That’s ridiculous, Myrtle.” He said. “You’re unforgettable.” She blushed, and Henry got scared. ‘Leave my gay ass alone!’

~~~

After lunch, Henry went to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where Professor Merrythought gave him a box with her collected works on the subject so he could review everything he’d missed, as well as everything to come.

Then, in Magical Artefacts, Professor Silas didn’t have anything for him, since it was a fifth year and up course, so Henry just got to enjoy the introduction to the course.

Later that night, Professor Callisto gave him A Beginner’s Guide to Star Charts for review, and then let him pick the first lesson of the year. He chose Planetary Archetypes.

~~~

The next day, he had Potions, after which Professor Slughorn gave him a key to the classroom, so he could practise brewing whenever he wished. During the lesson, they brewed a Draught of Peace, which garnered as much praise from Slughorn as Henry had gotten from him in his sixth year. It felt nice that he was doing it on his own this time.

~~~

In History of Magic, Henry was disappointed. He was hoping that Professor Binns would’ve had at least a little bit more vitality in this time, but nope. Still boring and tiring.

Would you like to get an OWL in History of Magic, but your teacher makes you want to nap and stab yourself all at the same time? Death asked in a hilarious commercial voice. Then contact your Headmaster today and ask to study the subject independently!

‘Hold on! I can do that?’ Henry asked.

Hell yeah! Death said. Go now!

‘But Professor Binns–’

You really think he’s going to notice or care?

‘You right.’ Henry got up and left the classroom. He used the stairs in the North Hall to get down to the Transfiguration Courtyard, which he took to the Central Hall. Then he went out through the Viaduct Courtyard to the Entrance Hall, and then he went up the Grand Staircase to the Headmaster’s Office.

He gave the password he heard Dippet use the morning prior, went up the staircase, and knocked on the door to the office.

“Enter.” Henry went through the door. “Mr. Peverell, good to see you.”

“You as well, Headmaster.” Henry said. “I was wondering if I could speak to you regarding History of Magic?” Dippet sighed.

“Have a seat, Henry.” He said. Henry took the blue armchair in front of the desk.

“I want to keep taking the class, sir, but I’m falling asleep. I can’t pay attention to Professor Binns, it’s like listening to a crackling radio.” He said.

“Yes, I hear that a lot. But there really isn’t anything that we can do.” Dippet said. “We’ve tried to exorcise him, but he just won’t leave.”

“I was wondering if I could study the course independently.” Henry said.

“Are you sure, Mr. Peverell? This is your first year at Hogwarts, and you already have several other things on your plate.” Henry nodded.

“I’m positive. I’ll spend all the class time in the library, I just need a curriculum guide so I know what to study.” He said.

“Well…alright. Here’s a list of topics due to be covered this year, here’s a list of topics you’ve missed, and here’s a list of topics that have been on past History of Magic OWLs.” Professor Dippet conjured three sheets of parchment and held them out for Henry to take. 

Henry reached out to take them, then his vision blinked black, and he was sitting at a desk with a parchment in front of him. It was the OWL for History of Magic, and all the questions were about the Magical Peerage of the United Kingdom. 

Henry blinked and he was back in the office with Professor Dippet.

“Henry?” Henry looked up at him, and realised his hand was hovering over the sheets of parchment as if he was holding a quill.

“I won’t be needing that one, sir. The OWL this year is going to be on the Peerage.”

~~~

After lunch Henry went to Arithmancy, where Professor Valla gave him a pamphlet on important numbers and a book of guided numerology charts for review, and then taught a lesson on advanced numerology charts. 

Henry appreciated her ‘eat my ass you little skank’ attitude.

In Healing, his teacher, Healer Burke, gave a speech about the horrors the group would face in her class. At least in the following years, should they pass their OWLs.

That got Henry morbidly excited.

The next morning, in Herbology, Professor Beery gave him his own personal potting table in Greenhouse One, along with a key to the seeds and equipment cupboards.

That afternoon, he had his first Divination lesson, and as soon as he made it up the ladder, he was startled by a tall, thin woman, wearing a purple veil.

“I am Professor Clea, not clay, Clea. The Headmaster told me I should prepare review material for you.” She looked Henry up and down. “You’ll be fine.”

~~~

The last class Henry hadn’t been to yet was Magical Theory, on Thursday. He was sort of excited. He only had to take it for a couple weeks in his first year, but he’d found it very interesting.

After Potions on Thursday morning, he crossed through a back corridor to the Defence Tower and went up the stairs to the Magical Theory classroom. When class began, Henry was wiggling excitedly.

“Good morning. I am Professor Gage, and this is OWL Theory of Magic. This class is entirely project-based, as such we will not be meeting in this room again apart from the days before the start of holidays. You may go where you wish during this time, but I strongly suggest that you go to the library.

“Your project for this class is to create a theory about where magic comes from, how people get their magic, or similar. You must support your theory with academic resources and graphics, and must be submitted as a report by the end of the OWL time allotted at the end of the year.

“Your theories are due by next week, but you may submit yours before then, should you wish to do so. Be warned, not only will I be grading these, but the Grey Committee for Magical Education will be too. And we grade rough.”

~~~

It was a week into school, and Tom Riddle, the most powerful person in Slytherin House–if not Hogwarts as a whole–was puzzled. Henry Peverell was the name on everyone’s lips.

Henry Peverell, the last of the great pureblood Peverell House, who wore his socks inside out and walked around with a kitten in the pocket of his robes. Friend of purebloods and mudbloods alike.

He’d never performed magic before, apparently, and didn’t even register as a wizard until his fifteenth birthday, yet he could be called gifted in all of his classes, and radiated raw power. And he was walking about the Common Room using complex spells. You need a napkin? No problem, Henry will transfigure one from a spare quill!

On top of that, he was running about fixing people’s eyesight with a spell he created, and making accurate predictions of the future.

Initially, Tom thought he’d fallen asleep on the Hogwarts Express and was having a dream, but no. Henry Peverell was real. And Tom needed to own him.

~~~

Henry was ignoring Tom Riddle’s stares in his direction, as had become common that week. 

He was focusing all his attention on talking to Bacon and writing a to-do list.

“Alright, what are the things that fucked me over last time?” He asked. “I couldn’t practise because of the trace, so I’ll research ways to fix that. I had to go to the Dursleys’ every summer, but that’s already taken care of. Though I should put some protections on Ormesby Hall. 

“Dumbledore keeping shit from me…I can claim my lordship and then go right to the source for all my facts. And now that I’m a Slytherin, he’s turned into Snape, so I’ll need to tread carefully. Should be easy considering I’ve taken all these classes before.

“People are probably going to give me shit, so I’ll have to figure out a way to show them I ain’t the one without alienating myself from everyone. I’ll really need to keep up the smol bean act, though, so no one gets suspicious of me. I also don’t need to be disturbed by any fanatics, so I should find something to make me untrackable.

“I need to start making steps towards the atlas, and I also need to come up with my theory for Magical Theory. I should also check out the Room of Requirement.

“This last one is just for me, so bear with me…” He told Bacon. “Imagine living at Peverell Manor, and having a room there with a bunch of enchanted two-way mirrors, so you could just stand in the middle and have a group video chat!”

“That does sound intriguing.” Henry jumped.

“Ee, by gum!” He shouted, turning around to see Tom Riddle standing beside him. “Where did you come from?!”

“Come with me.” Henry narrowed his eyes and stood, grabbing his pen and notebook, which were greatly out of place in the Slytherin Common Room, then he held out his hand for Bacon to climb up onto his shoulder.

Tom shot an unimpressed look at the cat, then began walking to the centre of the room, where two green sofas were facing each other, and a few armchairs were scattered about. All were full, except for one chair, which Tom sat Henry in, to the shock of everyone there.

Henry sat formally, with one ankle tucked behind the other, and his hands folded together on the spiral of his notebook.

“Everyone, this is Henry Peverell.” Tom introduced from his spot, standing over Henry’s shoulder. “He will be joining our group from now on. Henry, you sit there when you are in the Common Room. Avery, I require your seat.” Henry looked over at the guy in the armchair to his right. He was glowering at him.

“Yes, of course.” Avery stood, and Tom took his spot.

“Henry, I hear you are quite gifted in charms?” A girl sitting on the sofa across from Henry said.

“Well, I don’t know about that, Ms…” 

“Black. Dorea.” She said.

“Well, Ms. Black, I believe my aptitude stems from my receptiveness for new information.” Henry replied.

“You are a seer as well, are you not?” Henry turned his head to the black haired boy to his left.

“I am. Though I suppose you’ll wish me to prove it, will you not, Mr. Ambrose Lestrange of Mandragora Lane, Guernsey, born the seventeenth of February, 1926?” Lestrange’s jaw dropped.

“How..?” He asked.

“As I said, I have a certain receptiveness for new information.” Henry said.

“And what if I don’t buy into that?” Tom asked.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle. In the future you could be feared, or loved. Be wise in choosing which you’d prefer. One path will take you to death, and the other will take you to eternal life. You must come to the realisation soon that you do not have all the answers.” Everyone seemed to stop breathing as Henry stared at Tom. Then Tom smirked.

“I knew I chose you well.”

Chapter Text

For the rest of the week, the only time Tom would let Henry out of his sight was when he was in a class that Tom didn’t have as well. Which is to say, an hour and a half every weekday, three hours on Thursday.

Henry didn’t really mind, though. It made his job a lot easier. Or so he thought.

Tom wasn’t completely himself around anyone, not even his friends. Henry couldn’t see past what Tom gave him, and that was infuriating. Especially considering he was quickly becoming the closest member of Tom’s inner circle.

Henry was expected to walk in-step with Tom, while everyone else followed behind. Henry was expected to sit next to Tom at meals and in class, which he quickly challenged by eating with Myrtle. Henry was expected to advise Tom of important events. And Henry was expected to accompany Tom everywhere he went.

So one day, halfway into September, they were sitting in the library, across the table from each other. Harry was working on his theory, which he called ‘Peverell’s Magical Power Continuum,’ and Tom was reading a book.

“You know more than you’re telling everyone.” Tom said randomly.

“And you are keeping yourself locked away, deep inside your soul.” Henry replied without looking up.

“The cute new kid act isn’t fooling me, Henry.” Henry snorted.

“And the perfect model student act isn’t fooling me, Tom.”

“I order you to tell me everything.” Henry looked up and gave Tom an unimpressed look.

“First off, you don’t own me like you own all your other little pets. Second, if you want me to let you in, you’re gonna have to let me in.” He said.

“Alright, on the count of three, we both say something about ourselves.” Tom said.

“1…2…3…” Henry counted, but neither of them said anything. “Go on.” Tom picked his book back up.

It was quiet for a bit.

“You do realise that what you’re reading is pretty foolish when you’re already on the path to power.” Henry said. “Correct?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please.” Henry said. “Horcruxes are not the answer, especially when there are safer options.” Tom went eerily still, and Henry smirked. Honestly, he didn’t know if that was really what Tom was reading about.

“Come.” Tom stood up and waited for Henry to collect his things, then they left the library. They walked until they found an empty corridor, and then Tom pushed Henry against the wall and closed a hand around his throat.

Henry knew from the slight excitement he felt that he was infinitely more fucked up than he ever thought.

“What are you?” He demanded.

Tell him.

“I’m the only one with the power to defeat you. Or so you will grow to believe.” Henry said. “On the path to power and eternal life, you will make many mistakes. You will make seven horcruxes, and you will split your soul in half seven times. By the time I am born, forty years from now, what remains of it will be small and unstable. You are doomed for not just death, but obliteration. You won’t have a soul to move on.” Tom dropped Henry and staggered backwards across the corridor. “At least if I weren’t here.

“You can be a hated overlord who dies in fifty years, or you can be a loved and powerful man who lives forever. Your choice.”

~~~

From that point, Tom seemed to keep Henry even closer, clinging to him like a lifeline. It was slightly irritating, but also, Tom started letting him in, bit by microscopic bit.

It was the first Saturday in October when Henry got his first letter from Madam Sallow. She’d invited him to her house for lunch, so they could talk, and he’d quickly and eagerly wrote a reply, saying he’d be there.

“Tom, I’m going for lunch in Brocburrow.” Henry said, so Tom wouldn’t freak out, thinking the person keeping him alive had died or something. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Absolutely not, that is unacceptable.” Tom snapped. Henry rolled his eyes.

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Tom summoned his cloak and started to the door of the Common Room.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you giant manchild!” Tom smirked. “Leave me alone!” Tom didn’t budge, and Henry turned to the girls and pantomimed choking himself out. They all laughed.

Him and Tom made their way to the nearest Floo Flame, and Henry quietly hated Dumbledore for getting rid of them. Upon their arrival, Henry followed the directions Mrs. Sallow had left in her letter, and the boys found themselves at a large, but cottage-esque, manor house.

Henry knocked on the door, and it was answered quickly by a small house elf.

“What can Deely be doing for youse, Sirs?” She asked.

“Hello, Mrs. Sallow invited me for lunch.” Henry said.

“Right, you is Mr. Peveyroll!” She hopped a few times. “Please be coming in, Sirs! Can Deely be taking your cloaks, Sirs?”

“Yes, thank you, Deely.” Henry said. He looked over and saw Tom looking at her with a curled lip, so he elbowed him, and they handed over their cloaks.

“Mistress Janery will be right with youse.” Deely popped away, and a voice came from the top of the stairs.

“Who might you be?” Henry looked up to see the DILFiest DILF in the history of DILFing, coming down the stairs right towards them.

“You must be Henry!” Henry turned to his left, where a smiling woman with brown hair and green eyes was standing. “Sebastian, this is my guest, Henry Peverell. He just started Hogwarts, in his fifth year.”

“Ohhh! Do you think he might have–” Mrs. Sallow gave ‘Sebastian’ a look.

“Do you think I might have what?” Henry asked, glancing between the two adults.

“I have a rare aptitude for magic,” said Mrs. Sallow. Henry felt a spur of excitement. For his theory project, he created something called the Magical Power Continuum Theory, and to go with it, he created the Magical Power Spectrum, which took information from six categories and rated the subject on a scale of one to five for each of them. Maybe that ‘rare aptitude’ could help his research! “I thought that maybe since we both started in our fifth year, we might both have the same aptitude. I only know of two other people who started in their fifth year, and both of them were like me.”

“I do seem to have a ‘rare aptitude for magic,’ but I created my own way of testing it.”

“Well, come with me to the lounge, and we can talk about it over lunch, yes?” Henry and Tom followed Mrs. Sallow to the lounge, and Sebastian brought up the tail of the group.

They sat on very comfortable furniture, and Deely served tea.

“So, I know that this is Henry, but who might you be?” Mrs. Sallow asked Tom.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sallow.” Henry said. “This is my friend Tom, and he’s a bit clingy.” Henry directed the last bit at Tom, who only smirked in response.

“No need to be sorry, Henry. And there’s no need for all this ‘Mrs. Sallow’ nonsense. It’s Jane.” Sebastian made a noise of disagreement.

“I don’t know, I like it.” Jane raised an eyebrow.

“I know a thing or two about clingy as well, Henry.” She said. “In our sixth year, Sebastian followed me everywhere. One time, he wouldn’t stop yapping at my heels long enough to realise he was trotting right into the girls’ bathroom.” Henry smiled, keeping his laugh on the inside. “Which peer do you work for?” His eyebrows creased.

“Pardon?”

“I mean to say, I grew up in a lord’s household. The way you’re sitting, the way you reacted just there, it triggered a memory. Domestic servants raised me, so I’m fairly good at identifying them. If you’re not, you’re pretty damn dignified.”

“I work for the Baronet Pennyman, in Ormesby.” Henry said. “Though I suppose I’m a lord myself, now.”

“Talk about irony.” Sebastian said. “You’re not from the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell, are you?”

“I am.” Henry said. “Last male direct descendant of the Three Brothers.”

“Which one?” Sebastian asked.

“Antioch.” Henry said. “Thankfully I’m not as inbred as other peers.” Sebastian snorted.

“Well, it is good to meet you, your Lordship.” He said. “I myself am the Earl Sallow.” Jane waved dismissively at Sebastian.

“Henry, I have a gift for you, in honour of a new friendship.” She waved her hand and summoned a small box.

“You didn’t have to get me something, Jane.” Henry told her with a smile, pulling off the lid. Inside, there was a small gold lapel pin with a dark, somewhat transparent stone in the middle that looked like ice. “It’s beautiful.”

“Is it glowing?” Jane asked him. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“That answers one question for us, then.” She said. “We do not share our affinity for magic, but that might honestly be a relief. Right, earlier you said you had your own method for testing people’s aptitude for magic?” She asked. Henry nodded, still looking quite puzzled.

“Yes, for Magical Theory, we have to make a theory about magic, and support it with various pieces of evidence. I call mine the Magical Power Continuum Theory, and so far it says that everyone in the world has some level of magic, but there is a certain level of magic that a person has to have in order to be classified as what we would call a witch or wizard.” Jane nodded, interested, and Sebastian and Tom watched Henry as he explained.

“To assist my theory, I created a chart called the Magical Power Spectrum, to display the amount of magical power a person has.” Henry pulled out his wand and conjured a sheet of parchment. “I can demonstrate using myself as a subject. Magia Genetica!” He pointed his wand at himself, and a shimmering green two appeared in front of him. He waved his wand at it, and it settled onto the parchment as a green wedge without a point.

“The first category in the Magical Power Spectrum is Genetic Magic, which shows how much magic you received from your parents. I don’t know who my father is, but he’s likely a muggle, and my mother was the first Peverell in my line that wasn’t inbred to the point of loss of magic, so I got very little magic from her. Magia Ambientalis!” This time, a violet one appeared. With a wave of Henry’s wand, it settled on the paper as a slightly smaller wedge, and it was looking as if the chart would be a circle.

“This is Environmental Magic, which shows how much magic you receive from ley lines and other places with high concentrations of magic. I scored a one because I grew up and was born in North Yorkshire, away from any ley lines and places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Diversitas Genetica!” This time, an indigo four appeared, and settled onto the parchment as a wedge double the size of the first.

“The final category in the Upper Half of the spectrum is Genetic Diversity. Just as muggles who are inbred can suffer birth defects, magicals can also suffer decreases in magical power. The more diverse your genes, the more power you are likely to have. I scored a four, which contributes to my belief that my father is likely a muggle. If he had any magical genes, the possibility of a distant relation between him and my mother would be very high, just because of the absolute spiderweb these purebloods are weaving. Fortitudo Voluntatis!” This time a red five appeared, and it settled on the parchment as a wedge slightly larger than the last.

“This one is the start of the Lower Half, which deals more with characteristics of the subject than their situation. It’s Strength of Will, which not only measures the amount of power you can tap, but also the wisdom of when to use it. I scored a five, which is the highest you can receive in a category. I suppose it’s because throughout my childhood, I had to learn quickly to practise restraint, or it wouldn’t be good for me.” Henry looked away to avoid the concerned looks of everyone around him, and cast the next spell: “Potentia Crescendi!” An orange four appeared and settled onto the parchment as a wedge just smaller than the last.

“This one is Potential for Growth. It’s just as it sounds. I have a certain level of power, and a certain aptitude for magic, but as I advance in my knowledge, practice, and studies, I will become more proficient. Fortitudo Mentis!” The last number, a light blue four, appeared and settled on the parchment, closing the circle and appearing the same size as the one directly across from it.

“The last category is Mental Fortitude. How likely you are to get through life’s challenges, ready to stand back up swinging. I got a four, probably because I’ve got Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I mean, I still gut a bitch if they knock my food on the floor, but if I slip and fall, I’d probably just lie there for a while.”

“Relatable.” Jane said. “And fascinating.”

“Thank you, Jane.” Henry said. “But I’ve still got to compile my score. Eventus!” On the parchment, two lines of text appeared.

‘Magical Power Spectrum for Henry Joseph Peverell, 214-554

Cumulative Score, 7-14’

“Basically, you take the results from the Upper Half, in order, dash the Lower Half, also in order, and that’s your Magical Power Spectrum. The cumulative score is just a simple, shortened way to tell if a person is a witch or wizard. The smallest cumulative score a witch or wizard can have is 6-7, and I have a spell to give the cumulative score, and I’ve tested it on every boy in our dorm, while they were sleeping, to be sure it works.”

“Really?” Tom asked. “What’s mine?”

“8-13.” Henry said.

“Only 8-13?!” Tom demanded.

“If you’ve forgotten, I know everything about you. Don’t even pretend to be shocked about the eight, cause that’s damn lucky. And the thirteen is because you don’t care who you fuck over as long as you get what you want. Wise up and it’ll improve with you.” Sebastian looked away, and Jane hid her smile behind a teacup. “Anyways, in my opinion a cumulative score of 15-11 would be best, because that shows you’ve inherited as much magic as possible. You should also hope for the highest degree in both Strength of Will and Mental Fortitude, but–at least later in life–having little Potential for Growth, in my eyes, shows that you’ve already mastered much of what you are capable of. Though it could also mean that you’ve stagnated.”

“I wonder if you could find my cumulative score?” Jane asked.

“Of course.” Henry said. He turned his wand towards her. “Punctatio Cumulativa!” A white light slipped from the tip of Henry’s wand and formed into the numbers thirteen and thirteen, separated by a dash. “Oh, that’s a very good score.”

Henry and Tom sat with Jane and Sebastian for a couple hours. Jane told Henry about the Room of Requirement, which he already knew about, but had never thought about using for his studies. She told him to just ask for ‘Jane of Wenlock’s Room.’

When the boys left at around two o’clock, Henry immediately flooed them to the nearest flame to the Seventh Floor Corridor, and he paced back and forth a few times, repeating ‘I need Jane of Wenlock’s Room’ in his head.

After his third time back and forth, a door had appeared, and Henry quickly pushed through it, followed practically at a sprint by Tom.

The room had a large central hall, and alcoves on either side with staircases. In the middle of the room, there was a sitting area, and straight ahead, and on the upper level, there were a bunch of vivariums for magical creatures.

“Who’s there?” The boys looked to the right, to see a ghost coming up the stairs. The ghost of Helga Hufflepuff.

“It can’t be…” Henry said.

“It very well can be, young man.” Hufflepuff said. “I suppose Rowena will be pleased that someone else found her room.”

“You mean Rowena Ravenclaw is here as well?” Henry asked. ‘That’s impossible, I spent basically my entire fifth year in here.’

No, you spent your entire fifth year in the Dumbledore’s Army Practise Chamber. This is Jane of Wenlock’s Room. Death said.

‘You mean all the rooms in the Room of Requirement exist separately at the same time?!’ Henry asked.

Yes, they do. Every time a new need is conveyed, the room creates a space befitting. Otherwise you get someone else’s room.

“Yes, she is. As is Godric.” Hufflepuff said.

“What about Slytherin?” Tom asked. Hufflepuff’s demeanour changed immediately.

“We left that foul man to rot in the place where he attempted to bind us. Though I don’t suppose he lasted very long after Jane destroyed his locket.” She snarled.

“His locket? That can’t be, the House of Gaunt possesses Slytherin’s Locket.” Henry said.

“Then it must be a fake. With my own eyes I watched the original stabbed through.” Tom was in shock. His ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, the greatest of the Founders of Hogwarts, was gone forever.

“So there really was no hope for him?” Henry asked. “Slytherin was just as foul as the world believes now?”

“I suppose so.” Hufflepuff said. “Salazar feared muggles. And he did not trust their magical offspring to not give us all away to die. So he turned to dark magic to do away with them. When we made him leave Hogwarts, he placed a basilisk in a hidden chamber in the castle and stole our artefacts, binding our life forces to them.

“Salazar Slytherin was a weak man and a coward.”

“How’s he sounding to you now, Tom?” Henry snarked.

“You lie.” Tom hissed at Hufflepuff. “Salazar Slytherin was the greatest of the Hogwarts Founders.”

“Tom, you’re a fucking idiot.” Henry said. “What reason would Helga Hufflepuff have to lie about someone’s loyalties? I’m sorry about him, he’s a bit stupid.”

“Slytherin’s Heir.” Hufflepuff raised an eyebrow. “Listen here, boy; you can cause a whole lot of greatness in this world, and you can make the Slytherin name universally loved. But following in that man’s footsteps is not the way to do it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Henry said. Tom turned on his heel and left the room.

“Sorry, Miss.” Henry said to Hufflepuff. “He’s a bit closed minded, but he’ll come around eventually. I hope. I’m Henry, by the way. Peverell.”

“It’s good to meet you, Henry Peverell. And it’s not your friend’s fault that he believes what he does.” Hufflepuff said. “As I said earlier, Salazar feared the muggles and mistrusted them. They often burned, hanged, stoned, or drowned our kind, and he wished Hogwarts to be a safe place for us. Muggleborns, in his mind, were a threat to that safety.

“The world would not be as it is if he hadn’t passed his fears and prejudices to his students and their families. But years of blowing the issue up further and further made it the problem it is now. And now, not even the Statute of Secrecy is enough to control the blood purity fanatics.”

“I’m hoping that I can help with some of those fanatics. Change their minds, stop them passing on their radical beliefs until the craziest of them can die out.

“For my Magical Theory project, I’m trying to show that everyone has magic, regardless of whether they can use it. And I’m trying to show that pureblood inbreeding is causing birth defects and loss of magic.” Henry said.

“That’s quite the undertaking. And you are welcome here anytime you’d like. There’s a bedroom with a small library and a pensieve. There are many creatures in the various vivariums. And down that way there is a large work room. Godric and Rowena are resting now, but when you come back, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

“And I’d love to meet them. Thank you, Miss.” Henry said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Chapter Text

When Henry returned to the Slytherin Common Room, everyone was shocked to see him outside a five foot radius of Tom, who was sitting by the fire with a book.

He approached Tom and found him staring into the fire. Henry stepped in front of him and blocked his view, and Tom looked up into his eyes, giving a look that would have even the most stone-faced bitch shitting. Henry didn’t react.

“You keep me around to give you the truth, no matter how hard it can be to hear.” He said. “That’s a fact, Tom. You can’t get upset when I do what’s expected of me.”

Tom stared into his eyes for a second, and the whole room was silent.

“Sit.” Tom said after a minute, gesturing to Henry’s chair. So Henry sat.

“It wasn’t you, Henry.” He said distastefully. “It was…her.”

“Same applies, Tom.” Henry said, rolling his eyes. “Do you seriously think she’s lying? She lived with him for most of her life.” He said matter-of-factly.

“I’d like not to speak of this any longer.” Tom said, looking back down at his book. Henry rolled his eyes and stood up.

‘Of fucking course.’ He thought. ‘Funny how someone with so much plot development can still act like a little shit.’

“Don’t walk away from me.” Tom hissed. Henry’s eyes widened dangerously.

“And don’t speak to me like that, arse. I’m going to get something to do.” He snapped.

As Henry walked away, Tom’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair until his knuckles went white, and he felt an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his gut and a tickle up his spine.

Henry’s voice held power. The same power that was evident in his every action. A power that was so seductive. That could drive a man mad.

~~~

An hour later, Tom and Henry were still sitting by the fire. Now however, they were joined by several friends. Tom had a new book, and Henry had pulled over a small table that was quickly scattered with books and journals.

Henry’s eyes were slightly wide as he focused on his work, and Tom was holding his book with one hand, using the other to twirl his wand between his fingers.

The sight was one that would soon encourage the first years to refer to Tom and Henry as ‘dad and mom.’ On the down low, of course.

The books scattered in front of Henry held a complex smattering of magic and cartography. He went as far as he could before getting up, standing on his chair, and saying very loudly:

“I’ll kill someone for whoever gets me into the ward room.”

Then he narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Hold on…” He got down and looked at one of his books. “Nevermind!”

Tom rolled his eyes, but kept watching Henry, who scribbled furiously in a notebook for a second, then got up, pulled out his wand, lifted up a corner of the rug, and knelt down.

For a few seconds, there was a loud scratching sound, then a tapping sound, like wood on stone, and then Henry stood up, fixed the rug, and knelt back down.

Then he pulled a large leather-bound tome across his table and tapped it with his wand.

“Tridimensionalis Mappa!”

And then he opened the cover and tapped the first page, and a small, complex rune appeared. Henry held his wand over it for a second, and then it turned blue, and he put his wand down.

Tom stood up and set his book down, and moved to stand behind Henry, so he could get a good look at what he was doing. His eyes widened when he found a parchment model of Hogwarts building itself in–or rather, out of–Henry’s book, starting with the Slytherin Common Room.

“What are you up to?” He asked Henry.

“I’m making a map.” Henry said.

“I think I’ve spotted that, thanks.” Tom snarked. “What I meant was how, and why?”

“How? I made a ward rune and carved it into the floor. It’s a leach ward, so it’ll stretch out until it finds another magical field, and then serve its purpose over the entire area. This ward is for mapping, so it’ll latch onto the Hogwarts Wards and map out the entire grounds.

“Why? I won’t say with all these NOSIES about.” Henry shouted the nosy bit, which was very dramatic.

“Henry,” Dorea said calmly, “I say this with love: no one cares.” Henry narrowed his eyes at her.

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “How else am I meant to find a nice place to hide the body?”

Chapter Text

For several weeks, Tom badgered Henry about the map every time they were alone. Every time, Henry ignored him.

But he continued to work on it, and Tom continued to grow more and more desperate.

Around the middle of November, Tom and Henry found themselves alone in their dorm, and once again, Tom watched as Henry pulled out the giant tome that housed his map.

Henry made a show out of flipping through the pages, since he knew Tom was watching, and then began glancing up every once in a while to see if Tom was watching. If he was, Henry would snap the book shut, and Tom would narrow his eyes.

“I demand that you tell me everything about that map, this instant!” Tom barked after a while, standing up and crossing his arms.

“Yes, mother.” Henry snarked. Tom looked at him dangerously.

Henry thought about it for a second. The map was almost finished, and Tom wouldn’t tell. Honestly, the only reason he hadn’t told him yet was because it pissed Tom off, and that made Henry feel good.

Besides, Tom would start snooping soon. Better for Henry to control what he saw.

“Fine. Meet me in the common room once everyone else goes to bed.” Tom grinned down at him, and Henry could see a party in his eyes. Henry very well knew that this was the largest, most informal celebration of victory that Tom would ever display, so he took a mental picture.

~~~

Just like Henry said, Tom waited for everyone else to get in bed, then he got up and made his way down to the common room.

Back up in the dorm, Henry was hid away in the bathroom. As soon as he heard Tom leave the room, he got up and turned on the light.

‘Alright Death, you told me I could summon the Hallows. How?’ He thought.

You just will it to come to you. Death said. It’s that simple.

‘Alright.’ Henry thought, ‘Sounds easy enough.’

He began thinking vigorously about the Invisibility Cloak, but nothing was happening. He stood there for nearly two minutes before he heard laughing.

I was only joking. Death said. Here.

Henry gave his most dead inside look to the mirror as the cloak appeared in his hands.

You’re welcome. Death said.

Henry ignored her, throwing the cloak over himself and turning off the light before leaving the bathroom.

He stopped quickly at his trunk to grab the book, and then he left the dorm and went down to meet Tom.

“Tom!” He whisper-shouted, pushing the cloak off his head. “Come on, get under the cloak.”

“And how the hell did you manage to get an invisibility cloak?” Tom asked, getting up from the sofa he was sitting on and moving towards Henry.

“Family heirloom.” Henry said shortly. “Now get under!”

Once Tom was under the cloak, they began shuffling to the door to the common room.

When they reached the doors, Henry stopped and held up the book.

“This is the Peverell Atlas.” He told Tom. “In the back, I have several maps of Britain, Europe, the World, etc. In the front, is my map of Hogwarts.” Henry flipped open the cover, and Tom looked down at the seemingly empty book with a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously, Henry?” He said. “Where’s the map?” Henry rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, levelling it at the front page of the book.

“Henry Joseph Peverell.” He said.

Immediately, in curly font, the word ‘Welcome,’ appeared, and then the pages began shifting, building once more a large paper model of Hogwarts, starting with the Slytherin Common Room.

Once the model was finished, it flipped open, revealing an overhead view of two tiny parchment figures, labelled at the feet with ‘Henry J. Peverell’ and ‘Tom M. Riddle.’

Tom examined the figures in wonder, noticing that they actually looked like him and Henry.

His gaze shifted to the grounds, which mapped the various outstructures with equal detail. The ground was mapped on flat pages surrounding, but the terrain drawn there looked anything but two-dimensional.

“We’d like to take a short tour of the castle, loop us around and bring us back here before midnight.” Henry told the map.

Tom watched, enchanted, as a small gold line appeared, starting at their figures, and leading out the door and down the corridor.

Henry began moving, and Tom stayed close. Every once in a bit, Henry would speak briefly about a spell he used to create the Atlas.

They followed an empty corridor silently, surrounded by sleeping portraits, ending up in the Entrance Hall.

They casted a quick warming charm, then went outside and down the stairs into the Viaduct Courtyard.

The grounds were covered in a fresh blanket of snow, and spears of ice dangled from every object in sight.

They sat on a stone bench for a second, pressed awkwardly together under the confined space of the cloak.

“It’s beautiful out here.” Henry whispered. “We should sneak out more often.” Tom exhaled a short laugh.

“This has been a lot of fun.” Tom said. “That book of yours is very interesting.”

“Well, it’s far from finished.” Henry said. “Eventually, you’ll be able to hear conversations, see passwords to closed rooms, show people apparating to and from a location, and see past scenarios enacted on the maps. That’s not even half of it.”

“You’re a genius.” Henry looked over at Tom and saw an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “You’re mine.” Tom growled.

Does anyone else suddenly feel not tight? Death whispered awkwardly in his head.

Henry felt his face get warm, and there was a stir in his gut. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We should probably keep going if we want to get back by midnight.” Tom smirked, enjoying Henry’s squirming.

They stood up and started walking again.

They crossed the Viaduct Bridge and went back inside, then took the stairs all the way down to the Central Hall. They took the corridor to the left and passed the Potions Classroom, then went down the spiral staircase, and soon they were back at the door to the common room.

They walked all the way back to the dorm under the cloak, and once they were inside, Henry pulled it off and threw it on his bed.

The boys changed in silence, and went to bed, Henry still blushing as Tom’s words rang in his head.

You’re mine.

Chapter Text

Henry sat at a desk nestled under a tall window in the library with a quill and a sheet of parchment. On the side of the desk, there was a small spoonful of wax melting, beside which the seal he’d taken from his vault stood.

~~~

Ranmuk,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I am writing to you to ask a favour. As tomorrow is the Solstice, and I’ll be able to claim my Lordship, I would appreciate it if you would send a letter to me, asking my presence for an urgent matter, so that I may have an excuse to leave school.

This would be greatly helpful to me, and as a reward for your assistance, you may take a suitable fee from my vault.

I hope to see you tomorrow.

Good day,

Henry J Peverell

~~~

The next morning, Henry woke up, as usual, with Bacon curled around his head. He breathed a heavy yawn, and slowly sat up.

Henry stretched his arms and arched off his mattress, inhaling sharply at the relief in his stiff muscles and bones. Then he sat up and startled so hard that Bacon woke up and tore out of the room with a shriek.

Melinoe was perched on his footboard with an envelope clutched in her beak, wide eyes piercing his soul.

Henry huffed and took it from her, glaring at her as she flew away to her perch.

Henry tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside, finding an urgent summons to Gringotts. Not remembering the letter he sent the day prior, he began panicking.

He threw himself out of bed and ran to the bathroom, trying to make himself presentable in as little time as possible.

You asked for that letter. Death said quietly in his head. There was a noticeable grin in her voice, but in his panic, Henry didn’t notice it. He barely even heard her speak.

He stopped in the middle of the room, his shirt hanging around his shoulders and his underwear wrapped tightly around one ankle, and he remembered writing to Ranmuk.

He felt like crying as he trudged into the bathroom and took his shower. When he got out, he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, which–in this life–sat on his head as a mop of loose curls. He found it much more favourable than the mess he had in his last life.

He dressed in his usual uniform, except today, instead of finishing with his watch, he put on his floppy hat and a black robe, and upon checking the weather, he added a cloak with the Peverell coat of arms on the left breast to the look.

He was about to leave the room, and then he looked back, saw Tom, and decided to be nice.

Henry crossed the room to Tom’s bed and knelt beside him, ignoring the heat in his face when he saw his friend’s uncovered chest. Tom’s hand was behind his head, and his bicep was flexed, showing unexpected definition. Henry was ready to run when his eyes glazed over the curly hair in Tom’s armpit.

He assured himself that he was just making sure his ‘assignment’ for this life wasn’t dead, and poked Tom’s chest.

Tom’s eyes snapped open and his arm swung forward, grabbing a handful of Henry’s cloak. Henry resisted the urge to climb in beside him.

“What the hell, Henry?!” He whisper-shouted when he realised who it was. Henry’s eyes were wide, and in this proximity, Tom was able to make out the details of his face for the first time. The tip of his nose and the upper halves of his cheeks were slightly red, and he had a splash of freckles over his nose and under his eyes. “Why would you put your shockingly attractive face right next to someone when they’re sleeping?!”

“I’m going to Gringotts…Don’t flip your shit when you realise I’m gone.” Henry said. “Bye.”

Henry stood and walked stiffly back to the door, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

After he made sure his trousers weren’t tented, he went down to the common room and knocked on the door to Professor Slughorn’s quarters. After a second, the door swung open, and Slughorn was standing there.

“Ah, Henry!” He said with a grin. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, sir. I’ve just got this letter from my account manager at Gringotts.” Henry held out the letter to Professor Slughorn. “He said he has to see me urgently.”

Slughorn looked over the letter.

“I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Slughorn said, stepping into the common room and shutting the door to his quarters behind him. “I’ll just need to inform the Headmaster that I’ll be out for a few hours, then we can leave.”

“Do you think I’m in some sort of trouble, Professor?” Henry asked, just so he could push the narrative that he had nothing to do with the letter.

“Of course not, Henry.” Slughorn said. “I have a peculiar memory in which I received similar correspondence, and upon rushing to the bank, I found out that they only wished to brief me on the state of my account.”

“Was your account different in any way when you arrived for the meeting?” Henry asked.

“Nope.”

~~~

Upon entering the bank, Henry was immediately taken to Ranmuk’s office. He allowed Slughorn to tag along as well.

“Mr. Peverell, good to see you again.” Ranmuk said. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, Ranmuk.” Henry said. “This is my Head of House, Professor Slughorn. He brought me here today.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ranmuk.” Slughorn said.

“Likewise.” Ranmuk replied. He turned to Henry. “I’ve called you here to discuss the matter of the Peverell Lordship. As the only direct male descendant of the House, you are the only eligible heir and by the laws of the Wizengamot, an heir to a Most Ancient and Most Noble House that is otherwise extinct, may take up his lordship at any point he pleases after the Winter Solstice in the year he is informed of his candidacy.

“So, if you wish, you may take up your lordship now.”

Henry glanced at Slughorn, who looked positively shooketh.

“Alright.” Henry said. “I suppose I’d like to take up my lordship. How does it work?”

“All you must do is accept the Peverell Lordship Ring. Once you do, the Wizengamot Office of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell will be notified. They will meet, get all matters sorted, and then schedule a meeting with you, at which you will make your Oath of Confirmation, after which you may name a proxy for your seat in the House of Lords of the Wizengamot. Upon your seventeenth birthday, the Wizengamot will be notified, and an Investiture Day will be scheduled to invest you into your seat.” Ranmuk said. Upon finishing, he reached into his desk and pulled out a small wooden box. He slid the box across his desk, and Henry grabbed it.

Opening it, Henry took in the simple beauty of the ring inside. It was a silver signet ring with the tree from the Peverell coat of arms etched on.

He pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto his right ring finger, and once it was on, he felt a gentle warmth flow up his arm and through his body.

“That’s it?” He asked Ranmuk.

“That’s it.” Ranmuk said. “Now, would you like to see the state of your account before you leave?”

“Just a simple report.” Henry agreed.

“Yes, sir.” Ranmuk pulled a sheet of parchment out of a desk drawer and handed it to Henry. “Your investments are doing well. In fact, we had to enlarge your vault to hold all your returns. As you can see from the report, it now holds one and a quarter million Galleons, the equivalent of five million Pounds Sterling.

“I have filed the necessary paperwork, and the donations to St. Mungo’s Hospital that you ordered will begin in the New Year.”

“Thank you, Ranmuk.” Henry said. “Before I go, I’d like to ask you to find someone who can renovate my properties, fix anything that’s broken, and connect them to the nearby waste and water systems.”

“It shall be done, Lord Peverell.” Ranmuk said. “Until next time.” Henry and Professor Slughorn left the office.

“That wasn’t a briefing on the state of your account.” Slughorn said. Henry laughed.

“No, it wasn’t.” He said. “But it was unexpected. I wonder why he didn’t just say it was about the lordship.”

“Goblins have a way of doing things in order to cause the most fear and nerve possible.” Slughorn said. “It can be quite off-putting.”

Chapter Text

“Professor, I wonder if I could pick up a present for Tom while we’re here?” Henry asked. “I saw it over the summer, and now that I know him, I think it’s perfect.”

“Of course, Henry.” Slughorn said. “Just come find me at the Leaky Cauldron once you’ve finished.”

Henry grinned and rushed to the Magical Menagerie. He knelt by the tank of snakes he’d passed on his way to get Bacon and began scrutinising the baby Burmese Pythons. A few minutes later, he left the shop with one of them curled around the brim of his hat, then immediately walked into another shop after seeing a jewelled wand holster in the window.

He got the wand holster for Myrtle, then he got a set of gold combs with pearls for Druella, and a pair of white silk evening gloves for Dorea. Then a bottle of elderberry hand cream for Walburga, and a jewellery box made of carved ebony wood for Lucretia.

The whole time, he was thinking about whether they would even like the gifts. He was mostly sure they would, but he wanted it to be perfect. He assumed that most of them hadn’t had a very meaningful Yule yet.

~~~

By the time Henry had finished his shopping, he’d visited five stores over the course of four hours, and Professor Slughorn was starting to worry when he finally walked into the Leaky Cauldron with seven different bags.

“Henry!” Slughorn called. “By god, son, I was starting to worry!”

“Sorry, Professor.” Henry said sheepishly. “I kept seeing things that I thought my friends would like, and one shop turned into two, then that turned into four…hours.”

“It’s alright, Henry.” Slughorn sighed. “Looks like we’ll be getting back just in time for lunch. Off we go.”