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Part 4 of The Totally Realistic Series of Magical Events
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Totally Realistic Universe
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2020-10-29
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2021-06-27
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Harry Potter and The Realistic Events of The Half-Blood Prince [Deluxe Edition]

Summary:

A revised and final edition of the previously-posted "Harry Potter and The Realistic Events of The Half-Blood Prince [Studio Cut]" with unauthorised content redacted and replaced, as well as other modifications, from the original outlines and manuscripts.

Takes place before the events of "Harry Potter and the Realistic Events of the Final Horcrux."

A fusion of original material by WaskeHD and ReverendKilljoy, edited and revised by Killjoy to address a number of concerns with the previous text.

Notes:

Rescued from early drafts and notes, and reconstructed as best as possible by the co-author.

Chapter 1: Bloodstains

Chapter Text

Chapter 1. Blood Stains

Tonks hadn’t slept, but instead had wavered in a horrible space between the nightmare of what Harry had done, and the nightmares that threatened, should she fall asleep and wake to find him dead. She had, for the last five hours, listened to Harry’s shallow breath as she tried to keep him warm and let him know she was with him. His muscles were taut, and he was mumbling forlornly in his sleep. He might even have thrashed around if he had had the strength, but instead, he twitched and tugged against her embrace.

He had regained some colour, he was less pale, but the cold sheen of sweat on his body was cool and clammy against her own skin.

Is he out of danger yet?

She didn’t dare move before he woke by himself. She was exhausted, she hadn’t slept nearly enough for her to feel good in her own body. She pressed her forehead to the nape of his neck.

Please, please be alright, I don’t know what I would do. What could any of us do?

She heard the sound of the fireplace flaming up.

“Tonks!” a familiar voice sounded angrily outside the door.

“Boss?!” Tonks shouted, fighting her own fatigue and confusion, waking Harry next to her.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Harry’s hoarse voice sounded thinly from within the blankets.

Tonks flung away the blankets covering them. She didn’t have time to dwell on Harry’s body as he shivered from the cold air. Tonks scrambled to cover Harry, nearly forgetting her own nakedness.

“Open this door right now, or I am going to blast it down!” Amelia’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Just a second!” Tonks cried out, struggling to make herself think, to make herself act. She rushed towards her nearest clothes, but Amelia was having none of it.

Bang!

The door-handle blew off the door and a very pregnant, very angry Amelia Bones stood silhouetted in the doorway, taking in the naked torso of Harry, half-covered on the bed, the young metamorphmagus, unsuccessfully trying to cover herself, clinging to an old t-shirt.

“Tonks? What have you done?” Amelia whispered with horror.

“No! No it’s not what it looks like!” Tonks felt herself backed against the wall, and her legs went out from under her. She slid down, crumbling into herself on the floor, covering her body with her legs as she pulled her knees up under her chin.

“How is it not what it looks like?” Amelia asked disbelievingly, looking from Tonks to Harry and back again.

“I don’t know,” Harry said softly, “I was in the tub, Tonks took care of me. There was dust, and blood…” He looked down, with detached horror, at his wrists. A flood of images and disjointed snippets of Leo’s calm, sad voice jumbled together his mind.

I’m sorry, Harry. I can make it stop… I can protect us… until the end. I’ve got you… Everything will be okay…"

Leo! What have we done? Harry called into his own mind, but there was no response. Leo, where are you?

There was no response, not even the sullen presence refusing to answer which Harry had sometimes felt. Leo was gone.

No trace remained, as if Leo never had existed in the first place. Harry felt panic tugging at him, and looked from Tonks to Amelia, wide-eyed. Leo had tried to take their own life and now he wasn’t even there to explain himself.

“I think I did something terrible,” Harry murmured, feeling around in his mind for Leo as a tongue would probe reflexively for a missing tooth, refusing to accept the void.

“There’s blood on the floor and the tub, the door is destroyed… what exactly has been going on?” Amelia wavered, and her hand reached out for the doorframe to steady herself.

Harry became agitated as he searched for words to explain, but was rescued by a small, sad voice from Tonks.

“I found Harry in the tub. There was so much blood…” She was crying. “Cursed wounds—he wouldn’t stop bleeding—so much blood. So much, no matter what I did.”

Amelia looked at Harry with dawning pity and regret. “You absolute idiot.”

She moved towards the bed, gracelessly, to where he was struggling to sit up against the headboard. The blankets had fallen to his waist, enough to show his nakedness but not so far as to embarrass them both.

Amelia was looking him over critically. The boy was pale, with large bruises covering his chest and sides. His face a mosaic of scratches and tiny cuts, and he peered at her through glasses shattered on one side. She dug into the bag she was carrying and pulled out a small bottle. She handed it to Harry and took his glasses off his face as he blinked owlishly at the dark red potion in his hands.

“Drink it,” she commanded, waving her wand over his glasses. “Occulus Reparo!

Harry uncorked the potion and emptied it into his mouth. He coughed.

“Can’t they make any of them taste better?” he groaned as he dropped the vial down on the bed.

“If they weren’t so bitter, we wouldn’t learn anything,” Amelia said with a hint of amusement. “Why, Harry?”

“I… it all hurt so much,” Harry said. “I just wanted it to… to stop.”

Amelia raised a brow but seemed to accept the explanation. She turned her head towards Tonks.

“Tonks, are you going to just sit there? Hecuba’s icy tits, girl, put some clothes on.” Amelia frowned.

Tonks gathered herself and slid the shirt she was holding over her head. She stood and groggily reached towards her chest of drawers and grabbed a pair of cotton undershorts.

Harry had looked away, but not before getting an eyeful of Tonks's very naked behind. Even in his current state, he felt very strange seeing Tonks like this, vulnerable but also clearly an adult.

Amelia followed all of this with a critical eye. This is not the time for any of this, she thought.

“Tonks, I’ve brought food. It looks as if we three need to sit down and have a talk. I still need you to explain why you thought it wasn’t a good idea to bring him directly to St. Mungo’s,” Amelia said brusquely. “And bring him a set of clothes, he seems well enough to dress without our help.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tonks hurried out of the room.

“I heard about the Department of Mysteries,” Amelia said as Tonks returned to the room with a set of clothes. “I’ll need to hear your report of what happened.:

Tonks gently handed Harry his clothes, flinching away from his touch as if she might be burned. She and Amelia excused themselves to the kitchen.

Harry was regaining his senses, but he pulled back from the thought of recounting everything that had happened. Sirius, his friends, Hermione. Hermione…

He ran his hand across the pile of clothes. His sense of touch was working, he could feel the soft cotton of the shirt, the rough denim of the jeans, yet everything seemed miles away, detached in a way from his senses as well.

“Don’t keep a pregnant lady waiting, Potter,” Amelia’s voice pierced his malaise.

Harry quickly pulled on boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt. He walked to the doorway, looking at the wreck of the bathroom. Amelia hadn’t repaired the door, and he stopped at the huge stains of blood and water. It looked like a crime scene: blood was splashed over the sides of the tub, there were bloody trails on the tiles on the floor mixed with grime and dust. There was the hospital gown Tonks had worn from St. Mungo’s lying on the floor soaked still with water and blood. His stomach heaved.

Leo, why? He asked, but no answer would come.

He had to accept he was alone. Leo was gone. His fall back, his final line of defence. He had never felt more alone in his own mind as he did right now.

Harry dragged his bruised body through the hallway and into the kitchen. Amelia and Tonks were sitting, each with a mug of her own, and there was a third mug on the table waiting for him.

Harry sat down. Amelia waved her wand and food flew out of bags and landed on plates from the cupboards and arranged itself on the table.

Harry stared dully at his plate.

“Eat,” Amelia said, “you need the energy, and you look like shit.”

Harry picked up a banana, but he didn’t peel it. He just put it down next to his mug of tea.

“Fine, suit yourself,” Amelia huffed, “Look, I was there when Sirius got the message from the Order. We both knew what could happen to him. He knew what he was doing, Harry.”

Harry hadn’t expected Amelia to just go straight to the issue, he felt his stomach heave again.

“If I hadn’t been taken down…” Tonks chided herself, muttering angrily into her mug of tea.

It is not your fault, either of you,” Amelia said firmly as she reached out to grab Tonks's hand. “We are at war, and people die. Sirius… My brother and Susan’s mother… Loss is a part of this.”

Amelia didn’t even move to wipe away her tears as she held Tonks's hands while reaching out to Harry.

“I…” Harry began, but he trailed off. What words could explain? Sirius was dead. Hermione was…

Amelia turned to him, looking very much the stern mother figure. She was afraid that this wasn’t the best way to handle the trauma and shock Harry was going through, but she was an Auror by training, not a healer. When she saw a problem, she wanted to attack it.

“I can’t imagine what was going on through your mind but look at Tonks. She is still shaken, and that is not because of her injuries or Sirius. It is because of you.” Amelia pointed out. “You both should be in the bloody hospital.”

“I… if it wasn’t for me…” Harry thought he was crying, but his body had no tears left to give at last. He looked down miserably into his mug.

“I know. You lost a father and a girlfriend in the same night,” Amelia’s voice was gruff. “But I’m here. I am here. You can still call me Auntie. You can even— Well, I hope that you know you’re as much a son of mine as you were of Sirius.”

Harry looked up, confused. He looked at her ponderous baby bump.

“Yes, Sirius and I have three children, not one. We have this little one here, and you and Susan. You are all our children and I will be damned before I let a stupid child of mine think he’s alone in this world. Susan and I, this little kicker in here, Tonks, we are all your family, Harry.”

Tonks looked up from her mug of tea, and quickly lowered her eyes, unreadable emotion washing over her face. Harry also felt a complex mix of emotions welling up in him. He opened up his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words would come. Instead he reached out and hung his arms around his Aunt. He was tentative, cautious of her belly, but Amelia didn’t seem to care.

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” she said briskly to him.

Harry collapsed into the hug. He hadn’t realized how much he had been missing being held since Amelia had interrupted his sleep with Tonks. Amelia finally let him go and he reluctantly released his hold around her.

“I don’t know if Sirius managed to tell you,” Amelia said after a moment, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “The last thing… What he said before he left was ‘I need to go save our stupid son. I’ll bring him home.’ I loved that confident, cocky bastard.”

Harry just sat there, staring down and biting his knuckles. He lost all control. His shoulders rose and fell as he dry-heaved, wracked with sobs beyond tears. He felt two pairs of hands patting him on his shoulders, holding him. Harry buried his face in the nearest of them as the three of them cried at the small kitchen table, letting all of their grief find a voice. Harry looked up to find himself looking into Tonks's hazel eyes. He had never noticed how blue-green they could be. He tended not to notice when she could change the colour on a whim, but right now they were incredible, the blue and green flecks catching the light.

He pulled her close again. He breathed the familiar scent of Tonks as she hugged him. He flinched when her arms pressed against his cracked ribs, but he didn’t let her go when she tried to pull back.

“I’m sorry,” he told her shoulder from within her tight embrace, “I didn’t realize…”

“I was just so scared,” she cried into his t-shirt.

“Sorry, Nymphadora,” Harry said softly.

“My Nymph,” he whispered even more softly. He half expected her to correct him in anger, but she just looked up at him with a small nod before burying her face against him once more.

“Okay, you two can continue that later,” Amelia said as she gathered their attention once more.

“I heard most of what happened at St. Mungo’s, but I need to hear it from you, Harry. Remus told me you were the one closest to Sirius when he fell through the veil,” Amelia looked at him, resolve battling with sorrow.

Harry sighed. He knew it was best to do this quickly.

This is going to suck, he thought.

Harry began by recounting his History of Magic exam, where Voldemort had tried to establish a connection, but he had kept him at bay. He had waited until after his exam to go to an empty classroom before seeing the vision.

He then reluctantly shared the vision of Tonks being tortured in the Department of Mysteries, how he had tried to use his two-way mirror to get in contact with Sirius, but Sirius hadn’t answered.

“He told me it had been missing for days,” Amelia said, frowning.

“I will bet two-hundred galleons to a sickle that Kreacher has it,” Harry said darkly. “He sold Tonks out to him. He wanted to stay with Bellatrix, who would be legally the next in line before your child is born, so she would get Grimmauld and Kreacher after that. He is deranged, convinced of what Sirius’ mother and the Black family think about pureblood politics. Sirius was always the traitor to the House of Black.”

“I see,” Amelia said. “Sirius didn’t treat him well either, but I never really tried to stop him. No one was completely blameless here.”

Harry wanted to refute it, but looking at it with Sirius’ widow made him admit that Sirius really didn’t treat Kreacher all that well.

“So, Kreacher probably told them about Tonks and the way she was protective of me during last summer when she had… er… when she had an argument with Mrs. Weasley,” Harry scratched his chin, “Voldemort knew she was important to me, and since he couldn’t get Hermione from Hogwarts without revealing himself to the world, it was easier to grab Tonks. When I found her missing,” Harry shrugged, “I panicked, I floo’d my head to Grimmauld, and that’s when I found Kreacher being rather smug.”

“That’s when we got caught by Umbridge,” Harry went on. “She wanted to know if we had contacted Dumbledore. Hermione got her to believe that we had been preparing a weapon in the Forbidden Forest. You know the vile woman, of course, she treated the already angry centaur herd like they were animals.” Harry couldn’t help himself from releasing a vengeful smile as he told this part. “They did not take it well.”

“Dumbledore marched into the forest to rescue her. She is apparently non-responsive in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing,” Amelia stated grimly.

“Oh,” Harry said without joy nor empathy. “Well, by then Neville, Luna, Susan, Ginny, and Ron caught up to us. They had been in on it after hearing what he had shown me, I had tried to get a message across to Professor Snape ‘He has the changeling where it is hidden’. You know the man, he didn’t show any emotion on his face, so we decided to rush to the Ministry ourselves. We found it completely deserted, which wasn’t a good sign. We found Tonks under the Imperius Curse near the prophecy about Voldemort and me – it was a trap of course – but we couldn’t let her be there alone. The Death Eaters came out of the dark as soon as I grabbed the prophecy. We pretty much destroyed the entire room and that’s when the fighting really started…”

Harry took a swig of his tea, his throat felt dry and he was probably dehydrated. He kept telling the story in as much detail as possible until it came to him dueling with Malfoy and Bellatrix back to back with Sirius.

“A stray jet hit him in the chest, and he fell through the veil, he had just told me that his idiot son needed saving,” Harry said flatly, the emotions still too raw to be expressed. “Bellatrix was fleeing, the last one standing. She taunted me, I broke the bones in her arm with a curse, it was dangling, useless, the bone poking through her skin. I was ready to kill her, honestly. I chased her out into the Atrium. We began dueling once more after I…” the words failing him.

“After what?” Amelia asked calmly.

“Well after I hit her with the Cruciatus Curse, I wanted her to hurt. I was fine with giving her the same treatment as she had given the Longbottoms. I would have done it, too, if Hermione hadn’t shown up. That’s when Voldemort found out the prophecy had been destroyed, he Apparated into the Atrium to kill me. I was exhausted, I stood no chance. Hermione froze up.”

His eyes were open, but he was seeing only Hermione, stricken with panic before Voldemort. “I don’t blame her. He decided to hurt her in the worst imaginable way. He obliviated the last five years of her memories. I lost the girl I love, and she lost what she treasured the most, what made her, who she is. He taunted me with it. He enjoyed it. That’s when Dumbledore showed up. He transfigured the statues to protect us both and trapped Bellatrix. I put Hermione under a sleeping spell so she wouldn’t wake up and then just held her, trying to shield her with my body. Voldemort possessed me, I guess, or at least spoke through me, daring Dumbledore to kill us both. Dumbledore held back, and Voldemort couldn’t keep his hold on me for long. Something about the sacrificial magic from my mother still protecting me. That’s when Fudge and the Aurors showed up. They saw Voldemort as he Apparated away with Bellatrix. Dumbledore made a portkey for me to take me back to his office.”

“And the prophecy?” Amelia asked.

“Shattered, but I found that it had been given to Dumbledore in the first place,” Harry said. “He told me a bullshit story, about how I was too young for the knowledge before. The short story is that I am prophesied to fight Voldemort one day and one of us can’t live if the other survives. That’s when I left for St. Mungo’s. I needed to see Hermione, but I guess you heard the rest of that part from Susan.”

“It just became too much,” Harry trailed off.

“I understand,” Amelia said. Tonks had been crying softly throughout the story.

“You have to understand,” implored Harry, “I couldn’t protect anyone.”

“You have Sirius’ arrogance, for sure,” Amelia said. “It wasn’t up to you to save everyone. Sirius would smack you if he heard you talking like that. He was a grown man and a damn fine duelist too. You disrespect his memory by saying that he needed your protection.”

Harry looked shocked.

“I understand if you feel bad for what happened to Hermione,” Amelia said looking at him with love in her eyes, “but she is alive. Yes, her memories are lost, for now at least. She is not the same person she was, but do you honestly think she is going to take this lying down?”

Harry shook his head.

“But Mr. Granger said…” Harry began.

“And he was right to say it,” Amelia cut him off. “It would not be good for either of you be together right now. I was told that they will use letters Hermione has sent over the years, stories she’s shared with her parents, even their memories of her from her time at Hogwarts, to try and kickstart some of her memories. Until she has some framework for understanding what’s happened, trying to understand her relationship with you would be an unbearable burden.”

Harry felt his heart clench but nodded solemnly.

Amelia added calmly, “I have quit the DMLE.”

“What?” Harry and Tonks cried out together.

“Yes, I owe it to Sirius and myself to protect our children,” Amelia nodded, “I will be bringing Susan and the baby here when Summer starts. We’ll stay here, together.”

Harry nodded, understanding.

“We’ll of course need to extend the charms, maybe even add a floor. We can get the goblins to help us with that.” Amelia was already planning.

“That would be a fortune?!” Tonks said.

“Well we can’t stay at Grimmauld Place until we know who has gained the right to it, and frankly I don’t fancy living there much,” Amelia said. “And my own home is not nearly safe enough for us to stay there. I have already sent the necessary paperwork to sell the property to the goblins through Gringotts. This place is inconspicuous, and we can upgrade the security.”

Tonks looked pale.

“There is no need for discussion,” Amelia said, “I know we are intruding on your home, Tonks, but it is for all of our safety.”

“No, no that’s not it, it was just worrying about the money since you’re technically out of work,” Tonks explained anxiously.

“We’ll manage. It paid quite well to be a Department Head at the Ministry, and the Bones family is comfortable, considering there is only Susan left in the direct line now that I am Amelia Black.”

“I can do it,” Harry said suddenly.

“Do what?” Amelia looked at Harry, who still seemed lost in his own head.

“The extension charms. I did them before, for Sirius.” He waved his hand vaguely at the magical extension he’d added when Sirius had moved in. “It wasn’t too hard.”

Amelia shook her head. “You can’t follow the simplest rules we lay down for you, son, but you can do transfiguration work that takes years of research. No wonder You-Know-Who is afraid of you…”

“You’re welcome here,” Tonks said firmly. “You and Susan.”

“It’s settled, then. Honestly, I rather fancy living in the place where Sirius was most happy, here with the two of you. Now then,” Amelia said, “that is all for now. You really should eat something, both of you.”

Harry picked up the untouched banana and mechanically peeled and ate it. He still didn’t feel hungry, but he needed the strength.

“Both of you, take care, and get some rest,” Amelia said softly, “I can help you take care of the repairs and cleaning up before I go.”

Amelia turned to Harry.

“I know it hurts,” Amelia said, “but remember: if there is anyone who has lost as much as you did last night, it’s me. If you need someone to talk to, I am still your Auntie Amelia.”

Harry nodded mutely.

“I’ll begin taking you through the knowledge and skills needed to be an Auror over the summer. Potions, curses, spells, jinxes. I won’t you feel undefended, Harry.” Amelia said with a steely look in her eyes.

Harry looked up at her, a flicker of life showing in his eyes.

“That’s the look I was hoping for,” Amelia mused sadly. “So, do you need my help cleaning before I go?”

Tonks agreed that she and Harry were still up to handling it.

“Then you shouldn’t go back to school just yet. Your exams are already finished, so there is no reason for you to be there except for the end-of-the-year feast.” Amelia nodded.

Amelia returned to the Ministry to wrap up her affairs there.

“Can I do this on my own?” Harry said as he pointed towards the bathroom, “You can gather your clothes in the meantime.”

He looked around her clothes were spread all over the floor.

“Okay,” she nodded.

Harry went towards the bathroom after grabbing his wand from her bedroom. He rubbed his forehead when he looked at the crime scene once more.

“She must have been really scared looking at all this blood,” Harry muttered to himself.

“I was, you know,” Tonks said from behind him. Her arms were full of dirty clothes.

Harry had moved quickly, he was already in a position to fight when he realized she wasn’t a threat.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized, “I think I might be a little tense still.”

“It’s okay,” Tonks tried to send him a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Whatever Auntie gave me certainly helped,” Harry said, “I’m just sore and rather hungry.”

“I can imagine, you have eaten, what, a banana, since lunch two days ago?”

“Sounds about right,” Harry chuckled a bit to himself. “I’ll go make dinner after I have taken care of all this.”

“I’ll help,” she offered.

“Really?” Harry smirked if only half-heartedly, “You will help with cleaning up?”

“Oh shut it,” Tonks blushed, “I have gotten a little better since last summer.”

Harry looked around the flat and raised his eyebrows comically.

“Okay, fine,” Tonks pouted.

“Give me five minutes and you can take a shower,” Harry said. “You held me when I was sweating all over, it can’t have been nice.”

I didn’t mind,” Tonks whispered to herself.

“What was that?” Harry asked over his shoulder but was focusing on finding a cleaning spell that could remove blood from wood.

“Oh, nothing,” Tonks said, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Could you check what food is in the fridge?” Harry asked.

“Mmhmm,” Tonks said with a genuine smile feeling there was some semblance of normalcy at the way Harry would take care of their home.

Harry focused on his magical theory. He finally composed a spell on the fly which should work specifically for the blood.

“Sanguine Scourgify”

The patches of blood were filled with bubbles as Harry’s wand moved in the specified pattern. When he managed to clean the tiles and bathtub of blood he moved to the hallway.

“Sanguine Scourgify” he pointed his wand at the dried blood on the floorboards, he watched with contentment as he removed the bubbles and found them clean of any trace of this morning’s incident. He looked at his wrists, there was hardly a mark. It was almost as if it never happened. Well not really, since Tonks still looked at him with worried eyes, and who could blame her. She was the one to find him in the bathtub.

He shuddered. He didn’t blame Leo for doing it. He had been right, if Tonks hadn’t found him in time, he really wouldn’t have to feel all this pain. He moved his arms and let out another groan. This really wasn’t going to heal immediately.

The shadows of what he had done still lingering. He remembered the words Sirius had shared with him last summer.

Does it ever get better?” Harry had asked.

“Hasn’t it already?”

Harry managed a weak smile when he was done.

“It will get easier with time,” Tonks said to him gently. “Now go sleep. I’ll be here to take care of you. I‘m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Harry brushed past her and opened the door to his bedroom.

“I’m afraid,” he said, facing the empty bedroom.

“Of what?” Tonks asked.

“The nightmares,” Harry admitted. “Hermione… She would hold me as I slept.”

“I can do that if it comes to it,” Tonks offered carefully, “If it will help, you can always sleep next to me.”

Harry remembered the way her naked body had looked, and shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, not really believing it himself.

“If you say so. Good night then, Harry.”

Harry looked back at her back as she disappeared into her room, the door closing off his view of her legs, and the cotton shorts she had hurriedly thrown on a lifetime previously.

Sleeping next to Tonks? No, no, no, I can’t do that.

He opened the door and flung himself on the bed, he felt like he could sleep forever as his head hit the pillow, he didn’t even bother undressing as he laid there facedown in the pillow. After a few moments, he reached a hand between his face and his pillow, extracting his glasses and blindly setting them on the bedside table.

He fell, once again, into an uneasy sleep. 

Chapter 2: Godfather

Summary:

Harry deals with the aftermath of his suicide attempt. Tonks provides comfort, at some cost to her own peace of mind.

Amelia has a request.

They plan to expand the Carnaby Street flat.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2. Godfather

The dark corridor stretched out in front of him, and he knew that in the darkness there was a door at its end. He didn’t want to go down the hall. He turned around and started running, he looked over his shoulder as he ran, panting, but the door came closer and closer, it sprung open, he felt himself swallowed by a great beast, the room spun around him—

“How do I get out of here?”

All of the doors opened, but there was nothing behind them, only a score of intangible, ghostlike veils and endless whispers, only unyielding darkness. He stumbled backward and fell down, down through the darkness. He lay on a stone floor. Friends were here, he knew, but he saw no one, just bodiless brains. He looked at the large brains which were flying in the air. There was a large bell jar into which the brains would fly, shrinking and expanding as they all floated closer to him. Again, whispers, and at the edge of his vision, the veil.

“No!”

He crawled backward and fell again, down again, down a set of stairs, landing again on stone, staring at the looming stone arch, at the great veil, and Sirius! Sirius, falling, falling through, over and over again. He heard the gleeful voice of a madwoman, sing-song, joyful.

“I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!”

He was on a flat marble tile floor. His glasses were broken, but he was shutting his eyes. He could not look at what he knew was coming.

“Is this what you call brave?” the icy voice sounded into his ear.

“No, don’t, I beg you!”

He looked. He could not help himself. He looked up and saw Hermione, his Hermione.

“Obliviate!”

“Who are you? … you … you…” Her terrified voice echoed in confusion, joining the ceaseless chorus of whispers, as everything went dark—

 

Harry woke up with a scream, drenched in sour sweat. The door to his bedroom burst open. Tonks, the trained Auror, wand in hand, her eyes sweeping the room, edged cautiously towards him. Her hair was limp and disheveled, and it had taken on a sad, dull-brown colour.

Harry looked to her and pleaded, “I can’t do this.” He scrubbed his fists across his eyes, to push away the images still in his mind.

He felt her arms wrap around his body. He leaned into her embrace, his heart still racing as he gulped for air.

“It’s okay,” her soothing voice told him. “It’s going to be okay; it was a nightmare. You’re here now, and I’m with you.” He felt her soft breath as she murmured comfortingly in his ear. He felt the warmth of her body next to him. His breathing began to ease a little, but his body was taut, and his eyes burned with new tears.

“I don’t want to see it again,” he said. This was the second night, both the same, since the Department of Mysteries. “I can’t. Not again.”

He heard the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway.

“I knew it,” he heard the voice of Amelia. “You two are so alike.”

“Auntie,” Harry said in a small voice. “What do I do?"

“You can’t be alone right now, Harry,” Amelia said with some exasperation. “Tonks is family, too. I want her to stay with you until you get some sleep.”

Harry felt Tonks's arms turn a little stiff, before relaxing again.

“If it would help you, I could just lie next to you until you feel better,” Tonks offered with a quivering voice.

“Really?” Harry looked up at her very weakly.

“Really,” Tonks nodded, her expression reassuring and calm.

“Hold me…? It’s okay if you fall asleep, too…” Harry sighed softly as he relaxed completely into her.

He felt her body tense up once more, but he was already sliding towards sleep. He pushed himself back down into the bed and rolled to one side. He felt her arms wrap around him, and he fell into a more easy, mercifully more peaceful sleep as he felt her heartbeat against his chest.

Amelia sent a glance towards Tonks, who was lying nestled into him. Tonks had an indecisive look in her eyes. Amelia knew that Tonks would do this, would probably do anything, to help Harry, but she was also guilty, wary of the temptation of finding joy in his closeness.

Tonks rationalized in her own mind that this was an emergency, and her own eyelids began to droop as she surrendered to the peaceful feeling of Harry’s body against hers. We’ll stop when Harry gets his nightmares under control, she thought as she drifted off.

Amelia covered them both with a blanket, and softly closed the door.

She returned to her almost finished letter for her personal account manager. She had ordered a two-floor extension upwards for the flat. She would let the young people’s bedrooms be on the second floor. On the third, uppermost floor she had asked them to make an open, training space. The bottom floor would have her bedroom, where she and the baby would stay. The room where Sirius and she had first known each other after his freedom would be the basis for her bedroom, as it should be. The other existing bedrooms and the current bath would be subsumed into the overall expansion. 

She wanted no trace of that bath remaining, both for Harry’s sake and for Tonks. She hoped it would suffice. The goblins were master craftsmen even if they sometimes took an exorbitant price, but there was no way she wanted Harry attempting this kind of taxing work in his present state. And she certainly wanted to be sure neither Harry nor Tonks were ever forced to linger in that bath again.

She rubbed her forehead and tried in vain to relax her lower back as well. She had been managing to raise Susan on her own, and now she would have two more to be responsible for, one of them an infant. This was getting to be a literal headache.

She had informed Susan of her decisions when she had visited St. Mungo’s. Susan had not seemed all that thrilled but had not complained either. She had asked if Ginny could come and visit though, which had briefly puzzled Amelia a little since she didn’t ask for Hannah Abbott, as she had expected. That is an entirely different conversation, she thought. Amelia decided to take advantage of the momentary peace to sit down and try to get her legs raised up. Her ankles were killing her.

 

Harry felt somewhat refreshed as he woke once again. The nightmares had returned, but they had lacked the intensity they previously had possessed. He imagined it as the difference between a dementor, and a boggart playing at being a dementor.

He felt the slow, deep breath of Tonks against his neck. There was something soothing about feeling her next to him. It was a sort of warm security. He resisted the urge to compare the feeling with his memories of Hermione. His heart was still broken, the wound still too fresh. At the same time, he needed to find some way to move forward. He wanted to get stronger, to be sure that Voldemort could never hurt anyone close to him like that again. He absently toyed with the teardrop jewel hanging from the chain on his wrist.

I promise you: I will end this, he silently swore to his Hermione.

It isn’t like she is gone, a nasty thought sounded in his head.

Leo? Harry asked, but it wasn’t him. No, it was just that normal, ordinary little bit of selfish desire which still claimed Hermione as his.

I may be gone, but she will still need your help, a voice that sounded so very much like his Hermione. I still need you to protect me…

I will, Harry once more affirmed his resolve.

Enough of this, he told himself. Too much of this talking to yourself and you’ll go crazy.

He let a painful chuckle escape his lips as he tried to carefully move out of Tonks's arms.

“Hmph,” she voiced sleepily.

Tonks had never been good at waking up. He watched as she groped around for him in the bed, her blinking eyes unfocused as he watched her. He lightly stroked her hair, and a wave of bubblegum pink followed his fingertip against the duller brown. He smiled, delighted at the sign of life, of normalcy. He didn’t know what to feel about their situation, but it was clear that she did help him keep the nightmares at bay. He knew she cared about him, and he cared in return.

He felt as if he owed her far too much. For saving his life on more than one occasion, for being a constant in his life, for helping him grow up. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth when he remembered that she had told him that she was seeing Reagan. He probably wouldn’t like the fact that she helped Harry this way.

Why is nothing in my life simple? Harry sighed to himself as he got up and left the room.

He didn’t spot the complicated, uncharacteristically serious look on Tonks's face, as he moved towards the door.

 

Harry found Amelia sitting on the couch in the living room. She looked weary.

“Are you okay, Auntie?” Harry asked as he moved quietly to her side.

“Well, I have moved around quite a lot today,” she said with a weak smile, “and it isn’t easy being stern and worked up. But then, you look a lot better, so I wager it was worth it. Not going to do anything stupid if I go take a nap?”

“Not any more than usual, no,” Harry promised with a wan smile of his own. “I was going to clean up the place a bit. Tonks seems to not notice it when she’s alone.”

They took in all of the discarded clothes, strewn around the living room.

“I see,” Amelia smirked, “Well, contrary to what you might think, she is quite tidy when she is at her desk. I guess, she overcompensates in both directions depending on whether she is home or not.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, “I think she is still sleeping.”

“Probably, she looked downright exhausted because of you,” Amelia teased.

His face clouded, as always ready to shoulder the blame.

“I’m not sure if it is a good idea, this,” he pointed back over his shoulder, “What would her boyfriend think?”

“Oh, relax Harry.” Amelia didn’t know how much to share, it not being her story to tell. “They aren’t together anymore in any event, I believe.”

Harry looked surprised.

“You didn’t know?” Amelia asked.

“No, I haven’t really been able to write anyone without putting Hedwig in danger,” Harry said bitterly.

“Was it really that bad with Dolores, before that night, I mean?” Amelia frowned.

Harry unconsciously reached over and covered the back of his right hand as he nodded.

“Don’t worry about it now. We can talk about it after your nap,” Harry said quickly.

“Alright, but I will have you tell me,” Amelia said with a firm look, which Harry had come to know meant he wasn’t getting out of talking about it.

“Yes, Auntie,” Harry said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh right,” Amelia said, “There is a Prophet on the kitchen table, the tune is quite — different— about you, this time around.”

Harry groaned loudly.

“So, am I the second coming of Gryffindor now?” Harry asked in disbelief, it had only been a joke in the morning, but now when they were late into the afternoon, he really didn’t want to think about just what they had written about him.

“It isn’t that bad,” Amelia chuckled, as she moved to get up.

Harry rushed forward and extended his arm for her to grab.

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “As much as I love this little one, they certainly don’t make it easy for me to move around.”

“I can imagine,” Harry said, thinking that walking around with a Quaffle tied to his stomach would make every motion rather uncomfortable.

“It is not like having a Quaffle bound to my stomach, in fact,” Amelia teased.

“What? I didn’t…”

“Sirius had the exact same look on his face,” she explained with a smile.

She laughed as she moved towards Sirius’ room and disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the distinct sounds of muffled crying from behind it, and once more felt the pang of guilt hitting his chest. It really wasn’t fair that she had to be strong for him too.

I will do my best to get better fast, the least I can do is make it easier for you when you have the baby.

Harry began gathering Tonks's clothes from the floor. They had done a quick run over the flat the first day after his return, but Tonks seemed to spontaneously generate clutter when left unchecked. He didn’t use his wand as he wanted to move his aching body. It was silly, but somehow the aching pain from his bruises made the pains of his heart less prominent. He slowly walked towards the bathroom to throw all of the clothes in the laundry basket. He could not see any remaining trace of the damage, or of the water, or of the blood. But still, he knew.

He shuddered and backed out of the bathroom. He went to the table and sat down with the Prophet.

 

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS!

A spokes-witch working for the Minister of Magic announced to stunned reporters today that the Ministry could confirm the return of You Know Who. Clara Ogden, Under-Minister for standards of weights and measures, read the following prepared text.

“The Ministry is pained to confirm that the notorious Dark Wizard, well, You Know Who, is alive and at large in Great Britain. We have confirmed sightings by witnesses, borne out by interrogation by trusted Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and additional physical and arcane evidence collected by the DMLE.”

“Further, it appears that there has been a mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who no longer respond to the commands of the Ministry’s appointed gaolers.”

“Please remain calm. We expect further guidance for home preparedness and civil defense procedures to be available within the coming month, once materials have been vetted by Ministry staff. Thank you.”

Under-Minister Ogden did not answer repeated questions, including why such a relatively minor official was delivering this news, or the current location and activity of the Minister himself, Cornelius Fudge.

Details of the events which triggered this stunning change in position by the Ministry remain cloudy, but may be related to the alleged break-in by so-called Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries. According to Ministry sources, both Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, are assisting Aurors with their inquiries…”

 

“The Boy Who Lived,” Harry muttered. “I guess that is better than the Chosen One, or something. Funny, how quickly I turned from ‘Boy-Who-Lied’ to this nonsense once again.”

“It sells papers, and it brings people hope that you’ve survived,” Amelia’s voice from her bedroom doorway startled him.

“It’s just so unreasonable,” Harry fired back.

“Of course it is,” Amelia said with a smile, “but that is the name of the game. Even if you survive all of this, you will probably never live a life without fame, a ton of fangirls, being a VIP at any event you go to in Britain. That is just something you will have to deal with.”

Harry felt a headache coming.

“Well, we should probably focus on self-transfiguration this summer,” Amelia smiled, “It is a rather nifty skill to have, when wanting to be inconspicuous, you might even be able to tame that hair of yours,” she teased him.

“Don’t think that is even possible,” Harry laughed feeling a little better, “The Potters have tried for generations. Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion was made by my grandfather; didn’t help my father much.”

Amelia laughed at that.

“So, I’ve never asked, but I take it you are comfortably well off?”

“I think so,” Harry answered honestly. “Enough to put me through Hogwarts, and I know I’ve hardly touched what my parents left me.”

“You’re in the same position as me,” Amelia said, “If you’re among the last of an old family, it’s quite easy for the wealth to gather on one person.”

Tonks stumbled into the room, her hair nearly pink again, blinking owlishly. She headed towards the coffee rather than the teapot. “Who’s gathering wealth, again?”

“Harry,” Amelia deadpanned. “Stinking rich. Swimming in it.”

Harry felt embarrassed at that until he saw Amelia’s smile and the alarm and surprise on Tonks's face.

“Oh,” Tonks said as she blushed. “Hadn’t thought about that.”

“And you needn’t do,” Amelia smiled at the young woman. “You know Harry, not one to flaunt it.”

“Right,” Tonks said, still looking a little embarrassed.

“You alright, Amelia?” Harry asked.

“Well aside from looking like I swallowed a planet, yes.” Amelia grimaced. “Every time I get tired of sitting, it takes me five minutes to stand. And then I need to sit down again; I am not as mobile as I’d like to be.”

“Oh,” Harry scratched his head.

“Well, come and help me here,” Amelia shook her head.

Harry rushed forward.

“I am not fragile, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to be a gentleman,” Amelia teased.

“Right, Auntie,” Harry said as he helped her to a chair.

“I quite like it when you call me that,” Amelia said.

Harry felt a little flustered, he wasn’t quite comfortable calling her that yet, but after their talk earlier, he really couldn’t stop calling her it now. He transfigured an end table into a footstool and slid it under her aching feet.

“Now you’re learning,” Amelia sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

He quickly got to cooking. It was easier keeping busy and focused on something other than the situation around him. He felt safe, yet also under an unyielding burden.

“So, seeing as I am not that mobile,” Amelia focused on Tonks, “I have written a letter to my account manager at Gringotts—you can ask for Gnarlock—and he will authenticate the letter and get to work on the extensions on the flat. You’ll have to bring them here or let them in on the secret, seeing as you are the Secret Keeper. You can do it tomorrow.”

“Yes, Boss,” Tonks said with a smile.

“Call me Amelia, I am not your boss anymore,” Amelia reprimanded.

“Right,” Tonks said with a smile. “Boss.”

They made inconsequential small talk as Harry finished preparing the food. He was beginning to get his appetite back, which was a good sign, and he had made loads extra. Tonks had always been a heavy eater. She claimed transfiguring herself burned a lot of calories, which might be true. She could probably even put Ron to shame if she wanted to. She certainly never showed any signs of gaining undesired weight.

Amelia was eating for two, and Harry hadn’t really eaten anything much for days.

“Must be really nice to be able to eat like that,” Amelia commented when Tonks leaned back rubbing her stomach.

“Well, it takes a lot of energy to metamorph,” Tonks said with a smile. “I can pretty easily just burn it off. As you can imagine, it was NOT a talent that made me popular with the other Hufflepuff girls at school.”

Amelia shook her head at that, she was old enough to not care as much, but a tiny part of her was still feeling annoyed at the convenient metabolism that Tonks had. Sensible enough to not touch further on the topic, though, she let it rest.

“Harry,” Amelia said, looking serious again, “I know this is probably a little too soon for you to think about, but you will be of age not too long from now, and I want you to have time to think about it. What would you say to being the godfather of my child? It was one of Sirius’ biggest wishes.”

The fork fell out of his hands and clattered on is plate as Harry looked at her in shock. He pointed at himself as he was trying to compute the words coming out of her mouth.

“I’m not…” Harry said.

“Able to protect them? Worthy of the honour? Not sure you are going to survive?” Amelia asked calmly.

“Well, yeah. All of those.”

“We both knew that, but you are the closest Sirius has to family except for Remus, but because of the Werewolf laws in Britain, he can’t become a legal godfather for our child,” Amelia said with a little sadness.

“I –” Harry grasped for words.

“I know it is a lot to put on a fifteen-year-old, but let's be honest here, you are not a typical fifteen, are you?” Amelia said sitting back. “It would make both of us happy if you said yes. I also want our child to grow up with a father figure. I have asked Susan to be the Godmother, she has said yes. So, you’d not be alone.”

Harry felt rather overwhelmed at the proposition. He didn’t feel nearly mature enough to be able to take care of a child at this point in his life, not with the war around him.

“Look at it this way. If Sirius had lived, thinking of you as a son, this child would be your half-brother or sister, siblings in all the ways that matter to us. But by law, you are no relation to this child at all. Accepting this would be a way to keep alive your connection to Sirius, and to me, and to the baby.” Amelia Stretched, wincing as she rubbed at her back.

“Think about it at least? I know it is a big decision, and I don’t plan on dying just yet. I am seriously planning on seeing this kid onto the Hogwarts express in eleven years.” She rested her hands over her swollen belly.

“When are you due?” Harry found himself asking.

“Well considering nothing out of the ordinary, I should give birth in the beginning of August,” Amelia smiled proudly, so around ten or eleven weeks from now.”

“Wait, so soon?!” Harry said alarmed.

Tonks and Amelia chuckled. It was refreshing seeing the usually calm Harry rattled about being a godfather and even more freaked out about a pregnancy. He positively showed his youth at the moment.

“Don’t worry,” Amelia said, “I have arranged for guards when I give birth at St. Mungo’s, and barring anything going wrong, I will be out of there soon after.”

“Well, that wasn’t what I was worried about,” Harry said with a bemused expression on his face.

“Calm down,” Amelia chuckled, “Even if you don’t feel ready to be a godfather, it isn’t like you are supposed to raise them. I can perfectly take care of that. I just want them to have you around to play with them when they get a little older and maybe have ‘The Talk’ if it is a boy.”

The last part was mostly to tease him, but both of the two witches couldn’t help laughing loudly when they watched Harry go deadly pale in his face from the thought of having The Talk.

“Sirius looked exactly the same after he had The Talk with you,” Amelia grinned, “He downed three glasses of firewhisky that afternoon.”

Harry felt hard-pressed to laugh at that, but he could still see the irony. Sirius had given him The Talk and now he might have to have The Talk with Sirius’ child. He rubbed his temples, which only facilitated more laughter from his company.

“Okay,” Harry said looking up, “but if it is a girl, I will leave that talk to Susan.”

“Deal,” Amelia smiled, “As long as I don’t have to have it, I’m good.”

“You haven’t had it with Susan?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t think they were quite the right things that I focused on,” Amelia said with a wry smile.

“I can see that,” Harry smirked, “She is happy though.”

“I know she is,” Amelia said with a smile.

Tonks looked confusedly between them.

“What are you two talking about?” she frowned.

“Erm –” Harry scratched his head.

“Susan is a lesbian, dear,” Amelia said matter-of-factly, “I had my suspicions, but she tipped me off recently. So, when I gave her the talking-to about boys, it wasn’t really all that relevant.”

Tonks gaped.

“As far as I can tell, she has been dating the Weasley girl for months,” Amelia said, “though I don’t think they have told Molly yet, so keep it quiet, will you?”

Tonks nodded.

“They hooked up at your wedding, actually,” Harry said with a nostalgic smile. “Susan was more than happy to switch rooms with Hermione.” He couldn’t help his smile from fading.

“You alright?” Tonks asked with concern.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Neither Amelia nor Tonks believed him, but it wasn’t a good time to pry into it.

“The wedding, eh?” Amelia mused. “The old think the young are stupid, and the young think the old are broke-down, I suppose.”

Harry stretched and winced as his remaining bruises sent a jolt of pain through his body.

“You should really use the healing cream before going to bed,” Amelia said looking concerned.

“I will,” Harry said, “I’ll go take a shower; I still feel dirty after all of the sweating.”

Tonks sent him a worried look.

“I’ll leave my wand with you if it makes you calm down,” Harry said, a little sad.

“No, no, that’s not needed,” Tonks said quickly.

“I think that is a good idea,” Amelia said looking into Harry’s eyes shrewdly.

“Ouch,” Harry tried to fake injury, but Amelia was not budging.

“Harry, you did something very stupid. It might look reasonable to you, but I do not trust you to be at all alone especially in that bathroom, after the other morning,” Amelia said.

“Fair,” Harry said bitterly.

“This does not change the way we feel about you in any way,” Amelia continued.

“I get it, I get it,” Harry said, almost throwing his wand on the table. He couldn’t help feeling more naked without it than he did without his clothes.

He stalked out and into the bathroom. He wanted to quickly finish his shower, so he could get his wand back. It didn’t even take three minutes before he reached out of the shower and groped into the thin air for his wand. He growled as it was still in the kitchen. He looked around and there wasn’t even a towel for him to dry himself on. He moved to the door and cracked it open enough to shout down the hallway.

“Since I am without wand or towel, could someone bring me one or the other?” he half-angrily called out.

“Sure,” he heard Tonks's voice from the kitchen, heard her steps as she found a towel in his dresser. He only showed his wet face in the opened door, still dripping water.

“Thanks,” he murmured as he pulled the towel from her hands. He closed the door and dried himself off, then he realized that in his frustration he hadn’t even brought a fresh change of clothes.

It doesn’t matter, he thought to himself, as he tied the towel around his waist and walked out to find a rather apprehensive Tonks waiting in the hallway. Her eyes widened a bit when she spotted his naked torso. Harry walked past her and into his bedroom to throw on some random clothes, but he decided that he would wait with the t-shirt until he had applied the cream for his bruises.

He walked out half-naked and into the kitchen, carrying his t-shirt over his arm. Amelia didn’t even bat an eye as he went to the counter and grabbed the cream, he opened up the container and began applying it to his skin under a stream of curses and hisses. He found that he couldn’t reach several nasty areas on his back. He didn’t want to ask for help, but he didn’t want to leave the bruises which covered most of his back either.

“A little help here?” he looked at Amelia, who was just casually staring at him.

She shook her head. “Pregnant, remember? Minimal contact with magical remedies unless under the instruction of a Healer. Ask Tonks.”

Tonks, who had come back onto the kitchen and was trying to keep her eyes averted from Harry, was feeling rather overwhelmed at the suggestion. She still sucked it up and grabbed the container, then she pointed towards a chair.

“Sit down,” she said shakily.

Harry pulled out the chair and sat on it backward, his legs spread around the back of the chair. He felt a pair of soft hands that gently applied the cream to his back.

“Oh, arse,” he gasped under his breath as the sore skin was touched.

“I’m sorry,” Tonks panicked.

“It’s okay,” Harry said, “I would rather it was applied than not. Not your fault, I’m just mad at myself.”

Tonks nodded and continued to apply medicine to the large purple bruises on his back.

Harry felt a wave of relief when she told him she was done.

“I’ll get my legs later, they’re not so bad,” he said to no one in particular.

“Whatever you think is best,” Amelia said as casually as ever.

Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head and couldn’t help grimace as cream and cotton stuck to his skin.

“It should start to feel better by tomorrow,” Amelia said matter-of-factly.

“I hope so,” Harry said annoyed, “can I have my wand back now?”

“Yes,” Amelia said with a hint of amusement.

“I just feel naked without it, that’s all,” Harry looked a little perturbed.

“That is completely understandable,” Amelia replied, looking down, “I see what you mean.”

“Oh?” He looked down, where the towel hiked up over his wide-spread legs on the chair. A wave of embarrassment flooded over him. “Bollocks, let me grab some trousers.”

“Perhaps that might be best,” Amelia said, taking another sip of tea.

Harry left to change. Tonks, without a word, went to the sink and splashed water on her face. Amelia charmed up a tea-towel for her to dry her face, also without comment.

“Well, I better get to work on those extensions then,” Harry said, stalking back into the room, trying to make himself busy.

“I was going to have the goblins do it,” Amelia said. “Unless you really think something this complex would be helpfully distracting?”

“Oh, hell yes, please,” Harry responded.

They talked about her plans, avoiding her reasons for removing the current downstairs bath.

“Aye, that should be doable,” Harry said, “We will need a sort of staircase in the middle, maybe at the end of the hallway, I could make it spiral, or a twist with a landing, so it doesn’t take much space.”

“That would do it,” Amelia said.

 

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon extending the flat upwards. He needed to extend it enough to make two additional floors. It was taking all of his focus and transfiguration knowledge to do it. He only managed to make the empty floors by dinnertime. He had just laid down the wooden floors when he came back down the spiral staircase.

“Don’t mind me not checking out your work,” Amelia said as he came into the kitchen, “but I’m not going to try that staircase in this condition.” She was cooking by waving her wand from the kitchen table.

“I managed to make the floors, but the walls are still bare and I haven’t separated them into rooms. Also, I was thinking I might need to make the plumbing magical, which I am not sure I can enchant on my own,” he admitted.

“Tonks can buy the necessary implements tomorrow, or call a goblin contractor to assist if needed,” Amelia said, “I have written you a letter which gives you access to my accounts.”

Tonks nodded. “Should Harry come with me?”

“That is probably not a good idea,” Amelia frowned. “At least, not until he is good enough to disguise himself.”

Harry agreed on that point; it would be dangerous for him to run around without a disguise in more ways than one right now.

They ate the food Amelia had prepared. Harry could not have said later what it was, only that it was hot and satisfied his body. The three then went to their separate rooms. Harry watched Amelia, willingly going into a room that must be stuffed with painful reminders of happier times and was impressed by her fortitude. He himself felt ridiculously unprepared for what awaited him in his bed, alone with his thoughts. He thought back to the sleep he had gotten next to Tonks, so much calmer than him sleeping on his own.

No, you need to fix this on your own. Relying on others puts them in danger, he told himself sternly as he walked into his bedroom. As he lay down, he could still smell Tonks on his pillow, and he hated himself a little for finding comfort in that as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

Chapter 3: Goblin Invasion

Summary:

Harry finds distraction in magically extending the Carnaby Street flat in anticipation of new arrivals.

Tonks visits Gringotts.

Amelia and Tonks discuss Harry's state of mind and emotional health.

Thordrum the Goblin is impressed.

Notes:

If you read this story previously, thank you. Be reassured that there are no major plot revisions.

There are, however, numerous small changes throughout which may reward close reading, and should improve your experience of the story.

Enjoy.

Killjoy

Chapter Text

Chapter 3. Goblin Invasion

Harry had still had the same nightmare as the nights before. It was only out of sheer stubbornness that he didn’t cry out when he woke up from his dreams. He felt exhausted when he dragged himself out into the kitchen in the early morning hours. There was a silence to the flat that he quite enjoyed. Dumbledore had sent back his trunk even though there were at least ten more days until the school year officially ended. He had a sneaking suspicion that Amelia had sent a letter, which was only short the magical enchantment to be a howler, seeing as it was only on the third morning after he had gotten back that it arrived.

Harry had felt the limitations of his extension charms last night. He wasn’t sure he could extend the flat fully into a third floor and still keep it stable, so he had picked up his Ancient Runes textbook, Spellman’s Syllabary, to look for potential rune carvings which he could add to the corners of the flat to stabilize the space. On the table next to him was Ancient Runes Made Easy, Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms, and his Rune Dictionary. He thought about doing some calculation of the interaction between the rune combinations, but he didn’t have Hermione’s flair for the subject, so he would need Tonks to pick up a calculator, which would help him immensely with his calculations of the rune composition for it to work the right way. Until then, he could at least establish a theoretical possibility before making the calculations.

He didn’t notice the time before Amelia emerged from her bedroom, waddling away as usual in her floaty nightgown towards the bathroom. Harry looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was already seven in the morning. He rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting at the table perusing the different books in front of him, but the several feet of notes suggested that he had been working for hours. He stretched his arms over his head. His body was still sore. Amelia had been right that it definitely had gotten a lot better after using the cream, but sitting up all night had not done his body any favours.

He still felt cool and clammy to the touch, but sweaty and overheated inside. The cotton of his t-shirt, which he had just decided to sleep in, was feeling almost stiff at the moment. He took a whiff of himself and grimaced. He needed a shower before breakfast.

He waved his wand and the kettle began whistling soon after. He knew that Amelia had completely sworn off coffee because of the pregnancy, but she was still partial to a mug of green tea in the morning. It wasn’t really caffeinated, so she felt relaxed after drinking a cup. He gathered his notes in a pile and closed the books by the time Amelia had made her way back to the kitchen.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“Ah,” Harry scratched his chin, “the thing is, I ran into some limitations of the extension charm yesterday. The space was becoming unstable when I pushed it harder, so while we still have an upper or lower floor I would be hard-pressed to extend it further. So instead of using an extension charm for everything, I thought that maybe the correct set of runes would stabilize the space if I carved them into the corners of the flat. It would also make me able to open up the space a little more.”

He handed Amelia, Sirius’ favourite mug in the flat. It was a Muggle cup that Harry had found in a joke shop saying Dogfather, the joke being someone not being able to spell godfather. He had chuckled at the way it had fit perfectly for Sirius and had decided to buy it for him as a silly present. Sirius had decided he wouldn’t drink tea out of any other mug in the flat.

Amelia had taken a liking to it, even though Harry had caught her running her thumb over the letters sadly several times as she stared into the tea in the cup. It always left him with a bittersweet feeling seeing her look for the markings and relics of Sirius’ existence in their lives. He couldn’t blame her, he religiously wore the silver chain around his arm, the teardrop hanging freely from his wrist. He hadn’t removed it even when he went to take a shower. It was like it was unbreakably bound on his wrist.

“That is some pretty impressive work then,” Amelia nodded towards the large stack of notes lying on the counter.

“Well, it will only be impressive if it actually works,” Harry said with a weak smile, “I think I need to speak to the Goblins when they get here, maybe get their input on it, also I need Tonks to get me a calculator.”

“What’s that?” Amelia asked, interested in the unusual term.

“Well, think of it as a small machine to do arithmancy calculations for me,” Harry said. “It’s able to do math a lot faster than I can in my head.”

Amelia leaned back in her chair thinking about the implications of such a tool.

“So, it is like a more advanced abacus?” she asked.

Harry couldn’t help himself from laughing at that, sometimes the wizarding world was just too far behind on technology.

“Yes, it is like a super abacus,” he nodded.

“Why don’t people use them more in arithmancy, then?” Amelia frowned.

“Because it’s Muggle, I guess.”

Harry felt himself fighting back the emotions threatening to well up in him. Everything Muggle reminded him of the Grangers. Especially of Hermione; she had always complained about the lack of a calculator when doing her Arithmancy homework. Hogwarts, A History said that you couldn’t bring electronics to Hogwarts, but Harry honestly didn’t believe it. When that book had been first written, the most sophisticated electronics had still used valve technology, not transistors or anything more sophisticated. He would try to bring one and worst-case scenario it would just not work, but he highly doubted that. It would be a fun little experiment for himself to play with, outside of his schoolwork and extracurricular activities.

“That’s just stupid,” Amelia sounded indignant.

“Well, yeah,” Harry chuckled a little at that, “most of wizard common sense is nonsensical in nature. How long did it take for the Ministry to adopt cars?”

“Too long,” Amelia admitted, a little embarrassed.

“They are an excellent, inconspicuous method of transport, and if you do it right you can extend it to carry three times its normal capacity,” Harry said, “You could even make them fly or make them invisible, but it would threaten the broomstick market in Britain, so some of the pureblood families with investment in that business are not too fond of them becoming more popular. It could be a competitor for portkeys in long-distance traveling, too.”

Amelia looked shocked at the possibilities Harry pointed out.

“How did you think of making it fly?” Amelia asked.

“I didn’t,” Harry said with a smile, “Arthur Weasley has a flying Ford Anglia in his barn; he just can’t use it because of a law forbidding the use of magically enchanted Muggle items, which in itself is a nonsensical classification, where is the line? I could argue that a flying car is as magical as a broomstick, and probably a lot comfier for long-distance travel. Sirius had an enchanted motorcycle; I think it is with Hagrid now. Also, it’s another strike against the idea that Muggle technology and magic can’t coexist. They just need to be studied for safety, like anything else.”

“Flying motorcycle,” Amelia smiled. “That is so like him. I would love to see it if I could.”

“I am sure Hagrid would be more than delighted to show you,” Harry smiled back.

Harry got up from the table and walked towards the fridge.

“Do you have a specific craving this morning?” he asked as he pulled out bacon and eggs from the fridge, no matter what Tonks wouldn’t be able to have a good day if she didn’t have a savory breakfast with at least three cups of coffee before anyone talked to her.

“Hmm,” Amelia said, “I think the savory will be a little much, especially the bacon. I also think that yogurt might make me sick. If anything, I do crave something fresh.”

Harry nodded and decided that a fruit smoothie would do the trick for her breakfast, at least in the beginning, he began finding all sorts of frozen fruit in the freezer. He had already found a blender magically enchanted to work without electricity. It only reaffirmed his suspicion that he could make a calculator work. Just because nobody else had done it before him, didn’t mean he wouldn’t succeed. 

The loud noise from the blender smashing together frozen berries and fruit woke Tonks, who five minutes later when the noise had fully woken her, stumbled into the kitchen. As per reflex, Harry levitated a large mug of coffee over to her, and she nodded at him and began sipping the hot beverage with a satisfied smile on her lips.

Her mug was at least two times the size of a normal mug with a joke text saying It is only one cup. Tonks had found this hilarious when she spotted it on one of her trips with Harry last summer. She had more or less only used that since it was bought. She loudly sniffed as the smell of bacon wafted throughout the kitchen. If she had been a puppy she would be salivating all over the table by now. 

Harry handed Amelia a tall glass filled with a berry smoothie, it had a fresh taste and just enough nutrition to serve as a small breakfast to get her started. 

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiled at him as she sipped on it. “It’s delicious.”

“That’s good,” Harry smiled as he continued to fry the eggs in the pan, sunnyside up. He placed a large plate filled with beans on toast, bacon, and fried eggs in front of Tonks, who was ravenously wolfing it down like she hadn’t eaten since last week. 

Harry sat down with his own breakfast, which was smaller in size and more varied. He remembered the first time he had tried to serve Tonks anything vaguely healthy in the morning. He would never make that mistake again; she had looked at him like he was a maniac, and promptly decided to leave all of her vegetables to the side without even touching them. She really acted like a spoiled little girl at times, but that was okay. He didn’t mind pleasing Nymphadora “Bottomless Pit” Tonks, a nickname that she didn’t appreciate even after her third mug of coffee.

Harry sat back in his chair and stretched.

“Are you alright?” Amelia asked with a concerned frown.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry tried to convince himself more than the other two at the table.

“Harry, when did you wake up?” Amelia looked at him straight.

“Don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “I didn’t check the time before you got up, Auntie.”

“Not going to let you off just because you call me Auntie,” Amelia said with a concerned smirk. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah..” Harry admitted, “but it’s okay. I will take care of it, there is no reason to bother either of you with my…”

“Will you stop saying ‘troubles’?” Amelia looked livid. “You make it sound like an inconvenience, not a serious consequence of what’s happened.”

“Sorry…” Harry muttered to himself staring into his mug filled with tea.

“Harry James Potter -- ” A string of memories filled his mind, Hermione would always use his full name when he was in trouble, “you bother us way more by keeping everything secret than by telling us openly about it.”

Harry sighed. “Three A.M.” 

“What was that?” Amelia asked.

“I woke up at three, I think, I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t check the clock. I just focused on work to force out the aftermath of the nightmare.”

He felt a familiar hand ruffle his head, he looked over at Amelia and felt his eyes grow a little itchy. What am I? A water fountain? Harry chided himself inwardly. At some point, you have to run out of tears.

He ducked away from the hand after a second. Not that it seemed to bother Amelia all that much. She wasn’t the hugging sort, much. 

Harry got up from the table and walked towards his books and notes lying in a large stack on the counter. He picked them up and moved to the living room table. 

“I’m going to need a desk,” he muttered to himself as he once more opened the books to read and plan.

Amelia was looking at him with appraising eyes. Tonks, who was halfway through her third mug of coffee was looking at him as well. She had heard what he had said, even if she didn’t speak up about it.

Harry quickly got back into a rhythm of tuning out any interference from others as he scribbled on pieces of parchment. He felt like he was going around in circles when he decided to get up and pick up his Arithmancy textbooks to support his calculations. He had barely managed to get up to his feet when he stumbled. He hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours, and combined with the pace he had worked for the past seven hours excluding a break for breakfast, he felt the energy drain from his body. 

“Harry!” Tonks exclaimed.

“I’m alright,” Harry said as he regained his footing.

“You are clearly not,” Amelia said, “put down your work, take a shower and go rest again. Tonks will bring back a Goblin Contractor by the time you are awake.”

Harry shook his head.

“I haven’t finished the Arithmancy calculations yet,” he said stubbornly.

“And how many mistakes will you make in this state?” Amelia looked at him pointedly.

Harry ruffled his hair in frustration, He knew that his concentration was failing. The last page of notes had been absolute nonsense even to him. He was fairly sure that even without the calculations, that rune-cluster would probably end up blowing up in his face if he decided to carve it. 

“Fine,” Harry surrendered, “I’ll go take a shower. Accio Towel.” A towel flew into his hands and he put down his wand on top of his notes. “See, no wand.”

Amelia felt equally bemused and exasperated at the mockingly-casual stabs of annoyance Harry sent out. Still, she was firm in her decision that he was not to be left unsupervised with his wand, at least not until he was much better. 

Harry stalked out of the kitchen and they heard the door to the bathroom open and close behind him. 

“What is he working on?” Tonks asked.

“Oh, he found some limitations of his extension charm, not realising that what he has done already is impressive for wizards of any age, so he decided to address the instability with rune carvings,” Amelia couldn’t hide a hint of pride when she talked about it.

“But isn’t that N.E.W.T. level stuff,” Tonks looked surprised.

“Actually, the plans he has would be post-N.E.W.T.-level,” Amelia rubbed her forehead, “The boy is completely skewed in his learning– in some parts he is far past anyone, and in others, he doesn’t have the slightest clue. What kind of kid can do transfiguration and charms and runes on this level, but has no idea about basic self-transfiguration? Minerva would have my head if she knew what he was up to.”

Tonks couldn’t help herself from giggling at that. She then frowned.

“Why didn’t he ask for help if he’s still plagued by nightmares?” she said in a small voice, “Am I not good enough?”

“Don’t be silly,” Amelia took her hand in her own, “It’s nothing like that. He probably just wants to deal with this on his own and not rely on anyone. He’s afraid that if he relies on you like that, he might find you dead because he firmly believes he brings dangers to others.”

“He doesn’t though,” Tonks argued.

“Really?” Amelia lifted a single eyebrow, “I think it is quite astute of him actually. He certainly appears to bring a lot of danger to the people around him.”

“But it is not his fault.”

“I never said it was,” Amelia squeezed the young witch's hand, “I’m just saying, it is the reality of the situation. Harry does bring danger to the people around him. You can handle yourself, but imagine if he was hanging out with people his own age, with…”

“Hermione.” Tonks finished feeling a large lump in her throat. She bit the knuckles on her free hand. 

“Go on, after he takes a shower the bathroom is free, and then you can head to Gringotts,” Amelia said. “It would help his work if he could get a Goblin’s opinion on it.”

Tonks nodded and seemed to regain something of a smile.

“Good,” Amelia sat back, “I need to ask him to transfigure me a more comfortable seat, preferably a reclined armchair… with a footstool. Yes, that would be nice,” Amelia mused as she was already planning how to spend her days, “Oh, by the way, I’ll try to make a list of reading material for him to study during the summer. He wants to get stronger, so he doesn’t feel the pain anymore, and I have an excess amount of time on my hands. I’m really not moving around too much at the moment.”

“Is it really…” Tonks was looking for her own words.

“Hard? Tough? Impossible, being pregnant?” Amelia asked with a smile.

“Well, yeah,” Tonks blushed.

“Yes, it is that tough but also that much more rewarding, especially when the little one kicks -- Hoooo....” Amelia took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

“What? Is something wrong?” Tonks panicked.

“When you speak of the Grim, it appears…” Amelia quoted with a smile. “Come closer.”

Tonks raised from her chair and moved to Amelia’s side.

“Give me your hand, they are having a field day right now,” Amelia said raising her hand towards Tonks, who looked apprehensive at the thought, she reluctantly gave her hand and Amelia quickly moved it to her stomach.

Tonks felt the pushback of something against her palm. Her eyes widened in surprise. 

“This…” 

“Yes, that is the little bugger kicking their dear old mum with the force of a troll,” Amelia smiled, “It is amazing don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Tonks gulped, there was something glowing about Amelia as she sat there cursing at her own child for kicking her. She couldn’t help rubbing her own flat stomach thinking about being pregnant on her own…

Stop that train of thought right now, she interrupted herself. 

She heard the water in the bathroom stop and moved towards it just in time to catch a glimpse of Harry walking into his bedroom only wearing a towel.

Don’t let it bother you, you lose if it bothers you. He’s here for protection by you, not from you. Still, a girl can dream… but, she shouldn’t.

She replayed the mantra in her head as she moved to take her own shower. The temperature of the shower was distinctly colder than when Harry had used it. 

Harry laid down in bed, his mind assembling rune clusters and dissembling them again, trying out new combinations, taking into account which reactions he would get if he actually carved them and triggered them. He felt the exhaustion creep up on him, but he was fighting against it fiercely. He didn’t want to have the nightmares again. He heard a knock on the door.

He was torn between wanting it to be Tonks and wanting it not to be Tonks. It wasn’t.

Amelia was standing in the door, looking at him with concern.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

“Yeah,” lied Harry.

“Trying to not sleep?” she asked with a hint of accusation.

Harry just looked away. She's got my number alright, he thought.

“Bingo,” he heard her chuckle as she waddled gracelessly towards the bed and sat down on the side of it. “Tonks has left for Gringotts. She will likely be a few hours, so you really should sleep. If you don’t do it now, I will look for a way to get you administered Draughts of Dreamless Sleep until you are at least physically rested. Though they can be quite addictive.”

Harry looked at her and nodded. He had been required to take the potion on multiple occasions by this point in his life and he had to reluctantly admit that they were effective to give him some rest. 

He laid down on his back, and he felt his Auntie's hand running through his hair, which was soothing. He had never really felt this sort of motherly affection, and it was making his chest tight, but it also satisfied him at the same time. 

Amelia watched as the frail kid in front of her fell into a deep slumber, and she kept sitting there running her hand through his hair as he slept. The boy was a lot of trouble, but she felt so satisfied taking care of Sirius’ kid. He was a good boy, the makings of a good man. He was just dealt a bad hand, a worse hand than anyone deserved. 

She got off the bed when she was sure Harry had fallen completely asleep. Her back was hurting once more. I really have to have the kid make me a recliner, she thought to herself with a grimace. 

 

Tonks had arrived at Gringotts with the letter clutched in her hand. She felt nervous like she was doing something she shouldn’t have. Well, the letter was bearing the Bones crest, so it would be easy to find… What was his name again?

She walked through the front door. She had made her hair the same sort of untamed black that Harry sported, though her eyes were hazel. She hadn’t felt the need to change them as much as she did before. It was like she didn’t want to change them. 

“Yes, miss?” the Goblin teller looked at her with a suspicious eye.

“Erm --” Tonks hesitated.

“Speak up, time is money.”

“I have a letter for the Bones’ account manager,” she spoke quickly.

“Do you now?” the Goblin teller looked at her suspiciously.

She flashed the letter showing the crest to the Goblin, who noticed it was the authentic seal of Amelia Black née Bones. 

“Wait a minute,” he growled as he walked off his plinth and back into the depths of the Gringotts bank.

Tonks stood there fidgeting as she waited.

She spotted the same Goblin Teller walking back in the company of a grey speckled older Goblin, who looked like he had a higher status based on his fancier clothes. 

“Name’s Gnarlock, who’re you?” the older Goblin said.

“Tonks,” she said.

“Ah, I see, that would explain it, follow me,” Gnarlock snarled as he led her down a series of hallways until they arrived at his office, there was a gold plaque on the outside of the door:

Gnarlock Bonegnasher
Senior Account Manager

Tonks shuddered at the last name on the plaque, she had listened enough in Professor Binns’ classes to know that Goblin’s had a habit of getting last names based on their deeds rather than inheriting their parents’. 

“Sit,” he snarled as he sat down in his own adorned seat behind an exquisite mahogany desk. 

Tonks had never dealt well with the intimidation which seemed like an innate trait to all Goblins, especially the ones who had seen battle in the depths of their nation. 

“I have been informed that you have a letter addressed to me.”

“Yes!” Tonks quickly handed him his letter.

“There is no reason to be scared of me,” Gnarlock said.

“I would be foolish not to,” Tonks regained a little of her Auror spirit, “I know enough about Goblins to fear one with the name Bonegnasher.”

Gnarlock stopped opening the letter for a second. He looked up, a ferocious grin revealed on his face. 

“Very true,” he admitted as he looked back down to the letter now on his hands. 

Tonks sat nervously in silence.

“The letter is authentic,” Gnarlock said. “Why are you the one to bring it?”

“Madam Black is quite pregnant at the moment,” Tonks admitted.

“I see,” Gnarlock said, “Well, she has formalized everything needed for the procedures and her signature is magically enforced, so it has not been faked. The payment will be taken in full from the Bones’ vault, and it says the location is under a fidelius charm. That could pose a problem.”

“I am the Secret Keeper,” Tonks said quickly.

“So that is the reason for your presence,” Gnarlock nodded. “Well let me call for a contractor experienced in extension charms and arcane architecture.” 

Tonks nodded, inwardly feeling relieved that it went as well as it did.

“Am I to assume that Harry Potter will be present at the location?” Gnarlock asked.

“Why?” Tonks frowned.

“Nothing,” Gnarlock shrugged, trying to hide a greedy smile. “Personal interest of mine.”

“Quite.”

Gnarlock sent a measured gaze towards her from across the table, before he got up.

“Follow me,” he said as he moved towards the door. 

He prided himself on reading people, but there was something unusual about the young witch behind him, which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was certain she was keeping a secret, but he had no idea what it was and he was intrigued by the fact that he hadn’t been able to even gain a clue.

Gnarlock walked down the hall to where the craftsmen were stationed in their own department of Gringotts. It was primarily a bank, but the Goblin Nation had departments on the premises for other types of work. 

Gnarlock knocked on a large oaken door and waited for it to open. Tonks looked up at the massive door, which made even the doors to the Great Hall at Hogwarts look small in comparison.

“Is this really necessary?” she found herself asking.

“No,” Gnarlock grinned, “but don’t tell the craftsmen that. They are rather proud of their work.”

Tonks nodded her head.

The door opened slowly and soon Gnarlock walked through to the other side. They arrived in a large workshop, which would make the whole of Diagon Alley look tiny in comparison.

Tonks’s eyes widened.

“But how?” she asked without thinking.

“Trade Secret,” an even older completely white-haired Goblin said as he hobbled over to them.

“Bonegnasher,” the elderly Goblin said.

“Silverfinger,” Bonegnasher nodded.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, barbarian,” Silverfinger asked.

“We have been hired to do contract work, Amelia Black née Bones, extension of a flat. Three floors, enough stability for later re-design, money taken from the Bones’ vault.” Gnarlock said in quick succession. 

“I see, what about protection?” Silverfinger scratched his chin as a greedy look filled his face.

“High enough to go by unnoticed, fidelius charm, she is Secret Keeper, it’s a one Goblin job and they may have to return to the nation for the next several years,” Gnarlock said.

“I see,” Silverfinger said, “All secret and protective.”

“Gold is always right,” Gnarlock said.

“Indeed,” Silverfinger said seriously, “Gold is always right. I have just the Goblin, young one, he is technically only here on experience, but his work is solid and he has to go back to the Nation to resume his studies before Midsummer Eve. The price will be cheaper, too.”

Gnarlock looked at Tonks, it was her decision in the end. She nodded but didn’t interfere in the discussions. It was better to not say anything than say the wrong thing.

“Bring him,” Gnarlock said. 

Silverfinger nodded and quickly moved them towards a certain workbench where a young Goblin was sitting working on some runes and architectural designs.

“This here is Thordrum, no last name yet,” Silverfinger said.

“I see,” Gnarlock nodded. It was a difference in status, having a last name or not. 

“You have a client,” Silverfinger said to the young Goblin, who had honestly looked a little bored before they came.

“What is it, boss?” Thordrum said.

“Single floor flat extended into a three-floor: stabilize the space and help with the redesign of it. Protection runes around the perimeter as well,” Silverfinger said. “Place is under a fidelius, so you will have to leave for the Nation after your job.”

Thordrum nodded.

A month on the surface would probably not have netted him any other jobs, and this one sounded like a solo one, so he would have free rein to experiment.

 

“Well, if that was everything?” Gnarlock grinned. “Thordrum, follow.”

Tonks watched as the young Goblin packed up his tools and followed them out of the workshop.

“How long have you been on the surface?” Gnarlock asked the younger Goblin.

“I am at the end of my five-year apprenticeship,” Thordrum replied.

“Who is your master builder?” 

“I have studied under Ohlog Bricklayer,” Thordrum answered.

“Respectable fellow,” Gnarlock nodded. “He is qualified.”

Tonks, who hadn’t understood what was going on until this moment, just nodded.

They moved to the Entrance Hall of Gringotts.

“Excuse me Mr. Thordrum, do you mind side-along?” Tonks asked politely.

“Heeeh…” Thordrum looked confused.

Gnarlock snickered to himself.

“Oh it is entirely alright if it is offensive,” Tonks pulled back as soon as she had suggested it.

“No, no, it is no problem, Miss,” Thordrum said.

“Thordrum, you are to report to me and Silverfinger upon your return–I take priority, as Time is Money,” Gnarlock pointed out.

“Time is Money,” Thordrum repeated solemnly.

“Shall we?” Tonks extended her hand, and Thordrum put his long fingers on top of it.

She twisted and soon, they stood in the middle of the living room at Carnaby Street.

Thordrum looked around and spotted Amelia lying on a sofa.

“Madam Bones,” he bowed.

“Actually Madam Black now. Also, don’t stand on ceremony, Time is Money after all,” Amelia said, waving her hand around. “The floor plans are in the kitchen, most of the extension charmwork is done, but they are unstable and cannot stand much further load of magic.”

Thordrum nodded once more as he walked to the kitchen.

“Where is he?” Tonks asked.

“Sleeping,” Amelia said with a frown. “I am thinking about getting a supply of Draughts of Dreamless Sleep. I know it doesn’t solve the issue, but it does help with the symptoms.”

Tonks nodded. She didn’t like using them for a multitude of reasons, the biggest one being Moody’s warning about it.

How would I know if someone snuck up on me if I am in a potion induced sleep?

Tonks had, therefore, felt apprehensive towards the potions, but she understood why Amelia was considering them. No good spotting someone sneaking up on you if you’re too exhausted to respond.

Thordrum was looking over the floor designs and quickly muttering notes to himself in Gobbledygook. 

“Hmm, these should be doable without much trouble,” he said scratching his chin.

“Show him the upper floors,” Amelia said as she struggled to sit up, “I apologize for not doing it myself, but as you can see...” She pointed to her ponderous belly. She was no expert in pregnancy or babies, but she seemed to be just huge even for someone at her point in the pregnancy.

“This way.” Tonks led him through to the hallway where the spiral staircase led up towards the next floor.

“Impressive,” Thordrum muttered to himself, as he ran a hand across the transfiguration. 

“Yes, I thought so,” Tonks nodded as she headed up. They arrived on the next floor, which had the same area, but there were some parts of it that looked stretched in different dimensions, as Harry had not limited himself to a direct vertical expansion. 

Thordrum went up to the third floor by himself, but it was pretty much similar. She heard him muttering and making small, appreciative sounds under his breath as he clambered down the stairs.

“I see, I see… We definitely need to stabilize the space so that the rest of the construction can move forward. I have some details to finalize. I would not have recommended removing the bathroom on the first floor. Would have saved some money, but it says here that is a customer requirement? Easy enough to fix, just time. I can easily stabilize four rooms and a bathroom on the second floor, and the third floor needs only reinforcement runes, magic absorption properties, and noise-canceling properties. I would recommend framing in a door, but it should be possible to exclude sound in a marked area around the staircase.” Thordrum went on.

Tonks stood, a little overwhelmed, nodding hesitantly.

“I think it might be better if the Boss made those decisions–it is her money after all,” Tonks said, a little overwhelmed.

Thordrum sent her a ferocious grin quite similar to the one Gnarlock sent her at Gringotts. 

Definitely a Goblin thing, she thought as they went back downstairs.

“So, is it doable?” Amelia asked, sitting with a book on the couch. 

“Absolutely, Madam Black,” Thordrum said, “Quite impressive charms work, I might add, but it has been extended to the limit without folding in on itself. That would be... unadvisable.”

“I see,” Amelia sent him a small smile. Tonks recognized this as her “Patient Listening Face.” She had used it with Tonks and Harry both.

“I think it would be best to stabilize the space with Runework. I can set up a barrier for sound around the staircase to nullify the intensity of sound from the training floor. 

“I don’t think that should be necessary, but dampening the sound might help, it should only be one-way though, I want to be able to communicate from downstairs to upstairs.”

“I would also advise against removing the bathroom on the lowest floor, I can redesign it to look differently, but it would be … inconvenient for you in your current --”

“No,” Amelia said firmly. “Not negotiable. That space is to be stripped and folded. You’ll just need new fixtures for the master bedroom, an en suite. I want nothing reused from that room.”

“Understood,” Thordrum nodded. Clients, he thought. Well, Gold is always right...

Thordrum’s musings were interrupted by the opening of a door behind him. He turned around as did the two witches.

Harry had been woken up by the sound of people talking in the living room, but he felt more refreshed than he had before his nap. He had put on his glasses and jeans once more and walked out. 

He was a little surprised to see the Goblin standing in the room, but it only took a moment for him to admit that he might indeed have been in over his head. He was curious about what the expert would say regarding his work so far.

“Hello,” he said as he walked out into the room.

“Thordrum, Harry. Harry, Thordrum. Thordrum has been sent by the Goblin Nation to advise and assist with the extensions,” Amelia said from her couch.

Thordrum was a little starstruck when he spotted the all-too-familiar black hair and lightning scar. Even though the Goblin Nation had rigidly defined interaction with Wizarding Britain, they still knew about Harry Potter, and what he had done during the previous terror of He Who Must Not Be Named.

“He was complimenting you on your charm work,” Amelia smirked.

“Thank you, Thordrum,” Harry said politely with a little bow.

“Harry Potter, it is an honour,” Thordrum finally regained his wits. “Wait, his charm work?” 

“Indeed,” Amelia got a kick out of flustering the Goblin. They were master crafters, but they could be so damned smug about it, too.

“Impressive indeed,” Thordrum said. 

“I was actually planning to do the runes myself,” Harry ruffled his hair, “but I got stuck on some of the interactions between the different runes. I would love some advice on them.”

Thordrum looked shocked, he had expected the boy to be arrogant after seeing his already impressive work, but the fact that he had understood himself that runework was the next step was admirable indeed. Goblins didn’t always respect wizards, but they always respected a craftsman. 

Harry went and gathered his notes and handed them to Thordrum.

The goblin took the pile of parchment and quickly gave it a look, only to be repeatedly shocked by the ingenuity of the combinations. A few of them were straight-up unfeasible and would never work, but some of the theories lined up impressively closely to his own. Even the mistakes showed only a lack of experience, rather than a lack of imagination.

Harry went to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water, and by the time he came back, there was a series of parchments on the floor around the Goblin.

“These will never work,” Thordrum said as he indicated the very areas that Harry had been troubling over.

“I see,” Harry nodded regretfully. “I admit, I think I sort of ground to a halt trying to resolve these.”

“These, however,” Thordrum shook the three pieces of parchment in his hand, “these are workable, and a few are really elegant. As good as any a goblin might do, even.”

“I see,” Harry smiled feeling relieved that all of his hard work hadn’t been a complete waste of time. “I was thinking that we should open up the part of the floor on the second floor above the living room, it will allow for easier communication between the floors for Auntie, and it would open up the space. There should be enough room for three bedrooms and a bathroom if we chose to do that. The training area probably needs to be reinforced to withstand most curses and spells, as I will need it for my training.” 

“Good choices,” Thordrum’s eyes were lit up. “We had just agreed to totally reconfigure the downstairs bathroom. It was removed from the original plan. We could open that space if you like.”

Harry sent a questioning look towards Amelia, who was keeping a neutral expression on her face. He thought for a moment about the bathroom, and how it had felt every time he had been forced to use it. He thought of Tonks and her admission of how scared she had been...

“We’ll fold it,” Harry said firmly. He caught Tonks’s eye, and she gave him a quick, appreciative nod. “We’ll add a full bath to the master suite. We can align it under the bath upstairs to simplify plumbing. Two upstairs bedrooms will connect through that bath, plus a door to the hall, and the third bedroom closest to the stairs on the opposite side. Maybe a small office space if we can find a spot for it.” 

 

Harry and Thordrum spent the afternoon discussing and planning all of the work needed to be done over the next couple of days. Amelia had a satisfied look on her face as she sometimes spotted Harry with an expression that closely resembled a child getting a new Christmas toy. 

“It’s getting late,” Amelia interrupted their discussion and planning.

“Ah, Thordrum, would you like to stay for dinner?” Harry asked as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Thordrum looked taken aback. He had not expected this.

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I will come back tomorrow with Miss Tonks and we can get down to actually carving runes and further transfiguring the space.”

He got up, snapped his finger, and disapparated. Harry gathered the drawings and diagrams and packed them away before beginning to cook.

“You looked like you had fun,” Tonks said as she walked up next to him. “Want any help?” 

“It would be great if you’d set the table,” Harry said, putting his head on her shoulder. “Thank you, Tonks.”

“For what?” she found herself tensing up.

“For bringing me an interesting new fellow to work with. I must admit I had gotten rather stuck by the time Auntie sent me to bed earlier,” Harry said with a wry smile. “I’m almost sixteen and she still decides my bedtime.”

Tonks laughed aloud at that, and her grin was so wide that her cheeks eclipsed her hazel eyes, a pair of crescent moons. 

“I will decide your bedtime as long as you can’t manage it yourself,” Amelia teased.

“Fine, fine,” Harry lifted his hands in mock surrender. “How was your day, Auntie? Everything alright?”

“Yes, quite,” Amelia said. “I do have a request though. Could you transfigure me a comfortable recliner, preferably one where the back is easily adjustable? The little one is rather unhappy when I squash them.”

“Of course, Auntie,” Harry smiled at her, “and thanks for letting me do this, I needed something to do when I am cooped up like this.”

“You’re welcome,” Amelia sent him a warm smile. 

Harry quickly finished up dinner and even made her recliner that evening. It was probably harder than extending the flat into three floors, not because of the magic, but Amelia took forever until she was finally satisfied with the quality of the armchair. 

“Sheesh,” Harry teased, “you are working me harder than a niffler looking for gold. Has it occurred to you that at some point, the discomfort is not the furniture’s fault?”

Amelia and Tonks both laughed at that. The boy seemed to have astonishing focus when he wanted something done, so they didn’t believe for a second that he had wanted to give up halfway through.

 

Harry spent the next couple of days working side by side with Thordrum. He felt his understanding of practical runes was rising by the hour, as Thordrum actually took the time to explain his craft. Harry was a keen listener, and by the time they had finished stabilizing the third floor, Thordrum allowed Harry to carve the reinforcement runes himself.

Harry sat down to work and soon found himself immersed in the process, and he hadn’t realized just how late it had gotten when Tonks called him downstairs for dinner. Thordrum had not taken him up on the invitation, no matter how many times it was extended towards him. 

It didn’t stop Harry from trying, but he knew when to quit every time. 

“No luck seducing Thordrum tonight either?” Amelia teased.

“No, he really likes for me to chase him,” Harry fired back as he sat down at the table. 

“Well, some people are just hard to get,” Amelia said.

Amelia decided not to notice the little disparaging sound from Tonks at the words hard to get

“So when will you be done?” Amelia asked. “Susan arrives the day after tomorrow.”

“I think we’ll have all of the essential runes carved by tomorrow at noon, and I will spend the afternoon dividing the upstairs floor into separate spaces. Thordrum will work on your new bathroom downstairs. I can’t do much about the inventory for the bedrooms. Tonks and I have rooms that are reasonably furnished, so that isn’t hard. I can paint Susan’s room in any way she likes, but I can’t do much about the furniture.”

“I’ll have Thordrum bring basics for every room from storage on the day after tomorrow,” Amelia said “You can always help Susan with transfiguring the furniture into her desired forms when she arrives.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. “Also, with the bath separating the rooms on one side, there is enough space on the other, by Susan’s room, to make a study. If we put in some desks, then Susan and I will have a place where we can do our homework or read. We can charm up a bed to fold down in the study, as a guest room for when Ginny comes to visit, for example.” 

Harry smirked at that last part.

“So, it won’t be needed then,” Amelia said archly.

“Hopefully, it will be needed after all of this is over, though,” Harry said with a sad smile. “Like, when Tonks decides to bring over guests or something, they can’t all stay in her bed—”

Nobody stays in my bed!” Tonks flushed red in the face and the tips of her hair. 

“—room,” Harry finished.

Amelia and Harry laughed out loudly, which only extended the redness to Tonks’s hair down to her ears. 

Chapter 4

Summary:

Ohana means family, and family means nobody is left behind.

A brief scene that connects larger pieces of the story, with some dandy jinxing and a bit of plot development as we check in with the other DA members: Susan Bones, Ginny and Ron, Neville, and Luna.

• Tonks arrives at the station.

• Malfoy attempts to bully the DA and regrets it.

• Luna is... creative.

• Three rabbits.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4. Interlude: Ohana

Tonks had been glad to get out of the Carnaby Street flat, though it couldn’t really be called a flat anymore, not with four bedrooms, two full baths, and its own training hall. She shrugged, and just thought of it as Carnaby Street. Whatever you called it, it had been crazy the last several days.

Between Amelia, still sending and receiving classified owls from the Ministry as she wrapped up her commitments there, members of the Order checking in with corporeal Patronuses, and Harry and the Goblin apprentice literally moving walls around, it had not been a restful place. She had spent more than one night on the uncomfortable couch, and another on a pallet of blankets on the bare floor of the training hall, about six feet from where Harry took a potion-enhanced rest on his blankets. She had slept very little.

Worse, she had finally gotten a reply after reaching out to Reagan Hill, and he had sent her a brief, brittlely polite response. She still was deeply conflicted about what had happened at his mother’s Christmas party, and the intervening six months did not seem to have improved much between them. His sister Sally had actually reached out more recently than Reagan had, wondering if it was possible Tonks might still see her and her family again at some point. Tonks had few friends, really, and it was tempting to take them up on the offer.

She was happy, now, to be waiting at the station to collect Susan, and to say hello to the other DA members who had been in on her rescue party. As she waited for the train, she nodded off on the station bench, her chin slowly sinking to her chest.

_____________________________________________

 

Susan, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were sharing a compartment on the Express as it flew through the countryside towards London. Ron, who for the last week had been made Acting Prefect, had checked in before they left but had not been back to the compartment since. Apparently, the recent drama had put lots of students, especially the younger kids, on edge and there was an unusual amount of mischief, pranks, and even bullying going on aboard the train this trip.

“How do you reckon Harry’s getting on?” Neville asked quietly, so as not to wake Luna. 

Luna, who had been telling him about her dreams of exploring the world in search of magical creatures, had fallen asleep in mid-story once the train had started rocking along the rails. While everyone except Hermione had more or less recovered and had been released to school for the end of term, none of them were unscathed. Neville had a red scar through his lower lip that was fading very slowly. Ginny still limped after any real exertion, despite the healed bones in her ankle. Luna suffered from frequent headaches and seemed particularly delicate. Only Susan refused to admit to any injury, though she had become hyper-vigilant about Ginny and watched over her like a hawk.

“Tonks says he’s as good as can be expected,” Susan shrugged. “Not sure what that means, really.”

“Is it going to be weird, living with him?” Neville asked gently.

“She not living with him,” Ginny said a bit possessively. “She’s living with her aunt. Tonks and Harry will just… be there.”

“It’s all right, Ginny,” Susan said contemplatively. “I don’t really remember having a proper family, not like you, you know, mum and dad and brothers. It’s just been me and my aunt.”

Neville got a cool expression and looked out the window as the countryside blurred past in the dim light. “I understand. I imagine a lot of people our age understand.”

Ginny said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my family for granted or anything… It’s just, well, it’s a new idea for me. Never really thought about it much before.”

Susan patted her on the knee and gave a comforting squeeze.

“I wish I could tell you all more about where we’ll be and all the details, but I’m Not Allowed,” Susan said with a little bitterness, and perhaps indulging in a bit of self-pity. “Security, and all that. Auntie says there will be one owl we can use if it’s not too often.”

“Ron knows,” Ginny said suddenly. “He went to… the place… Bloody fidelius charms… You know where I mean. Anyway, he went there with Harry, their fourth year. He said if there is a real emergency he could go back. He just can’t show it to any of us.”

“Well, that’s something,” Neville said. “I heard back from my gran. She pestered St. Mungo’s and got an official report on Hermione. I meant to say, but I just heard before we left.”

“What is it, what did you hear?” Ginny and Susan leaned forward, intently.

“Well, they’ve managed to stabilize her memories, what she has. Apparently, there was a danger her whole, what do you call it, her psyche would just unravel, but they think that’s not going to happen.”

“She belongs in Gryffindor,” Ginny said fiercely. “She’s going to fight this. What else?”

“Well, apparently there's some hope that—”

The door to the compartment banged open, and there stood Draco Malfoy and his guardian idiots, Crabbe and Goyle. They still looked insufferably smug and self-satisfied, though they were conspicuously missing their Inquisitorial Squad badges, now something very much of the past.

“We found the new rubbish compartment, gentlemen,” mocked Draco, lounging presumptively in the doorway.

“Let’s see,” he went on, his voice dripping scorn, “a Weasley. Not full size, this one. Best throw her back. A pair of orphans, and Little Lunatic Lovegood. I miss the black eyes she had last week. Livened up that moon face a bit, didn’t they?”

Neville gripped his wand out of sight of Draco, but Susan gave him a slight shake of the head.

“Oh, speaking of orphans, little Suzie Bones, how’s that quitter of an aunt of yours? Left the ministry to go off into the woods and have Sirius Black’s pup yet? Or did she die of a broken heart, making you an orphan twice?”

Ginny made to stand up, but the sudden weight on her ankle made her hiss in a breath, as Susan put a hand on her arm. Susan wanted to hex Malfoy through a wall, but she felt her friends had been through enough. Malfoy was a turgid slug of a wizard, but he was quick with a curse and had two henchmen who made up in brutality whatever they might lack in brains.

“Why don’t you go pull the wings off flies or whatever creeps like you do for fun, Malfoy?” Susan gritted out through clenched teeth.

Malfoy aimed his wand suddenly at Susan, and they all flinched involuntarily. 

“Make us, you filthy cu—”

“—ebublio lapifors!” Luna’s clear, calm voice sang out suddenly before Malfoy could finish his vile taunt.

The compartment was illuminated with a gold and silver bolt of eldritch lightning, forking into three branches before striking Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe in their chests. There was a brief nimbus of sparks that arced and flickered over their bodies for a split second before all three were transfigured into white rabbits. One lean, sour-faced bunny and two large, dull-looking rabbits hung in the air, and each was enveloped in a magical bubble. They began to drift lazily on the air currents as the Slytherin boys' robes and wands fell to the ground in heaps.

Everyone turned to Luna in amazement, and she lowered her wand calmly.

“That was… that was amazing,” Neville said in an awed whisper.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” Luna noted calmly. “There’s ever so much I want to do with this one, and I won’t see you damaged. Are we nearly there?”

Ginny started laughing and pointing. The rabbit Malfoy was attempting to run, but it just made the impenetrable magic bubble spin in place the faster he went, like a mouse on a wheel. The Crabbe and Goyle rabbits just cowered miserably in their bubbles, their whiskers drooping and their ears flat against their heads.

“Oy, what’s all this then?” Ron came running, stopping to look at the bubbles, the rabbits, the wands, and the green-trimmed Slytherin robes. He raised his eyebrows.

“Hello, bruv,” Ginny said with a grin. “No trouble back here. How’s the rest of the train?”

“Erm, fine?” Ron edged around the floating rabbits and leaned into the compartment.

“We’re nearly there. If you're changing into Muggle clothes or charming your robes, best do it now.” Ron looked to Susan and Ginny, two of the better jinxers he knew. He nodded to the rabbits in their bubbles. “Your work?”

“That was all Luna,” Neville said proudly.

“Well, we’ve got about eight minutes or so until the station. Do you reckon they can breathe okay in there?”

Luna was looking out the window, her arm in Neville’s. She turned around and looked at the three rabbits bobbing around in the air outside their door. She tipped her head to one side.

“I’ve no idea,” she said and turned her unblinking gaze back out the window.

From inside one of the bubbles, a small white bunny began squealing as it rocked back and forth, wide-eyed, looking at Luna Lovegood as it drifted slowly up the corridor with its companions.

______________________________

As the air brakes hissed and squealed, Tonks jerked awake.

“I’m up! I’m up!” She looked around, seeing students already leaving the train. She frantically stood, then hopped up on the bench to see farther.

She saw Molly and Arthur Weasley, who saw her and started pushing and struggling through the crowd in her direction. Just then, she spotted Susan, Neville, and what she assumed were Luna and Ginny, but could not see over the crowd.

“Wotcher, Susan!” she called out. “Hullo, Neville!” 

Just as the group approached, she spotted Ron, who was barely containing laughter as he followed a hurriedly dressed, disheveled Malfoy and his “associates” away from the train. Malfoy looked unusually subdued, and Crabbe and Goyle were both wide-eyed, startling at every sudden move or loud noise. When Ron’s little owl screeched, Goyle looked as if he’d wet himself.

Molly Weasley came rushing towards her children just as Tonks stepped down off the bench. All of the groups arrived more or less together, and the greetings, questions, and leave-takings began.

 

          (Malfoy Bunny, by ReverendKilljoy)

Chapter 5: Ice Cold Bribery

Summary:

Bribery is a perfectly legitimate tactic, given the right circumstances.

• Tonks meets the DA kids and the Weasleys.

• Susan and Tonks take a detour.

• The Ice Cream Sisterhood.

• Harry in training.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5. Ice Cold Bribery

“How is he doing?” Mrs. Weasley asked Tonks as soon as she had reached them all.

Not even a ‘Hello’ or a ‘how are you doing?’ Tonks groaned inwardly.

“He is doing okay, I guess,” Tonks said.

“If he ever becomes too much for you, you can always send him to us at the Burrow,” Molly said.

Tonks couldn’t help herself from feeling vexed at the notion. 

“We are doing just fine, the two of us,” she replied, a little more snarky than she would have liked. 

In the lead of the group of approaching young people was Ginny, walking next to Susan. Ron was catching up half a step behind carrying his tiny owl, which made excited screeching sounds. A little further behind she spotted Neville and Luna holding hands. 

That’s nice, she thought to herself, wait, where are they going?

Neville got pulled along by Luna, who was heading straight towards an elderly lady with a vulture on her hat. 

“Ah,” Tonks chuckled to herself when she spotted the pale look on the boy’s face. 

She had to stifle a laugh as she watched Luna introduce herself to Neville’s grandmother. 

As she had sat on the bench earlier, waiting for the train to arrive, Tonks had been dreading the number of questions which would undoubtedly be thrown her way. She couldn’t blame them. Harry wasn’t really all that known for being communicative about himself.

The news must have spread all the way to Hogwarts, she thought to herself as the younger Weasleys and Susan joined the conversation.

Molly Weasley was still trying to make a point about Harry staying with her family over the summer, while simultaneously embracing her children and fretting over them at the same time, but her husband, ever her buffer, intervened on Tonks’s behalf.

“Molly dear, Tonks is his guardian after all, and he has always loved staying with her,” Arthur said, trying to make her see reason.

“But dear—” Molly had begun.

“It’s not just us for the summer,” Tonks had said, “Amelia and Susan will be with us too. Among the three of us, I think we are more than capable of taking care of Harry.”

“But Amelia is busy taking care of her pregnancy, and Susan is only just sixteen,” Molly had argued.

“That is exactly the point, isn’t it?” Susan interjected. She did not like being talked about as if she were not present, and would not take it from anyone. “We’re not little children anymore.”

Susan was just standing there, looking at Ginny and her mother with a challenging expression.

“Wotcher, Sue,” Tonks said, drawing attention to herself before Molly could start a fresh argument with Susan.

“Hiya, Tonks,” Susan said with a little bit of regret in her voice. 

“Don’t worry, your aunt has already agreed to your request, now it just comes down to the other party,” Tonks smiled at her.

“Really?” Susan looked like someone had told her Christmas came early.

“Yes,” Tonks grinned from ear to ear as she leaned in towards her ear and whispered, “she has even said, out loud, that your friend doesn’t need to use the guest room.”

Her prank had worked perfectly as Susan went completely red in the face.

“She knows?” Susan whispered back with a bit of fright.

“She was the head of the DMLE, of course she knows,” Tonks smiled brightly at her.

“How did she … you know?” Susan asked quietly.

“She loves you, and of course she is looking forward to being introduced properly,” Tonks said with a lopsided grin. 

It was like a weight was lifted from Susan’s shoulders.

“I still think you need to have a talk about it though,” Tonks teased.

Susan, who had just calmed down, turned red again.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, finally breaking free from her mother’s welcome but overwhelming hugs and affection.

“Ah, nothing,” Tonks said innocently. “We were just talking a little about summer plans.” 

“Oh…” Ginny looked a little sullen.

Tonks was fighting hard to not tease her as well, but she remembered how firmly she had been told to not reveal anything.

Susan leaned in and whispered something in the redhead’s ear which made it seem like her hair was releasing its colour to her face. 

Ah, she must have told her what I just told her, Tonks mused to herself.

Tonks had tried not to flare up, but the specks of red in her hair betrayed her calm.

“Molly, that’s enough,” Arthur said at last, perfectly timed as Molly had paused for breath while also trying to scrub an invisible smudge off of Ron’s face with her hankie. “Harry and Susan can visit during the summer, but it isn’t proper for us to force him to stay with us.” 

Tonks sent him an appreciative glance while she got her emotions under control.

“How’s Harry?” Ron asked, genuinely concerned.

It had been the same since Harry had gone back home. Kingsley had pestered her at the office, Molly would pester her any chance she got and even Remus, who usually felt too shameful because of his lycanthropy had asked about Harry. It was like none of them trusted her to be able to help him, and it was vexing. It wasn’t like they were completely wrong, but Amelia was there too and she had dealt with this stuff a lot more than most. 

Tonks sighed to herself; she would have to talk to Amelia about this, or at least rant about it. She had felt way out of her depth in the beginning, but the last week or so had shown that Harry had gotten a lot better. He would still wake up sometimes during the night, but he was sleeping for longer stretches of time, and the remodelling of the house had been amazing for him to take his mind off of things. Her new bedroom was at least twice the size she’d had before, and she had enjoyed spending an evening after work making him change the colours on the walls over and over again until he had spotted her mischievous glint and had pouted at her. She still chuckled at his reaction.

How many times did I make him change the colour again? she mused to herself, it must have been more than twenty times.

“Harry’s fine considering,” Tonks said, gathering her thoughts. “You might be able to see him over the summer, but he needs to be in a protected location. He walks around with a target on his back after all.”

“Nice,” Ron said. “I’ll send an owl.”

“You do that,” Tonks said, as she spotted Luna and Neville approaching, followed by Luna’s father and Madam Longbottom.

“How’s Harry?” Neville asked the same question as Ron had.

“He’s fine,” Tonks repeated, but something in her expression must have betrayed her because Luna frowned at her and tilted her head to one side.

“Tell him he’ll only find what he’s looking for in the last place he looks. That should help.”

“Erm, okay,” Tonks said.

“Well, that’s because he’ll stop looking for whatever it is when he finds it,” muttered Susan, though she still looked at Luna fondly.

“That’s enough, dear,” Mr. Lovegood. “Goodbye!” He hurried along the platform, and his daughter followed as he quickly moved off.

“Goodbye, Neville,” Luna sang over her shoulder.“I shall write to you often.”

“Well, Neville, she is quite an interesting young woman,” his grandmother commented. 

“Right, see you after the summer,” Neville called after Luna, but there was a note of confidence in his voice that made his grandmother peer at him keenly for a moment. 

“Ron, Ginny, we really should be going too,” Mrs. Weasley said, rushing them towards the exit.

“See you soon,” Ginny said towards Susan, who smiled and waved at them.

Tonks and Susan were standing for a bit in silence.

“Can’t be easy,” Tonks said to no one in particular. 

“No, but worth it,” Susan said with pride. “Shall we get going? And where exactly is it that we’re going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Tonks said mischievously.

“Ugh… Auntie warned me about your tendency to play pranks,” Susan groaned.

Tonks began leading Susan towards the underground after diminishing Susan’s trunk and putting it in her pocket. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever taken the underground before,” Susan said as she walked down the steps. 

“It’s a lot better than some of our transport methods, and it is less conspicuous,” Tonks said as she changed her appearance to look like she could be Susan’s mother. She saw Susan eying her queerly. “I hope you don’t mind, but it is just easier to move around if they assume we’re family. Draw less attention.”

“It’s fine, I don’t remember my family that much,” Susan said with a stoic expression.

“Ah…” Tonks sighed. “Sorry. I hadn’t thought bout that. Look, do you want to grab something on the way? I have a fair bit of pocket money to spoil you. Take it as a bribe.”

Susan couldn’t help laughing at the blatant bribery to establish a friendly relationship.

“Hmm…” Susan looked like she was really thinking about it. “I could eat an ice cream.”

“Well then let’s get out of here,” Tonks said, changing her direction. “Know just the place. Did a stakeout there my first year as an Auror, gained six pounds. Red Whizzes, Choc Bombs, Cadbury flake on a cone, the lot.”

“Really?” Susan looked surprised. “Are you serious, we really can?”

“Yes, really,” Tonks smiled at her. “I told you, it’s a bribe. We just can’t be too late, your aunt is getting rather testy. She looks like an overripe mandrake right about now.”

Susan tried to picture the image, but couldn’t help snorting as it appeared in her mind.

“Oh, I never said that,” Tonks said quickly as she realised the consequences if Amelia found out.

“Don’t worry,” Susan said, “It won’t work as blackmail if I tell her.”

Tonks felt a shiver down her spine and looked suspiciously at the young woman beside her.

“I’m kidding,” Susan laughed when she spotted the look on Tonks's face. 

After a brief ride on the underground, they emerged into a nondescript area of London not too far from the far trendier environs of Covent Garden. It was here they entered a branch of Morelli’s, one of the oldest ice cream parlours in Britain.

As Susan goggled at the beautiful Art Deco interior behind the staid facade, she saw the enormous chalkboards listing current specials and flavours of the day.

“Maybe we should bring some extra home for the others,” Suan suggested.

“Well, it might just save you from your Auntie’s wrath,” Tonks agreed.

“That settles it, I am bringing a whole tub.” Tonks looked determined as she picked out a number of flavours. She inconspicuously cast a quick freezing charm on the container, so it wouldn’t melt as they sat down at one of the small tables to enjoy their own selections.

“So, I know this is not what you had expected, but I really hope that we can become friends,” Tonks said as she put her plastic spoon in the cup of Pistachio Madness ice cream. 

“I don’t really mind,” Susan said pensively. “It was just a bit surprising, and the timing was awkward. I guess I had hoped that we could stay at Sirius’s place, all of us.” The last was muttered into her own cup of French vanilla ice cream, from which three different types of candy bar protruded..

“So that you two could have a bit of a romp around?” Tonks teased.

Susan nodded blushing. 

“Well, I know it must suck, but it is for you and your aunt’s protection, not just Harry’s.” Tonks sighed. “She was really afraid that You Know Who would come after her, because of her position at the Ministry. He would be smart to do that, too. She was a great department head.”

“I know,” Susan said, “I think she made the right decision, it’s just…”

“Well, I can see how missing out on that little spitfire of yours would be frustrating,” Tonks laughed.

“How does Harry ever put up with you?” Susan asked with exasperation. 

“Well, he did have a thing for sending stinging jinxes after me and Sirius, when he was younger,” Tonks said in a nostalgic voice.

“I might just need to pick up where he left off, then,” Susan said with a challenging smile, it faded quickly though. “How is Auntie, really? You know with Sirius being …” 

“She puts up a tough front, but you'll catch her sitting with his favourite mug and just idly running her thumb over it, or she will say she is going for a nap, but really she goes off to have a bit of a cry. She’s strong but still human.”

“I know,” Susan said with pride. “She raised me after all.”

“And what a menace you are to all the young witches around,” Tonks teased.

“I shall have you know that I am a perfect gentlewoman,” Susan said in a mock-offended tone.

“I might have believed that if you hadn’t seduced a certain young witch on your aunt’s wedding night,” Tonks continued.

“Oh, he didn’t!” Susan gasped. “Harry told you?”

“Oh, yes he did,” Tonks grinned. “And your Aunt, as well.”

“I need to show him just how much he has taught me over the last year,” Susan smiled unmistakably like her aunt when Tonks had pranked someone. Tonks felt a shiver down her back.

“Sorry, Harry,” Tonks said quickly, which made Susan chuckle as they finished up their ice cream.

“Shall we?” Tonks asked, “It is getting close to dinner. I tell you, after eating Harry’s food you will never be able to get your mind away from it again.”

“It’s that good?” Susan sounded surprised.

“If I didn’t know better I would have thought that’s how he managed to get with…” Tonks's smile faded a bit. “Sorry. It’s better if you don’t say her name around him for the time being. He’s struggling with the fact that he is unwelcome with her parents.”

Susan shook her head. “But it isn’t his fault.”

“Of course, it isn't,” Tonks grimaced in frustration, “and I think they know that, too. At least her mother may think so. But no matter what we say, he keeps blaming himself. Also, don’t be scared when you see the kind of training he does over the summer. He lets loose a bit while at Hogwarts, but most of the summer he spends bruised, hurt, or just run to the edge.”

“Why?” Susan asked.

“He tends to blame himself for every failure, and credit his friends and luck for every success.” Tonks dragged her hand through her hair. “You can imagine how what happened at the Ministry hasn’t helped.”

“I guess.”

They returned to the underground and made a change to another line. They spent the rest of the trip to Carnaby Street in silence. It was only ever interrupted by a soft hoot from Susan’s owl.

“This is us,” Tonks said all of a sudden as she rose from her seat.

“Oh,” Susan grabbed the cage and walked out of the station. They walked a couple of blocks until they stood under the arch with the letters Carnaby Street on it. 

“This is Carnaby Street,” Tonks smiled proudly.

“But this street is completely Muggle,” Susan observed quietly, acutely aware that she was carrying a brass cage containing an owl.

“Yeah,” Tonks said, “but that’s the brilliant part of it. Nobody thinks to look for us in the Muggle parts of London.”

She guided Susan down the colourful street until they stood in front of the same pink building she had taken Harry to three summers ago. She handed Susan a slip of parchment.

Tonks and Harry’s flat is on the 4th floor

Susan read the parchment.

“Done with it?” Tonks asked.

Susan nodded and handed it back to her and watched as she burned it with what looked like a Muggle lighter. 

“Well, you know how a Fidelius charm works,” Tonks smirked.

Susan looked up at the top of the building and indeed it looked like it was sprouting another floor. 

“I’ll never get tired of watching that,” Susan exclaimed. 

Tonks couldn’t keep an indulgent sound from leaving her mouth at that. “Me, too.”

She pulled open the door and walked upstairs until they were in front of the door to the flat. 

Tonks waved her wand, and the door opened, gesturing for Susan to go through first.

She walked in and was surprised to find her aunt sitting comfortably in a recliner.

“Hey there, dear,” Amelia said as she looked up from her book. 

Susan walked forward to hug her aunt.

“It’s so good to see you,” she murmured into Amelia’s neck.

“It’s good to see you too, how come you’re so late?” Amelia asked.

Susan looked towards Tonks, who was staring innocently at the ceiling. 

“Ah, I see. She bribed you,” Amelia said with a chuckle. “Was it a good bribe?” 

Tonks looked flustered. “I did not–”

“Ice cream,” Susan sold her out immediately.

“I brought extra for everyone,” Tonks said quickly.

“Well if you can go convince Harry that he shouldn’t be mad at you for keeping him waiting while he has been cooking a feast,” Amelia smirked.

“Tonks, that finally you?” The disgruntled voice came from the kitchen.

Susan watched as Tonks's hair was changing all sorts of colour.

“They’re here, Harry,” Amelia looked like she was preparing to watch a great show. “She was bribing Susan with ice cream instead of coming straight home.”

“Now was she indeed?” Harry had a serving fork in his hand and a stern expression. He looked a little like a cartoon devil. He was sporting a most dreadful smile on his face. 

“Come here!” he said firmly, and Tonks slouched towards him, looking down at her feet.

“When I tell you to come straight home, I mean it,” Harry’s voice softened. He could only pretend to be mad at Tonks for so long. “You made me worried for you. Did you take her by the underground instead of Apparating you both?”

“I just wanted to maybe, possibly bribe her a little,” Tonks sounded positively like a kid who was caught doing something she knew she ought not to do.

“I understand,” Harry said as he extended his hand to ruffle her hair. “Just try not to make me worry?”

Tonks's hair would change to pink wherever his hand had touched. 

“I’m sorry,” she said looking guilty.

“It’s alright. Welcome home.” He pulled her into a hug, which instantly turned the rest of her hair into a vibrant pink. She returned the hug. 

Susan didn’t know where to look.

“Hullo...” Amelia said loud enough for them to hear. “Dinner remember?”

“Right,” Harry said, releasing Tonks and moving over to extend his arm to Amelia, who grabbed it to lever herself up from the chair. Susan had not seen many pregnancies, but her aunt seemed huge. She wondered if Sirius maybe had some Giant blood in the family tree.,

Amelia grinned at her niece. “Did you notice the stairs?” She gestured to the spiral staircase at the end of the room.

She crossed to it, looked up, and found that there was a second floor.

“How?” she asked.

“Well Harry and his goblin friend have been working hard on the flat,” Amelia said. “There’s even a third floor above that.”

“Wicked,” Susan said, giving Harry a quick look that was a mixture of impressed and suspicious. Harry scratched the back of his head, feeling awkward. 

“Uhm, the food is getting cold,” Harry said, trying to move the subject to something else. 

Amelia and Tonks laughed at him, but Susan was just confused.

“See, dear?” Amelia said. “Harry’s not good with compliments. He gets all fidgety.”

“I do not!” Harry grumbled, moving briskly towards the kitchen.

Susan joined in on the laughter this time. She had never seen this side of him before. 

They all sat down at the table. Susan had to admit that Tonks had been right. Harry was a spectacular cook.

“This puts Hogwarts food to shame,” she commented.

“I know right?” Tonks smiled her “crescent moon” smile again.

“I am not that good,” Harry tried to explain. 

They all just sent a pitying gaze at him. 

“Fine, fine. I am an adequate cook,” Harry said, deflecting with humour. “Our rooms are on the second floor. I haven’t chosen the colours for the walls yet, since I didn’t know what you would like. Would you like to see?”

Susan nodded and followed him as he left the table.

“So, where does everyone sleep?” Susan asked.

“Auntie, um, your aunt stays on the lowest floor in Sirius’ old room, he lived here with us during the last three summers. Well, technically he wasn’t really around much last summer with the wedding and all,” Harry’s voice was eerily calm. 

Susan took a second to register the meaning of three summers.

“Wait, he stayed here while everyone thought he was a murderer?” 

“Well yeah,” Harry chuckled “Spent the whole summer as a dog.” 

“How did you not know it was him?” Susan asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well, no one knew he was an animagus and even if they knew, I didn’t exactly go around telling people that I had picked up a stray from the nearby park.” Harry shrugged. “Auntie, I mean your aunt–”

“I know you call her Auntie, too,” Susan said, reaching out to put a hand on his arm as he stammered. “I’m getting used to the idea, but it’s okay. You should call her whatever makes sense to you both.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.” He smiled, and for a moment the old confident, happy Harry was there. Then he faded as if a cloud had passed in front of the sun. He went on with his story.

“Anyway, she was furious when he transformed in front of her during the summer before our fourth year. Slapped him straight in the face and then proceeded to snog him.”

“Too much information, Potter,” Susan grimaced.

Harry just laughed at that. “Imagine how I felt. I had to watch it until I could flee the room at least.”

“How are you so alright talking about this?” Susan asked curiously.

“I’m not,” Harry admitted, “It hurts, but the more I focus on the good times the easier it is to bear. Like Auntie said, it is not like he hasn’t left something behind.” He mimicked the pregnant stomach of Amelia.

Susan giggled at that.

“Also, she’s being strong about it for my sake, so the least I can do is be strong for her sake too,” Harry finished solemnly. “This is you.”

Harry opened a door across from the bathroom, to one side of the study. It was a good-sized room with a bed, a closet, and some drawers.

“There's a desk in the study next door for you. I can change pretty much anything if you want,” Harry said.

Susan looked at her bed; she didn’t care about the other furniture.

“Could you make it a little wider?” she muttered quietly.

“Of course,” Harry grinned. “Wouldn’t want poor little Ginny to fall out of it while she sleeps.”

“You are just as bad as Tonks,” Susan reprimanded.

“I am not!” Harry sounded mock-offended. “So, wider? Anything else?”

“I would like for it to have some sort of …” Susan said.

“Some sort of what?” Harry smirked.

“Okay, some sort of you know… fixtures…” Susan mumbled red in her face, vaguely gesturing to the corners of the bed.

“Susan Bones,” Harry chuckled. “Too much information.”

Susan hid her face in embarrassment and by the time she looked up Harry had transfigured her bed into a queen-sized, four-poster bed. 

“So, what about the walls?” Harry asked. 

“Erm—” Susan thought back to her old bedroom, it had been a nice girly colour, something between pink and purple. It was a little too much, considering her age. 

“So what colours remind you of Ginny?” Harry asked off-handedly. 

“Red!” Susan said without thinking, “and green, and pink…”

“Okay, maybe that is a little aggressive for a colour scheme.” Harry chuckled.

“I didn’t…” 

“I know, but sometimes it is nice if you can stay in a room which reminds you of a person you like,” Harry said with a sad smile. “So, what do you think of this?”

Harry waved his wand and suddenly the walls had turned the light green colour of spring. She had seen Ginny wear a light spring tunic just that colour.

“It’s perfect,” Susan nodded. “Very Ginny.”

“Great,” Harry chuckled. “Oh, and welcome to Carnaby Street.”

He walked out of the door and breathed a sigh of relief. It was hard pretending to be alright in front of Susan. He felt exhausted.

Harry went to knock on Tonks’s door. She stuck her head out.

“Could you spar with me?” Harry asked, “Non-magical? I need to release some tension. Probably a lot less tension if it wasn’t for your antics.”

He poked her gently in the forehead. Tonks held her hands up to it and pouted.

“Do I have to?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Ugh… you training freak…” Tonks muttered. “Give me a second.”

Harry walked upstairs and waited for Tonks to show up. He didn’t bother changing. He needed to be able to do this in everyday clothes either way. 

Susan had heard Tonks’s door open and slam shut outside her bedroom, and she only just spotted her foot at the top of the staircase before she was gone.

“Don’t mind them,” Amelia’s voice came from downstairs. 

Susan leaned over the banister and looked down towards her aunt, sitting in the same recliner with a mug next to her on a little table and an open book in her palms. 

“What do you mean Auntie?” Susan asked. 

“Harry needs to let off some steam. He gets much more worried than he lets on,” Amelia sighed and rubbed her temples.

“He seemed fine to me,” Susan looked puzzled. 

“Go upstairs to watch then, but stay at the staircase, if they are duelling there is a shield around it, so you won’t be hit. Don’t interrupt them,” Amelia said.

Susan glanced at her aunt but decided that she might as well have a look. She walked upstairs without hearing the sigh from her aunt in the living room. She had just poked her head over the last step of the staircase when she gasped.

Harry and Tonks were fighting with their legs and fists, not a wand in sight. Harry already had a split lip, and blood was trickling down his chin. He was holding a hand to the side of his torso, but he was still standing in a fighting stance. Tonks was looking pale and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead. 

Susan rushed up the last steps and broke through the barrier.

“Why are you pulling your punches?” Harry asked eyes focused on the pink-haired witch in front of him.

“You’re still hurt.”

“Don’t look down on me,” Harry growled. 

“Isn’t it already enough?” Tonks begged, getting angry herself. “Be realistic!”

“No,” Harry said coldly. “I need to be able to fight even if my bones are broken.”

“Well, we better stop now, then,” Tonks said in disgust “Because I don’t plan on breaking them.”

Susan paled as she listened to their conversation, she couldn’t help herself from letting out a choked gasp.

Harry looked at her and sighed. He nodded to Tonks and waved a hand in mock surrender.

“I guess we better stop it then.”

“You need help with that?” Tonks asked, honestly looking relieved. 

“It’s fine,” Harry wiped off the trail of blood on his chin. “I lost this one.”

Harry brushed past Susan with a scant nod and walked downstairs. Susan looked from Harry to Tonks in dismay.

“Hah…” Tonks blew a lock of hair, soaked with sweat, out of her face. “Well, I guess it was better that ended now rather than later. Thanks, Susan.”

“No problem,” Susan looked pale.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Tonks said, “He might be able to put up a fight if he wasn’t hurt all over, but he has no chance when he can barely move his upper body because of the bruises.”

“Bruises?” Susan gasped.

“Well yeah,” Tonks wiped her forehead with a hand. “His back is more bruise than not. He won’t tell me how he got them, but I know he’s been pushing himself hard, too hard to heal… and training past the point of exercise. Anyway, they are mostly from that time.”

“But, why?”

“To punish himself,” Tonks looked at her with a solemn face. “He blames himself for what happened and he decides to punish himself for it. It’s better than the alternative.”

“What’s the alternative?”

Tonks shuddered. “Never mind, but trust me, it is not good.”

Tonks moved downstairs towards the staircase as well.

“You coming?” she asked. “I think it would be good to open up that ice cream we brought.”

“Hmm … Yeah,” Susan said.

As they reached the middle floor, Harry came out of his room with a towel in his hand.

“Here,” he said as he threw his wand to Tonks.

He turned around without anything more and walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

Tonks was idly twirling around his wand in her hand.

“We are opening the tub of ice cream. It’s from Morelli’s!” Tonks shouted at the locked bathroom door. 

There was no reply from the other side. Tonks scrubbed her hand back and forth through her hair in frustration. Susan was beginning to think Tonks did that a lot.

“Why did he give you his wand?” Susan asked as they moved to the lower floor. 

Tonks just pointed towards Amelia, who looked up at them.

“That was fast,” she mused. “I thought you would be at it for longer. He looked tense.”

“You knew he would stop if Susan arrived,” Tonks sighed, “Thank you for that though. Here’s his wand.” 

“You always were a clever judge of devious people,” Amelia acknowledged. Harry’s wand was put next to Amelia, who just looked at it before returning her attention to Susan.

“I can imagine you have a lot of questions, but trust me, this is not one you would like to know the answer to,” Amelia smiled sadly. “We have a rule with Harry about having his wand alone in a bathroom.”

“But why?” Susan asked. 

“You can ask him yourself, but I have no idea if he will answer you. Harry can be honest to a fault, but he also values his privacy.” Amelia changed the topic. “What was it I heard about ice cream?”

“Oh, right,” Tonks said as she rushed to the freezer. “We brought this back from Morelli’s.” 

“Another bribe?” Amelia suggested.

“No!” Tonks denied.

For the second time that evening, Susan sold her out.

“It was because she thought you would be angry if she didn’t bring any,” Susan teased, but inwardly she was thinking about Harry’s behaviour. He was a lot different than she remembered.

Tonks sent her a mock-hateful glare, but Amelia just chuckled at them. 

“Go on, bring out four bowls. He might not want any, but let’s not assume anything.” 

Tonks summoned four bowls to the living room and soon they were dividing up the tub of ice cream between them and talking about nothing really. They heard the door to the bathroom open and close and they all looked up to see Harry standing at the top of the stairs in his jeans with no t-shirt on. Susan couldn’t help but gasp when she saw the many discoloured bruises on his body, only some of which were fading.

“Can I get some help here?” Harry asked in an annoyed voice.

“Come downstairs if you need help,” Amelia said briskly. 

Harry mumbled something under his breath but soon he was downstairs.

“My wand?” he asked and Amelia pointed towards the reading table next to her. 

He walked forward and grabbed it. “Accio bruise cream!” 

The container flew out of a drawer in the kitchen and into his hand. Susan didn’t really know where to look. She couldn’t help but notice the many scars still visible on his skin. Some smaller, some larger. 

“Where did you get those?” she finally asked.

“The Department of Mysteries?” Harry looked at her, puzzled with a hint of sadness.

“No, I mean the scars,” Susan specified.

“Oh…” Harry said scratching the back of his head again. “Relatives.”

He grabbed a chair and sat down on it backward.

“A little help? Please?” he looked at Tonks.

She put down her bowl and took the container from his hand. She opened it and smeared the bruises on his back in the medicinal ointment.

Harry groaned as her fingers touched his skin.

“You are an idiot,” Amelia said. “Did you honestly think you could put up a real fight in your condition?”

“No,” Harry admitted, “I just needed to move around a bit. I‘m not sure I can win even if I was at my best, honestly.”

Tonks looked a little proud when he said that. 

“Well, I have been training hard,” she smiled sweetly behind him.

“I can see that,” Harry nodded, “I didn’t expect you to be able to control the distance like that. Are you… Hey, did you shrink and stretch your arms and legs as we sparred?” 

“You noticed?” Tonks said as she kept applying more cream to his back. 

“Of course, I did, I noticed everything about you,” Harry said followed by a painful grimace when she had jerked her hand a little harder. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” Tonks said, “I think I’m done. You should probably also look after the kick to your side, I put more power into it than I had intended.”

He raised his arm, twisting slightly in a way that showed his chest and ribs. 

“Can you just get it?”

She put the cream in his other hand. “I want to go wash my hands.”

“Fine, if it bruises it bruises,” Harry put on his t-shirt and set the container on the kitchen counter. “It’s almost empty.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to need more,” Amelia said with a frown. “You can go buy it yourself when you have gotten good enough with self-transfiguration.”

“Okay, Auntie,” Harry said as he sat down on the sofa grabbing the empty bowl and filled it with ice cream. He only just took a bite when he put both spoon and bowl down. He got up and left them, saying a quick goodnight.

“What was that about?” Susan asked.

“I don’t know,” Amelia said truthfully, but Tonks looked at the ice cream and felt like beating herself.

“It’s mint chocolate chip, Hermione’s favourite,” she muttered under her breath.

“Ah,” Amelia said, “Tonks maybe he needs the draught tonight,” 

“Maybe,” Tonks nodded.

“Wait, what do you mean draught?” Susan asked with raised eyebrows.

“He sleeps with the help of a Draught of Dreamless Sleep, not all nights but quite a few so far,” Amelia said. 

“Those are addictive,” Susan pointed out.

“They are indeed, but it is generally better for him to sleep than not,” Amelia said with a sad smile. “Tonks, could you bring one to him? I think I need to have a talk with Susan.”

Tonks nodded as she ate her last spoonful, and she went to a cupboard where a number of the same potions were lined up. She grabbed one and went upstairs. Her hair was pink, but a very pale, sad pink with no spark to it.

Amelia’s eyes followed her all the way up until Tonks turned towards the other side of the banisters. Amelia released a pent up sigh.

“Before I tell you as much as you need, please remember that this is about a friend, who doesn’t want everyone to know,” Amelia said.

“I understand, Auntie,” Susan nodded.

“Also, I am not going to tell you everything, there are worse details about him and his past that I don’t think are necessary for you to know unless he ever decides to tell you about them. Tonks is probably the only other person who knows exactly how bad Harry’s childhood was, and right now she is also probably the person who understands him best.” Amelia continued. “So don’t go snooping or asking questions you don’t really need the answers to.”

Susan noticed the serious look her aunt had in her eyes. She nodded and sat back.

By the time Amelia had told Susan enough about Harry’s situation, it had already become night and Susan was crying on the couch. Harry’s bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream had completely melted. 

“I think you now have an idea of why we didn’t let him go back to Hogwarts after the Department of Mysteries,” Amelia said as she gently stroked Susan’s hand. “He could not have been well there, especially considering that Hermione wouldn’t be there to help him.”

Susan nodded. “How does he do it?” 

“Do what? Survive?” Amelia asked.

“Well, yeah?” Susan said. “I don’t think I could have.”

Amelia wondered if she should tell her, but decided it was not something she needed to know. Not yet.

“Well, enough about that,” Amelia said, ending the conversation. “We’ve shared enough for one day. You should get to bed, too.”

Susan nodded and wiped away her tears.

“Is there any way I can help him?” Susan asked as she helped up Amelia from her recliner.

“If he asks for help, then help, and if he doesn’t, then don’t,” Amelia smiled sadly. “The boy is as stubborn as Sirius was.”

Susan nodded and went up towards her own bedroom. 

Chapter 6: Friends and Relations

Summary:

Susan settles into the flat on Carnaby Street.

• Duelling practice
• Ginny schedules a visit
• an embarrassing cramp
• wise beyond his years and sad beyond his age
• sunbathing

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 6. Friends and Relations

Harry had taken to dragging Susan into duelling with him during the past several weeks. Sometimes he would even duel against both Tonks and Susan at the same time. He would always push himself further and further. He hadn’t been able to win consistently against Tonks yet, but it was getting closer to an even match. He would consistently win against Susan, but he would always put himself under a handicap when it was one-on-one. Susan vowed to herself that she would make him fight her seriously before the summer was over. When Harry wasn’t training, he would close himself up in the study and read the different books about potions and poisons, curses and counter-curses. He even started reading about dark creatures. Amelia would constantly test him on his knowledge and had even once forced him to brew an antidote to a poison that Amelia threatened she would use on Tonks if he didn’t take it seriously. Harry had almost flared up at that but had studiously been brewing in a tiny room on the lower floor. It hadn’t been there originally, but Amelia had decided it would serve as a good training space for him. He would never sit still. 

Susan had tried to keep up, but even with her hard-working attitude, she needed to relax. Harry would regularly look pale or sleep-deprived, and his notes were cluttered all over the space. He had stopped training himself so hard when Amelia had sat him down and threatened to keep him in a full body-lock curse for a couple of days if he didn’t rest until his bruises were gone. Susan hadn’t noticed just how much time had passed until she opened a letter which arrived one morning. It was from Ginny.

Hello Love

Mum says she’s thinking of letting me stay a couple of days at your place.
I have a sneaking suspicion that she expects me to spy on Harry, but if that is 
what it takes for me to visit, I’m okay with it. I tried to get Mum to agree with letting me stay for a week or more, but she hasn’t budged. Ron has spent most of his time at St. Mungo’s visiting Hermione. He says she has already studied the whole of first-year and she is almost done with second-year lessons.

She is as scary-impressive as ever. I look forward to seeing you, so please ask your aunt when I might visit. I cannot wait until I can see you again!

Yours, Ginny

Susan noticed the faint print of lipstick under the name, and the parchment smelled minty, like Pepper Imps, Ginny’s favourite sweet. Susan looked up at her aunt, hopefully.

“Ginny asks when she can stay here,” Susan said.

“Hmm. Harry, how good has your self-transfiguration become? And Tonks, do you have any days off? I don’t feel safe letting them go out to explore without you two with them.” Amelia frowned.

Harry had had some trouble improving his self-transfiguration. Tonks and Susan still giggled at the image of him one morning, when he had messed up and gotten his hair stuck as pink for three days. Susan had seen him in the kitchen thinking it was Tonks and had been unable to keep standing because of the laughter when he had turned around. 

Tonks had teased him for a week after telling him to keep it as it made him look “cute”. Harry had sent a stinging jinx after her for the first time in years. Tonks had yelped and rubbed her bum where he had hit her, but the amused smile which she had sported after made Susan believe that Harry was slowly getting better. 

He had also stopped taking the Draught of Dreamless Sleep a week ago. He would still sometimes have nightmares, episodes of wrenching muscle spasms, or panic that would wake him, but they were further and further between, which had begun to improve the mood of the whole flat. 

“I should be able to manage; I haven’t been able to change the scar though,” Harry admitted, “if people know me and see that, there’s a fair chance they will realise it’s meit is a rather famous feature.”

He made a weary grimace.

“Have you tried Muggle makeup?” Tonks asked.

“No,” Harry said. “What made you think of that?” 

“You know Reagan’s sister? She helped me with some for a Christmas party,” Tonks said with a bit of a wistful look. 

“Something wrong?” Harry asked, concerned.

“Ah… I just blew it with a decent bloke at that party,” Tonks sighed. 

“You could always try to reach out to him,” Harry suggested.

“No, I don’t think I should,” Tonks shrugged. “It just never felt completely right.”

“Okay,” Harry said.

As he walked past her, he gave her a supporting squeeze on the shoulder. She put her hand over the spot he had touched with a little smile. 

“So, do you have any days off?” Amelia asked once more. 

“Oh, yes. I should be able to take a couple of days off,” Tonks nodded, “Scrimgeour is an okay bloke. I don’t think it will be a problem.”

“Go find out today, would you? So Susan can send a reply back tonight? Even if it is just one day off for them to explore London, it is better than nothing.” Amelia said.

Susan sent Tonks a grateful smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t mind spending the few days in bed with Ginny, but she had only had a couple of chances to explore with Tonks when she had a day off. Harry had stayed sequestered in the flat, not that he ever showed that it bothered him. He would just pick up another book from the mounting pile. They had had to build a third bookcase in the study for his books. Floor to ceiling, too. 

Susan felt incredibly light and optimistic all day. Harry had spent some time opening up a roof terrace for her to sit on and tan. It was extended out from the training hall, but that didn’t bother her much. The glass doors were as solid as the rest of the room, so there was little danger of it breaking from the duelling. She had been surprised when he had shown her and pleased that he had been considerate enough to think of her.

Susan had been thinking of Harry as invading her life with her Auntie, but she realised that she was just as much or more invading the life he had built in Carnaby Street. The terrace was a kind of welcoming gift, and she appreciated it.

She also had a naughty idea of how to use the terrace with Ginny. They couldn’t be seen because of the Fidelius Charm, but maybe they could be heard from the ground if Ginny was loud enough. The only thing they needed to be worried about was Harry and Tonks, but if Tonks was at work and Harry was busy in the study, maybe…

Susan blushed when she thought about it. Since when had she become like this? It definitely had to do with the fact that they used the Hogwarts grounds to enjoy themselves more than their actual bedrooms. 

She had bought a rather risqué bikini on one of her trips with Tonks. She had felt it was much too revealing when she had seen it, but she had wanted to take revenge on some of Tonks’s pranking, and when she had spotted Tonks turning red-faced at a more modest pink bikini in the shop window, she had hatched her plan. 

“I think we should go in here,” Susan had teased in front of the store. “I think you would look very attractive in that.” 

She had expected Tonks to shake her head and want to run away, but somehow she had nervously gone into the store. 

Susan had gotten herself a white bikini that fit delightfully against her body. She looked forward to showing it off to Ginny and maybe even bringing her to the store herself. Tonks had gotten three different sizes for her top, which had puzzled Susan until she saw Tonks smirking. 

Right, of course, she can change sizes, Susan had groaned quietly. 

The cashier had looked puzzled when she had seen the three different sizes at the register and offered to let her try out the size in the changing room, but Tonks had just said she would like all three. 

Right now, Susan was standing in front of Harry, wearing only her bikini and a wrap around her waist. She was annoyed to find that Harry didn’t even seem to react to her near nakedness. It wasn’t that she needed him to notice, but the lack of reaction vexed her more than she would like to admit. 

“Going out on the terrace?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” she said. 

“Oh, okay,” Harry shrugged. “I wanted to move my body, and I was going to ask you if you wanted a duel.”

What a jock... Susan groaned. Or as Tonks would call it, ‘Training Freak.’

“You could join me, instead?” Susan tried. 

“Why would I do that?” Harry looked confused.

“To relax you great idiot, maybe even get a tan,” Susan rubbed her forehead. She walked over to the bannister and shouted downstairs. “Auntie, could you tell Harry to go to the terrace and relax?” 

“Harry, go relax, no reading, no working out,” Amelia’s stern but loving voice came out from downstairs. 

“But–” Harry began.

“No buts!” Amelia waddled over to the bottom of the stairs. “You need break days to relax and let your muscles regenerate.”

“Fine!” Harry raised his hands in mock-surrender. “Give me a second.”

He ran to his room and found an older pair of jeans which still fit in the waist but were too short for him. A few severing charms later and he had made some shorts, which only reached the tops of his thighs. He put them on and walked out of his room, still wearing a t-shirt. 

“Not a bad look, Potter,” Susan commented. 

“Thanks,” Harry shrugged. “Give me a second, I’ll make us some iced tea.” 

“I’ll go up ahead of you then,” Susan said as she walked up the stairs.

Harry walked down the stairs and heard a wolf-whistle from Amelia as he walked into the kitchen.

“What?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Well, watch out with that behind, you’ll leave a trail of swooning witches.” Amelia teased. 

“Oh, shut it,” Harry laughed as he made two pitchers of iced tea. He placed one of them next to Amelia, who was mostly stuck in her recliner reading these days or walking around the downstairs floor. She had less than eight weeks left before her due date, as they were already in the middle of June. 

“Thanks, Harry,” Amelia said with a smile. “Please take today to relax, really. You’re too tense.” 

“I know, Auntie,” Harry said, “It’s just …”

“Easier to not think about things, when you stay busy?” Amelia asked.

“Well, yeah,” Harry admitted.

“You know, it’s not all bad to actually think about it a bit, instead of bottling it up,” Amelia said. “I understand you don’t like talking about it, but Susan knows both of you. Might be worth a try.”

Harry sent her a pensive look.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and he carried two glasses and the pitcher up towards the roof. 

Harry was lost in thought as he ascended the stairs. All of his suppressed emotions seemed like they were fighting within him to be released. He didn’t even notice whatever Susan said to him as he sat down on his own deck chair. His mind was swimming in circles as he laid down against the plastic.

“Harry,” Susan’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was just something Auntie said,” Harry waved his hand as he pulled off his t-shirt. “It’s nothing, it just started some thoughts I didn’t want to think about much.”

“You know, you can talk to me if you want,” Susan tread cautiously. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Harry closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin. His body slowly relaxed under the heat. 

“It’s just… unfair,” he said after a while. “I love her, but is she even here anymore? I know that Hermione is still alive, but she’s not my Hermione. She doesn’t even remember me, and as much as I hate to admit it, John —err, Mister Granger— is right, it would be too much for her. It’s just… I really love her, and it’s killing me and terrifying me to go back to Hogwarts and seeing her, knowing that she won’t look at me the same way she used to. I don’t know how I’ll react. I’m torn, wanting to go and see her at St. Mungo’s, but would that even be good for her? Would she hate me if I went? Would she hate me if I didn’t go? I just don’t know what to do.”

Silence descended between them after his prolonged outburst. Susan didn’t know what to say, if there was even anything which was correct to say. She gathered her courage.

“You are a good man, Harry,” she said softly. 

“I’m not… if I was a good man, I wouldn’t have let her go with me, I wouldn’t have let her get hurt.” Harry had begun shivering, weeping with his whole body.

“It’s because you’re a good man that you went, and because you’re a good man that we went with you. We knew the danger,” Susan said firmly. 

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“None of us did. Even if she knew what would happen to her, she would still have gone.” Susan was choosing her words carefully. “If you’re honest with yourself you know that. She would never have let you go without her, she’s too strong. She wouldn’t have stayed behind being worried about you. Her as much as any of us.”

Harry cried silently as he listened to her words. The only sounds on the terrace were the sounds of his shallow breathing mixing with the soft sounds of people down on the street. 

Susan sipped her glass of iced tea, looking at him with sadness. She had never seen Harry cry before. She didn’t want to interrupt him.

She watched as he wiped away his tears and grabbed the pitcher to pour himself a glass. She watched as he gulped it all down at once, some of it spilling down his chest. 

“Thanks,” Harry said as he put the glass down. “I think I’m going to sleep for a bit, could you wake me up in like fifteen, twenty minutes? But nothing more than that, okay?” 

“Sure thing,” Susan smiled at him as he laid down and closed his eyes. She soon listened to his steady breaths. 

She enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her skin as she closed her eyes. It was a beautiful day. She hadn’t expected Harry to open up. She certainly hadn’t expected him to cry. She felt closer to him than before, though. More like family in a sense. He was like a brother, a brother who had seen so much, was plagued by so much. She knew he was younger than her, but rarely did Harry seem his age. 

He was always wise beyond his age, and sad beyond his years, even before, she thought as she looked at him. It’s aged him.

She was way in over her head if she ever wanted to help him with whatever he was dealing with, but maybe she didn’t need to actually give him advice, maybe she just needed to listen. 

Time passed quickly, and soon she was past the fifteen minutes Harry had given himself to take a nap. She didn’t want to wake him at first, but she noticed that she was getting a good tan on one side, and he was paler than she was. It was probably better if she woke him now. She got up and pushed his shoulder. She felt his hand wrap around her wrist, forcing her down to her knees.

“Ouch, let me go!” Susan squealed.

Harry’s eyes flew open, wide and burning brightly. “I’m so sorry!” He backed so far away he fell off his chair. “I didn’t mean it!”

“Merlin, Harry,” Susan rubbed her wrist. “It’s okay.” 

“No,” Harry said miserably. “I should go back inside.”

“Don’t go,” Susan pleaded. “It really is okay, it didn’t even hurt – I was just startled, that’s all. Besides, you need to tan on the other side or else you’ll look weird. I’m alright, trust me.”

Harry was by the glass doors, when he turned around to look back at her. He felt dangerous to be around. He hadn’t felt like that around Tonks or even Amelia. Tonks could react to him more than capably, and he was never in a situation where Amelia took him by surprise. 

“You sure?” He sounded doubtful.

“Yes,” Susan nodded. “I’m sure.”

Harry reluctantly walked back to his deck chair and sat down.

“You need to lie on your stomach to get the back tanned.” Susan mused at him as she changed her own chair to a horizontal position and laid down on her stomach.

Harry followed her example. He was feeling fidgety, but he tried his best to relax. 

Relax, I need to relax and unwind, he thought to himself. If you keep being in high alert, you’ll burn out. 

He felt the sun on his shoulders and back, he tried to control his breathing as he felt the warmth wash over his body. He opened his eyes and looked at Susan, who was lying there next to him.

Thank you, he thought to himself. You have no idea how much I was missing a friend.

 

They got up after another half hour, and Harry felt drenched in sweat in a different way than he did from training. It was a good feeling, though. Susan was smiling, and their little incident looked like it was absolutely forgiven, if not completely forgotten.

Amelia watched the interactions between Harry and Susan carefully for the next few days. Rather than trying to repair their lives from the ground up, the two youngsters seemed to be taking things more cautiously. Susan and Harry each maintained their own separate relationship with Amelia, while not pushing or demanding much from each other. It was a sensible way to negotiate the reality of their new, blended family, and it made Amelia optimistic that they would eventually all settle in together without any unnecessary fireworks.

Of course, with Harry and Susan, along with Tonks, all being intense young people in a confined situation, there were bound to be bumps along the way.

Amelia was sipping at a cup of apple juice, having drunk so much tea recently that she was developing an aversion to it. She had been unable to sleep and was up early, enjoying the quiet morning alone with her thoughts, when she heard a shriek from upstairs, followed by slamming doors.

“Bloody hell,” she sighed, pulling herself to her feet. She made her way towards the stairs, trying to peer into the darkness upstairs and figure out what was going on. Just as she arrived at the stairs, she saw Susan, clutching her robe tight around her, hair a mess and face mottled with anger, stomping to the railing.

“Auntie!” Susan’s voice was growly and rough, and Amelia was reminded of Tonks before her coffee in the morning. “Auntie, do something!”

“What is it?” At that point, Harry, wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans but no shirt, also came to the railing, looking down at Amelia but avoiding Susan.

“It’s not my fault!” Harry sounded peevish. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“He was doing something perverted in the bathroom,” Susan said, her voice angry and embarrassed. “Why couldn’t he lock the door? I walked in on whatever it was!”

“Who barges into a bathroom?” Harry complained. “I had a cramp! I was stretching, that’s all– I swear!”

“Well—” Amelia began, but Susan cut her off before she could say anything further.

“And where exactly was this ‘cramp’? I don’t want to see that first thing in the morning, you know!” Susan was still clutching her robe, and Amelia realised that neither of them had expected anyone in the bathroom and neither had been properly dressed. 

“Wotcher,” came the confused call, as the third resident of the second floor made her appearance. Tonks was scrubbing her face with her hands and looking bleary-eyed from Susan to Harry and back. Her hair was not only a horrible pale green, it was sticking almost directly out from one side of her head. “Where’s the fire?”

“Susan, I’m sure Harry was not trying to do anything to embarrass you,” Amelia said firmly.

“But—”

“No!” Amelia put a stop to any more from Susan. “And Harry?”

“What? I needed a glass of water.” He swallowed, and hung his head as she stared him down. “I mean, ‘Yes, Auntie?’ Sorry.”

“That’s better,” Amelia said. “You’re living with two young ladies up there now, and you are a young man, and you are all sharing that bath. Please be considerate in future, as I know that you can be.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said. He muttered to himself, loud enough for her to hear clearly, “I could cast Colloportus if I could take my wand to the bloody loo…”

And you could use the perfectly acceptable latch, sir.” She held his eye, and he nodded, abashed.

“So, can I go back to bed, or what?” Tonks was still standing there, confused.

“It’s about time everyone was up, now, anyway. Harry, get dressed and come start breakfast. Tonks, please take a minute to talk to Susan. She has not had your experience in sharing a flat with – Well, just talk to her please. And Susan? Susan?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Her voice was calm but still clearly irritated.

“You compose yourself and come down when you are civil. I shall see you shortly.”

Amelia returned to her juice, and decided to indulge herself and have tea with breakfast after all. She heard mutterings and low voices and doors opening and closing upstairs, then a relative quiet. She put the kettle on and took a seat, lowering herself uncomfortably into her chair. Maybe it was because she was older, but this whole pregnancy thing seemed to be harder than it was supposed to be.

 

Tonks sat on the end of Susan’s bed, doing her best to look alert and awake. Susan had thrown a pair of jeans and a blouse on and was trying to explain just how horrible her morning had been.

“Things have been going so well,” Susan finally said in frustration. “How have you managed all this time?”

Tonks shrugged. How could she explain the weirdly intimate way she and Harry lived for the last few years. Closer than lovers in some ways, but awkward and private as strangers in others. Tonks finally said something she hoped sounded reassuring.

“He’s not hard to live with, a lot of the time. He’s neat, he cooks, he’s thoughtful…”

Tonks flopped back, staring at the ceiling. “He doesn’t come and go at all hours or forget to lower the toilet lid. Best of all, he really lets you know that he cares about… people.” 

She closed her mouth, worried she’d gone too far.

Susan looked at her, and lay back as well, also staring at the ceiling.

“I get it. I just haven’t ever had to share Auntie with anything but her work before. I guess I wasn’t handling it as well as I thought I was.”

“What do you say we head down? I’d give my left tit for coffee right now.”

Susan laughed, and reached out a hand to Tonks, touching her shoulder as they sat up. She looked at the older woman with a serious expression for a moment.

“And Tonks,” she said quietly. “I won’t ever tell.”

Tonks showed fear, embarrassment, denial, regret, all in the span of a few seconds. She hopped to her feet, swinging her arms and pacing about. “No idea what you mean.”

Susan nodded and got up as well. “I see your face when you’re talking about him, looking at him. It’s the same way I look at Ginny.” She opened the door and headed downstairs.

Tonks could hear Harry downstairs, pans clattering on the cooktop, just the sound of him, in their home, that she had come to count on. Even a schoolgirl could still tell, she thought. The only person who doesn’t know how I feel about Harry is... Harry.

She heard a squeal, this time of excitement and happiness, from the kitchen and she hurried downstairs.

Susan was holding a small note, while a diminutive owl hopped excitedly back and forth from her arm to Harry’s shoulder and back, hooting smugly.

Before anyone could say anything, Harry put a very large mug of very strong coffee into her hands. She took a deep, grateful breath, inhaling the essential aroma to jumpstart her brain. She smiled at Harry, and he gave her a wink.

“She’s coming!” Susan said excitedly, her words pouring over each other. Tonks had never seen her so excited before. “Ginny, she’s got permission! She’s coming in two days, just the weekend, but if everything goes well her mother might let her come again.”

Tonks took her first sip and then sighed.

“Tell you what, I don’t have to be at the Ministry until this evening. What do you say we get your breakfast, and then we can go out and find a few things to help you make Ginny feel welcome? Assuming that’s okay, Boss?”

Amelia waved her hand. “I could use the peace around here. Go. Have fun.”

Harry smiled, but Tonks saw that he didn’t seem entirely thrilled. She gave him a regretful look.

“Sorry that you can’t come with, Harry. Maybe by the weekend, you’ll have that self-transfiguration solid enough to come along.”

“No, you girls have a good time. I’ve got an idea I want to work on, and Auntie can check my self-transfiguration work later.” He smiled, putting on a happy face for Susan, not wanting anything to bring her down before her girlfriend visited.

“Thanks, Harry,” Susan said excitedly. “Next time, all of us, I promise. I know you can do the disguises, I know it.”

Harry started serving breakfast, but it was clear that Susan was too excited to do more than touch her food before she dashed upstairs to get ready. Tonks finished her coffee and looked longingly at her plate.

“Hold on a tick,” Harry said, scooping her eggs and bacon with a slice of fried tomato between two slices of buttered toast. “Muggle breakfast sandwich. Enjoy.”

Tonks took a bite as she took her plates to the sink. She turned around, mouth full and eyes wide, nodding enthusiastically.

“You like?” Harry asked needlessly, watching her hair go all bubblegum pink, his favourite.

She swallowed her enormous bite with gusto, and pasted an enthusiastic kiss on Harry's cheek, before rushing upstairs herself, sandwich in hand.

“Well, you just made a young lady very happy,” Amelia said, picking at her breakfast. Her system had decided to be “delicate” this morning.

“It was just a sandwich,” he shrugged.

“I meant Susan. You made a good show of not caring that she was taking time with Tonks away from you. That was kind.”

He sat, finished with his own food but happy to sit with Amelia for a while as the hubbub of two young women preparing to head out proceeded upstairs. He smiled, but it was a slightly hollow smile, a little self-mocking.

“I know what love is,” he said softly. “It’s the only weapon that has been able so far to hurt...Him. I don’t ever want to take a chance for love away from any of us. Not ever again.”

Amelia at first was impressed by Harry’s positive outlook, but on closer look, she noticed that his hands were gripping the edge of the table very hard, his knuckles white, and a muscle at the corner of his eye was twitching irregularly. Her heart went out to him anew.

“You’re not wrong, Harry,” she said softly as the girls came clambering loudly down the stairs. 

Susan was wearing the dragon skin vest that Tonks sometimes wore when she couldn’t wear her long coat. Tonks of course was wearing the coat, but her t-shirt underneath was cut off short and revealed a wide, creamy slice of skin above her belt. Tonks had matched her hair to Susan’s, and they looked like two sisters looking for trouble. Susan beamed at her aunt.

“Wotcher, Auntie!” Susan laughed, doing a little spin. “We won’t be late, I promise. I know Tonks has to work tonight.”

“Have fun, you two,” Harry said, standing quickly. “I’m going to take a shower while there’s no chance of unexpected visitors.”

The girls left, and just as Amelia was about to say something to Harry, he returned and wordlessly set his wand by her side.

He headed upstairs, and she took a last sip of tea, before seeing to the breakfast dishes. She was not feeling very well and thought maybe she’d have a bit of a lie down once Harry was out of the shower.

Notes:

Not a critical chapter for THE PLOT, but a lot of heavy lifting on characterization and tone, establishing the routine of Carnaby Street as everyone adapts to the new normal. Waske had already written most of this, so that was a treat.

Enjoy,
Killjoy

Chapter 7

Summary:

Interlude-
• Ronald Weasley visits Hermione Granger in the ward at St. Mungo's.
• Ron struggles with how much Hermione is struggling, and he tries to not be a prat, with some success.
• Books, semantics, and grapes.

Notes:

Author’s Note:

In 1931, in New Orleans, Louisiana, mathematician Alfred Korzybski presented a paper on mathematical semantics…Important stuff certainly, but not necessarily immediately useful for the layperson.

However, in his string of arguments on the structure of language, Korzybski introduced and popularized the idea that the map is not the territory. In other words, the description of the thing is not the thing itself. The model is not reality. The abstraction is not the abstracted. This has enormous practical consequences.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7. Interlude: “The Map Is Not the Territory”

 

Ron Weasley arrived via floo to the main lobby of St. Mungo’s. He had two books in one hand, and a bunch of grapes in the other. Another Gryffindor, young Colin Creevey, had once mentioned to him that it was a Muggle tradition that you brought grapes to someone in hospital. Ron knew that Hermione had been raised a Muggle, and was struggling to regain what she’d experienced of the Wizarding world. Still, Ron came from a very traditional family so– grapes.

He took the stairs two at a time, not from any sense of urgency, but more as a nod towards the Quidditch conditioning he hadn’t been getting lately. Ron was rather lazy by temperament, but some success at sport, not to mention the momentous events in the world around him, were slowly pushing him towards fitness and consistent effort. “Not letting the side down,” that most British of virtues, was not unique to the Muggle world.

He arrived at the ward and took a second to catch his breath and make sure there were no spots on his trousers or egg on his shirt. Hermione Granger, he had been re-learning, was not afraid of cataloging out his flaws. Pointedly. Satisfied he met her and his own minimum standards, he entered the ward.

Hermione was sitting in a chair, by the window, with a small lap desk and a large stack of books next to her. Her hair was unkempt and bushy, her face an unsettling combination of youthful innocence and traumatic weariness. She saw him come in, and her face lit up with a smile. Ever since she had discovered her much more manageable front teeth, Hermione had been prone to huge smiles with the slightest provocation.

“Oh, hello, Ronald!” Always formal. Never Ron, always Ronald. At least she had stopped calling him “Mr. Weasley” after the first two visits. That had been profoundly troubling for Ron. Ronald.

“Hello, Hermione,” he said warmly, coming next to her and sitting in another chair opposite her. He made no attempt to get physically close or touch her. After his first visit, he had thoughtlessly gone to give her a quick hug goodbye, just being friendly and supportive, but when his arm went around her she’d shrieked. A full panic attack had followed, and it had been almost a week before she and her parents had allowed him a second visit.

Instead, he sat across from her. He kept his movements careful, his wand out of sight, and did his best to listen more, and to speak less. He placed his gifts, both books and grapes, on the small table between them rather than into her hands. It was a lot to remember, but one of Ron’s few clear strengths even as a child was long-range thinking. It’s what made him so dangerous at wizard chess. He’d just not bothered to think ahead much when he wasn’t playing until more recently. He found you heard words like “prat” or “git” a lot less if you thought about what you were saying before you said it, rather than after, or not at all.

“You brought me grapes?” She smiled again, the slightly exaggerated, beaming smile. “Thank you, Ronald.”

“I was hoping that was actually a tradition,” he admitted with relief. “The wizard who told me about it is not exactly reliable. On the excitable side.”

She frowned, her face unguarded, and he could see that she was mentally checking her notes. “Dennis Creevey?”

“Close!” He gave what he hoped was an encouraging look. “His brother, Colin.”

 Her face fell, and she grabbed one of many scraps of paper in stacks on her lap desk and scowled as she made another note on the crowded page. Ron could tell she was berating herself for making a mistake.

“Hermione,” he said softly. When she didn’t look up, he called her again more firmly. “Hermione.”

She looked up, and guilt swept across her transparent facade. “Sorry. I knew that one. I knew I knew it…”

“Hermione,” Ron chided, “I agreed to spend time with you, and help fill you in on all the social and practical details of life at Hogwarts, on the one condition that you didn’t try to be perfect on every memory, every day. Do you recall that conversation?” 

The Healers had pressed upon him the importance of checking her recent memories and never pressing her on her lost or damaged memories. It was challenging, but Ron felt like there had to be something he could do. He harbored a great deal of guilt for his own failures in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. After he had been befuddled in the Planets Room, everything had gone wrong. He wasn’t egotistical enough to blame himself for everything, but he felt he had his portion of blame to shoulder, at least as much as anyone.

“I just hate getting things wrong,” Hermione admitted, staring down at her jumper. In addition to her memory problems, Hermione was dealing with what her mother called “Body Dysmorphic Disorder,” which was apparently a Muggle term relating to feeling not at home in your own body. She wore nothing but loose clothing, lots of oversized jumpers and such. While it made her more comfortable, it also tended to exaggerate the effect she sometimes presented now of being a child in a young woman’s body.

“It’s okay to not know everything.” He saw her frown and decided to change the subject to something more positive. “But look, I found your books. Had to get my brother to go to a Muggle friend of his to track down the blue one.”

“Percy? No, wait, one of the twins because Percy wouldn’t have any Muggle friends,” she said shrewdly.

“Right, George. Now, is that the one you wanted?”

She picked it up and began to tear through it at high speed, her face intense and her breathing shallow. Not even Hermione read that fast.

“Hey, slow down, slow down. What are you looking for exactly?”

Korzybski!” she shouted, stopping on a page a third of the way through the dense book.

“Bless you,” he said immediately.

She rolled her eyes melodramatically, and said to him as if to a small child, “Ronald, it’s a name? Alfred Korzybski, the semantician? I recalled my father mentioned him at dinner last year…”

Her face fell again, but she perked herself up and corrected, “At dinner, six years ago. The map is not the territory!”

“I was teasing,” Ron replied gently. “I might not understand what that book was on about, but I did remember the author you’d asked for. So, what do you mean, about maps?”

“Well, do you recall,” she asked, carefully avoiding the word “remember” by habit now, “what the matron said about my… well, I’ll say it if you won’t, about my memories? The framework?”

“Let me see, something about how they could recover your experience patterns, but they couldn’t actually restore… everything.”

“It’s sort of like this,” She agreed. “Everything from the day before they visited us from Hogwarts, I have pretty clearly, except some of the really early stuff before I was four, and hadn’t learnt to read yet.”

“You learned to read at four? I didn’t get ‘Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump’ read to me until I was five. Bloody hell!”

“Language, Ronald,” she said primly. He smiled in spite of himself. He remembered this Hermione rather well. “Anyhow, before Hogwarts, clear. After that… at first, it was all gone. Now, I still don’t know all that I’m lacking, but have a vague idea of what it is that I don’t know.”

“So… you don’t know, but you’ve learned that you don’t know, and you’re trying to work out how to know… what it is that you don’t know?” His brow was furrowed with the many kinks in that chain of thought.

“Exactly!” Hermione squealed and clapped her hands together. 

It was times like this that she was tragically childlike, but also very open and approachable. It made him both sad and happy at the same time. “But what’s this about maps?”

“Oh, yes. So Korzybski made the distinction between the thing, be it an object in the world or a thought or an idea, and the language, the map to describe the thing. He made it clear that there’s a difference between the way we can describe an idea, and an idea itself. That’s where I am now. I’m rebuilding my maps and figuring sort of roughly which ones are missing, but I don’t have the right experiences and information to understand exactly what they mean.”

“The map is not the territory,” Ron said, shaking his head. “It’s right humbling, you know. You’ve been here all this while, puzzling this out with all you’ve been through, and I’ve just been doing a bit of homework and helping mum and dad around the house. Five-year head start, and you’re still that much smarter than me.”

She looked down again, twisting her hands in her lap and not meeting his eye.

“I’m sorry, Ronald. I wasn’t trying to be clever or make you feel bad.”

“Hey,” he said, sharp enough that she did look up and meet his eye. “Never apologize for being the smartest witch in the room, Hermione. Your friends are all proud of you. I’m sure loads of them would be here if it was allowed.”

“Loads of friends,” she said wistfully. “Now that is an odd thought.”

A Healer on rounds stuck her head in the ward and gave Ron a cautionary look. He was under strict instructions that Hermione was not to be tired out or bothered.

“Well, I guess that’s my signal,” he said, standing slowly and stretching slightly. “Don’t swallow that book whole, now. The map may not be the territory, but it’s not a jam sandwich either. Small bites, now.”

She laughed and gave him another smile. “Yes, sir, Mr. Weasley!”

He mimed fainting in horror. “No more of that now. See you again soon, Hermione. Be well.”

“I will, thank you, Ronald,” she called after him as he walked towards the door. He stopped at the doorway to wave goodbye, and she called out again, “And thank you for the grapes! They’re lovely!”

He smiled, and almost whistled as he went around the corner. He kept it up until he reached the stairs, a good way from her ward, but then he sort of collapsed down onto the top step. He hugged his knees a bit and took a moment to collect himself before he returned home. He hoped these visits were worth it for Hermione. He knew they were taking their toll on him. If she recovered someday, if she was Hermione again, it would be worth it, he supposed.

After a few more minutes, he stood, squared his shoulders, and quickly descended the stairs and headed home. He was already planning out stories about their third year for next time, juggling all the details to avoid making the Harry-sized hole in them quite so obvious. She was so much brighter than him, he acknowledged, it was a very long game indeed to avoid that subject until everyone agreed it was time. He hoped when the time came, she could forgive him.

Chapter 8: Surprise

Summary:

Harry has to deal with some petty emotions he'd rather not face when Ginny comes to visit her girlfriend, Susan.

• Harry perfects his self-transformation and does some shopping
• explicit scene (Ginny and Susan reunited)
• Harry surprises Tonks
• accidental near-snogging

Chapter Text

Chapter 8. Surprise

Harry sighed loudly to himself as he got out of the shower. It was still morning. Maybe he should have gone for a workout instead of taking the shower. He dreaded Ginny’s arrival. He liked Susan and Ginny, and he liked them as a couple, but that was when he wasn’t going to be watching them up close and personal. Something he couldn’t have. It was vexing. He sighed loudly once more and went to his room to put on some clothes. There were still two days left for him to come to terms with seeing a happy couple in front of him.

I shouldn’t be this petty, he thought. 

He walked downstairs and sat on the couch next to Amelia. He couldn’t swallow a sigh in time.

“Something bothering you?” she asked, looking up from her book. 

“It’s nothing,” Harry lied. 

“Clearly,” Amelia smirked.

“Okay, fine,” Harry admitted. “It’s just I am afraid of seeing Ginny and Susan, you know, happy...”

“Why?” Amelia raised an eyebrow. 

She hadn’t thought him to be averse to the girls’ relationship before. He certainly hadn’t said anything to suggest it. 

“Because I am jealous,” Harry groaned. “I’m jealous of their happiness. They have something I can no longer have.” 

“Ah,” Amelia stretched out the sound longer than usual. “I understand. I hadn’t really thought about that.” She also thought that the sight of young people in love might not be a thrill for Tonks either, for a number of reasons. 

“Honestly, that’s also part of the reason why I didn’t fight to go with them,” Harry ruffled his hair, well maybe it was closer to pulling it at this point. “I just didn’t want to listen to how happy Susan was. I know that’s petty, but I can’t help what I feel. I’m sure I’ll get by when Ginny is here, of course. Susan is a good friend and so is Ginny. It’s just …”

“Frustrating,” Amelia finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “That’s also why I want to start a new project, something to keep my mind too busy to be hung up on them. Maybe I can actually make a calculator work using magic. At least it might keep me occupied, and not make me a sullen git who ruins the mood for my friends.”

Amelia nodded. She was pleasantly surprised that Harry thought ahead and even took measures to ensure that he would be able to keep himself under control. 

She had agreed to let Harry go out by himself if he could disguise himself enough to fool her at first glance. She had never seen him so concentrated before. She watched as he transfigured bone structure to have a wider jawline, and the beard he added was making him positively at least five years older than he was. He had managed to lengthen his hair so it went down to his shoulders and even if he couldn’t completely subdue the mess Potter-hair was known to be, he managed to pull it back into a casual ponytail, which restrained it somewhat. He changed the colour to a dirty blonde, and his eye colour was changed to blue. If he could hide the scar, he would indeed be unrecognizable. 

Amelia pointed towards her forehead, which made Harry grin.

“Accio Make-up,” Harry said pointing his wand towards his upstairs. The small bag of foundation and concealer flew down into his hand. He went over to a mirror and carefully applied the make-up to hide his scar. He blended it carefully with his skin colour, and soon a completely different man was standing in the living room.

“Okay, you pass,” Amelia said with relief. “I would not have given you a second glance.” 

Harry grinned and scratched his well-kept beard. 

“So you’re saying I’m no longer pretty,” he said, trying to make his voice sound at least a little lower than usual. 

“Very funny,” Amelia shook her head. “Your voice needs work, but that is partly because I know it’s you.” 

“So, I’m good to go?” Harry asked.

“Yes, thirty minutes this first time. If you’re not back by thirty minutes, I’m calling the Order,” Amelia said sternly. “No discussion.”

Harry calculated that it would just be enough time for him to go out, buy the calculator and then get home again.

“Should be doable,” Harry nodded. “Thirty minutes.”

Harry felt freer than he had in quite a while. The sun was shining on Carnaby Street and people were walking around enjoying the summer weather. He looked around and took in the fresh air around him. He hadn’t known just how much he actually needed to be outside. 

He quickly made his way towards a bookstore which might sell him a calculator. He didn’t need it to be fancy, it just needed to be battery-driven. He needed something cheap, so it wouldn’t matter if he broke it. 

“And what can I help you with, sir?” the manager of the bookstore inquired.

“Calculator,” Harry tried to make his voice more gruff than usual.

“Certainly, sir,” the manager nodded. “We have a wide selection. Was there a type or model you wanted?”

“I don’t need anything fancy,” Harry said. “Just something which works well enough.”

“Certainly, sir,” the manager nodded, leading him towards the display of calculators. 

“All these do basic functions: addition, subtraction, division, and multiplication. These also have square-root, and most have a last-number memory. Graphing calculators and paper tape printing calculators are towards there, mostly for students and business” 

Harry pointed to a random basic calculator, “Battery driven?” 

“No sir,” the manager said. “Solar; never needs batteries. Will run off a desk lamp as well, any lit room actually.”

“Really? I’ll take this one then.”

“Certainly, anything else I could help you find?” 

“No, that should do it.” Harry was surprised how quickly that had gone.

He checked the time and decided he could take his leisure walking back home. 

He paid for the calculator, and as he walked out of the store he decided that instead of being late to get back, it would probably be better to be early. He walked down the street and spotted a very familiar dragon skin coat, the girls walking out of what looked like a lingerie store. Harry debated with himself if he should try and prank them, but decided against it. He didn’t have time for it to be a good one, so he might as well not do it. 

He walked on with a quick pace, so as to not interrupt the two women. 

Tonks had been smirking a lot since Susan had admitted that she wanted to buy a bikini for Ginny to use on the terrace. Susan was completely red-faced when the cashier had pointed out to her the one she had picked out might not fit her and had forced Susan to admit it was for a friend. Tonks had barely been able to contain her laughter when the cashier had asked if Susan was certain of the correct measurements for her friend, which had left Susan stammering.

Tonks had stepped in at that point and sent a superior sort of glare towards the cashier with the clear message of keep your nose where it belongs. Susan had sent Tonks a grateful and relieved look when they left the store. 

Tonks had barely walked down the step, when she paused, looking at the receding back of a blond long-haired man. Something about him had been familiar, too familiar. Like she knew who he was, but couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Everything alright?” she heard Susan from behind her, having barely registered that the girl had bumped into her. 

“It’s nothing, just thought I saw someone I knew,” Tonks shrugged. Constant vigilance! Mad-eye Moody’s voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Harry had been close enough to overhear what she had said. 

That was close, he thought, I need to be better at disguises if Tonks can realise it’s me from a glance.

Harry arrived back at the flat with a few minutes to spare. Amelia didn’t look like she had moved in the past half hour. She was sitting with a book open across her lap, serenely sleeping. He moved quietly towards her and removed the book and got a blanket for her and draped it over her legs. 

Maybe I should offer her to massage her feet when she wakes up, Harry thought to himself. She certainly deserves some more pampering. 

He moved to the study after having removed his disguise. He had just gotten the calculator out of the bag, when he heard Amelia’s voice from the living room.

“Harry, you there?” 

He walked out of the study and looked down at her. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” he said.

“Good, good,” Amelia nodded. 

“I was thinking, maybe you would like a foot massage?” Harry tried to ask off-handedly. 

“That would be lovely,” Amelia smiled up at him. 

Harry smiled back down at her and rushed down the stairs.

“You sure, you want to do this?” Amelia raised an eyebrow when he sat down on the floor near her footstool. 

“I’m sure,” Harry smiled at her. “You have done so much for me during these weeks. I just want to repay you for that.”

“I did not think that you would try to bribe me as well,” Amelia smirked.

“I would never,” Harry said in mock-offense. “I’ll leave all the bribery to Tonks.”

Amelia laughed at that before she drew in a sharp breath as Harry began massaging one foot.

“Bear with it,” Harry said with a small smile. “It will get better.”

“I know,” Amelia groaned as he loosened up the muscles in her foot. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Ran into Tonks and Susan too. They were coming out of an underwear shop. I thought I got away in time, but I think Tonks found out it was me. It’s embarrassing.”

Amelia chuckled between pained breaths and sighs of relief. 

“If you ever manage to make a disguise where she doesn’t realise it is you, I will be impressed,” she mused.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked. 

“She knows you the best,” Amelia said. “Not just your appearance, but your walk, your expressions, your body language. Between her training as an Auror, her own abilities, and her… let me say her special concern for you, she would probably recognize you anywhere.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, still thinking of paying back Tonks for past transformation surprises. “It would be fun though if I could manage to prank her with it.”

“Indeed,” Amelia agreed. 

They fell into silence, which was only interrupted by the grunts and groans from Amelia as Harry silently sat and released the tension in her feet. There was no reason to talk between them. Harry watched as the crease between Amelia’s brows was smoothed out the longer he continued. She looked completely relaxed by the time he felt he was done. 

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Now please forgive me, I think I shall go start sulking.”

“I will,” Amelia laughed softly as she looked in his eyes. “But I am not sure the other two witches will.”

Harry let out a dramatic, defeated groan as he walked back upstairs to start on his project. He only resurfaced when Susan came to get him for dinner, having spent hours looking over spells and arithmancy calculations to make his enchantment work. 

“You spent your entire day in here?” she asked.

“No,” Harry admitted. 

“What are you working on?” Susan seemed genuinely interested.

“Just a little side project,” Harry said. “Something she would love. Maybe I can use it as a birthday present.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a calculator.”

“What’s that?” she looked surprised as they walked down the stairs.

“Super abacus,” Harry grinned thinking back to how he’d had to explain it to Amelia. 

“Why would you need that?” Susan asked with a frown. 

“It makes Arithmancy calculations a lot easier and faster,” Harry smiled. “It’s just something she would like. Maybe, she will still like? I don’t know.”

Susan looked at him sympathetically at the way he avoided saying Hermione’s name. She knew he was right. She would definitely love a super abacus to use in Arithmancy. 

“You okay?” she asked. 

“Eh? Jealous,” Harry admitted. “I might just become a foul git looking at your happiness.” 

Susan chuckled for a bit until she realised he was serious.

“You wouldn’t?” she looked at him with concern.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “You and Ginny are so happy together, it’s a real kick in the teeth for me right now. Don’t worry, I honestly want you to have a great time with her. It’s just … don’t expect ‘all sunshine and rainbows’ Harry. I may stay in the study or my room a bit extra.”

“I never expect ‘all sunshine and rainbows’ Harry,” Susan teased, earning her a bout of tickling as Tonks walked in the door of the study. 

“What’s going on?” Tonks asked.

“Susan, here tells me, she never expects me to be all sunshine and rainbows,” Harry said in his best mock-offended tone.

“Well, I can’t see it either,” Tonks went straight for the jugular.

“That does it,” Harry said and attacked the pink-haired witch, tickling her until she was crying.

“Stop, stop, I give,” she panted leaning against his chest.

“No more telling me I’m broody all the time?” Harry asked, still holding her in his arms.

“Well, you are,” Tonks teased before instantly regretting it, when she felt Harry’s fingers tickle her sides once more.

“No - no - Don’t… you are … a … ray … of sunshine,” Tonks managed to breathe out between fits of giggles.

Tonks’ hair was plastered to her face as she breathed deeply holding on to his t-shirt trying to regain her breath. 

“Dinner,” Amelia said from downstairs. “Come on, you lot.”

Susan helped Tonks and Harry up from the floor where they had been sitting, and they went downstairs to join the dinner table. 

 

Susan woke up early. Ginny was coming today. Everything had been ready practically since Susan received the owl. Harry had spent most of his time either training or working on his projects in the study. She didn’t understand the details of what he was working on but decided maybe she didn’t need to. Not that it mattered today, since Tonks would be going to collect her girlfriend just before lunch. 

She had never felt freer in her relationship. It was common knowledge in the flat that they were together, and she could at least somewhat openly kiss Ginny. She did want to be sensitive to the fact that Harry would be reminded of Hermione. Tonks presented a different challenge with unrequited love, but she didn’t want to hurt her either, especially after Tonks had been so generous with her time and company preparing for Ginny’s visit. Tonks was Susan’s ice cream sister now, and she could not risk that. 

“Ahh,” Susan sighed. 

“What’s wrong, dear?” Amelia said from her favourite chair. 

“I just realised that I might have to keep my relationship a little subdued for different reasons right now.”

“Right,” Amelia said. “Well, please try to remember it has nothing to do with who you are seeing, but more the general fact that you are able to be with the one you love.” 

“That’s something at least,” Susan smiled.

“Oh, and please for the sake of all our sanity, do use a silencing charm on your bedroom,” Amelia teased.

“Yup,” Tonks yawned from the stairs as she came down. “I am not staying up all night listening to young witches squealing across the hall… for the love of magic itself, is there any coffee?” 

“Harry has got it ready in the kitchen,” Amelia said.

“Sorry, Susan, but I agree with Tonks,” Harry shouted teasingly from the kitchen. “Too much information.”

He levitated a mug of coffee up over the counter into Tonks’ hands. 

She sent a sweet smile as thanks before sipping the contents.

“You are all horrible,” Susan grimaced, which only made them laugh. 

“Come now, dear,” Amelia smiled. “We are all just jealous of you.”

“I know, she is amazing,” Susan said with a wide smile.

“I bet she is,” Amelia nodded, as Harry brought her light breakfast to her chair. 

“Bringing home your girlfriend officially,” Harry said with pretend seriousness. “Big day.”. 

“Oh shut it,” Susan groaned. 

Harry and Amelia just laughed at her reaction. 

Susan was pestering Tonks to go get Ginny all morning until Tonks finally gave up and agreed to go earlier than planned and see if Ginny was ready.

“And don’t you dare delay!” Susan said with a menacing glare.

“I wouldn’t,” Tonks looked offended.

“None of us believes that,” Harry assured her from his place on the couch. “No ice cream detours this time. The best bribe you can give Ginny is probably bringing her directly here.”

“I don’t go bribing everybody,” Tonks scoffed.

Harry just raised his eyebrows comically and slowly nodded.

Tonks groaned one last time before heading to the fireplace and floo’ed to the Burrow. 

“Excited?” Harry asked Susan, who was standing looking at the fireplace grate, waiting with her hands twisting in front of her. 

“Very,” she nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” 

“Sure,” Harry smiled reassuringly. “Worst case scenario, I just disappear into the study.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Harry. Loads.” 

Harry sat back closing his eyes, calming his own feelings. 

The fireplace lit up again almost immediately. Harry just opened his eyes to see Ginny bolt past him and Amelia, then slam into Susan with an eager embrace. 

“Well, hello there Ginny,” Harry called from the couch. 

“Somebody was waiting with her bag packed by the fireplace, ready to go early,” Tonks said as she emerged from the fire, carrying Ginny’s forgotten bag. “Guess she was in a hurry for some reason.”

Ginny disentangled herself from Susan and smiled with unaccustomed shyness.

“Well, that is one way to introduce yourself,” Amelia said slightly amused. “I’m Amelia Bones, Susan’s aunt.”

“I know, I was at your wedding,” Ginny said nervously. 

“So, I’ve heard,” Amelia with her trademark neutral smile. 

“Harry told them,” Susan groaned with a loud whisper in Ginny’s ear. Ginny did not blush, but instead went so pale you could see every tiny freckle in clear relief.

If looks could kill, Harry would be dead where he sat. Instead, he just grinned at her. 

“Lovely to see you, too.”

“Molly was trying to ask all sorts of questions about you,” Tonks said she gratefully reacquainted herself with her oversized mug of coffee. 

“I bet, she was,” Harry groaned. “Something about how I should stay at the Burrow or something?”

“I expect,” Tonks nodded. “Didn’t wait around to find out.”

“Well, Ginny can tell her I appreciate the invitation, but I enjoy being here with Tonks. I also don’t think it would be good for me to go out in the open, at least not yet.”

“You can tell her yourself,” Ginny stuck out her tongue at him.

“Weren’t you supposed to report back to her about me?” Harry lifted his eyebrow.

“I guess,” Ginny said.

“Okay, that should be enough introductions,” Susan said as she pulled Ginny towards the stairs. 

“Should we expect you down for lunch?” Harry asked politely.

“Shut it, Potter,” Susan called over the banister shutting her door firmly. 

“Please remember to use a silencing charm,” Harry asked the heavens dramatically.

 

“Don’t mind them,” Susan said as she pushed the door closed behind her, looking at Ginny, finally here, in her room, at last. “They are just jealous.”

Ginny giggled. It was nice seeing the way they teased Susan for bringing her home. It was refreshing not having to hide from anyone. It was normal, almost like her brothers teased one another. She looked around the room and noticed the colour on the walls.

“Why this colour?” she asked, suddenly nervous after being apart for what seemed like so long.

“Well, the idiot asked what colour reminded me of you, and then he put it there,” Susan felt a little embarrassed admitting it.

She had looked down for a bit but then she felt a pair of soft hands on her chin, pulling her into a fiery kiss.

“I love it,” Ginny’s husky voice growled in her ear.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Susan said as she tightened her embrace.

“Me too,” Ginny nodded resting her head on Susan’s shoulder. 

Susan enjoyed the intimacy for a second before she yelped as Ginny had reached down and squeezed her bum. 

“Mmm,” Ginny said, licking her lips. “I missed this.”

“Me? Or my bum” Susan teased.

“Oh, why choose? I could just eat you up!”

“So, no lunch?” Susan asked, feeling herself getting turned on.

“No lunch,” Ginny said, pulling Susan towards the bed and throwing her onto it. 

Susan giggled and reached for her wand on her bedside table. 

“Silencio Theca” Susan said as she pointed towards the door. “I don’t want them to complain when I make you squeal.” 

“Not if I make you squeal first,” Ginny said as she placed herself on top of Susan's thighs. She loved the sundress Susan was wearing, and the way her hair spreading out under her made her look like a spring fairy. 

Ginny leaned down and kissed Susan behind her ear. She loved the sounds her girlfriend made as she ran her fingers over her breasts, or when her lips found the sensitive spots. Ginny leaned in and trailed a path of soft kisses down Susan’s neck drawing out moans with each touch. She felt Susan grab her head and pull her up, needing to kiss her. She tasted the softness of Susan’s lips as she felt more than heard the tiny gasps escaping from her girlfriend’s mouth. She traced her tongue over Susan’s lips and felt them part to give her access. Ginny’s tongue twirled slowly around Susan’s as her hands caressed Susan’s cheeks, neck, and body. She pulled herself away and looked down on Susan as she savoured the flushed expression of desire on her lover’s face. 

“I’ve missed you,” Ginny whispered.

She slowly leaned down and gently kissed Susan before even more slowly, teasingly, moving her lips and tongue down the side of her chin to her neck, where she nipped and kissed the sensitive skin. She felt Susan’s hands, one touching her neck, the other firmly planted on her hip, pulling them closer. Ginny gently tugged at the strings holding together the dress over Susan’s shoulders, then pulling the dress downwards, uncovering Susan’s braless breasts. Being rather larger than Ginny, Susan rarely went without a bra, so Ginny knew this was a sort of welcome, just for her.

Ginny took in the sight of Susan’s breasts, were unbound from their captivity, and she smiled greedily as she took one of Susan’s nipples in her mouth, playing with the other with her fingers. Susan’s thighs were rubbing together as Ginny caressed her breast. Susan’s moans were growing louder and louder as Ginny found the spots she knew would send Susan towards the edge. She pulled the dress down further, sliding her body down Susan’s as she kissed her way over the soft swell of Susan’s belly. She kissed Susan’s navel, briefly teasing it on her way further down, Susan was lifting up to help Ginny pull the dress off completely. 

Ginny gasped when she found that Susan hadn’t been wearing any underwear at all. 

“Like your surprise?” Susan asked, panting for breath. 

“Love it,” Ginny grinned with enthusiasm as she pulled the dress off of Susan’s legs. 

She moved boldly between Susan’s legs, and Susan held her thighs tightly against Ginny’s shoulders, shivering, as Ginny kissed the soft strip of hair above Susan’s folds. Ginny waited for a moment, letting Susan relax her grip on Ginny’s shoulder so that she could lower her mouth further. Ginny deliberately guided her tongue along the dewy, coral-coloured flesh, savouring the taste, the texture, the aroused scent, even the sound of Susan’s moans as Ginny felt Susan’s thighs flex and relax over, again and again, pressing tightly against her shoulders. 

Ginny’s tongue found that joyful, playful button, eager to be kissed and even nibbled, which sent Susan shivering against the bed. Ginny kept slowly circling it as she increased the pressure slowly, just as she knew Susan loved. She felt Susan’s hands in her hair, tightening and keeping her head firmly in place as if there was anywhere on earth Ginny would have rather been.

That’s my girl, Ginny sang to herself as she pushed Susan over the edge and felt every muscle in her girlfriend’s body grow taut. That’s my sweet, sweet girl.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Susan whispered from under her.

Susan grabbed the still-dressed witch and pulled her up towards her. “We needed to get rid of these clothes. Traditional clothes! They make it such a hurdle to undress your witch…”

Ginny’s laughter hampered her efforts to help pull her robes over her head and reveal a deceptively innocent set white set of cotton underwear, which Susan found charming while they were also driving her mad with desire. She reached around to open the clasp to the cotton bra, a tiny pink bow between the cups indicating that they contained a present. This released the pale, perky breasts from their restraint as Susan pulled Ginny under her. 

“You know, I was rather specific with the design of my bed,” Susan commented with a teasing smile. “Just so I could do this.” 

She grabbed her wand and two restraining charms tied Ginny’s arms to the bedposts.

“Tell me, if you don’t like it okay?” Susan said with a loving look in her eyes.

Ginny had been surprised, but she soon felt unexpected excitement well up inside. 

“I don’t mind,” she whispered, her eyes shining with anticipation for the next development. 

“Good,” Susan said, licking her lips. She leaned down and kissed Ginny’s neck, which made the redhead gasp from the sensation. She was pulling against her restraints as Susan moved down from her neck and began idly tracing her fingers around Ginny’s pale pink nipples. 

“Don’t tease me,” Ginny pleaded, but the look in her eyes belied her craving for more. 

“You were such a good girl before,” Susan leaned down to kiss her soft, creamy skin. 

Susan felt Ginny shiver under her lips before she gently raised her head again to look into Ginny’s brown eyes. 

“Please,” Ginny begged.

“Are you a good girl now?” Susan teased before kissing another part of Ginny’s breast, avoiding the area around her nipples. 

“I’m a good girl,” Ginny moaned. “I’m your good girl. Only your good girl.”

“That’s more like it,” Susan said before her tongue swirled around one of Ginny’s nipples, adding fuel to the fires growing some ways below her navel. 

Ginny made small, cute moans whenever Susan’s tongue moved across her skin. Susan watched as Ginny involuntarily pulled at her restraints.

She continued kissing down Ginny’s stomach until her face reached the white panties. She ran a finger across the fabric, then brushed her lips across them, pulling back only to look teasingly at Ginny, who was using her legs to raise herself up towards Susan’s face. 

“We can’t have any of that, my good girl,” Susan said as she pulled off Ginny’s panties and pointed her wand to restrain Ginny’s legs as well. 

Susan couldn’t control the desire she felt when she heard Ginny’s seductive whimpers. Ginny was clearly wet, ready for whatever was coming, and eager for it to begin.

“What do you want me to do, Love?” Susan teased, kissing Ginny’s thighs.

She looked up to find Ginny struggling with whether she should say anything out loud. She was blushing, but there was something in her eyes which told Susan that Ginny very much enjoyed what was happening.

Susan moved up and put her lips next to Ginny’s ear and whispered.

What do you…” She trailed a finger down from Ginny’s chin all the way past her navel, pausing to ask “want … me… to… do… my… good… girl?” 

She gently bit Ginny’s earlobe, rolling the skin between her teeth and tongue, making the smaller witch’s body move as much as she was allowed to by the four restraints tying her to the bedposts.

“I want to cum,” Ginny whispered, at last, overwhelmed. “I want you to eat me out, to kiss me and lick and bite me, just please take me, please, and make me cum… please.”

Ginny lost the power to speak further, whimpering and twisting into her bonds with no intent of escape.

“Always,” Susan whispered in a seductive tone as she kissed her way down Ginny’s body and dove between her legs, using her tongue and fingers to pleasure Ginny under her caressing touch. Ginny’s moans instantly grew louder and louder, then rose past hearing to an inaudible whine, stimulated beyond her ability to give voice, until she finally clenched herself tightly around Susan’s fingers, and screamed, a full-throated howl of a scream. 

Susan removed the restraints and crawled up next to Ginny, rolling her lover over and curling around her protectively. Ginny was as compliant as a rag-doll, boneless and languid. Susan leaned her head forward and kissed the top of Ginny’s head.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Susan said cautiously.

“Are you kidding?” Ginny looked up, wide-eyed and glistening with a sheen of sweat. She captured Susan’s lips with her own. She then collapsed again, still panting softly as her heartbeat finally began to slow.

Good girl,” Susan purred, holding her tighter still.

She felt Ginny’s body respond to the words.

“It really isn’t fair when you call me that,” Ginny said as she cuddled closer to Susan like a kitten. 

“Call you what?” Susan teased.

“You know... that,” Ginny pouted.

Good girl?” Susan smirked as Ginny couldn’t help biting her own lip and nodding. 

“It sends a shiver down my spine,” Ginny said as she rolled the pair of them over and climbed on top once more.

“Well, I can stop if you want,” Susan teased looking into those loving brown eyes. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Ginny said before sinking her teeth into Susan’s shoulder. 

Susan gasped for breath as she felt the slightly painful sensation both in her shoulder but also the longing in her crotch. 

“You are being a rather bad girl right now,” Susan commented as she smacked Ginny’s butt. 

Ginny moaned as the hand connected.

“Then punish me,” she dared, as she leaned down and deliberately bit Susan’s lip.

 

Harry hadn’t seen a hint of either Susan or Ginny all afternoon. He chuckled to himself figuring that they were getting ‘reacquainted’ with each other. He decided that he’d prepare something fresh, a lighter meal tonight, as a change from Mrs. Weasley’s traditionally solid fare. He wanted to at least do his part to make Ginny feel welcome. 

Ginny’s trunk was parked outside Susan’s room since they hadn’t bothered bringing it in before they disappeared. 

Tonks had been sitting in the kitchen watching him and making some small talk. Mostly about the planning for their excursions during these days when Ginny was here. Tonks was certain Ginny and Susan had never gone to the cinema or even seen a film before. So, she was adamant that they make a trip there. Harry hadn’t had any particular reason to go against it. It would be highly unlikely for Death Eaters to show up in the cinema since it was so thoroughly Muggle. 

“You can find a film then,” Harry said. “I don’t know what young witches like.” 

“Yes, Boss!” Tonks mock-saluted. 

Amelia was sleeping a lot more and had been down most of the afternoon, leaving the two of them alone. They had sparred once before really mostly enjoying the rest of the afternoon sitting on the terrace together. Privately, each felt the other one was wearing way too little. Tonks had been staring fixedly at Harry’s butt and abs until she had managed to tear her eyes away, but she would still casually steal glances at him from her own deck chair. 

I should not have done this, she thought to herself, but it almost felt like their home again, just being there in each other's company. 

She allowed herself a small smile as she focused back on her surroundings.

“You were going to the Ministry tonight, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Tonks sighed. “Scrimgeour would only let me take the next couple of days off if I pulled a night shift tonight.”

“You are a good person, Tonks.” Harry smiled as he got up to go finish dinner, the last rays of the sun were falling behind the surrounding buildings, making the terrace a little cool for sunbathing, as well as a little dark. He paused. “You’ll be careful tonight?”

Tonks looked down to hide her grin. “Just on-call, nothing planned. Desk duty, really.”

“Good. Well, dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes,” Harry said. “Could you go gather the troops?” 

“You want me to wake up a pregnant woman and disturb two randy teenagers?” Tonks gasped in mock-horror, grabbing her wrap from beside her chair.

“You would like for me to go and disturb them instead?” Harry lifted his eyebrow. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened between me and Susan the other day. We’ll split it. You rouse the girls, I’ll wake Amelia when I get downstairs.”

“Fair,” Tonks grimaced as she got up from the table.

Tonks had seemed really happy and relaxed today, and he was sad the afternoon was over. 

He had gotten what started as a silly idea, which he had been playing with inside his head all afternoon. It had actually entered his mind when Tonks had asked him for ideas for decorating her room. He knew she had been teasing him with the number of colours she had asked for, but at the same time Tonks’ wasn’t a woman who could settle for just one colour at the best of times. So. he had been thinking about transfigurations, mixed with rune clusters, that he could enchant to make her walls mimic her hair colour whenever she changed it, wherever she was. 

He had gotten the idea from Mrs. Weasley’s clock, which showed the state of her family. It worked remotely, so he was sure he could find a way for him to do the same with Tonks’s walls. If she didn’t like it, he could always remove it again, and it would have served as a great prank. If she did like it then maybe it was just the thing to cheer her up right now. 

He had carefully woken Amelia and was quietly going over the different steps in his mind when the four witches joined him in the kitchen. 

Whoever thought living with only witches would be a wizard's dream needed to think things through, Harry mused to himself. He was missing the company of a few fellow wizards right about now. 

“Great Merlin, they live!” Harry smirked at the two youngest. 

“Shut it,” Susan barked at him, but the smile on her face and the slightly messy hair which was hastily made to look normal told the truth of her current feelings. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Harry mock-saluted, much to the amusement of everyone around him.

They sat down to eat, and Tonks introduced the idea of them going to the cinema, which made Susan frown in puzzlement and Ginny smile 

“It’s like a wizard-photo with sound,” Ginny tried to explain. “My brothers went once with my father, but I was too little and they wouldn’t take me.”

“Oh, okay,” Susan shrugged. 

“We can spend the day exploring Muggle London and then go there in the evening,” Tonks said with a smile. 

“Sure,” Ginny said with a smile. She hadn’t been to London much, so it was all new and exciting for her. She leaned over to Susan and whispered, “The cinema takes hours, and you sit in the dark!”

Susan looked substantially more interested in the idea.

After the meal, Tonks got up and groaned. 

“Well, I’m off to work then,” she said. 

Harry went to hug her and whispered, “Be safe, okay?”

“Definitely,” she smiled as she hugged him quickly before leaving.

Harry watched as she left using the floo, to avoid the apparition restrictions that had been increased as part of security at the ministry. He ruffled his hair, distracted. 

Yeah, she is definitely bothered by something, he sighed. 

“You two heading off on your own?” Harry asked as he spotted Ginny and Susan walking towards the stairs.

“Yeah,” Susan said with unconvincing casualness. “Goodnight, everyone.”

Harry shook his head and sent a rueful glance towards Amelia, who just serenely smiled from her seat at the dinner table.

“You doing alright, Auntie?” Harry asked.

“Yes, yes,” Amelia said. “I’m just exhausted. I can’t wait for this little wizard or witch to make their appearance.”

Harry chuckled a bit at that. 

“Well, the addition of a little one will certainly bring new life to the flat,” Harry nodded.

“Indeed,” Amelia smiled fondly as she rubbed her belly. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“You know how Tonks spent ages deciding on a colour for her room?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah, I think she was just pulling your leg though.”

“Well, maybe, but I also think she really would enjoy it if it could change according to her mood like her hair,” Harry grinned. “I think I might have found the right combination of Runework and Charms to make the walls in her room mimic the colour of her hair. I just need her to activate it herself when she gets back, so it is keyed to her magic.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. He probably had no idea just how advanced his project this time was, and even if he did, he would deny it every step of the way. 

“Impressive,” Amelia smiled. “And unorthodox, too.”

“I got the idea from a clock Mrs. Weasley has, it shows the current condition of the Weasleys no matter where they are,” Harry said. “I think I can make it work. She’s seemed a little down these days, so I just wanted to do something nice for her. I should be able to get it done by the time she gets back from her nightshift.”

“I see,” Amelia smirked. “Before you go work on that, could you help me to my chair? Also if I could bother you to make me a cup of tea.” 

“Of course, Auntie,” Harry smiled as he moved closer to help her move from one place to another. He then went to the kitchen and grabbed the Dogfather mug, which he knew Amelia loved the most. 

Soon Amelia was getting comfortable, already opening a book. This time it was a romance novel about a vampire, who fell in love with a pureblood witch and had a werewolf love-rival. 

Harry could only shake his head at the content, but then again if it entertained Amelia it didn’t matter. 

“Everything good?” he asked.

“Yes, quite,” Amelia smiled as she dove into the book. 

Harry moved up to Tonks’s room. He felt a little apprehension as he opened the door. He hadn’t been in here more than once or twice since he helped decorate it. 

It had her scent as he walked in, and definitely her clutter, too. He shook his head. Clothes, shoes, and boots were strewn around the room in chaos.

“Well, it is better than it happening all over the flat,” Harry muttered to himself as he got to work. 

 

Tonks hated the night shift. It wasn’t hard for her to stay up all night, her natural schedule was night-owl, but having to be on call for issues with low-life riff-raff was grueling. She had gotten called for a brawl which threatened to turn into a duel, or vice versa, in a wizarding pub which had been so chaotic that she hadn’t known who was fighting who by the time she arrived with her team. She was happy when the clock turned seven and she was off-duty. She might be able to get some sleep before they were headed out into the city later. 

She trudged off towards the floo and muttered her place. She found Harry in the kitchen when she stepped out of the fireplace. 

“I’m home,” she said tiredly. 

“Welcome home,” Harry said. “Do you want food and coffee, or bed and sleep?”

“Can I choose coffee and sleep? No, seriously I’m fine. Maybe some food later.”

“Okay, I’ve got a surprise for you,” Harry said as he put the tea-towel down.

“For me?” Tonks looked puzzled. 

“Yeah,” Harry said as he walked her towards the stairs. “I know you’re tired, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Tonks frowned, but the excitement of a surprise made her feel a little more awake. She followed Harry until they were standing in front of her room.

“It’s inside,” Harry said with a small smile.

“You went in my room?” She was hastily thinking if there was anything incriminating he might have seen, but then she realised everything really incriminating was in her heart, or her head, not her room. She opened the door, she looked around but didn’t notice anything different.

“What is it?” she frowned.

“Touch here,” Harry said as he pointed towards a specific place on the wall. 

Tonks did as she was asked, half expecting for this to be a prank. She really wasn’t in the mood for one even if it was from Harry. She touched the wall and waited, but nothing seemed to happen.

“What is it that’s supposed to—”

She stopped as Harry reached forward and put both of his hands in her hair. He ran his fingers through, from scalp to the tip of each strand, from the front of her head to the nape of her neck. Her eyes closed, and she may have accidentally let a small moan escape from her lips. She was reacting, very physically, in a way she was not prepared for. She was glad that she always wore a sturdy sports bra on night duty in case of fights, as it also helped conceal what her nipples were suddenly doing under her shirt.

“There!” Harry’s hands left her head, and she wobbled slightly on her feet, almost following after them with her head. She opened her eyes and noticed that her hand was tingling where it touched the wall. It had been all since he’d started whatever it was he’d done, but she had been… distracted.

The colour of her walls changed to match the dull green of her hair from work. She looked around and saw bright red areas in the corners, and sure enough, her hair was blushing furiously at the end of each strand where Harry had touched her. She looked around in amazed silence.

“You don’t have to touch anymore,” Harry said softly. “Try changing your hair colour.”

Tonks focused with her eyes closed, it was usually harder when she was tired. This time, when she decided on his favourite bright pink, it was very easy.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped. The walls had changed into the same bubblegum pink as her hair. She looked at the grin on Harry’s face. She loved it. 

She didn’t pause to think before she was hugging him and going in for a big kiss on the cheek. She also didn’t realise that she had hugged him hard enough to turn his head, so her lips which had been aiming for his cheek hit his lips, just on the edge of them. 

She panicked and released him, rushing towards her bed, and she hid her face in her pillow. It wasn’t as disastrous as a full-on snog, but she had absolutely not meant to kiss Harry Potter, not on his mouth, his lips, his soft but… Had she? No, no, she had been aiming for his cheek and he moved! She had made a stupid mistake because of a mixture of tiredness and happiness. She knew that the room must be scarlet red at this point judging from the way her face was burning. She lay there waiting until she would inevitably hear his footsteps and the door closing, finding herself alone in her room.

She was surprised to feel the mattress depress a little from his weight when he laid down next to her. She snuck a peek at him with wide eyes, not really sure what was going on.

Chapter 9: Beloved

Summary:

Possibly one of the chapters where it is hard to tell my parts from Waske's- we were sort of in synch at this time, if I recall.

• Harry and Tonks deal with the Snorckack in the Room
• Ginny and Susan help Harry with some duelling practice
• Sunbathing and smoothies (not a euphemism)
• One of the Wizarding world's more awkward double dates
• French cuisine and high fashion
• Gary Oldman, who looks a LOT like Sirius Black, actually...
• "It would be rude to push her away."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 9. Beloved

Harry watched in confusion as Tonks threw herself on the bed. 

What just happened? 

He barely registered the changing colour on the wall. He felt an almost-queasy, almost-expectant emotion, centered in his stomach. His finger traced the part of his lips where they had touched hers. 

That really just happened. He felt a headache coming, but also a tiny, frightening wisp of hope. No matter what, I need to talk to her about this. 

Harry moved forward and sat down near her. He had expected her to look up at him, but when she didn’t, he slowly laid down next to her. He looked up at the scarlet ceiling. He felt her move slightly as he stretched out. She was probably staring at him right now.

It’s not like I have a clue about what to do, he thought. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words.

“I’m sorry,” he heard her say.

“No, no,” he quickly said. “You don’t have to apologize. I was just … surprised.” 

Tonks sulked into her pillow once more. Couldn’t he have said something different than surprised? ‘Surprised’ isn’t a good thing. He might as well have said ‘shocked’ or ‘revolted.’

“You know, I remember when you first picked me up from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters,” Harry mused. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I was only twelve. I was just so happy that I didn’t have to go back to them.”

I know how young you were, Tonks thought.

“When you showed me the flat … for the first time in my life I felt like, ‘so, this is home’,” Harry continued. “Hogwarts was also a kind of home, but it never felt like my own … you know? So many people around, the bullying, the way people would look at me and talk. I have had enough adventures in that castle to shame anyone in the history of Hogwarts.” 

He heard a muffled laugh and was reassured that she was at least listening to him. 

“So this was the first place where I could actually relax. Even when it was bad, you were always here to take care of me, but I was here to take care of you, too. You used to check on me every night. I didn’t let on, but I knew. I could never really sleep until you had. We helped each other. I remember you trying to cook, you would have had us eat take-away at every meal— ouch.” 

Tonks had elbowed Harry’s side in embarrassment. 

“I remember the first time I had a nightmare in this flat. Like a proper terrible one.” Harry looked affectionately at the witch beside him. “I woke up in the middle of the night, it was just over a year ago now. I had dreamed about the night he came back —I shot a spell after you, but you didn’t run away. No, you just made sure I wouldn’t curse you, and then you came to hold me. I never properly thanked you for that.” 

Harry extended his hand and played with the red hair tips. He really enjoyed the way they would turn pink at his touch. Unnoticed around them, pink streaks began filling the walls of the room, from the corners inwards.

Tonks was still staring fixedly into her pillow fighting against tears.

“You know, even before Sirius was gone, before he was even here, and even before … Hermione … well even then, I think you were the one to care about me most in this world,” Harry reminisced. “You are special to me.” 

Tonks felt the way his hand caressed her hair. She didn’t know why it was so soothing, but she was becoming relaxed. 

“What I wanted to say, is that you are important to me and I could never hate you or feel angry or upset with you, or something that happened between us…” Harry said.

“What’s going on in there?” he heard Susan’s voice from the doorway. “Is she okay?”

Harry didn’t look up but called softly back to Susan. 

“It’s nothing really. We were just talking about when I first moved here. A lot has happened since.”

“Can’t argue there,” Susan replied. “Well, we’ll let you two be then. Breakfast?” 

“I’ll be down shortly,” Harry said as he heard the two girls make their way towards the staircase. He was just about to get up when he felt a hand around his wrist. 

“Don’t go,” he heard a soft voice from the pillow. 

“I can stay here until you fall asleep then,” Harry whispered as he once again ran his fingers through her hair. She rolled to her side facing away from him.

He didn’t see the satisfied smile on her face. 

“Well, all I want you to know is that I always believe in you, and I know that you will always take care of me, and I feel the same about you,” Harry finished, letting silence descend between them.

He never stopped moving his hand through her hair, and soon he heard the deep breaths of someone who had fallen asleep. 

Harry slowly got up from the bed trying his best not to wake her. He looked around the room. It was a plethora of colours. Red, pink, even emerald green. It was a horrible mix of colours, yet so very her. He looked down at her peaceful expression. He covered her in a blanket, kissed her on the side of her forehead, and made his way downstairs to start his day, closing the door behind him.

What am I doing?! Harry screamed inside his head. Why did I have to go kiss her?! He ran his hand across his face. What about Hermione? She wouldn’t like for you to do that. She would feel betrayed.

Would she? a nasty voice in his head sneered. It’s not like she remembers you. So how can she feel betrayed?

Harry wrapped his hand around the silver chain on his arm. He had never taken it off. It was just part of him now. He hadn’t taken it off, even when wearing his disguise. It was inconspicuous, but also a critical reminder to himself of who he was.

Maybe I should tie it around my neck when I am in disguise, he thought to distract himself from other thoughts.

“Harry, you coming?” he heard Susan’s voice from downstairs. 

“Yeah,” Harry roused himself out of his stupor. 

“Where’s Tonks?” Ginny asked.

“She just came home from a shift,” Harry said. “She won’t be worth anything before a few good hours of sleep. She’ll be up by this afternoon.”

“Oh right, I forgot.”

“What are your plans for today?” Amelia asked. 

“I was thinking that I would show Ginny the terrace,” Susan said. “It might be a little cool, but looking over the street in the morning sun is nice.”

“That’s a good idea,” Amelia nodded. 

“Erm… maybe you could help me with my training for a little? I could really use a workout,” Harry inquired. 

“This jock…” Susan shook her head. “What do you think?”

“I haven’t been able to use my magic freely around my mum, so I would love to work out for a bit.” Ginny pondered.

“I keep forgetting you are one of the active ones as well,” Susan grimaced. “Fine, we will help you.” 

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. “Active ones? Too much information!” 

“Don’t push it, Potter!” Susan cried, blushing as she threw a tea-towel at his head. “I meant Quidditch! She’s an athlete, like you!”

Ginny and Amelia watched in amusement at their antics. 

After breakfast, Susan pulled Ginny into their room. 

“Why do you look so exasperated?” Ginny asked.

“Ah…” Susan sighed. “It’s just Harry. He never stops training for a second. It is either muscle training or duelling or martial arts. If he doesn’t do that, he is studying everything, and I mean everything. He has so many projects ranging from Ancient Runes to Wizarding combat. He drives me insane sometimes.”

Ginny put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Ginny comforted her.

“Auntie had to threaten him with a full body-lock curse to make him stay still, for one afternoon,” Susan said. 

Ginny gasped at that. 

“Seriously? Why?” she asked.

“The Department of Mysteries,” Susan said shortly. “Everything about it. He just wants to be prepared for everything. Well, prepare yourself. He doesn’t pull any punches when it is a two on one.”

“You’re saying it like that is a regular occurrence.”

“More than you would think,” Susan winced. “Go on, find something easy to move in. He will show you us mercy and he doesn’t fight like a wizard. Remember the DA? He has taken moving around to a whole new level. He’ll even transfigure the terrain if it helps him.”

Susan quickly changed into a sports bra, a tank top, and tights with a pair of trainers. 

“You look incredible in that,” Ginny admired. 

“Thank you, now get changed.”

“I don’t have anything like that,” Ginny said, looking over her three outfits with a pout. 

“We can get Harry to transfigure something for you then,” Susan said. “Give me the ones you care least about.”

Ginny picked an outfit and watched as Susan walked out of the room. The Weasleys didn’t really have clothes that they cared for, not by the time they got down to the seventh child. Susan soon came back with a set of clothes similar to her own.

“These will only hold for a couple of hours at most, but that should be enough for Harry to tire… hopefully.” Susan shuddered.

Ginny was starting to feel a little apprehensive at the way Susan reacted to the description of this training. She enjoyed moving around, so maybe it was just a difference between them. 

She had never been so wrong.

By the time Harry was satisfied, Ginny had been stunned four times, and she had been dodging around spells and had to retain her footing on ice or other slippery surfaces more times than she could count.

“You’re a monster,” she said darkly, as he panted on the floor. 

“Thank you both,” Harry said. 

It hadn’t been one-sided of course, Harry had gone down more times than them, and had a decent burn on one arm near his elbow, but he was always ready for another round. 

“See what I mean?” Susan pouted from her own spot on the floor. “He’s relentless. It’s better when Tonks is here, but barely.”

“I’m not that bad,” Harry argued, rising to his feet.

“Yes, you are,” Susan glared up at him.

“Fine,” Harry raised his hands in surrender. “You can go take a shower… together. I’ll make you some refreshments for relaxation on the terrace.”

“You better go all out,” Susan said.

“Of course,” Harry smiled as he extended his hands to help them up from the floor. 

“Ginny, come on before he changes his mind.” Susan hurried her along towards the stairs. 

“Is it always like this?” 

“I think he was actually going easy on us. He can be like a dementor when Tonks is here. He sucks all the joy out of my body.” 

Ginny tried to hold in her laughter at the bitter expression Susan put on. 

“Though if he really goes all out on the snacks, it might be worth it. It’s not like it is all that bad to move around a little every day,” Susan sighed. “Go on ahead to the bathroom, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Why?” Ginny asked suspiciously. 

“It’s a surprise,” Susan kissed her quickly before shooing her through the door and turning towards her room. 

Ginny looked at her suspiciously but decided that she would find out soon enough. She headed towards the shower and turned it on. She undressed and threw her training clothes into a pile. She had worked up a good sweat, so the water felt amazing against her skin. She heard the door open and close. She heard the rustling of clothes and soon Susan joined her in the shower. She looked amazing and felt even more tempting as she felt Susan’s soft skin press against her back.

“Thank you,” Susan whispered.

“For what?” Ginny asked.

“For helping Harry,” Susan said softly. “He needs it more than you can imagine. It might actually be what keeps him together.” 

“He’s my friend too, you know,” Ginny turned her head to kiss Susan. 

They spent a bit of time playing around in the shower before they left. 

“So what is this surprise?” Ginny asked as she was drying herself off with a quick spell.

“This,” Susan handed her a plastic bag.

Ginny looked into it and her eyes went wide.

“What is this?” She asked looking up.

“A bikini, it’s Muggle, good for tanning.” 

“It barely covers more than underwear,” she pulled out the pale green bikini from the bag. “In fact, it might cover less.”

“Put it on,” Susan looked at her greedily. “You will look amazing.”

Ginny blushed but did as she was told. It fit her perfectly. It perked up her breasts a little in a very enticing way. She turned around, checking herself out in the mirror. She felt … sexy.

She looked at Susan, who was sporting a similar white bikini and Ginny felt herself get aroused looking at her. 

“I can see the appeal,” she whispered. 

Susan grinned and handed her a wrap for her hips. 

“I just knew the colour would look amazing for you.”

“Thank you,” Ginny blushed, still feeling rather naked even with the wrap around her hips. “Do you think I could have a t-shirt to cover my top?”

“That would be such a waste, but if it makes you more comfortable,” Susan shrugged and went to get Ginny a white t-shirt. Since it was Susan’s it was a little big on her. 

“Let me help you with that,” Susan smiled reaching for the front and tying a knot, revealing Ginny’s stomach. 

“Thank you,” Ginny leaned forward and kissed her. “You are going to go out like that?” 

“Harry probably wouldn’t even care if I walked around naked,” Susan ground her teeth. “Not like I want him to care, but don’t you think I am at least sexy enough for him to react?”

“You are sexy enough to turn me on in anything,” Ginny whispered into her ear with a sultry voice. 

“Down, Gryffindor,” Susan chastised, “at least until later.” She whispered the last part before taking Ginny’s earlobe in her ear.

“You…” Ginny groaned.

“If you are a good girl, I’ll take care of you later,” Susan said as she turned around to open the door.

Ginny clenched her fists, it was tempting to just ignore it now, but that promise was so enticing. 

She followed Susan up the stairs and through the training hall, which she would rather not stay in for long. Harry was nowhere in sight. She pushed open the glass doors and led Ginny into the already warm sunlight. 

“I guess, Harry isn’t done with the refreshments yet,” Susan commented just as she heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairs.

“Well, ladies, I thought this might be a nice treat for you,” Harry said, holding up two tall glasses filled with a brightly coloured liquid.

“What’s this?” Ginny asked.

“A berry banana smoothie: ice, berries, banana, a little bit of cream, all crushed up,” Harry recited, putting them down on the small table. “There’s also orange slices here, and some bites of cheese. Anything else?” 

“No, I think we‘re good,” Susan smiled. “Also, Ginny is rather self-conscious about her outfit, so if you could give us a little space at least until lunch?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Harry teased.

“So pretty much anything is allowed?” Susan fired back.

“Touché,” Harry laughed as he walked downstairs.

“Well now you don’t have any excuse,” Susan said to Ginny. 

“You sure no one can see us here?” Ginny asked. 

“I’m sure. Fidelius Charm remember?” 

Ginny reluctantly pulled off the t-shirt and the wrap like Susan and laid down on her own reclined deck chair. She kept sending glances to her suntanned girlfriend next to her. She was sure she could never get that colour, but it looked amazing on Susan. If she could just get a fraction of the same colour, she would be happy. 

They enjoyed their time sipping on their smoothies and talking about everything and anything. They even briefly talked about their future. Ginny said she would try and go for a Quidditch career. Her biggest dream was playing for the English National team, and if she had her pick at the teams, she would try to join the Holyhead Harpies. Susan didn’t know what she wanted to do, she had always just assumed she would follow in her aunt's footsteps and join the Ministry, maybe even the DMLE. 

The sun was high in the sky and Ginny had taken about as much sun as she could for one morning, when Harry called for them from the top of the stairs. It was time for a late lunch. 

They quickly put on their wraps, and Ginny pulled the white t-shirt over her head. She felt a slight burn on her skin as the fabric fell against her body. 

“Ouch.”

“You alright?” Susan asked. 

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “Might have gotten a little burned.” 

“Oh, maybe my aunt knows something for that,” Susan said, unsure whether to hug her now.

“I’m not going to break,” Ginny said, as she pulled Susan into a bone-crushing embrace. “Hiss!Okay, maybe a little.”

Susan chuckled as she shook her head. “We’ll sort you out, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ginny smiled as she kissed Susan on the lips.

They went down the stairs and found a very sleepy Tonks almost stumbling towards the stairs. Susan shook her head, but she knew that Tonks was barely a functional human when she first woke up at any point in the day.

They heard a yelp and a set of bumps from the stairway as Tonks failed to navigate the steps.

Susan grimaced but rushed forward to see if she was alright.

“If you can’t even walk properly down the stairs then take some time to wake up first,” Harry’s frustrated voice rang out through the flat. 

“I’m sorry,” Tonks said. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Just a sore bum.”

“Good,” Harry sighed, helping her up from the floor. “Sorry. I was worried.”

“It takes more than a set of stairs to hurt me,” Tonks said, looking alive from the shock.

Harry flicked her forehead. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I was still worried.”

Tonks pouted visibly, but her hair betrayed her. 

“You need coffee?” Harry asked. 

“Oh yes, please!” Tonks said. Susan and Ginny had been waiting on the stairs.

“Sorry about that girls,” Tonks said, looking a little embarrassed. 

“It’s alright,” Susan grinned.

“It’s been a long time since I have seen the clumsy Tonks, it’s almost nostalgic,” Amelia said from her chair. 

“Ha… ha…” Tonks laughed self-consciously.

“That’s right, I remember the first time she went to pick me up, she managed to fall over the trolley or maybe it was her own feet,” Harry said.

“Shut up,” Tonks said. 

“Come on,” Harry ignored her. “I’ll get you some coffee, and some food – you must be starving.”

“I am,” she smiled thankfully at him as he led her to the kitchen, leaning on his arm. 

“What is up with those two?” Ginny whispered.

“Ah…” Susan sighed. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t ask.”

“Why?” Ginny frowned. 

“Because Tonks likes Harry, and Harry doesn’t realise,” Susan whispered back. “That is even without the whole Hermione situation.”

“Oh. Wait, you mean she likes him, likes him? Oh!”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Susan said.

“You guys coming?” Harry asked, as he was helping Amelia up from her chair.

“Yes, be right there.” Susan said.

They joined them at the kitchen table with a coffee-drinking Tonks who had a contented smile on her face. 

“So, what are the plans for the afternoon?” Susan asked.

“Well, we were going to show you around Carnaby Street, maybe hit up the two parks nearby,” Harry said. “It’s a lovely neighbourhood. Maybe even do a little shopping if we feel like it? Something nicer than the usual wizards robes.” 

Ginny felt a little conflicted at that.

“If you bat your eyes at him, maybe he will treat you,” Tonks teased. “Apparently he is loaded.”

“Shut up,” Harry said. “Treat it as a birthday or Christmas present, or as me bribing Susan.” 

Susan held a hand to her forehead.

“What is it with you two bribing everybody?” she asked.

“He bribed me with a foot massage,” Amelia said.

“And she bribed me with ice cream,” Susan admitted.

“Yes, yes, alright,” Harry surrendered. “We like to keep in your good books.”

Tonks didn’t say anything, but she looked up from her mug for a second and smiled sweetly. 

“Earth to Tonks.” Susan waved a hand in front of her face.

“Huh,” Tonks looked up. 

“Never mind.” Susan shook her head. 

They were soon done with lunch, and the girls headed back to their room to change.

“I don’t have anything good to wear,” Ginny complained.

“Get Harry to transfigure something,” Susan said.

“It won’t last until the evening.”

“Maybe Tonks has something in your size, she has all sorts of sizes because she changes so much,” Susan threw out there. 

“That’s worth a try,” Ginny nodded. She left the room and headed towards Tonks’ room.

She knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Tonks opened the door. 

“Susan said, you might have something in my size?” Ginny asked, a little embarrassed.

“Of course, come in and check,” Tonks opened the door fully. 

She wasn’t wearing more than her underwear. Ginny blushed. She hated to admit it, but Tonks had a smoking body. She wondered how much was natural, how much was her hard work, and a little enviously she thought about how much of it might be her abilities. Anyway, the results were imposing to the slender young witch.

“Everything’s in the closet is there,” Tonks said, then indicated a number of piles here and there around the room. “Oh, and here. And there. Anyhow, I have a rather specific style, but I think it could look good on you. Though it might be a little too warm, however, if we cast a long-lasting cooling charm I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Ginny looked through the clothes, they were mostly black, ripped jeans her mother would never let her wear and a weird sisters t-shirt which was the smallest Tonks’ owned. 

“You can tie the front or the side in a knot like before, it will fit you that way,” Tonks said appraising the choices Ginny made. 

Ginny took the t-shirt and jeans back to Susan. 

“Oooh,” Susan’s eyes turned into lines as she smiled. “I can definitely work with that. Black is a good colour for your skin, a nice contrast to your hair.”

“Just help me will you?” Ginny begged. “I don’t know how to look good in this, all I ever wear that really fits are robes.”

Susan sent her a loving gaze as Ginny got out of her bikini and put on underwear. 

“You sure we shouldn’t do something about your burn first?” Susan asked.

“Maybe it would be for the better,” Ginny nodded. 

Susan quickly pulled another beautiful sundress over her head and walked out. Ginny felt like she waited forever before she came back.

“Harry says this should help,” Susan said. “But I think you will need some help putting it on your back.” 

“I would love for you to help put it on all of me,” Ginny said.

“I can do that,” Susan said. “Get down on the bed.”

“Oh, if you insist.”

The ointment was cooling to the skin and soon the slight redness in Ginny’s skin was fading, leaving only a healthy sheen to her skin. She still had a fair complexion, but she looked sun-kissed in a good way.

“Harry really knows his stuff doesn’t he?” Ginny said as she got dressed. She tried to tie the knot like Susan had done earlier but soon looked to her girlfriend with a defeated expression.

“I got you,” Susan said as she moved over and kissed her. 

“I love you,” Ginny whispered as she looked into those steely blue eyes, which were so Susan. She had said it before, but usually in moments of passion. It felt nice to just say it, to feel comfortable saying it like this.

“And I love you too,” Susan smiled. “Now, we should get a move on. Harry and Tonks are probably waiting.”

They went downstairs to see Tonks sporting a similar outfit to Ginny, but she was wearing her dragon skin coat. Her hair was a steely grey similar to Amelia’s which suited her so well.

They looked around.

“Where’s Harry?” Susan asked. 

“Don’t know,” Tonks shrugged her shoulders. “I assume he’ll be down in a minute.” 

“I’m here,” Harry’s voice carried down from the top of the stairs. 

Tonks' eyes went wide. Her stomach fluttered and her heart was beating so fast that at first, she felt it had stopped. 

Harry hadn’t done much to his previous disguise. He had added a well-trimmed beard and his features looked ten years older. He had left off his glasses, but his eyes were the same emerald green colour she knew so well. She couldn’t spot a scar, but his thin face was framed perfectly. 

Fuck, he looks good with a beard. Tonks found herself biting her lower lip slightly while she entertained some dangerous thoughts.

“I thought it would be better if I looked closer to Tonks’s age,” Harry said. “It could look like a double date of sorts, at least to everyone around us. I hope you don’t mind, Tonks.”

Susan and Ginny shared a pitying glance between themselves. 

“Your voice is still the same,” Amelia commented. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “That’s why I’m late, I was looking at a spell which changes the pitch in one of the books about disguises you got me. Vox mutante.” Harry pointed his wand to his throat.

“How’s this?” Harry’s voice had turned into a soft baritone.

“Mhmm,” Tonks said in a slightly husky voice. “That’s good. I can’t hear it’s you.”

Harry’s chuckle sent shivers down her spine.

“Thank you for the compliment,” Harry said. “But you saw through my disguise yesterday. Blonde guy, ponytail?”

“That was you?” Tonks asked. 

“Yeah, I was rather proud of that one actually,” Harry said.

He grabbed his dragonskin jacket and was now matching Tonks.

Aww. They look really good together like that, Susan thought.

Susan borrowed Tonks’s vest once more and Ginny got a bomber jacket, which Harry had gotten from Sirius when he was fourteen. It fit her rather well in that sort of slightly baggy sense that was always stylish on an attractive young woman. 

“See you, Auntie,” Harry said. “Don’t wait up for us.”

“We’ll be back by eleven,” Tonks said quickly, giving Harry a quick glare. 

Susan hugged her aunt goodbye and Ginny was just standing there until Amelia went forward and hugged her too.

“Take care of yourself, and try not to do anything stupid,” Amelia said.

“We make no promises,” Tonks said with mock seriousness. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Amelia said. “Off you go.”

The four of them walked out of the flat, looking towards Harry.

“Well, I can take you along my old running path,” Harry shrugged. “It’s not like I have spent much time around here. Tonks should know better.”

“I usually just went to Magical places if I was to go out. The Leaky is the usual spot for Aurors.” Tonks said.

“Fine then, let’s just go along,” Harry said. “I think I remember the way to the cinema from last time we were there.”

“But that was ages ago!” Tonks said.

“So?” Harry asked. “It was a memorable evening. You took me out to see a film for the first time. Of course I remember.”

Tonks kept her face calm, trying not to blush, and soon she smiled again.

They walked along the road. Ginny and Susan had taken off their jackets and were walking along holding hands. They were getting looks but only a few stares, and those people soon turned away when they felt the glares from Harry and Tonks, who were walking behind them. 

Harry leaned in towards Tonks’ ear.

“So if people ask, we are dating. You are Susan’s cousin, and Ginny and I are your respective boyfriend and girlfriend,” Harry said. “Sounds good?” 

This is going to end badly for me, Tonks thought.

“Why would anyone ask? What business is it of theirs—” Ginny was interrupted by a subtle elbow from Susan.

“Well if we’re going to be a couple, we should act like it,” she gathered her resolve. “Basic Auror undercover training.”

Harry held out his hand for her to grab. 

She hesitated for a moment before grabbing it. His skin felt rough against hers. More masculine than she remembered. More grown-up. She felt a tingling sensation all over as she felt him squeeze her hand.

She didn’t remember much for the rest of the afternoon. She was just lost in the happiness his presence brought her. 

“What did you do about the glasses?” she asked.

“Contacts.” Harry said. “I had Auntie get them for me, apparently some Aurors use them. Not a huge fan, but they’re worth it to be out with you. With everyone, I mean.” 

“They use them, yeah,” Tonks muttered. “I never thought about that. They suit you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “What about the beard?” 

Tonks reached up and scratched it. “Very much, it makes you look all grown up.”

“I can’t grow one myself,” Harry sighed. “Just a few patches, barely worth shaving.”

“So far,” Tonks said. “You will in the future, I’m sure of it.”

“If I live that long.” Harry muttered.

“You will,” Tonks said, leaning against him. 

Harry didn’t say anything to that. He got pulled into shops, more than he could count.

Do all witches look around this much? They hardly buy anything, Harry groaned inwardly. 

He caught the eyes of another man in the clothes shop. He was fighting hard to contain his laughter, when he saw the dispirited expression on his face. 

I’m here with three of them and you complain.

“Ladies,” Harry said, gathering their attention. “I think it’s time for us to find a place to eat.” 

Tonks, Susan and Ginny looked his way. All three of them were pouting.

“Just a little longer, love?” Tonks asked. She knew instantly that she had made a mistake. 

Harry stalked out of the store and was walking down the street, hands jammed in coat pockets, shoulders up defensively. Tonks ran after him.

“Harry! Harry!” She realised calling his name out in public was a mistake, but they hadn’t even thought of that, and now she had no choice.

He turned around, his face a mix of emotions, but mostly shame. 

“Anything but that,” he said, his jaw tight and his teeth nearly clenched closed. “Just not that.”

“I’m sorry,” she begged. “Please don’t …”

Harry was just staring at her.

“Please don’t leave me. Us.” 

She had moved up to him and tentatively brushed her hand against his beard.

“You don’t understand,” he said. 

“Then explain it to me,” Tonks whispered.

“I’m betraying her,” he looked at her with confusion in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tonks gave him a sad smile. She pulled her hand back, thinking he needed space. “I understand, Harry. But I still care for you.”

Harry pulled her into a hug and felt her head on his chest. He knew they were gathering too many eyes on them. He didn’t care.

Susan and Ginny were watching them from the door of the shop. They knew exactly why he had reacted this violently. It was what she called him. 

They just watched until Harry released Tonks. There was a single tear in his beard which reflected the sun.

“I’m alright now,” he said. “I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay,” Tonks wiped away the tear. “It really is. Let’s go, we’re attracting attention.”

Susan and Ginny had come out to them.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Sorry ladies, that was unbecoming of me.”

“That’s okay,” Susan said. “We understand.”

“I’m glad,” Harry played along. “I apologize for that.”

He held out his hand towards Tonks once more. She hesitated for a second afraid to take it. It had turned from something she desired to something she feared. Just as she decided she was being silly, Harry slowly retreated his hand. He turned around and began walking down the street. His right hand hanging loosely by his side. Tonks caught up with him, knowing that Susan and Ginny would follow. 

She looked at the hand hanging by his side. She looked at the tense state of his body. She slowly reached out for him with a finger. She brushed it against the back of his hand, expecting him to pull away. Instead, he turned his palm towards her and held it for her to take once more. 

You shouldn’t, the voice of reason and caution whispered in her head, the voice she so often ignored.. 

She felt the rough skin of Harry’s palm as she ran her finger across it. She moved her hand forward and let his fingers intertwine with her own. 

I’m sorry, indulge me for an evening… I swear I will never do this again, she swore silently.

Ginny and Susan watched them with a mix of emotions as they walked in front of them. They wanted everyone to be happy, but that wasn’t a real theme in Harry’s stories, so far.

Harry led them to a place called Quaglino’s. It had opened on Valentine’s Day only three years prior. It had an outstanding reputation. Harry led the girls into an alley close by and transfigured their clothes into something more suitable. Ginny was wearing a midnight black dress that showed off her shoulders but was modest in front otherwise. Susan was wearing a creamy white dress that exposed just enough of her tanned cleavage to draw attention while remaining entirely suitable for a young woman her age. He may have gone a little overboard with Tonks. She was wearing royal blue with long sleeves that suited her nicely, but with a scoop back that showed a lot of skin when she moved. Harry had transfigured his own jacket and jeans into a bespoke charcoal Saville Row suit, which he had modeled off of one he had seen an important businessman wearing during a long-ago trip around the city. It should last them for dinner before turning back into their previous clothes. 

Harry led the three women to the entrance. Susan was carrying Ginny’s arm over her own. Harry likewise with Tonks, who had kept her steely grey hair. As Harry held the door for them, he could not help but be pleased with how smart they all looked, and how mature he felt. They were all natural beauties, and he was proud to be with them. 

Harry got a table for four. As they moved towards their table, he put his hand out to the small of Tonks’s back, and for a moment felt bare skin. He coughed a little to hide his reaction, and she took the slightest misstep before smoothly recovering. They sat and were soon trying not to stare as they took in the large dining room. All were surprised by the large menu, most of it apparently some sort of French cuisine.

Harry, Susan, and Ginny had a little knowledge of French cuisine from the time Beauxbatons had visited Hogwarts as part of the Triwizard Tournament. 

Tonks, however, had never heard of any of the names on the menu. She looked imploringly at Harry, who smiled at her, before pointing to something he hoped she would enjoy. Steak Frites. It was really just the French words for steak and chips, but they had to be fancy and put it in French.

She sent him one of the sweetest smiles, she could and let him order. None of them got any wine even though Harry felt it unnecessary for Tonks to hold herself back, but she pointed out that she was at least somewhat responsible for the three of them. 

Harry had squeezed her hand when she said that. 

Dinner was a happy event. Harry ordered seconds for Tonks, who was still hungry, and by the time they had to get to the cinema all four of them were satisfied. 

“Where does she put it?” Ginny asked Susan in a low voice.

“It’s her metamorphmagus ability. She can regulate her metabolism. It’s cheating.” 

Ginny nodded at that. She didn’t have much of a problem with gaining weight because of Quidditch, but she knew it was a nightmare for some of the other girls at Hogwarts. 

They walked through the evening streets of London. Susan and Ginny were gossiping about the different Muggle fashions that they spotted on the streets.

Harry and Tonks were trailing behind them, smiling as they watched the two girls enjoying their time. They didn’t hold hands anymore, by some unconscious mutual decision. 

It was like the time before the restaurant was a passing dream, which they had both woken up from. They didn’t say anything to each other, both thinking about what they had done. 

They glanced at each other at odd intervals, never catching the other’s eyes. 

Tonks noticed the faraway look in Harry’s eyes. I ended up doing something stupid.

Harry was thinking of his earlier incident at the shops, and before. I should never have done that.

They arrived at the cinema.

“What are we watching?” Ginny asked, looking up at the still posters with fascination. Not one of them moved. It seemed so odd.

Harry and Susan turned to Tonks as well. The cinema was playing a collection of films about great Muggle music. They had just missed something called Amadeus but were in time for Immortal Beloved. It sounded romantic, which might be nice for Susan and Ginny. Tonks pointed towards the poster with the silhouette of a man sitting at a piano.

“What’s it about?” Harry asked. 

“Well, you will just have to wait and see,” Tonks smiled and opened the door for them, not entirely sure herself but reluctant to appear unsophisticated in front of the girls. 

Harry had a feeling it was going to be a romance. Susan and Ginny were looking around in fascination. 

Tonks led them all to the ticket booth and bought four tickets. They were told they pretty much had their choice of seats, which delighted Susan and Ginny. 

They went in and found some seats towards the back. The lights dimmed down. Harry spotted Susan and Ginny looking up at the screen in amazement. When the screen started showing pictures without sound, Harry thought they might have made a mistake. He heard a small gasp from Susan as the music started playing. Harry sat back into his seat, looking at the screen, his arm resting between Tonks and him. He watched as a man was lying dead on a bed.

“That doesn’t half look like Sirius,” Ginny whispered somewhat loudly. Susan hushed her.

Mixed feelings welled up in Harry as he looked at the man. The actor actually did resemble his godfather. He clenched his fist around the armrest. A soft hand fell on top of his own. He felt a soothing calm slowly wash over him from his arm. He relaxed and turned his palm towards Tonks’ hand. He felt nervous excitement well up in his stomach as their fingers were once more intertwined. It felt wrong, but it also felt right, comforting. He didn’t know what to think, so he stopped thinking at all and just enjoyed the moment. His thumb was idly trailing circles on top of her hand. 

It was an interesting story. The film was about finding the eternal love of a composer who Harry had heard about while he was in a Muggle school, Ludwig Van Beethoven. Harry watched as the great composer slowly lost his hearing. It pulled at his heartstrings when the man was down on his luck and was deaf. He wouldn’t be able to hear the music he composed. 

Harry felt a connection with sadness and madness, which surrounded the man. The times he would flare up on the screen. When he was smashing stuff, he recognized himself in the way they both pushed people away so they wouldn’t be hurt. He felt tears streaming down his face as the man was playing a beautiful piece on a piano, his head resting on top of it to capture some shadow of his own art. 

Harry wasn’t sure if the man on the screen could hear the sound, but Harry could. It was beautiful. He watched as the man grew older. Beethoven had taken away his young nephew from his mother to train him, to transform him into something the boy did not wish to be.

Like Dumbledore did to me, training me to fight Voldemort, Harry thought bitterly. 

He was shocked when the young man had tried to kill himself. Harry felt himself clench Tonks’s hand. He felt another hand on top and he looked up into her eyes and saw her deep care and concern.

She knows me, she understands me.

Harry had noticed that at some point the movie had stopped being as interesting for Susan and Ginny as they found each other, and they might have spent the past twenty minutes snogging next to him. 

At least they are quiet about it, Harry sighed in his mind. 

You could kiss Tonks, a voice commented dispassionately in his mind as if it were a purely academic observation. Harry shook his head.

He felt a pair of concerned eyes fall upon him, he turned to look into Tonks’s hazel eyes, which seemed more blue-green than brown in the dimly lit cinema.

Just lean in and do it.

She shared a sweet smile, before turning to the screen once more, thankfully sparing him the need to make that particular choice. Her head fell to his shoulder, and they both enjoyed a moment of silent closeness. The movie was ending. 

The lights came up, and Harry decided it might be better to release Tonks’s hand now that they were no longer in the dark. He felt her hand tighten in his, however, and decided he didn’t need to do it just yet after all. He would indulge himself for one evening. It would be rude to push her away. It was all part of the disguise. Nothing more than that. 

Notes:

A lot of our readers were still very angry at this time, that Harry was cheating on his One True Love and that Tonks was NoT thE OnE 4EVR!!!

I like to point out that Harry is an emotionally damaged teen with PTSD and limited experience with love, romance, or even affection. He confuses sex with intimacy and love with affection. OF COURSE he has conflicted feelings, competing emotions, and makes poor choices in word and action.

Didn't you at his age? No? Just me, then. Awkward.
-Killjoy

Chapter 10: Touched by Fire

Summary:

The end of the world's most awkward double-date leaves Harry and Tonks unable to slip back into their old roles...

• Shut up. It was just a date!
• this is the Harry I know
• Surprise, surprise!
• Ginny takes charge
• Molly saves the day
• Castoria and Cassiopeia
• “Come…join us…”
• Harry & Tonks: Same flat, different worlds
• Harry & Hermione: Vow, unbroken

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 10. Touched by Fire

 

The walk home was subdued, to say the least. Ginny and Susan were wrapped in each other’s affection, holding hands and talking privately in soft voices to one another. Tonks and Harry followed a discreet distance behind them, also still hand in hand.

Several times, Harry went to speak, to say something to Tonks which would make the awkward awareness between them subside, but each time, he closed his mouth again, silent. When he had spoken, just a word about direction, or to mind a bicyclist recklessly heading their way, his deeper, older voice had suddenly felt alien and uncomfortable in his mouth.

Who are you any more? The voice in his head was deep too, out of place. What do you think she would think of you now?

Harry watched Susan and Ginny, and bitterly recalled (somewhat inaccurately) when love had been that pure and simple.

Tonks was having a more spirited inner dialogue, with her desires and her fears taking full voice.

It wasn’t so wrong, was it? He clearly enjoys your company.

Of course he does. You’re his rock, the one person he counts on to never hurt him, never let him down. Never take advantage.

Shut up. It was just a date!

You shut up. There was the kiss, too…

Tonks watched Ginny and Susan and bitterly envied that their love was that pure and simple.

When they reached the flat, at last, Susan and Ginny hurried in together, still clutching one another tightly.

Tonks paused before they reached the door, turning to look at Harry. His short beard, no glasses, his missing scar, all of these were details, all disappeared. But his green eyes, his heart, his mind, his lips… she found herself leaning slightly towards him, her eyes closing.

Harry looked at Tonks and remembered her lips touching his, felt her hand in his. His mind raced, running his hands through her hair to activate the wall charms, her arms around him when he woke in the night, heart racing. His heart was racing now.

He pulled his hand away as if her fingers were burning him.

Tonks pulled back, trying to sound offhand as she said, “Well, thanks. This was fun.”

Harry’s face was burning, his hands had gone clammy and cold. Tonks, her lips against his, her hand in his, his hand on her back as they walked through the restaurant, Tonks in her pink bikini…

His eyes wide, he opened his mouth, but rather than speak, he bolted past Tonks, past Amelia who was sitting in her chair with a cup of tea, and up the stairs as if pursued by dementors. His door slammed, and he stood, back to the door, heart pounding. He went in front of his mirror. He looked at the older version of himself in it. He pointed his wand to his throat. 

Vox mutante nox” 

“ah…” his voice was back to normal. It felt worse to look at his face with his usual voice.

He pointed his wand to his face, “Finite dissimulato”, he watched as the beard grew backward into his skin and the bone structure got a little more boyish, he was looking at himself. Well, no glasses. He removed the contacts and tossed them in the saline solution on his nightstand.“Accio glasses.” He put them on.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He scrubbed at his forehead with his sleeve, so even his scar was back where it belonged.

This is me, this is the Harry I know.

Tonks made somewhat transparent excuses to Amelia and made sure that she was happy in her chair before she herself went upstairs. She looked at Harry’s door—closed—and Susan’s—closed, and hopefully silenced. She walked into her room, surprised that the walls were steel-silver. In a moment, the walls glowed a soft bubblegum pink, and Tonks collapsed into her bed.

 

Harry woke up with a sigh, his dreams had been filled with colours of brown and pink swirling around in circles. He knew what it meant. He didn’t deny there was something different between him and Tonks, but it didn’t take away from his love for Hermione. He loved her still, impossibly much. It was like the sole universal truth he carried in his heart and on his arm. 

I will have to talk with Tonks about this, he thought to himself as he dragged his body to the bathroom. 

He knocked on the door not wanting to disturb anyone if he could. There was no answer. He pulled on the handle and he opened it up and thankfully found it empty. He closed the door behind him and locked it. 

He was finally okay with being in the bathroom alone. He was sure he would never do anything like he had tried before. He pulled off his t-shirt and boxers and turned on the water. It was slightly cold, but he didn’t mind. He needed a cold shower to feel awake. 

He groaned loudly as the cold water hit his back, okay maybe a little too cold. 

He drew in a chattering breath until the water adjusted to a more comfortable temperature. He washed himself off quickly but decided to stay under the stream of water contemplating, reflecting.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“Harry! When are you going to be done in there?” Susan’s annoyed voice penetrated the wood.

“Sorry,” Harry shouted back. “I’ll be done in a second.”

He turned off the shower and quickly dried himself with a spell. He had forgotten to bring fresh clothes, so he cast a quick cleaning charm on the clothes. They still felt dirty when he put them on, but it was probably just something he imagined.

He opened the door and found Susan tap-tapping in front of the door.

“Finally,” she exhaled and pushed him aside. Harry was just about to walk away when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You aren’t supposed to have your wand in the bathroom,” Susan said quietly.

“I forgot.”

“I should tell Auntie,” Susan lifted her eyebrows.

“If you think that is for the best” Harry shrugged.

He walked towards his room, he didn’t want to continue this discussion with her. He heard the door close behind him. 

I could really use a distraction today, Harry thought to himself, knowing it was rather unlikely for anything to take his mind away from the day before.

Harry dressed and found his way downstairs. He spotted Amelia coming out of her room. She was looking a little paler than usual. 

“You alright, Auntie?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, just a bit of cramping, must have slept poorly,” Amelia groused.

Harry got around to making breakfast for the flat. Coffee for Tonks, a glass of orange juice for Amelia. Bacon and Eggs, the usual. It was Ginny’s last day, so she and Susan would probably spend their day fooling around. Tonks was supposed to go back to the Ministry later in the day. 

Not soon enough to avoid that conversation, Harry moaned inwardly.

“Oh, right,” Harry made as if to slap his forehead, “before Susan says anything, I didn’t think about it and I brought my wand to the bathroom. Nothing happened, I promise.”

“I see,” Amelia looked at him like she was seeing through him. “I won’t say I approve, but maybe it’s time to relax that specific rule. I will reserve my right to take it away from you if I deem it necessary.”

“Of course,” Harry sighed in relief. 

“So, would you like to explain to me what happened yesterday?” 

“That’s the reason I didn’t think about it…” Harry began, but they were interrupted by Susan and Ginny’s arrival in the kitchen.

“Auntie…” Susan began, but she was interrupted by Amelia.

“He already told me, I’m not saying I like it, but we have already discussed it.” 

Ginny looked at Susan, but only received a dismissive shake of the head of her head, which made Ginny pout. 

Harry chuckled a little when he saw their interaction.

“I did something stupid before Susan arrived, which made Amelia and Tonks decide that it would be better if my wand usage was supervised by them, just in certain places,” he explained carefully.

“What did you do?” Ginny asked.

“I’d rather not say,” Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, okay,” Ginny knew when to back off. 

“Don’t bother asking Susan, when you are alone either, she doesn’t know,” Harry commented over his shoulder. 

Ginny frowned a little at that, but finally decided to let it go. 

As usual, Tonks was the last to stumble into the kitchen. Harry poured her a mug of coffee rather mechanically and put it down on the table within arms reach, but keeping his distance. 

Tonks’s eyes followed him as she grabbed the mug and breathed in the smell. 

Not my usual mug, she observed.

The breakfast was consumed in comparative silence. Amelia would groan once in a while, which she just explained was the pregnancy and she was feeling a few cramps. Susan and Ginny went off, Harry helped Amelia into her chair and walked back to the kitchen to clean up. Tonks was nursing her fourth mug of coffee, which was a lot even for her. 

Harry could feel her eyes bore into him as he cleaned up the plates and containers by hand instead of magic, anything to keep him occupied for longer and not having to confront the hippogriff in the room. 

“Harry,” Tonks’s trembling voice hit his ear. 

“Yeah,” he turned around and found her holding back tears.

“Could we talk?” she asked cautiously. 

Harry sat down and summoned a glass from a cupboard. He filled it with water. They looked at each other, neither of them wanting to say the first word. Harry observed the way her hair was hanging more limply than usual. The way her fingers were grasping her mug tightly. The way her lips were quivering, and the way her face would scrunch up trying to contain her tears.

“Yesterday…” she finally said.

“I felt it too,” Harry admitted. 

“You did?” Tonks’ face lit up. 

“Yes. But—I’m sorry—I can’t,” Harry was struggling to find the right words.

“Oh,” Tonks said stiffly.

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t care for you, I do care for you, as something more than, more than before,” Harry sighed. “It’s just—”

“—Her,” Tonks said more bitterly than she wished. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I promised. I promised to always love her, and I still do. I haven’t seen her since, but I have to have hope. For my own sake as well.”

“I understand,” Tonks wiped away tears that were threatening to ruin a perfectly good fourth cup of coffee. “I can wait for you to know.”

“Why?” Harry asked, still trying to keep his voice down.

“Because I have already tried to forget you,” Tonks said with agitation. “I couldn’t, you idiot,” 

Harry had just opened his mouth when a long, high moan sounded through the flat. He looked in surprise at Tonks, wide-eyed, and sprang to his feet and towards the living room.

“Auntie!” 

“Hoo … hoo…” Amelia panted. “Aaaargh!!” 

Harry rushed towards her, unsure of how to ease her distress. 

“What’s going on?” he asked frantically. “Are you hurt?”

“Her water broke,” Tonks said, noticing the spreading dark spot on Amelia's robes. Tonks sounded frightened. “But, that shouldn’t happen yet! She’s not due for six more weeks. We haven’t even set up security yet- that was supposed to be this week!” 

“What do we do?” Harry looked frightened, uncertain for the first time in a long time. 

“What’s going on?!” Susan and Ginny came running down the stairs.

“Auntie’s water broke,” Harry told her.

“Keep calm, Potter,” Amelia groaned in a hoarse voice. “I think this is happening.”

Harry felt a wave of adrenaline hit, and he started looking about the room, considering exits, trying to gauge the right action. He felt a hand on his arm and spun around to find Ginny, pale but calm, next to him.

“Harry, have you ever dealt with a birth before?” She asked firmly.

“No, I mean, I read some things…” His eyes were wide, and Ginny spoke to him quietly, turning him slightly away from Amelia.

“Slow down, Potter. Everything will be okay, but we can’t have you agitated, it could distress Amelia. I know who we can call.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Like training or a duel, he had to keep his balance. “What’s our plan?”

“Tonks, go to the Burrow right now, bring Mum here as soon as possible,” Ginny ordered. The smallest, youngest of them seemed to have taken command. Maybe there were benefits of growing up with six older brothers. “Take Susan. Harry and I will stay with Amelia.”

“Right,” Tonks said, looking at Susan, who was looking from her aunt to Ginny and back 

“Susan?” Ginny said, catching her eye. “Go. I promise nothing will happen until you get back.”

Tonks took Susan’s hand, and with a spin and pop apparated away.

“Thank you, Ginny,” Amelia said, gritting her teeth and wincing. “Good work.”

“Thanks,” Ginny leaned toward Amelia. “I'm making this up as we go. What can we do until mum gets here?”

Amelia panted a bit, grimacing then said, “I’d like to get my feet up?”

“Harry, you hear that? Help her raise up her feet.” 

Harry focused. His wand made a few quick gestures, and the recliner was a full bed, with head and feet raised, and handrails for Amelia to hold on to.

“Nice, now go get some clean towels, a basin of cool water, and one of warm water. Set up a table over there for my mother when she gets here.”

“What is that for?” Amelia asked, seeming to relax somewhat, looking around at Harry’s preparations.

“That’s for keeping Harry busy until Mum gets here,” Ginny admitted quietly, looking over her shoulder at Harry’s intense activity.

The fireplace lit up and Mrs. Weasley arrived, a small collection of potions and a large handbag with her. Susan and Tonks followed her, looking concerned. 

“Good to see you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry sighed in relief. 

“Likewise Harry,” Mrs. Weasley nodded towards him before focusing on Ginny. “Smart girl. Step aside a bit? Thanks. Well, Amelia, how have you been? Anything new?” She smiled at her own joke, but did not waste any time quickly examining Amelia by eye as she laid out her things and drew her wand.“I’m sure we can still get you to Mungo’s, dear.” 

“Too exposed,” Amelia groaned, “We’re still targets.” 

“Well, it won’t be the first time we did this at home. Common during the war,” Mrs. Weasley said as she cleaned and sterilised her hands with magic. “Harry dear, you will probably want to leave the room. We are going to get Amelia into a gown, and this might be a little more than you care to see.”

“Right,” Harry yelped. “Call if you need anything? Promise?”

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Weasley was feeling Amelia’s belly bump, which had dropped noticeably lower.

Harry went upstairs and heard footsteps behind him.

“Not you two young ladies- you are staying here to help me. Tonks too.” Mrs. Weasley commanded.

Harry heard three separate yelps behind him and rushed up the stairs. He had the door to the study open so he could listen in on the proceedings, but soon closed it until he was just sure that he would hear if they called for him. He felt scared and a little nauseous. He hadn’t known how much yelling was involved in the process.

Harry had never heard his aunt curse so much either. Surprisingly a lot of it was directed towards Sirius, who apparently was a right bastard for putting a baby in her in the first place.

“You, you sly, smooth-talking son of a bitch!” Amelia shouts echoed throughout the flat.”You, ugh, did this to meeeeeee…”

Harry felt a wild urge to return downstairs. Several times, it seemed like days, he actually put his hand to the door, but each time he heard Molly Weasley’s soothing voice, giving directions, asking questions, or just humming and murmuring reassuring sounds. His nerves were frayed and he was starting to exhaust himself with agitation. He felt well past his breaking point when a small cry tore through the air. Harry rushed to the banister, only to hear Amelia still panting and pushing. 

“How did you miss that it was twins, Amelia?” Mrs. Weasley said, incredulously. 

“How should I know, Molly? You recall I never… never... did this before?” Amelia gasped. 

Susan, following careful instructions, was holding a baby, wrapped in a clean blanket, just to one side. Ginny was cleaning up something which Harry decided not to investigate further. 

Harry was horrified by all of the blood. The formerly white sheets were vividly coloured with blood now, and Amelia was looking pale and sweat-soaked. Tonks was dabbing her forehead with a cloth, and Ginny had taken over assisting her mother, handing her whatever she asked for. Both Ginny and her mother appeared calm, in contrast to everyone else involved. Susan was apparently becoming bewitched by the small bundle she was cradling against her body and had started murmuring softly to it.

“There, we have the head,” Mrs. Weasley said from her position between Amelia’s legs. “Come on give, one more good push.”

“You said that,” Amelia gasped, “ten pushes ago. Ooh, oh, oh, ugh!”

Amelia moaned, a low raspy sound, tapering off, and a new cry filled the room. Amelia lost all the strength in her body and fell back into the pillows, panting for breath.

“Twins alright, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said as she cut the cord and wrapped the second baby in a cloth. “Two beautiful girls.” 

Amelia smiled and lifted her head weakly to see the baby in Mrs. Weasley’s arms. Susan was moving closer to her aunt. 

“Not quite finished,” Mrs. Weasley called out to the girls softly. “The placenta, the afterbirth. Normally it would be a while, but this is one area where magic can help quite a bit.”

She made some motions with her wand, muttering charms, and Amelia sat up partway, then relaxed back into the bed. Molly took a moment to clean the sheet and surrounding area with a few safe charms and moved aside.

“Okay, girls. Harry, you can come down now.”

Harry felt all wobbly on his legs as he moved forwards towards the bed. 

Mrs. Weasley had cleaned well, and Amelia looked exhausted but unhurt. Harry stood next to the bed and watched the small faces in their bundles. They had stopped crying, but it was already obvious that they were very different girls.

“Do you want to hold her?” Amelia asked in a weak voice. 

Harry felt afraid as if he was too tainted to hold something so small, so pure. 

“Go on,” Amelia held one twin up towards him. 

Harry nervously put his hand under the little girl's head and pulled her into his embrace. She’s so small, he thought. Are all babies this small?

“What’s your name, then?” Harry asked in a hoarse voice. He looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was making little motions as if she was trying to speak or to kiss him. Must be hungry already, he thought. 

“Sirius and I had planned to follow the Blacks' fondness for naming their children after constellations,” Amelia smiled. “I think that young lady there is Cassiopeia Meriel Black, and her sister is Castoria Roseclere Black. Castoria the older, Cassiopeia the younger.”

Tonks let out a little private groan. The girls hadn’t escaped the Black tradition of being named after constellations, but it could have been worse.

At least their names are better than Nymphadora, she reasoned with herself. Tori and Cassie, yeah those are good nicknames. 

Amelia sighed and leaned back into her pillows.

“Dear, you are exhausted, don’t worry. We can look after the small ones while you sleep,” Mrs. Weasley said. “They won’t need to eat for a bit yet.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Amelia said weakly as she closed her eyes. “You’re a lifesaver, perhaps literally.”

She opened her eyes and reached a hand out for Molly’s arm. “And Ginny. You should be so proud. No panic, never let on if she was scared. Kept everyone calm, bless her.” 

Amelia leaned back, closing her eyes. Almost at once she was sleeping, head back, tucked under a fresh blanket

“Come now, dears,” Mrs. Weasley guided Susan, Ginny, Harry, and Tonks towards the kitchen. 

Tonks and Ginny were completely infatuated with the two small girls. Ginny was hovering around Susan, and Tonks was staying close to Harry. 

“Hello Cassie, I’m your cousin Tonks,” she said in a small voice. 

Harry, puzzled, turned to look at her.

“Are you sure that isn’t supposed to be Auntie Tonks instead?” Harry teased.

“I’m not that old!” Tonks protested. “We’re second cousins, once removed, I think. Anyhow, look at that face, that’s a cousin’s face.” She made little soft noises, almost nose to nose with Cassie.

“By the time she starts Hogwarts I’ll be in my late twenties,” Harry mused to himself. “I might have children of my own.”

Harry’s children, Tonks mused. Wiry, energetic children running around with unruly hair in all sorts of colours. Stupid! You are being stupid right now.

Cassiopeia flashed them a grin. Tonks felt like her legs were melting as the dark-eyed, black-haired baby looked at her. 

“Who is a little cutie?” Tonks said in a baby voice. “You are, yes, you are!”

“You can hold her if you want,” Harry offered.

“Oh, no no no,” Tonks panicked. 

“Go on dear, just hold her like Harry is,” Mrs. Weasley said, sitting down at the table. She was exhausted as well.

Tonks carefully scooped her hand under Cassiopeia’s neck and slowly lifted her out of Harry’s arms. 

She is heavier than I thought, Tonks noticed. And she smells...nice? Whoah, do all babies smell so nice? What is that about?

Harry watched as Tonks sat down on a chair next to the table, completely enamoured by the tiny girl. He moved towards the kitchen and began trying to put together some sort of food. Ginny was holding Castoria and sat down next to Tonks. Susan and Mrs.Weasley were watching the two witches with indulgent looks in their eyes. 

Harry quickly got around to preparing some food. He knew they had all worked hard and their nerves would probably be even more frayed than his own. So he decided the least he could do to help was make something to eat. He started by making each of them a cup of tea to calm down. The five cups of steaming tea, four of them placed on the table, were gratefully accepted by their receivers. Tonks’s finger had gotten caught by Cassiopeia and she was giggling and looking in awe at the little girl. 

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said as she sipped her own cup. “How are you doing?” 

“Fine,” Harry said. 

“It’s a terrible thing that happened,” Mrs. Weasley pressed on. 

“Yes it was, but as you can see Sirius is still here, living in the body of his daughters,” Harry smiled. 

“Indeed,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I can imagine him running around like a headless chicken during the birth if he was here.”

“I wish I could show them to him,” Harry muttered. 

“And what about…” 

“—Hermione?” Harry cut her off. “Well, I assume you know more than I do. I’ve been prohibited from seeing her, after all. Mrs. Weasley, let us not speak more about that topic. This is a day to celebrate.” 

“You need to open up about it.”

“I do, to Tonks, Amelia, and Susan,” Harry sent her a telling look. “It is more than enough for me.”

Tonks and Susan had looked up at him with care in their eyes. He had never said it out loud before, but they felt the closeness in his words.

Mrs. Weasley wasn’t ready to back off yet, but her daughter stepped up.

“Mum, that’s enough,” Ginny said. “Harry has a family to talk to. It even just got expanded. I think the focus should be on that.”

“Very well, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. After Amelia's comments, Molly was considering Ginny somewhat more thoughtfully than she might have previosuly.

Harry was sipping on his cup of tea. Castoria was sleeping, which led Susan to have more focus on Cassiopeia, who was happily reaching out her hands and holding Tonks and Susan’s fingers. 

She looks good with a baby in her arms, Harry caught himself thinking. Hermione would too, but it definitely suits Tonks.

His train of thought was interrupted by a cry from Castoria, which led to Cassiopeia making it a duet. 

“What’s going on?” Susan panicked.

“I think they are just hungry, dear.” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Bring them to me,” Amelia’s sleepy voice came from the living room.

Tonks and Ginny carried the two girls to their mother. 

“Well, it is nice to hear your voices,” Amelia smiled down at her girls. Harry didn’t turn around quickly enough before Amelia had opened up her gown and her chest was in full view. 

Harry felt himself blushing as he turned around. 

“Well, I’m sorry Harry, but your two goddaughters take priority,” Amelia teased.

“It’s okay,” Harry grunted and ruffled his hair, still looking away. 

“Well, just assume that at least a third of the time when either of the girls cry it is because they are hungry,” Amelia teased. 

“I understand,” Harry moved towards the stairs. “I think that has been enough excitement for me. I think I’ll go lie down for a bit.” 

“Sure thing,” Amelia had noticed the tension in his shoulders and didn’t fight to keep him there. She would ask about it later. 

Tonks looked after his retreating body. She hesitated.

“Go after him if you need to,” Amelia said. 

Tonks sent her a grateful look and caught up to him as he opened the door to his bedroom. 

“You okay?” 

“Frankly no,” Harry sighed, pulling away.

“Do you want to be alone?” Tonks looked concerned and sad.

“Yeah,” Harry said and walked into the room and closed the door. 

Tonks opened the door. 

“I thought I said I wanted to be alone,” Harry sounded annoyed.

“I know, but I don’t think you should have your wand right now if you insist on bottling things up,” Tonks said with a cold look. 

Harry reached for his wand and looked at it for a second before handing it to her, shutting the door in her face in the process. 

Tonks stared at the closed door in a daze. She was holding Harry’s wand in her hand. She had thought, or rather hoped, that he would open up to her instead of shutting her out. 

She was frustrated. She stomped her feet for a second debating whether she should just break the door down. How could he not see how worried she was for him, and just wanted everything to be okay?

You haven’t even finished our conversation, she angrily shouted in her mind. 

She stormed downstairs.

“Anything wrong, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. 

Tonks ignored her, put down Harry’s wand next to Amelia, and rushed to the fireplace. She grabbed a bit of floo powder, threw it in, took a step, and growled, “Ministry of Magic”. 

“What is going on?” Mrs. Weasley looked in turn to Amelia, Susan, and Ginny.

“Molly, this is not something you need to step into,” Amelia sent her a measured look. “I am more than grateful for your help, but I need you to promise: stay out of Harry and Tonks’s business. They’re going through some things.”

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain but finally nodded. 

 

He found himself in a dark space. There was only a single source of light in the distance. He walked towards the light, finding himself standing under a lamppost. It was familiar. Where do I remember it from?

He walked around it. It felt ancient but recent, something warm and cold all at once. He looked into the darkness. He felt like there were people moving around in the dark. He reached for his wand, and waved it to create more light but the wand turned into a rubber haddock. 

“Anyone there?” he called out. 

There was no reply. He felt the darkness twirl, an all-consuming fog. A shadowy figure appeared from the emptiness and walked towards the light.

“Hermione?” 

Harry watched as the figure blurred, he wasn’t sure if it was even the same person anymore. The darkness spun and flowed around him, like a pool of oil being drained from below.

“Tonks?”

Silhouette after silhouette appeared around him.

“Sirius?”

“Mum?” 

“Dad?”

“Cedric? Is that you?”

He felt the darkness, a physical thing, trying to pull him in. 

“Come…” the ghostly silhouettes whispered out to him. “Join us…”

“I can’t!” he cried out.

Silhouette after silhouette receded into the dark. 

“Don’t go!” He was on the floor crying now.

There were only two of them left now. They moved closer, but he still could not make out any features, could only guess as to identity.

“Hermione? Tonks?”

He felt a chill as they passed completely through his body.

He was alone. 

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. Tears had marked his pillow. He clutched at his chest, his breath catching.

He tried to breathe deeply, gathering his mind. Images of Hermione were tumbling through his mind. He smiled as they played in his head. The way she smiled when she was excited about something. The way she would laugh. He felt like he was opening up a box of sadness with a tiny wisp of hope.

He fiddled with the teardrop gemstone on his wrist. She was the one for him, he was sure of it. Maybe he had still had a chance to make her fall for him once more. Hermione was worth it, she was worth any amount of pain it took to have her in his life. He owed her so much, but that wasn’t the reason for his love. It wasn’t about what either of them could give the other. It was just because he loved her.

 

Ginny had gotten permission from her mother to stay at Carnaby Street to help look after the babies, so long as she promised that she would do her homework and come home when August came around. She had happily accepted those terms and was flitting around the flat helping wherever she was needed. 

Susan had also enjoyed helping take care of Castoria and Cassiopeia. The two girls were bringing a new breath of life to the flat. Especially during the day, when Amelia would do her best to catch up on sleep. She was sharing the bed with the two girls, so they were easy to reach if they woke up crying. Well, usually it was one of them waking up crying and then the other joined, but Amelia was looking tired nonetheless. 

Molly Weasley had begun almost daily visits, doting on the two baby girls. She and Amelia had begun to grow closer, with the shared experiences of motherhood giving way to other overlapping interests. Amelia had slightly known Molly’s brothers, the Prewetts, and was able to share a few anecdotes. Molly admitted that she was sensitive about not having grandchildren yet and that the two girls were a good placeholder for “when Bill and Charlie get their wands out of their arses and find some good witches.”

Harry did his part and was not squeamish about changing their diapers. He was, however, seriously reconsidering ever getting a child on his own. These two girls more than made up for his need for a family, at least at the moment. As to his current family, Harry had begun avoiding being alone with Tonks. He knew it hurt her, but he didn’t want to lead her on when he had decided to focus on Hermione. When he was honest with himself, he acknowledged that he didn’t need the additional temptation either. Now that he had admitted to himself that his feelings for Tonks were somewhat complicated, it seemed she was everywhere, all the time. He kept to himself in the study. He felt relieved when she didn’t bring up anything more about their conversation from the morning the girls had been born. She threw herself into work and spent more time away from the flat than she actually did awake at home. 

It was like something had broken between them, but neither of them could do anything to mend it. It just stayed the same, sometimes they felt like family to each other, sometimes they felt like strangers. Harry had stopped training in the flat and had instead, with Amelia’s permission, begun running again. He would usually get up before Tonks was awake, assume his disguise, and begin running. He would not return until after she had gone to the Ministry. He did leave her coffee, hot on the table, as a tie that still held them together, no matter how tenuously.

Harry ticked off the days on the calendar. Though his birthday was hurtling towards him, he didn’t feel like celebrating it this year. There would be no present from Hermione, which would remind him of the state of things. Instead, he had begun carefully probing, asking Ron in each owl how Hermione was doing, what she had been reading, trying to feel out her state of mind from the distance of Carnaby Street. Ron continued to report as best as he was able on her progress. 

Harry was happy to hear that Hermione was steadily improving and that her health and emotional shock seemed to be slowly but continuously improving. He was ecstatic when Ron told him that it was increasingly possible that Hermione would go back to Hogwarts after the summer holidays. Harry hadn’t dared ask about what she had been told about him. He had a feeling if it was up to Mr. Granger, she would never hear a word. By unspoken agreement, Ron kept details that might get Harry too concerned out of his reports, while assuring Harry that he was steadily advocating with the Grangers for full, eventual disclosure to Hermione of her life before the Department of Mysteries. Finally, Ron assured him that he and the Grangers had spoken to the Chief Healer in the case, and were working out what was best for Hermione. 

Harry had perfected the calculator. It no longer required solar energy but picked up magic in the air instead. That had stabilised it, so Harry was certain it would work at Hogwarts and not go haywire as Hogwarts, A History claimed that it would. He was sure Hermione would love it if he were able to give it to her. He had already made three of them, one for testing and then one for each of them if it worked.

He was feeling hopeful again, but with hope came longing. It felt right, to be thinking again of Hermione with optimism. He was ashamed of his moments of weakness, but now he had dedicated himself to his love once again, and he wasn’t going to be distracted again by anyone or anything. 

He would spend August reading everything he could find on memory charms and recovery methods for obliviation. He had convinced Susan to go to Diagon Alley and practically buy the whole section of related books from Flourish and Blotts, as Amelia had insisted that wizard hotspots like Diagon Alley were too dangerous for Harry even in disguise. The books now filled a fourth bookcase in the study. He was consumed, reading almost feverishly as if touched by fire, filling long scrolls of parchment with notes, questions, and formulae.

Yes, he would help Hermione remember him if anyone could. And when she remembered, she would know him and love him, once more. 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Waske told me early on that he was planning twins for Amelia, so I had tweaked and nudged chapters far in advance. She was unusually huge, she never made it to St. Mungo's for care due to the threat of Dark Wizards, etc.

I also argued strongly that this was a chance for Molly Weasley to redeem herself. Waske and I had very different views of Molly, but we agreed that she was coming off VERY negatively in this series, perhaps more than intended or needed. Showing her legitimate care for Harry and his friends, for her peers in the Wizarding World, was important to me. Once she finally lets "Harry + Ginny" go, she has real potential. Plus I love writing Molly, as you may see in the next volume.

Chapter 11: Interlude: Missing Piece

Summary:

Another interlude, in which Ron makes a difficult visit to Hermione in hospital, and in which Hermione puts friendship above curiosity, to the surprise of her father.

• Ron performs a difficult service
• Hermione is hurt, but not how he expected
• They both deal with some changes time has wrought.

Notes:

Author’s Note from ReverendKilljoy:

I hadn’t planned on spelling this scene out, but clearly, some people need more specific closure on issues raised in this Interlude.

While I generally follow Joss Whedon’s advice to “give the audience what they need, not what they ask for,” in this case I decided that trying to catch up later via flashback, or letting the audience draw their own conclusions, might make things harder on some readers for no good reason.

So, Missing Piece…

Chapter Text

Chapter 11. Interlude: Missing Piece

 

Ron Weasley arrived via floo to the main lobby of St. Mungo’s as usual, but his face was set, a serious look that seemed out of place on his normally open, boyish face. Instead of his usual collection of books and small amenities, he carried a bundle of letters, tied with a white ribbon.

He took the stairs one at a time—half his recent pace—as if to delay what was coming.

He arrived at the ward and took a second to collect his thoughts. He had very carefully planned out what he wanted to say, and what Hermione might say in return. He had developed his plan with her parents, and with Eustace Lewis, the Healer in charge of Hermione’s care. There was no putting things off any longer, so he pasted a smile on his face and entered the ward.

Unusually, Hermione was sitting up in her bed, rather than in her more typical chair by the window. Her father John was standing, looking out the window with his back to the room, his body clearly tense. Hermione’s mother, Jean, sat in a chair next to her, holding her hand. Hermione, he noticed, was wearing another jumper, but this one was much closer to her proper size, and her hair had been brushed out and not tied back, framing her face in a somewhat more mature way. Hermione looked very nervous and uncertain. Before he could greet her, she spoke.

“Hello, Ronald.” Her voice was calm. “I’m glad you’ve come. Something is clearly going on, but neither of them would say anything until you arrived.”

“Hello, Ron,” Jean said warmly, keeping her seat and holding on to her daughter’s hand.

“Weasley,” her father said, his voice tight, not looking at them.

“John,” Jean said calmly, “you promised.”

Hermione’s father turned, nodded to Ron, and then faced his wife and daughter.

“I know I did, but I… I just can’t be here for this. I’m going to take a walk for a bit, but I won’t leave you, Hermione. I’ll be back before Ronald leaves, I promise.”

“I understand, sir,” Ron said. “Take the time you need.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Hermione watched her father striding towards the door as if barely containing the urge to flee the room. “Now, isn’t it time that someone explained what is going on? Is it something the doctors, the healers, said? Was it Healer Lewis?”

Ron took the other chair on the far side of the bed from Jean and shook his head to Hermione.

“First, I’m sorry if we’ve worried you. There is no bad news about your healing. In fact, most of your memory patterns are starting to recover, they told us, which should make relearning things simpler and less stressful for you.”

“You say that as if it isn’t good news.” She looked shrewdly at her mother. “What is it that no one is telling me, Mother?”

“I can’t put anything over on my baby still, can I?” Jean asked. “This is very… difficult, for your parents to talk about, so Ron has agreed to help explain. It wasn’t his idea, but he was quick to volunteer when we decided it was best, so if you are upset after, please remember that you mustn’t blame Ronald.”

Hermione was looking at Ron with clear confusion. Ron jumped to the relevant step of the plan.

“There are things we haven’t told you, Hermione,” he began, but before she could interrupt, he held up a hand cautioning her. “Not because we wanted to—not all of us—but because the healers said you simply weren’t ready. As soon as they told your parents that you were able to process the news, they began to figure out how to... how to tell you.”

“Hermione,” Jean said slowly, “your father and I have asked Ronald to be careful to leave out something rather important, but also very difficult, about what has happened to you.”

“It has to do with the attack, at the Ministry, by the wizard no one will name, doesn’t it?” Hermione asked softly.

Ron and Jean looked at each other quickly, but then Ron began to laugh, softly, at his own complete failure. “I thought I was being so careful,” he said, “but I should have known I couldn’t outwit our Hermione.”

She reached out, and for the first time since her arrival at hospital, she took his hand in hers. “It wasn’t you, Ronald. You’ve been brilliant. It’s just bits and pieces, here and there, from books, or people talking in the wards, things the healers said when they thought I didn’t understand… I could tell recently that there was a, a shadow, a hole in the stories you’ve been telling me. A missing piece. I knew you were talking around something, so completely I didn’t know what questions to ask. I take it you’ve decided to tell me?”

Her mother began, “There was a boy, another wizard in your year—”

“Potter.” Hermione’s face was set, her eyes bright. “Harry Potter.”

“You, you remember?” Ron’s voice was excited, filled with hope, despite what Hermione’s father might think. 

“Not really,” Hermione said, her shoulders slumping, her hand suddenly nervous and unsettled in Ron’s. “I mean, I heard the name, and I knew that was the name that went with the missing piece, but I don’t remember him.”

Ron’s face fell, but Jean’s seemed a battle between disappointment and relief.

“So, he’s important, then?” Hermione asked. “To what happened to me?”

“He is important to you,” Ron said. “He was our friend, really your best friend. He was also your boyfriend.”

Before he could say more, Hermione laughed, a clear, pure sound that raised looks from the other three witches in her ward, all of whom had been dosing quietly. Hermione covered her mouth and laughed again more softly.

“I’m sorry, Ronald, Mother,” she said, “but that was, well it was the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. Stuff and nonsense, surely!”

Jean spoke, at last, her voice heavy. “It’s true. Harry is… was… Harry and you were inseparable, soulmates, you told us. When we saw you together, even your father, the way that you looked at each other…”

Hermione frowned and looked to Ron in surprise. “I had a boyfriend? A soulmate? Like, we said… love things… and, and held hands and all that?”

Ron chuckled a bit and nodded. Hermione’s face grew pale, and she quickly looked at her mother, then back to Ron.

“We didn’t…” she whispered in embarrassed horror. “I didn’t ever, you know, snog him, did I?”

Jean stood. “I think, dear, I’m going to go and find your father. You and Ron have a chat, and I’ll be back with some tea, alright?”

“Yes, Mother,” Hermione said automatically, her mind reeling at the humiliation of discussing snogging a boy right in front of her mother. As Jean left the ward, Hermione looked about, to make sure the three other witches had resumed their naps, before she turned back to Ron, leaning closer to speak more privately with him.

Ron took a moment to review his careful strategy, rather tattered now that the wit of Hermione Granger had grabbed it like Fang after a soup bone. He decided that the basic idea was still sound, and slowly handed Hermione the bundle of letters tied in the white ribbon.

“I think that you should probably start with these. I’ve put them in order, and stopped with the more, erm, intimate ones. There are more when you’re ready.”

“Intimate?” Hermione first flushed, then quickly grew very pale. “You… you read my letters. From Harry? And they are, you know, love letters?”

Ron nodded, his own face bright red.

“I read through them, a bit. You needed to see them, but your parents also wanted you to be protected… No, not protected, to be prepared, for what you might find. They decided it would be better to have someone who knew you both just quickly check… I didn’t really read them.”

“Ronald,” she said, clearly horrified, “you must have done, to figure out what to show me, and when.”

He hung his head, distraught. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m just so sorry. To have what happened to you, and then to have someone you’ve come to trust, a friend, violate your privacy…”

She made a shushing noise and sat for a moment in deep and rapid thought.

“I hope that I would have done the same for you,” she said clearly.

He looked up and ran a sleeve over his eyes, where tears were welling and threatening to make him go all blotchy as he always did when he cried. He shook his head, confused.

“You’re not furious with me? You’re not hurt?”

“Of course I’m hurt,” she said shortly, “but not by you. By the man, the creature, who did this to me. It must have been awful for you, going through someone else’s life, their private thoughts. I’m not stupid, Ronald.” He laughed despite his concern at that. 

“I’m not stupid,” she repeated firmly. “I’d worked out ages ago that for whatever reason, you and I were not great friends, before. But since they brought me here, you’ve been an excellent friend. If anyone had to do this, I’m glad that it was you. Especially you and not my father!”

He smiled. “Yeah, he said he’d cut off his own arm to not have to read anything between you and Harry. Not a huge fan of Harry, your father. Not after what happened, anyway.”

“You know,” said Hermione, setting the letters down beside her on the bed, “I think that I shan’t read these just now. They might be upsetting, or they might make everything suddenly come clear and make sense, but either way, I know they’ll change things.”

She looked back to Ron, with a shy smile, and said, “I’ve never really had many friends, that I can remember, and now I have one who is particularly excellent. I’m not ready for that to change this afternoon. Is that alright?”

Ron was torn, between enjoying her friendship and his knowledge of the love that poured from every page of Harry’s letters to her, the physical and emotional intimacy documented in increasing detail between them there. He decided that he had an obligation as her friend to tell her what he thought.

“You should at least start reading them soon. You’ll have questions, and they say you may be ready to go back to school this year, in some way at least, if your parents will let you. I want you to know enough to understand what that decision would mean for you.”

She started to tear up, and sniffled loudly, again showing him the combination of wit and innocence which made him so scared for her.

“Oh, dear Ronald,” she said. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know about before, but right now, I’m very glad that you’re my friend.”

She grew nervous and turned her head away, very busy suddenly with the business of finding a tissue and discreetly blowing her nose.

Ron was saved from further awkward displays of friendship at that moment when her parents came in, talking in low voices with each other, and Ron stood.

“I’m glad too,” he said quietly to Hermione, before going to her parents and explaining that Hermione probably needed some rest and that she would start reading the letters later.

“Hermione, not reading,” John said. “Seen it all now, I suppose. Thank you, Ron. You’re a good lad.”

“Sir,” Ron said, “Ma’am. I’ll try to check back on her tomorrow afternoon if that’s alright with you?” 

“Thank you, Ronald,” Jean said, giving him a one-armed hug as he tried to excuse himself. “She’d like that, I’m sure.”

Before or after, Ron thought as he headed home to the Burrow, she didn’t deserve any of this.

Chapter 12: Legacy

Summary:

Time wounds all heels, as they say.

• Harry is wished a happy birthday and receives some unexpected presents
• "PAWN OF PROPHECY OR BOY HERO?"
• "FUDGE OUT IN MINISTRY KERFUFFLE"
• Harry talks with Sirius, hoping for insight
• Tonks is nobody's rebound girl
• Testament and Legacy
• Harry goes on an errand with Dumbledore

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 12. Legacy

Harry opened his eyes. It was his birthday. He had a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, almost metallic. He ran a finger on the inside of his mouth. There were traces of blood in his spit. He felt a dull pain in his cheek. 

Must have bitten my cheek during the night, he thought. Great start to this day.

He walked out of his bedroom. He had already donned his training gear and was just about to put on his disguise in the kitchen when he heard Amelia’s voice behind him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out for my run,” Harry responded.

“It’s your birthday,” she said.

“So?” 

“Don’t you want to celebrate it?” Amelia questioned.

“I don’t see the point,” Harry said. “It’s just another day. Are the twins asleep?” 

“Yes,” Amelia sighed with a smile. “They just fell asleep before you came down. The little rascals have kept me awake for at least a couple of hours.”

“Well, Cassiopeia is a loud one isn’t she?” Harry smiled. 

“That she is, indeed,” Amelia smiled. “I wish Sirius could have been here on your birthday.” 

“Me, too,” Harry said. 

“I still want to celebrate with you,” Amelia said. 

“I’m not going to celebrate it with Sirius or Hermione,” Harry smiled sadly. “It just feels wrong without them.”

“I understand,” Amelia said. “We can keep it to a small breakfast when you get back then.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. 

He transfigured his face in front of Amelia, he had chosen the face of a middle-aged man. His eyes wrinkled a little at the corners and his hair was thinning in a bald spot on his head. 

“How do I look?” Harry asked, turning around, dabbing the last bit of makeup over his scar.

“Very old,” Amelia nodded. 

“Good,” Harry said. “I’ll be off then.” 

Harry opened the door to the flat and soon he was gone. Amelia waved her wand at the kettle. She was too tired to not need tea this morning. She could not yet have caffeine, but even the thought of tea, herbal and decaffeinated as it was, was some help in starting her day.

She watched as the three other witches trickled into the kitchen.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked.

“On his run,” Amelia answered. 

“But it’s his birthday.”

“He doesn’t want to celebrate this year,” Amelia said.

Ginny was surprised, Susan looked like someone had just told her a joke, Tonks poured herself a cup of coffee and slouched in a chair.

“Well,” Amelia said. “Are we going to let him decide that then?”

She didn’t get an answer from the girls before three owls knocked on a window.

Amelia went over and let them in. 

“I guess these must be for Harry,” she noticed another owl in the distance. 

Soon three packages and a Daily Prophet donned the counter. 

“That one looks like it’s from the Burrow,” Ginny pointed out two packages on the counter. 

“This one is unmistakably Hagrid’s,” Susan pointed to a big package with coarse wrapping.

“And this one looks to be from Albus Dumbledore,” Amelia frowned as she picked up an envelope. “Well, it will have to wait until he gets back.”

Tonks, who had finished her three mugs of coffee, got up and went upstairs to get Harry’s present.

“Seriously, what am I supposed to do about those two?” Amelia rubbed her forehead. 

“So we weren’t the only ones who think it was weird that Harry and Tonks are avoiding each other,” Susan said. 

“No,” Amelia sighed. “They’ve barely spoken since the girls were born. They act like they don’t even know each other.”

Ginny and Susan shared a look. 

“We don’t talk because obviously, Harry doesn't want to talk to me,” Tonks said angrily. None of them had seen her come down again before they heard her voice. “He made his decision, and there is no room for me in his life, so I am just accommodating his wishes, as always. Now, if you are done gossiping about us, here is his present. I’ll go shower now and then head to the Ministry because he clearly doesn't want me to be around anymore.”

She turned on her heel and stormed upstairs, where she slammed the door to the bathroom.

Amelia looked upstairs with some concern but was completely stumped for solutions on how to fix the situation. She picked up the Daily Prophet and looked at the front page. She was fighting hard to not crumble the paper up.

 

PAWN OF PROPHECY OR BOY HERO?

The return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been confirmed, and sources inside the Ministry continue to report unknown connections to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. 

“Don’t ask me anything” said one flustered functionary. “Don’t know, couldn’t tell.” 

The notoriously secretive Department of Mysteries, which may or may not exist, was reportedly the centre of the incident which may or may not have occurred Wednesday last, or not.

The long-rumored depository of prophecies has been reportedly been breached by Dark Wizards, now believed to include confirmed Death Eaters now being held in Azkaban prison. Speculation persists that a prophecy relating to both Harry Potter and You Know Who was the target of the break-in.

One member of the DMLE, speaking off the record, went so far as to call Potter “the Chosen One,” repeating the theory that Potter is named by prophecy as the only one able to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. 

 

She didn’t need to read more than that, so she looked at the remaining pile of Daily Prophets on the counter in the kitchen.

A second newspaper lay beside the first. This one bore the headline:

 

FUDGE OUT IN MINISTRY KERFUFFLE

Cornelius Fudge is out as Minister of Magic, the news broke this morning. The appointment of former DMLE head Rufus Scrimgeour signals a shift in priorities at the Ministry, as Wizarding Britain scrambles to address the return of You Know Who. Scrimgeour’s appointment has been broadly popular within walls of the Ministry itself, although there is a pro-Dumbledore faction within the Wizengamot, mostly among senior members who recall his role in the defeat of the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, years ago. Headmaster Dumbledore, however, appears to have returned to his school and did not answer repeated owls asking for comment.

Newly-appointed Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour refused to take questions regarding the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School. 

“The Ministry does not comment on plans to preserve public safety,” said the Minister through a spokes-wizard. Sources within the DMLE confide that precautions will include Aurors dedicated to the protection of Hogwarts. 

 

Amelia would have done the same as Scrimgeour, but she felt it was likely more closely connected to Harry than it was to the rest of the students, which infuriated her. It was clear that the Ministry was trying to make Harry a symbol of hope so that they could keep the populace calm, subdued.

She would have to talk to Harry about this. He already had more than an inkling of suspicion towards the way the Ministry worked.

And I was part of that problem, Amelia sighed. At least Scrimgeour is a man of action in comparison to Fudge.

Tonks stalked back into the kitchen, grabbed a piece of toast, buttered it, and was just about to walk to the fireplace when Amelia held up the newspaper towards her.

She watched as Tonks’s eyes turned from confusion to unconcealed anger. She didn’t say anything, but it seemed like the message came across. 

Ginny and Susan were watching the exchange between Tonks and Amelia, not making a sound.

“Well, you can see for yourself,” Amelia threw the newspaper to them at the table.

Susan was angry when she read the headline. Ginny was more controlled, but she looked like she was going to be sick after they read the front page.

“They can’t do that,” Susan said.

“They have,” Amelia said frostily. 

“But it’s not fair,” Ginny said.

“No it is not, but that is the reality of the situation,” Amelia said.

 

Harry arrived back after his run sweaty and exhausted. He had run for longer than he usually would. Something about today was putting him on edge.

Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t talked to Tonks at all, he thought to himself. I miss hanging around with her. She always knows how to make me laugh. 

He walked into the kitchen and found an awkward tension in the air.

“Look, I know, that I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday, but that should not be reason enough for this,” Harry said.

“They have started calling you the Chosen One,” Amelia said, handing him today’s Daily Prophet.

“I see,” Harry said, throwing it to the pile. “Anything else?” 

“You are not angry at that?” Amelia looked surprised.

“Well, they are surprisingly on point with this one,” Harry shrugged. “And I have long gotten used to being dragged to the front page of the Prophet, it’s not anything new. I won’t help the Ministry, but at the same time it won’t help anything if I got angry about it.”

“I understand,” Amelia sighed. “There is a letter from Dumbledore in your post today.”

“Now, that is a surprise, the great Albus Dumbledore wishing me a happy birthday?” Harry mocked.

He waved his wand and the disguise was gone. He grabbed the letter from the counter and opened it up.

 

My Dear Harry

I have written to you because the Will of Sirius Orion Black mentions you. I would like for you to meet me at Grimmauld Place Friday at seven for the reading of the will. You might also request Madam Amelia Bones to attend.

My sincerest condolences on the death of your godfather.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry scoffed at the letter and handed it to Amelia, who quickly read through it.

“Fancy that, Albus Dumbledore can’t be bothered to notify Sirius’s own widow to attend a reading of his will. I always thought Sirius hadn’t written one,” Amelia frowned. 

“I want you to come with me,” Harry said, “if you feel up to it. I don’t trust Dumbledore enough to be alone with him.”

“Of course, I’ll be there,” Amelia said. “Do you want your presents now or do you want to take a shower first?” 

“Shower,” Harry said.

By the time he came back down Susan and Ginny were nowhere in sight.

“So, the two are saying a proper goodbye?” Harry asked.

“I think so,” Amelia said, breastfeeding Castoria and Cassiopeia in her arms. 

Harry walked towards the pile of presents.

The Weasleys had sent Harry a card and an assortment of food for him. Ron had gotten him a single poster of the Chudley Cannons, which though simple was brand new, and probably taxed Ron's budget. Hagrid had sent him a large package of different supplies, consisting of toffees and Rockcakes, which Harry was unsure what to do with. The Weasley Twins had sent him an assortment of their products, which were tailored towards more defensive applications.

Harry studied a container which said Peruvian Darkness Powder, the accompanying note said that it would help with a quick get-away, nothing could penetrate the darkness. They also invited him to go to their store before school started, anything he wanted in the store would be free. 

He then turned to a gift from Amelia and Susan. He wasn’t sure what to expect but found a rucksack which was extended on the inside. 

“Thank you. What’s it for?” Harry asked Amelia, who had covered herself up.

“Well, between your studies, and your tinkering, and your unscheduled activities, you never know what you might need. You could fit anything from your school books to a tent and full survival gear in that rucksack, if you needed,” Amelia said seriously. 

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Hopefully I will never have need of the latter, but I like the idea of carrying all my important materials with me. Just in case.”

“I hope so, too,” Amelia said.

Harry turned to the last present, the wrapping kept changing colours. 

“That’s from Tonks,” Amelia said gauging his reaction.

“I see,” Harry ripped the paper and held up a Dragonskin coat identical to Tonks’s. 

He saw a note wrapped with it.

I promised you to buy you a Dragonskin coat for your sixteenth birthday. This gift is also from Sirius, as he was with me when we ordered it. It should be the right size. I know you will look absolutely cool in it. I miss our conversations.

Tonks

Harry held the coat to his chest and felt his throat tighten up. He hadn’t expected to get anything from Sirius, and he felt guilty about the way he had treated Tonks during the past few weeks.

He ran towards the stairs and hid away in his room. He just ran his fingers over the coat. It felt cool against his skin. 

Harry spent the rest of the day in his room. He didn’t want to see anyone. When dinner came around, Harry was called down by Susan. 

Harry reached the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday!

Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Fred and George, Susan, Amelia, Bill, Fleur Delacour, and Tonks were crowding around the table. 

Harry didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected anything.

“Don’t look so surprised, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Amelia owled and told us you didn’t feel like celebrating your birthday, but we couldn’t have that.” 

“I—” Harry began.

“Just accept it, mate,” Ron smiled. “You won’t win, trust me.”

Harry looked at their different faces. 

“Fleur? What are you doing here?” Harry asked incredulously. 

“Bill and I are dating,” Fleur said with her lilting accent, and she smiled as she hugged Bill’s arm. 

Harry spotted Mrs. Weasley’s less than approving face, but decided now was not the time. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Harry said simply. 

There was a round of congratulations before Harry stood in front of Tonks, who demonstratively looked slightly past his shoulder.

“Thank you for the gift,” Harry said sincerely. “It was incredibly touching."

He moved closer for a hug, he didn’t know if she would accept but he really was missing her. 

She looked fidgety as he moved closer, but she reluctantly returned his hug.

Soon the food was served and people began talking about what was going on. Nobody really talked about Hermione or Sirius. One side of the room was occupied with talking about the different happenings in the country during this time, while the other was gathered around the two youngest additions in the flat. Harry was not alone in finding himself drifting between the two groups.

“They are très jolies,” Fleur said.

“You should hear them, when they cry,” Susan muttered. “They stop being so jolie when they are yelling their heads off.”

“It certainly makes me look forward to having grandchildren,” Mrs. Weasley said loud enough for Bill to nearly choke on his butterbeer. 

“Mum,” Bill groaned. 

Fleur, however, was just looking appraisingly at the man, which only made Bill blush even more. 

Harry spent a lot more time paying attention to Tonks than he expected to. He couldn’t really decide whether it was because he hadn’t talked or spent time with her in so long or it was because of the unspoken thing which now lived between them. He had never missed talking to Sirius as much as he did now. He didn’t always feel the void left behind by Sirius, but when it came to understanding his own feelings about witches, he could always go to talk to Sirius. 

Harry felt himself needing some time away from the party. He sneaked off when he thought no one was looking and found his way to the roof terrace. It had already grown dark outside, which meant it must be close to midnight. He looked up at the sky and found the star Sirius, the brightest in the sky and found in the Constellation of the Dog. 

Harry chuckled to himself as he stood there.

I don’t think Sirius’s mom had ever imagined how aptly named Sirius really was, Harry thought. 

“Hey, dogfather, I don’t know if you can hear me,” Harry said into the darkness. “I really am in a lot of love-trouble right now. Hermione lost her memories, Voldemort obliviated her. She didn’t know who I was. Ron says she is getting better, but it is not like she remembers anything from the five years, it’s more like she is trying to paint a picture from the bits of information she has about her life rather than actually experiencing it. I’m terrified of seeing her again. She was … is the one, that I love, maybe even the love of my life. But what if she isn’t her anymore?"

"I feel so bad even thinking like this, it feels like I’m betraying Hermione … not trusting her to actually remember or love me anymore when I don’t even have a clue if she does. I always thought nothing could move me in any way from how I felt about Hermione, but the way she looked at me and asked me who I was, it haunts me. It’s making me doubt her, or myself? …Maybe it would be better to not get my hopes up? I don’t know what to do, you know? And then there’s Tonks... you know, I don’t get why I never saw it before. She’s so beautiful, she is caring, she is funny and so strong."

"Oh, and Amelia gave birth to daughters, two. Imagine that, the famous heartbreaker Sirius Black actually became the father of two girls and he even got a bonus daughter and son in Susan and me. Auntie named the twins Castoria and Cassiopeia. Castoria is quieter, sometimes she scrunches up her face for a minute or so before crying. She definitely takes after Auntie. Cassiopeia takes after you, her hair is already growing out and it is as Black as her last name. She loves entertaining people, and I swear to Merlin, she will make this face, then fart and make it sound like something more, only to grin at you when you go to change her diaper. Her first prank. If there ever was any doubt that she is your child that blew it away. We all miss you, old man. Thanks for the Dragonskin coat. You were right. It really does look cool on me. I’m wearing it now, look.”

Harry turned around and found himself staring straight into Tonks’s eyes. He froze up.

“Uhm… Hi?” Harry said. 

“Hi,” Tonks looked embarrassed and concerned. “I just wanted to check if you were alright.” 

“So, how much of that did you hear?” Harry pulled a hand across his face. 

“Around the time you started calling me beautiful,” Tonks blushed.

“I meant it, though,” Harry said, sitting down on one of the beds. “It’s just… I made her a promise. I don’t know what will happen. She might not remember me, she might not care about me anymore, she might still love me. Even in a situation where she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I would feel horrible if I started something with you, with anyone else, I mean. I just don’t know what to do. I need Sirius for these kinds of talks.”

Tonks was still standing in the doorway. She was fighting hard against her tears. 

“I understand,” she said, almost grimly. “And you’re right, I am not a replacement for another woman. I won't. I will not be some sort of rebound if your relationship fails. I have to have some sort of pride. I deserve better.”

“I agree,” Harry said with the gravest expression Tonks had ever seen on his face. 

“I’m sorry about the way I have treated you since the twins were born,” Harry went on, his eyes filling with tears. “I really am an idiot, I managed to make my girlfriend lose everything, and during the summer I managed to push away the best friend I've ever had, someone I have never doubted cares for me. It’s almost laughable.”

Tonks clenched her fist tightly around the bottle. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know if she had the right to say anything, this was about her, but she would not be a second choice for Harry to escape to when his life got tough. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said as he walked towards her. 

She tensed up, she didn’t know what to expect from him right now. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“I think I’m going to bed,” he said. “Could you tell Auntie to send the guests on their way when the party's over? I think I am a little too tired to really enjoy it. Once again, thank you for the coat, I really love it.”

 

Harry felt anxious at dinner the next Friday, thinking ahead to talking with Dumbledore. All of their conversations had been after something bad had happened. No, having a conversation with Dumbledore was never a good idea. Harry was interested in Sirius’s will, but he felt like there was a catch, as with everything relating to the Headmaster. 

After dinner, Amelia extended her hand towards him and they apparated directly into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Number 12. It was five minutes to seven. It looked like someone had ransacked the kitchen. Cupboards had been opened and the place looked upended. 

Harry paced around and waited. He didn’t like to be there at all. It reminded him of Sirius. Even was only a little dusty, it still felt dead and abandoned to him. 

When the clock struck seven there was a popping sound from the hallway. Albus Dumbledore appeared in the door with the same regal dignity he usually had about him. Harry noticed that his right hand was looking injured, burnt. He wanted to ask but now was not the time.

“I did not expect you to be here, Madam Bones,” Dumbledore said.

“Black,” Amelia replied. 

“I see,” Dumbledore said as he sat down on a chair at the table. 

“She has as much right to hear Sirius’s will as I do,” Harry said as they sat opposite Dumbledore. 

“Quite,” Dumbledore replied as he took out a parchment from his robes. He looked down on it, adjusted his glasses, and began reading.

I, Sirius Orion Black, leave this last will and testimony. In the case of my death:

Amelia, my dear wife and mother to our child, I can only hope that you are alive and well, and know that I regret leaving you above all in this world. I have set aside half the money in the Black family vault for the raising of our child. 

“It was twins, you idiot,” Amelia smiled sadly. 

Dumbledore continued.

To Harry James Potter, the godson I never deserved to have. I leave to you my property at Grimmauld Place, my servant Kreacher, and one-quarter of the contents of the Black family vault, so you may build a home and family of your own in more peaceful times.

Harry smiled bitterly at that.

Lastly, to Susan Amelia Bones, the daughter I never imagined in my life. I leave to you the remaining one-quarter of the contents of the Black family vault, to help you start on your own life, at such a time as it is needed.

Under no circumstances will any of the Black estate go to my cousins, Narcissa Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange. In the circumstances that all of the named recipients leave no descendants, my entire estate will go to my cousin Andromeda Tonks, or in case of her death to her daughter, Nymphadora Tonks.

If no surviving heirs to the above stated can be found, my estate should be

dedicated to supporting research at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies.

Witnessed this day, signed, and sealed under incantation, etc.

Sirius Orion Black

Addendum: I have had a portrait done and placed in the study. I know it is not the same as me being there, but I want my child—our children, I suppose—to at least be able to speak with their father. This I leave to my beloved wife, Amelia.

“Is this real?” Harry asked. 

“Well, according to usual wizarding law, Sirius’s legacy should have gone to his oldest living relative, Bellatrix upon his death, as his children weren’t born at the time,” Dumbledore said.

“So this place might already be that woman’s property,” Harry paled. “The woman who killed him. How do we know if the will worked?”

“It’s quite simple, Harry,” Amelia said. “Sirius gave you his house and his servant. If the will is in effect, then Kreacher would have to listen to you.”

Dumbledore waved his wand, and there was a loud crack. 

Harry didn’t want to see the house-elf who had betrayed them all.

The snivelling, crying House-elf was hitting the floor with his small fists.

“No, Kreacher does not want to go to the Potter Brat, Kreacher wants to go to Mistress Lestrange, Kreacher wants his new mistress,” Kreacher cried on the floor. "Kreacher won't go, he won't."

Dumbledore spoke loudly over Kreacher’s continued croaks of “Won't, won’t, won’t!”

“As you can see, Harry,” he said, “Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership.” 

“I don’t care,” said Harry, looking with disgust at the writhing, sobbing house-elf. “I don’t want him.” 

“Won’t, won’t, won’t, won’t —” 

“You would prefer him to pass, along with this property, into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bear in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year.” 

“—won’t, won’t, won’t —” 

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go to Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning the elf, of having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed Sirius, Tonks, Hermione, all of them, was repugnant to Harry. 

“There has to be some sort of test, to see if he is still under our, er, my control?” Harry was regarding the eld, who was still pounding his ancient fists on the floor in a full tantrum.

“Won’t, won’t, won’t, WON’T!”  Kreacher screeched, his voice growing hoarse. “Kreacher wants his Mistress, not the filthy boy!”

Harry snapped. “Be quiet, you stupid creature. I’m trying to save your life!”

Eyes bulging, Kreacher locked rigidly in place. He stared Harry down in shocked silence, and the sudden cessation of his wailing was almost ominous, oppressively silent.

“Fascinating,” Dumbledore observed drily. “Your godfather was a terror and a rebel, but he did know his wizard family law, apparently. Harry, the house-elf, and the house, of course, are yours indeed.”

“Smashing,” said Harry archly. “But I’m certainly not moving here.”

“Well, we aren’t bringing him home,” Amelia chimed in, regarding the elf with disgust.

“Do you plan to leave him to his own devices?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry immediately saw a sly look cross Kreacher’s pinched face.

Harry grinned. “Kreacher, I want you to go to Hogwarts, and help out the elves there.”

Kreacher’s lower lip began to tremble.

“If there is any doubt as to your orders,” Harry continued, “you are to check with Dobby.”

Kreacher hung his head.

“Dobby,” Harry said, twisting the knife, “is a free elf.”

Kreacher looked up with undisguised horror for just a moment before he disappeared with a somehow sullen-sounding “crack.”

Dumbledore regarded Harry for a moment without speaking, and Harry returned his look as if daring the Headmaster to criticise his handling of the elf.

“Interesting,” Dumbledore muttered. “Before you go, there is something else, an urgent errand which would benefit from your assistance. For the school.”

Harry had been tempted to tell the old man where to put his “urgent errand,” before Dumbledore played the trump card of the school. Harry felt little loyalty to Dumbledore directly, but Hogwarts was another matter. Harry hung his head.

“What do you need him for?” Amelia respected Dumbledore’s position and his experience, but she was not afraid to question him directly, and with characteristic directness.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, ignoring Amelia’s urgency while addressing her question, “I need your assistance in recruiting a certain wizard to return to Hogwarts as an instructor. Professor Horace Slughorn.”

Amelia nodded. “Interesting choice. It certainly would be tempting for him to return to Hogwarts if Harry was there as bait.”

“Bait? Why?” Harry asked.

“Slughorn is a collector,” Amelia explained. “He would hand-pick students into his little club, He did it while I was a student. Sometimes, one of them would turn out to become somebody. He would then ride on their coat-tails as they rose to fame and success.”

“I get it,” Harry grimaced. “The Chosen One. Why is it so important that he comes back to Hogwarts?”

“Horace and I have a long history, as you might imagine—“ Dumbledore began, leaning back to look over his spectacles, but Harry interrupted him.

“And he has something you want, and you want me to help you get it.” Harry grinned sourly to Amelia, and she nodded.

Dumbledore thought for a moment and agreed with Harry’s assessment.

“The good professor has something—a memory—in his possession relating to my former student, Tom Riddle. I think this memory might be critical to us understanding the threat now posed by the self-aggrandized ‘Lord Voldemort.’ Further, I believe that Horace, if he can be convinced to return to Hogwarts, will eventually agree to share this memory.”

Harry sighed, and put his hand on Amelia’s shoulder.

“He’s right, Auntie. It’s worth a try. I have to go with him.”

She gave Harry a long look and nodded.

Dumbledore took Harry’s hand, and in a moment, they were gone.

Amelia sighed and retrieved the portrait of Sirius, which she set at the table. She poured herself a cup of tea, and regarded the painting of her late husband, dozing restlessly in his frame.

“Hullo, love,” she said brightly, rousing the slumbering marauder.

“What, what is—Amelia? Darling!” Sirius was awake, and nearly alive, nearly back, and his sparkling eyes and sly grin tore at her heart even as her face broke into an undeniable grin. His face fell a bit as he examined hers.

“Oh,” he said, “if we’re talking, that can’t be good, can it?”

Her smile faltered, but she persevered. “Hello, you old mutt. I have to say, regardless, that it’s good to see you.”

He motioned to her cup of tea, steaming at her elbow, and spoke while pain battled with love in his eyes.

“Drink your tea, and start at the beginning. For the first time in all our history together, I have literally nothing but time.”

 

Dumbledore apparated back into the Grimmauld Place kitchens sometime much later, a sour-faced Harry holding to his arm. Apparition was still not high on Harry’s list of preferred methods of travel, it seemed.

“I do wish you would reconsider, Harry,” Dumbledore was saying. “You may find that sharing your thoughts with your friends brings you a sense of relief, but merely adds to their burdens.

Harry was already shaking his head,

“Hello, Auntie.” He turned his attention back to the Headmaster. “Aunt Amelia saw the last war, and Tonks is a trained Auror. The others, what they have seen and done already… I will be the judge of who I tell what, and when, Professor.”

Dumbledore shrugged. “I cannot tell you what to do any longer, Harry, but my advice is still to think carefully.”

“Harry, is that you?” Sirius’s voice called out from his portrait, currently turned to face Amelia at the table.

Harry flinched for just a moment at the sound of his voice, then called back. “Just a moment, Sirius. Auntie, are we ready to go? It must be very late.”

Amelia stood, nodding. “More than ready, thank you.”

For a brief moment, she scrutinized Dumbledore, as if looking for some visible sign of what plans he still had in store for Harry. She sighed briefly before she twisted on the spot with Harry on one arm and Sirius’s painting under the other.

Dumbledore, taking stock of his whole long night with Harry, nodded a bit sadly to himself, and likewise winked out of existence, leaving only a gentle wafting of air and a subtle popping sound behind in the otherwise empty kitchen.

Notes:

This is the first chapter that required major editing and rewriting to meet the community standards guidelines in regards to Fair Use restrictions. Fingers crossed, that should not be a problem now.

For the details of Harry and Dumbledore's journey to recruit Horace Slugnorne, you might consult the canon version of "Half-Blood Prince" or the previously posted version of this story if you still have it.

-Killjoy

Chapter 13: Leo Returns

Summary:

Harry receives news, deals with his love life, and discovers how exactly a painting of his dogfather fits into his life.

• Harry reflects on his time with Dumbledore, including Dumbledore's cursed hand,
• Harry's inheritance
• Tonks gets advice of her own
• Life in a frame
• "Men are not built to be gods, Harry."
• O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s
• "the charm of Quidditch players"
• The corporeal Patronus
• "she's not a cougar, she's a puma"
• "Leo?!"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 13. Leo Returns

Harry found himself standing in the living room of Carnaby Street. He felt tired, too many things had happened tonight and the tension he felt was quickly leaving his body. Harry sent a grateful look towards Amelia.

“Auntie, you and Sirius can have a talk tonight,” Harry said gruffly. “I think I need some sleep. Talk to you tomorrow Sirius.”

“I understand,” Amelia said. “Goodnight.”

Harry looked at the portrait in Amelia’s arm for a second before he headed upstairs. 

“Goodnight,” Sirius’s muffled voice came from the painting.

“Goodnight,” Harry said casually before walking up the stairs and heading to bed. 

He sat down on the edge of his bed and replayed the events of the evening. He was most curious about Dumbledore’s injury. He had never seen the man injured before and it was a serious enough injury that it couldn’t be fixed even with Snape’s help. Harry hated to admit it, but Snape was a master at potions and he was well versed in the Dark Arts. He could probably identify most poisons and curses. 

Harry sighed. 

Why am I even thinking about this? He thought to himself. It’s not like the man would answer me if I asked about it. 

Harry fell back into the bed. His head was spinning. He just became the owner of a house. A giant house really. It was so extended it was closer to a mansion than a house. He had a house-elf now, one which hated him as if he were the filthiest of abominations. His godfather had gotten a portrait done. That was good news, he could actually talk about his problems. 

With a painting, Harry chuckled to himself. Well, it’s better than nothing.

Harry rose from his bed, he wanted to take a shower. It was fast approaching midnight. The trip to Slughorn had felt quick, but apparently, it had taken hours. He spotted himself in the mirror.

Still disguised, Harry grimaced to himself. I should get out of it. 

He reached for his wand and moved to remove the disguise, but somehow he didn’t have the energy. 

I can do it after my shower, he thought. 

Soon after the water was hitting his shoulders and his long blonde hair was plastered to the side of his face.

“I should have removed the disguise first,” Harry muttered to himself as he wiped the long strands of hair out of his face. 

He stumbled back to his door only wrapped in a towel. He heard a door being opened but he didn’t have the energy to focus on it. He was tired, really tired. He opened the door and stumbled in. He quickly removed the disguise and fell asleep on the bed. 

 

The sunlight hit Harry’s face. He was feeling exhausted. His muscles were sore from the constant training he had done in the past months. It was like everything had accumulated and only now was hitting him at the same time. He could barely move his legs over the side of the bed frame. He let out a large groan. A deep guttural groan from his very depths. 

“Why is nothing simple?” Harry muttered to himself. 

Harry pulled on his training clothes. His muscles might be sore, but a little light workout would help release the tension. He walked out of his bedroom and headed downstairs. He was surprised to hear low voices from the kitchen. 

Maybe Auntie is awake and talking to Sirius, Harry thought to himself. 

He walked quietly down the stairs. It was a habit at this point, it wasn’t like he wanted to sneak around. It was just safer if nobody noticed him. 

“...I honestly don’t know what to do…”

“What do you want to happen?” Sirius’s voice came from around the corner. 

“Right now?” It was not his Auntie’s voice.

“Yes. If you could choose, what would you want to do right now?” 

“Sleep, forget about everything. I’ve been thinking, dreaming about this for years…”

“And now when it is a possibility?” Sirius’s voice was uncharacteristically somber. 

Harry purposefully knocked his foot into the corner of a table.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he grabbed his foot to rub his toes.

That should do it, Harry thought. 

Harry spotted a rather tired-looking Tonks coming out of the kitchen. 

“Morning,” he said. 

“Morning,” Tonks replied. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just stubbed my toe on the table,” Harry grimaced. 

“Oh, okay,” Tonks looked conflicted, her eyes darting towards the kitchen. 

“Did I interrupt something?” Harry asked, concerned.

“No, no,” Tonks waved her hand. “I was just talking to Sirius, nothing important. It’s weird having him back you know?”

“Oi!” Sirius’s voice came from the kitchen. “I heard that!”

“Yes, yes,” Tonks said with a mischievous smile. “Be careful, your paint might smudge if you cry so much.”

Harry laughed. The fatigue he felt in his mind and body was melting like snow on a spring day. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, low enough that he thought no one would hear him,

“What was that?” Tonks’s hazel eyes looked into his. 

“Thank you, for making me laugh,” Harry smiled.

Tonks had to calm herself for a second when she looked at that smile. It was the first genuine smile from him she had seen all summer. He hadn’t smiled quite like that on their outing with Ginny and Susan. He hadn’t smiled like that on his birthday. It was like all the burdens the young man in front of her was carrying had fallen off his shoulders for a second.

And it looks good on him, Tonks caught herself thinking. I cannot blush in front of him. Stop being so charming, you goddamn git.

Harry stretched his body from his bent position of holding his foot. 

“You just came back from work?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Tonks yawned. “I like a quiet night shift, but I hate the sleep schedule.” 

“I can imagine,” Harry smiled. “You want breakfast or anything before sleep?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” Tonks shook her head. “Thanks for asking though.”

“Anytime,” Harry said as he hugged her. “Sleep tight.”

Tonks just nodded as she walked off. 

Harry went into the kitchen.

“Good Moooorning, pup,” Sirius bellowed from his painting, ending with a mischievous smile. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry waved his hand. “How’s the artistic life suiting you?” 

“Better than expected,” Sirius joked. “Money is hard to come by, and I must admit I could have used a better background.” 

“Seen the twins yet?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” Sirius nodded excitedly. “Aren’t they fabulous?”

“Indeed they are,” Harry smiled. “Cassiopeia is very similar to you, a true prankster.” 

Sirius laughed. 

“That’s my girl!” 

Harry chuckled at the painting’s antiques.

“How does it work?” he asked.

“You mean the painting?” Sirius asked. “It’s rather simple actually. It’s like an imprint, not unlike ghosts, I guess. I’m not the real Sirius, but rather like everything Sirius was at the time when he—that is to say, I— posed for the artist. I don’t really grow anymore, but it lets me be part of Castoria and Cassiopeia’s life, so it was the right choice.”

“I see,” Harry said. “Well, I must admit I am happy you had it made.”

“Me too, pup,” Sirius grinned. 

Harry sat down at the kitchen table, he had poured himself a mug of boiling water and was idly playing around with a teabag in it.

“What’s on your mind?” Sirius asked.

“Voldemort obliviated Hermione,” Harry said. “Lost five years of memory. About Hogwarts, and magic... ”

“And you,” Sirius continued.

“Yeah,” Harry dunked the teabag a couple of more times in the mug before throwing it to the sink. Small splatters flew through the air.

“You better clean that up before Amelia gets here,” Sirius said. 

“I will.”

“So, Hermione doesn’t remember you,” Sirius said scratching his painted chin. “You still together?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “It’s not like we broke up, but…”

“But if she doesn’t remember you, and if she thinks she is eleven years old…”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded sipping the bitter tea. 

“Sheesh,” Sirius exhaled. “I’m dead for one summer and all this happens.” 

Harry didn’t say anything. He just idly swirled his mug around.

“So?” Sirius asked.

“So, John, erm - Mr. Granger is not a fan of mine,” Harry grimaced. 

“I can imagine that,” Sirius nodded. 

“He doesn’t want me to be part of her life at all,” Harry said solemnly. 

“Understandable.”

“Ron says she is getting better. He’s been the only one allowed to see her outside of family and her healers,” Harry said bitterly. “Apparently, it is good for her to have some contact with people her own age.”

“And you’re jealous, are you?” Sirius lifted a single eyebrow.

“Of course, I’m jealous,” Harry looked up, his grievances pouring out of him. “I am her boyfriend, I am the one who is supposed to help her get better, not a tall, lanky, red-haired git like Ron Weasley. He was always skiving off, didn’t do any work and he never took anything seriously. Why is it him and not me?” 

“Because you would overwhelm her. And you say Ron was these things?” 

Harry stared angrily into his mug. “He’s been loads better lately, actually,” Harry admitted painfully.

“You haven’t told this to anyone else have you?” Sirius asked.

“No,” Harry grumbled. “How could I? They all want me to be this cool and collected and mature person. Do you know what they started calling me? ‘The Chosen One.’ It’s laughable, I’m just a sixteen-year-old kid who lost you and my girlfriend in one night. I have a mass murderer gunning for me. I have an old man thinking he is doing the world a favour by only half-preparing me to fight against the mass murderer, and the whole world just thinks that I am going to be alright with it. Well, I’m NOT!”

Sirius didn’t say anything. He just let Harry vent everything he needed to. 

“But that’s not everything…” Harry said quietly, looking around.

“What is it then?” Sirius asked.

Harry grabbed his wand from the table and quickly threw some privacy spells. 

“Is that really needed?” Sirius asked bemusedly. “I promise you. I have no plans on telling anyone what we’re talking about.”

“Well, maybe not,” Harry shrugged. “But this is… difficult. I think I might be falling in love with Tonks.”

“Okay, I take that back,” Sirius said surprised. “You definitely do need those privacy spells.”

“Please,” Harry groaned. “I need you to focus.” 

“Alright,” Sirius sobered up from his mischievous smile.

“I noticed it over the summer. Tonks looks … good, like really good.” Harry grimaced. “She’s beautiful and funny, and, I don’t know, just amazing. I mean, I’ve always loved Tonks, but loving Tonks? She makes me feel relaxed and calm, but also nervous and excited, too. It’s just…”

“You feel like an absolute shit because you and Hermione are still together,” Sirius said. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He took a sip of his tea, which was tasting colder and even more bitter. “I mean, I know that I love Hermione. Right?”

“We’ll see. You don’t know if it’s right for you to break up with Hermione because of what’s happened between you? Or if you really want to?” Sirius asked. 

Harry nodded once more. 

“You actually want her to break up with you so that you feel better about the situation,” Sirius said. 

Harry almost slammed his forehead to the table. 

“Well, you are right, you are an absolutely shitty human being,” Sirius said. 

“Hey, now,” Harry groaned from the table.

“Don’t blame me: I’m just paint on canvas, you’re the one with life troubles. But it is understandable,” Sirius said. “Look, do you still love Hermione?” 

“Of course,” Harry looked up with an angry face. “At least, I still love the woman she was.”

“There you are,” Sirius nodded. “Well even though you are being a shit, it is still probably the right way to feel about it.”

“Really? So, I’m supposed to feel awful?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “It’s an awful situation. It might be cowardly, but in your position, nothing you do is going to be the right choice.”

“I think I might be forgetting Hermione,” Harry admitted fearfully. “It’s like, everything she was to me is slowly getting erased. Not the important details, but the emotions behind them, the urgency...”

“You’re not forgetting her, Harry,” Sirius said. “I know you think that, but it isn’t true, son.”

“I remember her face, her hands, her eyes… but what did she taste like after she brushed her teeth? How did the sun on her hair look when she fell asleep, nose in her books that time on the train? It’s like the memories are right there but I can’t quite feel them properly!”

“That’s not forgetting, Harry,” Sirius told him again. “That’s healing. Your mind plays tricks, making you think that every memory is perfect, but it only feels that way for a short time. Real memories are imperfect, they’re coloured by our emotions, by time, and even by newer memories. We don’t even notice—we’re not meant to. But your memories of Hermione, you’re trying to freeze them in amber, to hold them in time until she can catch up to you, but that isn’t how we work, Harry.”

“Why?” The anguish in Harry’s voice was wrenching, raw. His questions were not so much for Sirius as for the world itself. “Why are we made this way, if it hurts so much?”

“We’re built to be hurt—broken even—by our struggles. But in order to survive, we are also built to heal. Men are not built to be gods, Harry.” Sirius said. “You recognizing your feelings for Tonks is part of that, too.” 

“It still doesn’t make it feel right,” Harry said angrily. 

“Of course it doesn’t,” Sirius said. “But that’s how time works. You’re already feel something is different between you and Hermione, how could it not be?” 

“She asked me who I was,” Harry muttered. “It was right then something broke, inside. The way her eyes looked at me, but she didn’t see me. It just felt wrong, she looked at me like I was a stranger. It hurt so much.”

Harry and Sirius’s conversation got interrupted by the entrance of Amelia carrying the twins in her arms. 

“What’s so secret all these enchantments are up?” she asked. 

Harry sent a look towards the painting, an ‘if you don’t shut up I will burn your painting’ kind of look.

“Just father-son talk,” Sirius smiled. “Look at my two lovelies. Aren’t they so cute? Get that from their father...”

Amelia shook her head in exasperation. She walked over to Harry.

“Help me with one of them,” she said. “My arms feel like they are falling off.” 

Harry smiled and reached out to hold Cassiopeia. He had a better affinity with her, while Susan somehow had a closer connection with Castoria. It wasn’t like he was playing favourites, but somehow Castoria would cry sooner if Harry was holding her for too long. Cassiopeia, however, would begin laughing as soon as she saw Harry’s black hair. 

Sirius was pouting from his painting. 

“It’s not fair, how come Harry gets to hold my daughter,” Sirius moaned. 

“Because you’re a painting dear,” Amelia chided. “On the bright side, you get to watch them grow up even if it is from a distance.” 

Sirius still pouted, but a smile was creeping up on him as Amelia sat down in front of him so he could look at Castoria. 

“She looks just like her beautiful mother,” Sirius commented. 

“So now I get credit?” Amelia teased. “Let’s hope she also has her mother’s sense so that she doesn’t grow up as foolish as her father.”

“You wound me, Love,” Sirius held a hand to his heart in a theatrical way.

“Yes, yes,” Amelia smiled. 

“I am so going to teach them the art of pranking,” Sirius said from his frame. 

“If I catch you teaching either of your daughters any such thing, I will have you put at the bottom of a trunk,” Amelia threatened. “Under a pile of old socks.”

“Son, help an old man out here,” Sirius begged. “How can my daughters not become the menaces of Hogwarts? It’s their legacy!”

Harry chuckled at the odd couple’s antics. 

I envy them, Harry thought. Sirius might just be a painting, but they still look happy together.

“I think your O.W.L. results should be coming soon,” Amelia said. “It’s around the beginning of August so that the students can plan for their N.E.W.T.s.” 

“Ah, I remember getting my O.W.L.s,” Sirius recalled. “I got an O in Transfiguration and Charms, didn’t care much for the rest of the subjects, so I was hovering around E and O’s in most of them. Mostly it was to beat your Dad or Mum if I did really well.”

Harry felt anxious. 

“There is no need to be nervous,” Amelia said with a smile. “You’ve probably done well in most of your classes. Some of your skills are already beyond N.E.W.T. levels at this point.”

“Well, that is only after you spent the summer teaching me, Auntie,” Harry fretted. 

“You underestimate yourself,” Amelia smiled. “You were always a hardworking student.”

Harry groaned but didn’t say much. He was saved by the fact that Susan arrived in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she yawned, as she unconsciously moved towards Castoria in Amelia’s arms. “How is my favourite little sister?”

“Oi!” Sirius barked. “There is to be no favouritism among my daughters.”

Susan had almost jumped when she heard Sirius’s voice.

“Sirius?” she asked when she looked at the painting.

“Yeah,” Sirius smiled. 

“How?” Susan asked. “When?”

“Well, I paid someone to paint me,” Sirius teased. “It was mostly just in case something happened, which turns out to have been good thinking. I didn’t want to leave my children without a way of speaking to me, even if it is just a poor imitation of the real thing.”

“And I am grateful for that, love,” Amelia said.

“Ugh… Susan groaned. “I did not expect to ever watch Auntie flirt with a painting.”

“I am not,” Amelia blushed.

“A little,” Harry teased, as Sirius and Susan laughed. 

“You know what,” Amelia had a threatening smile on her face. “I haven’t really been able to move around much for the past half a year, I could really use a good workout. What do you think, Harry? Don’t you need a sparring partner?”

Harry felt a shiver down his spine, which was entirely unrelated to the warm August weather.

“Erm…” Harry said, feeling cold sweat forming on his back. “I would love to …”

He was interrupted once more by the sound of an owl pecking at the window. 

Harry got up and opened the window, the owl flew in and landed on the kitchen table. It dropped two letters before it flew off once more. 

“Speak of the devil,” Amelia said, picking up the envelopes with one hand. “Hogwarts-crest indeed.”

She handed the letters to Susan and Harry. Harry sat down with Cassiopeia on his arm still. He quickly tore open the envelope and unfolded the parchment inside.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades: 

Outstanding (O), Exceeds Expectations (E), Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades:

Poor (P), Dreadful (D), Troll (T)

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Arithmancy: E

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: O

Defence Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: E

History of Magic: P

Potions: O

Study of Ancient Runes: O

Transfiguration: O

Harry read the parchment several times, his breathing becoming easier with each reading. He couldn’t help a smile from creeping upon his face. 

“So, pup? How did you do?” Sirius almost demanded from his frame. 

“Failed History of Magic,” Harry said mischievously as he put on a mask of sadness. 

“Don’t give me that, son,” Sirius grinned. “Out with it.”

Harry read out the results from all of his O.W.L.s. 

“Sheesh,” Sirius ruffled his hair. “You certainly beat both James and me. Must be Lily’s genes, though you are still just short of her.”

“What did my mother get?” Harry asked curiously. 

“Full O’s,” Sirius grinned. “She was being rather smug about it too.” 

Harry groaned. 

“Susan, what about you?” Amelia asked. 

“Not as good as Harry, but at least I didn’t fail History of Magic,” Susan teased. 

“I’d like to see you do well in an exam if Voldemort was trying to enter your mind,” Harry fired back. 

Susan had long gotten over the use of his name. She just stuck out her tongue at him.

“Four O’s, and everything passed,” Amelia smiled proudly as she read through Susan’s results.

“It’s Harry’s teaching which got me an Outstanding in Defence,” Susan smiled at him. 

“It was nothing,” Harry smiled back. 

“So, what classes are you thinking of taking?” Amelia looked at them.

“Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Runes, Arithmancy and Herbology,” Harry said. 

“Ambitious,” Amelia said.

“I know,” Harry said. “But I need at least five N.E.W.T.s of E or higher if I want to be eligible for the Auror program. Runes and Arithmancy are just extra. Runework could be useful for curse-breaking or even setting up defensive perimeters. I don’t think it’s a bad choice. Same with Arithmancy, I could use it to calculate spells. The others are more for survival.”

“You really want to become an Auror?” Sirius asked from his painting. 

“Yeah,” Harry blushed. “Moody said I would be good at it, and so did Barty Crouch, Jr. actually.”

“You could be brilliant,” Amelia said. “I don’t think you will have many problems in those classes after your study this summer.” 

“Honestly, I was most worried about Potions,” Harry said. “Professor Snape only takes O’s in his classes. What are you thinking, Susan?” 

“I don’t know,” Susan frowned. “I didn’t get an O in Potions, so I can’t take it. I might have wanted to become an Auror too.” 

“Oh, dear,” Amelia frowned. “I am not going to tell you that I approve of your chosen path, but taking potions won’t be a problem for you. Professor Slughorn is usually fine with taking E’s in his Potions class.”

“But isn’t Professor Snape the potions teacher?” Harry asked.

“I suspect that Professor Snape finally got his long-cherished wish of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Horace Slughorn certainly has no qualifications teaching that subject.”

Harry looked up at Amelia’s face in shock. 

“Oooh, is Slughorn going back to Hogwarts?” Sirius asked.

“It would seem so,” Amelia said.

“Why?” Sirius asked.

“Dumbledore dangled Harry as bait for it,” Amelia said coldly. 

Sirius made a face that was remarkably close to his face in his Animagus form. 

“Oh, did he now?”

“Indeed, he did,” Amelia said. “Enough of that, love, it is apparently necessary. It is better than the Ministry sending another Umbridge to teach at Hogwarts.” 

“Agreed,” Harry and Susan said in unison.

“She really wasn’t liked much,” Amelia mused. 

“She was the worst,” Susan said. “Horrible teacher and even worse as a human being.”

“I see,” Amelia said.

 

Harry and Susan spent the day celebrating their results. They felt fantastic knowing that they were now N.E.W.T. students at the school. They now waited excitedly for their new booklists, so they could plan for their trip to Diagon Alley. Tonks had even been in a celebratory mood when she heard Harry’s results. She had rushed in and hugged him tightly when she heard he was planning to become an Auror. Harry had enjoyed that hug a little more than his conscience encouraged him to. 

The next morning the letters from Hogwarts arrived. Harry’s included another surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.

“Really raking in all the titles in Gryffindor aren’t you?” Susan teased.

“Heh,” Harry laughed as he ruffled his hair. 

“Well congratulations,” Susan said. “I still hope Hufflepuff will beat you guys in the cup. Though it looks like it isn’t going to be a reality this year with you back on the team.”

“I’m honestly surprised,” Harry admitted. “I think Ginny would have done a much better job at being Quidditch Captain than me.” 

“Harry, you taught almost thirty people Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Susan sighed. “We also both know how much you taught the previous year’s team alongside Johnson. You are the correct choice.” 

Sirius was in a festive mood in his frame. 

“That’s my boy,” he hollered when Harry showed him the badge. “You are making your dad and your godfather proud. Let me tell you, there is nothing more attractive to witches than a Quidditch Captain.” 

“Sirius!” Amelia said in a reprimanding tone. 

“He’s right Auntie,” Susan said. “There is something about Quidditch players.”

“Not everyone has a thing for Quidditch players,” Amelia groaned. 

“I played Quidditch for the Gryffindor Team,” Sirius smiled from his frame.

“Shut it,” Amelia said. “I did not like you for your Quidditch.”

“So what was it?” Sirius teased. “My good looks, my charming smile, my good grades?” 

“If you don’t shut your mouth right now, I will make good on my threat,” Amelia smiled sinisterly. 

That had given Sirius such a fright that he had clammed his mouth shut and hadn’t said a word the rest of the day as far as Amelia knew. Sirius had beckoned Harry over as soon as Amelia was gone to teach him all about the charm of Quidditch Players.

Harry had sat down with a book, while Amelia contacted the necessary people from the Order to act as guards while they went out. She was coordinating with Molly so that Ron and Ginny would join them too. 

Harry heard a knock on the doorframe to the study. He looked up and found a rather hesitant Tonks standing in the doorway.

“Something I can help you with?” Harry asked.

“Ugh… this is embarrassing,” Tonks muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear it.

“What is going on?” he asked.

“Could you … me … perform… a ….” Tonks muttered incomprehensibly.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Harry smiled. 

“Could you teach me how to perform a corporeal Patronus?” Tonks said completely red in the face.

“You can’t do that?” Harry asked.

“No,” Tonks pouted. “I never got the hang of it and Defence has been a joke for so long at Hogwarts, that I never got to learn it. Even in Auror training, there isn’t anyone who teaches it.”

“Of course, I’ll teach you,” Harry said with a smile as he closed his book. “Upstairs?”

Tonks nodded quickly and rushed upstairs. Harry chuckled a little to himself as he watched her back. 

Not her behind, he admonished himself. Just her back.

Harry found her with her wand out and ready.

“Okay,” Harry said with a smile. “The Patronus Charm is a highly complex charm, which is fuelled by your emotions. It works by taking the power of a happy memory to spark the Patronus into existence.” 

Tonks looked focused. She nodded solemnly.

“Got the memory?” Harry asked. “The incantation is Expecto Patronum.”

Expecto Patronum,” Tonks said, pointing her wand into the training space.

A few wisps of white light appeared at the end of her wand.

“Much better than I did on my first try,” Harry smiled. “I didn’t manage to produce anything.”

Tonks looked rather proud of herself at his praise.

“But,” Harry said “it will not be enough to stop a dementor. You need to find another memory and really focus on it. Feel the emotions it brings in your body and let them flow into your arm and out through your wand.”

Tonks’s eyebrows were pulled together. The look of pure concentration on her face drew Harry’s gaze like a siren to her. He just waited as she looked through her memories one after another. 

“I think I’ve got it,” Tonks said excitedly as she opened her eyes.

“Good,” Harry coughed, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t been staring for the past minute.

Tonks concentrated once more and lifted her wand.

“Expecto Patronum,” she said loudly.

A thick cloud of white was spread out in front of her as it acted as a shield in front of her. 

“Brilliant,” Harry smiled. “You are doing amazingly.”

“Thanks,” Tonks blushed. “But it’s not good enough. I need it to be a corporeal Patronus to drive off dementors!”

“One step at a time,” Harry smiled. “Atlantis wasn’t built in a day.” 

“I know,” Tonks said. “It’s just… with all these dementor attacks happening.” 

“It’s going to be alright,” Harry said. “Come on, find another one. I have found that love works wonders on the charm.”

“I see,” Tonks’s smile faded a little. 

Harry watched as she concentrated once more. He was sure if she found the right memory, she would make a corporeal Patronus. 

“Expecto Patronum!” Tonks almost shouted out of nowhere, and a beautiful large cat pounced around the room. 

“Congratulations,” Harry smiled. “Is that a cougar?”

“It’s not a cougar, it’s a puma,” Tonks blushed. 

“So … a cougar, eh?” 

“Shut up!” 

The blushing had now spread to her hair and she was standing there rather bashfully as the puma walked next to her and disappeared.

“You do it then,” Tonks said fiercely. “Do it so I can make fun of yours, too.”

Harry laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“As you wish,” he focused on the memory of his first kiss with Hermione. “Expecto Patronum!”

Nothing happened. Harry sent a hand to his chest and idly rubbed it.

“Something wrong?” Tonks asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “It’s like … I guess the memory isn’t as happy anymore.”

“What did you focus on?” Tonks asked. 

“A happy memory,” Harry said. “Or so I thought. It hurts to think about now.”

Tonks didn’t need to hear more to guess what kind of memory Harry was talking about. She didn’t say anything, but there was something in her eyes. Sadness and maybe a tiny bit of triumph. 

“Give me one second,” Harry said, going through all of his memories. 

He remembered that the last time he performed a Patronus, during his O.W.L. exam. He had focused on the joy of showing Umbridge he would ace that test. 

“Expecto Patronum.”

Harry managed to make a thin wispy shield of light in front of him.

“I don’t understand,” Harry sat down. “I’ve never had problems with it before.”

“Maybe if we wait a little while...” Tonks began. “I’m sure lots of wizards have this problem.”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Give me a second, I just need to find another memory, something solid. It can’t all be gloom and sadness in here.” He pointed to his heart.

Harry went through one memory after another. As soon as he felt even the slightest pang of guilt or sadness in his chest, he would pick a new one. He didn’t know for how long he had been standing there. 

Why this one? He asked himself.

He was remembering the first time he had awoken from a nightmare in the Carnaby Street flat. The whole scene of him firing off spells against Tonks, how he had almost hurt her. He remembered the safety and the calm he felt when he hugged her. He felt happy in that moment. It was mixed with sadness and fear, but there was no guilt at that time.

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry whispered softly, remembering the happiness of being in Tonks’s arms. 

A majestic lion sprung out of his wand and prowled on the floor, shaking its mane. Harry was staring at it in shock.

Leo?!”

Notes:

One of the reasons I write fan fiction, other than to explore characters and themes that I find interesting, is to explore aspects of the canon world that I think are under-developed in the canon text.

How exactly do the magical portraits work? How are they different from magical photographs? What is the experience like for those who live on in paint? Or those who loved them?

I take responsibility for any errors in the mechanism of magical portraiture. Waske's original text focused more on the characterization of Sirius, and the digressions into how Sirius sees his "life" now are largely mine.

Chapter 14: Madam Malkin’s Meltdown

Summary:

Susan learns about Leo and Harry's previous troubles.

Harry goes shopping in Diagon Alley, along with his flatmates and friends.

Narcissa and Draco make an apperance.

The Weasley twins' shop is visited and the Weasley kids have... interactions.

Molly and Amelia bond.

Notes:

Wow. It's been WAY too long, but this chapter needed a lot of revision to meet the site standards, and a lot of small edits to match with other changes to previous and following chapters.

I have dropped out of grad school and continue to teach, mostly online but with just enough face-to-face students to fuel my anxiety and put me into preventative quarantine three times so far this year.

I continue to work on this story and other stories from the series. I will announce the next remediated work after I complete this one is finally finished and posted for everyone.

Thank you.
Be safe, do good, be well.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14. Madam Malkin’s Meltdown

 

Harry stared at the lion in front of him. He was completely shocked.

“This is not right,” Harry muttered. “My Patronus is always a stag, like my dad’s.”

“Wait, what?” Tonks asked.

“Yeah,” Harry scratched his head. “I’m surprised too.”

“What did you call him?” Tonks asked.

“Oh,” Harry frowned. “It’s nothing. I think I need to speak with Sirius.”

“Okay,” Tonks nodded, as she followed him down the stairs.

Harry walked into the kitchen and found Sirius’s portrait hanging on the wall, looking bored. 

“Sirius,” Harry called out.

“What is it?” 

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry pointed his wand to the middle of the kitchen. His lion prowled around the kitchen table. “Explain this.”

“Wait, what?!” Sirius looked shocked.

“I know,” Harry said. “What’s happening?” 

“Something drastically must have changed for you,” Sirius said. “I’ve heard of people whose Patronus changed, but this drastically? A hunter, a killer, a sigil of Gryffindor… It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It feels like Leo, but he has been gone since…”

“Since what?” Sirius asked seriously. “What am I missing?”

Harry looked back to Tonks’s confused face, then he told Sirius the truth.

“Since Leo tried to kill us,” Harry said solemnly. 

“He did what?” Sirius shouted from the painting.

“What is going on?” Tonks asked, confused.

“Harry’s mind is… was... fractured into two identities,” Sirius said. “In addition to Harry, there was Leo, the other. Most of the time it was Harry, but Leo would take control if he had to, to protect Harry.”

Tonks paled at the revelation.

“Leo is gone, or so I thought,” Harry said looking at the vivid lion lying on the floor. He hadn’t made it go away yet. “I’m sorry, Tonks. You probably want to sit down for this.”

Tonks stumbled over to the table, looking hungry for answers.

“I didn’t tell you this before,” Harry said. “Leo appeared when I was a kid, it happened when that man tried to beat me to death. Leo appeared and used magic to make him stop. He was always there in the back of my mind. He would come out if I was in danger to my life or if I couldn’t handle the pressure. He was out a lot more last year because of Umbridge. He seemed to particularly hate that woman.”

Tonks nodded as she listened to the story.

“Harry was acting oddly at the beginning of the last school year,” Sirius took over. “Minerva and Hermione were worried, so I went to Hogwarts. That’s when I met him. Leo seemed a good enough sort, he was just—”

“—ruthless?” Harry smiled. “He didn’t have any problem hurting others if it kept me safe. He would probably have killed if I had let him.”

Tonks looked sick as Harry talked.

“Well, you never did,” Sirius pointed out.

“It was close with Bellatrix,” Harry said coldly. “I finally gave in to temptation. She probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Hermione.”

“I’m glad you didn’t do it, son,” Sirius said. “It changes people.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Well, after that night, I was hurting, mentally, physically... Dumbledore wanted to talk about the prophecy, I couldn’t do it, so I let Leo take over. It was me at St. Mungo’s again, or so I thought. But the shock from that night was so much, I just retreated again when we got home. Leo took over for the last time in the bath. He said he could stop the pain, that he’d protect me once and for all.”

“And I found you in there,” Tonks rasped hoarsely.

“Harry tried to kill himself?!” Susan’s voice came from the door to the kitchen. 

“Oh shit,” Harry groaned. “Could someone go wake up Auntie? I think this story needs the whole flat.”

Amelia was looking grumpy when she joined them in the kitchen. Harry and Tonks had made tea for everyone, finding some calming in the routine chore. 

“Cast your Patronus,” Sirius said. 

Harry cast it once more and the conversation repeated itself for the remaining participants.

“You are saying Leo is gone?” Amelia frowned. “How can you be sure?”

“Completely,” Harry said. “There is nothing of him left in my mind, not since that night in the bath. There is only me.”

Susan was crying silently at the table. Tonks was clutching her mug tightly in her hand, her face inscrutable. Amelia was frowning and in deep thought, but she was taking the news relatively well.

“Well there is no use obsessing too much about it,” Amelia said. “You seem to be doing well enough without him, perhaps better. Your Patronus has changed, but it will still work as a protection against dementors.” 

“I guess,” Harry said, looking rather calm. “I was just surprised.”

“That is understandable,” Amelia smiled. “It is a rather majestic Patronus though.” 

“Is that all we are going to say about this?” Susan cried out.

“Yes,” Amelia shot her down. “There wasn’t a plot to keep this from you, but everyone deserves to have some amount of privacy. Harry is obviously feeling better, and he won’t try something like that again. I know it is a shock, Susan, but this shouldn’t change how we look at him, how we feel about him. It does explain why Harry wasn’t allowed to bring his wand into the bathroom for most of the summer. We took precautions, as he slowly got better.”

Harry smiled bitterly at that.

“Please don’t treat me differently,” Harry said. “I am still the same me.” 

Susan sent a concerned and rueful glare towards him. 

“Never going to do something like that again?” she asked.

“Promise,” Harry crossed his heart. 

“Good,” Susan said. “I am not raising both Castoria and Cassiopeia on my own.” 

“Is that what you were worried about?” Harry chuckled. 

“No, you idiot,” Susan said and punched his shoulder.

“Ouch,” Harry rubbed the spot she hit. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It was,” Susan huffed, then she hugged him tightly. “You’re family. What would any of us do without each other?” 

“You’re family, too,” Harry said. “Now enough of the depressing topics, I have a new lion Patronus, and Tonks managed to do her own Patronus, it’s a—”

“—Puma!” Tonks tried to interrupt.

“—Cougar!” Harry finished. 

Amelia nearly spat out her tea, and Sirius was shaking with suppressed laughter in his frame, dramatically wiping away invisible tears from his face.

“That’s gold!” He managed to squeeze out between laughing fits. “Oh, cousin!”

Tonks’s face was completely red as she laid her head on the table. “All of you can shut it,” she mumbled.

“I’m missing the joke, aren’t I? What is it?” Susan asked innocently.

“Erm …” Amelia groaned. 

“A ‘cougar’ is also a term for…” Sirius began mischievously.

“Don’t you dare,” Tonks spat out from her position at the table.

“Silencio,” Amelia said pointing her wand towards the painting. Sirius was rolling about the lower frame, laughing silently. “Dear, there is no need to corrupt Susan like that.”

Susan pouted. “What? What’s it a term for?”

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Harry smiled. 

“Harry, I think you and I need to move around a bit,” Tonks smiled with her teeth looking remarkably like fangs for a second. “Practice room.”

Harry groaned but was soon upstairs to face Tonks, who seemed anything but playful. She had the Black family intensity for a change, and it showed in her duelling.

Harry was bruised and beaten by the time Tonks was done with him, and she had a satisfied smile on her face. 

“Ah, that does it,” she said, her playfulness seemingly restored.

“You really did not hold back,” Harry grimaced as he touched the different bruises appearing on his body. 

“You deserved it,” Tonks sent him a charming smile, which looked playful and demanding at the same time.

“Remind me to never piss you off.”

“You do that on a daily basis,” Tonks said sagely. “I am just the better person and don’t beat you up for it every day.”

Harry ruffled his hair in exasperation. He usually won against Tonks, but right now he felt like a little kid, who got beaten up by an adult.

“How come I never lost this hard before?” Harry said. “Have you always held back on me?”

“Well, this time it was a punishment,” Tonks smiled as she walked down the stairs.

Harry firmly averted his eyes and looked towards a corner. 

“Did I get rusty?” he murmured to himself as he walked down the stairs.

 

Time slowly passed as Harry waited for the day to come where he would be allowed to go to Diagon Alley to pick up his new school books. It felt like forever before Saturday arrived. Molly would take care of the twins, while Amelia, Tonks, Lupin, and Arthur would join the four of them to go shopping. Harry felt conflicted about seeing Ron since his conversation with Sirius. He couldn’t help himself, he was annoyed at Ron for replacing him. 

Lupin was brought by Tonks, while the rest of the Weasley’s floo’ed into the flat.

Ginny bolted towards Susan as soon as she left the fireplace. Harry smiled, but Mrs. Weasley and Ron were frowning a little at the intimate hug. Amelia just shook her head looking at the two. 

“Hey Ron,” Harry said. 

“Hi,” Ron grinned and pulled Harry into a hug. 

“Well, shall we?” Amelia asked as she led them through the front door.

“Uhm…” Ginny hesitated. “Could I maybe borrow an outfit from Tonks?” 

Susan and Tonks smiled widely at the redhead's suggestion. 

“It won’t take long,” Ginny promised.

Amelia rubbed her forehead but ultimately nodded.

“Harry, you can go show off the rest of the flat to our guests,” Amelia said. “Molly, this way, the twins are sleeping right now.”

“Moony is that you?” Sirius’s portrait in the kitchen shouted.

“Padfoot?!” Lupin looked flustered. 

“In here,” Sirius's voice flowed out from the kitchen. 

Lupin soon found himself face to face with a painting of his best friend and they were soon intimately talking about the fact that Sirius had become a father.

“That’s new,” Mr. Weasley commented.

“Apparently it was at Grimmauld Place all this time,” Harry shrugged. “It’s nice being able to talk to him, even if it is only a painting. This way.”

Mr. Weasley found the changes to the flat completely fascinating. He was openly surprised when he saw that it wasn’t only a two-story flat, but it actually had a whole third floor on top of it. 

“This here is where I’ve been training all summer,” Harry said. “Auntie and Tonks have helped me a lot.” 

“Impressive,” Mr. Weasley admitted. “What’s behind those doors?” 

“Oh, that’s just a roof terrace, you can look down into the street from it,” Harry said.

“Fascinating,” Mr. Weasley ran towards the glass doors and stepped onto the wooden floor. He was staring at the muggles walking on the street. “This is incredible, look, that’s a bicycle.” 

Harry had a fondness for Mr. Weasley’s interest in anything muggle related.

“I think they should be done soon,” Harry said. 

 When they walked downstairs, the girls came out of Tonks’s room and Ginny was wearing a somewhat punk outfit.

“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Get over yourself, Ronald,” Ginny mocked him. “I look better in this than I do in my own clothes.”

Harry and Mr. Weasley wisely didn’t comment. Harry had seen the outfit before, and Mr. Weasley knew better than to try and control his daughter in any way.

The group went downstairs once more and Ginny smartly hid from her mother’s gaze and walked out the front door to wait there. She was already frustrated that she couldn’t openly kiss Susan today, she did not need an argument with her mother. 

Harry distinctly heard her mutter a brief thanks towards the two babies, which were more than enough to occupy Mrs. Weasley’s full attention. 

Mr. Weasley had been most fascinated with taking the underground.

“So, this is how they work,” he exclaimed as Harry helped him through the ticket gate. “They really are ingenious. They find solutions for so many things without magic.”

“Oi,” Tonks said. “We are in public.”

“Right,” Mr. Weasley was flustered. “I know, I know. Still, it is fascinating.”

Harry smiled looking at the man, most Muggles wouldn’t have anything positive to say about the Underground, but he wasn’t going to spoil Mr. Weasley’s mood.

“Dad is still mental,” Ron said. 

“How did you do in your O.W.L.s?” Harry asked. 

“Pretty good,” Ron said. “I got seven, that’s more than Fred and George combined.” 

“Good job,” Harry said genuinely. “Your Mum must have been ecstatic.” 

“Yeah,” Ron smiled proudly. 

“Do you know how Hermione did?” Harry asked, trying to make it sound off-handed. 

“Don’t know,” Ron answered. “She has to take the exams all over during August. I think they start next week.”

Harry felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.

“How far did she get with her studies?” Harry asked.

“I think she managed to get through up to fifth year,” Ron said. “But honestly I have no idea how well she is going to do.”

Harry had a brooding expression on his face. 

“Look, mate,” Ron said. “I know, it sucks, but she is loads better now than she was at the beginning of summer. She is almost back to being herself.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes lit up.

“She still doesn’t remember anyone, exactly. She knows  a lot about us, but it’s like she read about us in a book.”

“Oh,” Harry said and didn’t continue the conversation. He just focused on his day ahead.

Harry spent the rest of the trip answering Ron’s questions with either a grunt or another indistinctive sound. He was trapped in his own head. He didn’t even notice that they had arrived at their destination and were standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron. 

Harry got jolted out of his thoughts by feeling something soft on each of his arms.

“Watch out,” Susan said from his left side. “You are going to run into a lamppost like this.”

“Where is your head at Harry?” Ginny asked from his right side.

“It’s nothing,” Harry wrestled his arms free of their grasp. “I was just thinking about stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Ginny asked. 

“It’s nothing,” Harry said firmly. 

“Suit yourself,” Susan shrugged as they were led in through the cauldron. 

Harry spotted Mr. Weasley nod towards Tom the bartender, but they didn’t stay for even a second before they were standing in Diagon Alley. 

Harry observed a noticeable difference in the street. It felt desolated. Harry noticed several shops had closed down. 

“What happened to Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour?” Harry asked.

“He was dragged off,” Lupin muttered grimly. “Harry, you are with me. We will go to Gringotts. Bill is waiting there—he helped withdraw some money from your vault.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t mind going with Lupin. 

“How was your summer?” Lupin asked as they walked off from the rest of the group. 

“So-so,” Harry replied indifferently. 

“I guess that was all we could hope for,” Lupin smiled. “How are you holding up?” 

“Better than expected,” Harry said. 

They quickly hastened towards the stairs of Gringotts and walked through the doors. They were shown towards the curse breakers' department and found Bill.

“Here you are,” Bill handed Harry a bag of Galleons.

“Thanks,” Harry muttered. He was about to turn around when he was spotted by a goblin.

“If it isn’t the famous Harry Potter,” the goblin said.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said confused. “I don’t think I know you.”

“Indeed, you don’t,” Gnarlock Bonegnasher said. “Thordrum has spoken a lot about you.” 

“Ah,” Harry recalled the goblin from earlier in the summer. “He is indeed a brilliant craftsman—is he still here? I’d like to pay my respects.” 

“He returned to the Nation,” Gnarlock said. “My name is Gnarlock Bonegnasher. I am the account manager for Madam Black.”

Harry nodded. 

“Is there anything you need of me, Mr. Bonegnasher?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Gnarlock said. “Just my own personal curiosity; give my regards to Madam Black.”

“I will,” Harry nodded. “Have a good day.”

“You as well,” Gnarlock said. A wizard, paying respects? he thought, concealing his surprise.

Harry had an odd feeling about the way Gnarlock was looking at him. He didn’t want to stay long. He said a quick goodbye to Bill before he headed towards the exit of the bank.

He only began relaxing, when he felt the sun on his face once more. 

“I felt like he was going to eat me alive,” Harry shivered. 

“Goblins do tend to have that effect on people,” Lupin smiled. 

“Lupin, my Patronus changed,” Harry said quietly.

“It did what?” Lupin asked.

“It’s a lion now,” Harry said. “Do you know why it would have done that?”

“Sometimes a Patronus changes if people experience something significant,” Lupin thought out loud. “The Patronus represents that which is hidden, unknown but necessary within the personality and the Patronus is the awakened secret self that lies dormant until needed, but which must now be brought to light. That’s the current theory, anyway.”

“So I am like a lion?” Harry asked. 

“I guess, you are,” Lupin smiled. “Not a bad second Patronus if you ask me. What changed?”

“I guess I just wanted to protect the people around me,” Harry said. “And I don’t mind being ruthless if it makes the people I consider family safe.”

Lupin sent him a worrying gaze.

“As long as you don’t cross the line, you will be fine,” he said.

“I can’t promise that,” Harry said. “If it keeps the people around me safe then I don’t mind dirtying my own hands. Of course, that is the last option.”

Lupin didn’t say anything more, and they continued their shopping in absolute silence. Harry, needing new school robes, found himself in front of Madam Malkin’s. He thought fondly for a moment, recalling a previous visit with Hermione. Still wrapped in the fuzzy remembrance of that distant day, he did not, at first, recognize the voice which greeted him as he entered the shop.

“Stop pestering me, Mother. I can buy my own robes, you know. I’m not a child.”

Bollocks, Harry thought, I ought to recognize that tosser anywhere.

“The Malfoys,” Harry said quietly to Lupin. “You best wait outside, I think.”

Lupin nodded and went outside, keeping a watchful eye on both the Alley and on the shop entrance.

Madam Malkin, the ancient witch who had run the shop from time out of mind, came into view, leading a young man with strikingly pale blond hair towards a full-length mirror.

“Quite right, young Master Malfoy,” she said soothingly as she eyed the hem of his fine green and black robes, adorned with pins and marked with chalk in preparation for tailoring. “No one is supposed to be out alone, not with The Troubles.”

“Ouch!” Draco Malfoy pulled away in irritation. “Mind my wrist!”

Malfoy looked over his shoulder in the reflection and spotted Harry. His light grey eyes narrowed.

“We best watch our behavior, Mother,” Malfoy said loudly, “it seems the Headmaster’s Favorite has arrived.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said politely, but there was a snarky undertone to his voice. “Mrs. Malfoy.” 

Narcissa Malfoy came out, looking rather apprehensive at standing in front of the boy that the Dark Lord wanted to kill the most. 

“Where is your usual sidekick?” Malfoy sneered. “I don’t see the mudblood glued to your hip.”

Harry felt anger pulsating in his body, but he had learned to control his emotions. 

“You’d think you would have learned to control that mouth of yours, Draco, with your father staring at the inside of a cell in Azkaban.” Harry didn’t hide his irritation as well as he would have liked.

Malfoy had drawn his wand and looked ready to fight.

“Don’t think you’re safe out here in the world, Boy Who Lived,” Malfoy rasped. 

“That’s ‘The Chosen One’ to you,” Harry said as he slid his own wand into his hand.

Children,” Narcissa said sharply, “we would be smart to not invite trouble.”

Harry shrugged, his wand was still in his hand, ready for anything. 

“That goes for you, too, Mr. Potter,” Narcissa continued, eyeing his wand hand narrowly. “I can assure you, should you and my son have difficulties this coming term, that I will be certain it is the last time.”

“Is that right, Mrs. Malfoy? Is that your opinion, or your husband’s? Or maybe your Master?”

Her lips tightened into a thin line, and he saw her sister Bellatrix in her eyes. 

“Your luck and your friends have made you feel invincible, untouchable.” Narcissa smiled a cold and terrifying smile. “You’re little girlfriend proved the error of that thinking, Mr. Potter.”

Harry flushed. “I see. And how is your sister’s arm? Has it gotten fixed properly, or is the bone still sticking out of it sideways, as I left her? I don’t mind showing you personally if the opportunity should arise. What’s the worst that can happen? You end up in a double cell with your husband?” 

Malfoy made an angry movement towards Harry but stumbled over his unhemmed robe. “Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!” Malfoy snarled.

Harry sent him a pitying gaze.

“Draco,” said Narcissa placatingly, “Your father and my sister shall have their days of glory yet. I am not sure the same could be said for young Mr. Potter. I fear his greatest achievements lie behind him.”

Madam Malkin apparently decided that proceeding as though this was any other day was her best option, and she began to tug and fuss at Draco’s sleeve. She must have poked him with another pin, as he drew his hand back as if to slap her away.

“Draco!” Narcissa’s sharp tone pulled her son up short. “Madam, we do not wish to patronize your shop today after all. The quality of your other clients does not reflect well upon you, nor your trade. Good day.”

Draco shrugged out of his robes, letting them fall to the floor.

“But, surely, my Lady Malfoy—” Madam Malkin began, only to be cut off by Narcissa.

“I said ‘Good day.’ Do stay safe, Potter.” She opened the door for her son. “It would be a terrible shame if something were to happen to you.”

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malfoy taking care to bang as hard as he could into Harry on the way out. It didn’t work for him, as Harry just stood unfazed and Malfoy had to give way. 

Madam Malkin was distracted all through the fitting of Harry’s new robes, and when she finally bowed him out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of him.

“Everything alright?” Lupin asked with a frown. “I saw the Malfoys storming out.”

“It was delightful,” Harry said sourly, but then he added softly, “I think Draco has been tortured since I last saw him.”

“How do you know?” Lupin asked. 

“Trust me, I know the look.”

“I see,” Lupin said, not extending the conversation further.

Soon, the two of them found themselves in Flourish and Blotts. 

“I need Charms, Potions, Defence, Transfiguration, Runes and Herbology,” Harry listed off to Lupin. 

“No Arithmancy? Taking an easy load this term?” Lupin asked only half-joking. 

“Arithmancy, too,” Harry said. “But it seems like there is no new book for this year.”

“Impressive,” Lupin nodded. “Why the heavy load?”

“I want to be an Auror,” Harry said.

“I see,” Lupin nodded. “Well, those shouldn’t be hard to find.”

They quickly gathered all of the books and Harry paid for them. He then got a refill on his potions ingredients and soon he found the rest of the group standing in front of the twins’ shop.

The shop stood out against the almost grim facades of the surrounding stores by being brightly coloured and vibrant. Display windows were filled with rotating stands of products and flashing messages, all clamouring for the eyes of passers-by. And the strategy was clearly working: there were small crowds around each display, a short queue of customers waiting to enter the shop, and even ordinary wizards and witches walking past found themselves craning their necks and looking back over their shoulders.  

A poster with scrolling messages caught Harry’s attention, making him pull up short with Lupin as they approached.

 

FALLEN FOR A QUIDDITCH-PLAYING WITCH?

NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU

LIKE OUR NEW MARZIPAN SNITCH

IT DODGES! IT DARTS!

IT CAPTURES THEIR HEARTS

WARNING: 

MAY CAUSE SPONTANEOUS SNOGGING!

 

Harry chuckled. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked around to see Mr. Weasley gazing, dumbfounded at the poster. His lips moved silently, mouthing the phrase “spontaneous snogging.”

“Perhaps for the best their mother hasn’t seen this,” Mr. Weasley intoned, arching an eyebrow at Harry and Ron, who also been caught short by the advert. 

“What if your witch isn’t into Quidditch?” Ron wondered. “You reckon they might—erm, never mind.”

Harry spotted Tonks, face pressed against the window, eyeing another selection of products and laughing. Her hair was lighting up in all sorts of different colours and Harry was struck again by how musical her laugh was, so at odds with her self-deprecating sense of humor.

The twins’ shop was everything Harry might have expected. The Wizarding Wheezes he remembered from school, alongside dozens of new products, all with the mad imprint of George and Fred’s unique take on life. Harry felt his spirits lifting just watching throngs of eager witches and wizards finding their way through the assorted wares. There were wizarding chess sets, the pawns glumly glowering at patrons as they passed by. Another aisle held bewitched word games, from Hang Man and Word Search to something called Fairy Jumble, there were games with enchanted letter tiles, bewitched hangmen mannequins, and dancing quills. At the end of the aisle, Harry spotted a familiar flash of bubblegum pink hair. He edged closer and found Tonks reading aloud from the text of an advert.

 “Daydream Charms…”

“Huh. 'With one simple spell, our guaranteed Daydream Charm allows the lucky wizard or witch to enjoy a half-hour of blissful daydreams, all while presenting a boring (and bored!) face to the world. May cause mouth-breathing and elevated sweatiness. Only for sale to those of age. Not for sale to under-sixteens.’ You know,” said Tonks, looking up at Harry, “That’s really extraordinary magic!”

“For that, Tonks,” said a voice behind them, “you can have one for free.”

“Fred! Good to see you,” Tonks said with a smile. “Now I just need the right dream, eh?”

Harry found himself blushing and quickly reached out to shake Fred’s hand, gruffly muttering something under his breath.

“How are you, Fred?” They shook hands.

“Things are good, actually,” Fred said. “Come on, Harry, I’ll give you the five-knut tour.”

Harry left Tonks, who was still flipping the box over and over in her hand, and followed Fred toward the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks, apparently for those wizards who enjoyed Muggle culture. Fred’s twin emerged from the workroom, patting at some ashes smoldering on his emerald waistcoat.

“Harry, old man! Come to see what we’ve got going today in our research program.”

George ushered Harry into the less chaotic and more serious back room. The general air was serious, almost reverent, with everything in its place and orderly, far from the chaotic air the twins naturally projected. 

The twins explained to Harry how their line of personal shield products, originally designed to protect against unwanted pranks and minor hexes, had become all the rage since the beginning of what people had started calling “This Recent Nastiness,“ or even just “The Troubles.” 

Verity, an attractive young witch with short blonde hair coughed delicately, standing in the doorway to the rest of the shop. 

“We have a customer with a cauldron questions, Misters Weasley,” she said. 

“No rest for the wicked, eh?” kidded George promptly. “Don’t be a stranger, Harry.”

Back on the shop floor proper, Harry and the twins found a collection of witches, including Ginny, Susan, and Tonks, examining a line of products labeled as belonging to the “Wonder Witch” line. The packaging featured a gagging array of pink and lavender hues, but the girls seemed captivated. Susan appeared skeptical, but Ginny was blushing furiously as she examined some of the packages.

“Blemish-removers, everlasting lip gloss, the best love potions available without a ministry certificate…” George declared expansively, while Fred winked broadly over his shoulder.

“Love potions,” Susan snorted dismissively, eyebrow raised. “Seriously? My Auntie says they’re all sugar water and wishful thinking.”

“Your Auntie’s shopping in the wrong shop,” Fred said with wounded pride. “Effective for at least twenty-four hours, more or less based on the heft of the boy in question.”

“And the prettiness of the witch?” Susan asked, more playfully now than hostile, as she examined a vial.

“I see you’ve found the disclaimers,” George admitted cheerfully. “Nothing in life is certain. Care to have a go?”

Susan pursed her lips. “I think I do as well with boys as I care to, thank you.”

Ginny snorted and turned away to hide her face.

“And not for sale to our sister, so don’t get any ideas, Ginny,” Fred added sternly. “We hear you already are doing—“

“—just fine in the boys department,” George finished, as the two crossed their arms in unison as their sister turned back to them defiantly.

“And what exactly are you hearing, and from whom?” Ginny’s expression was so close to her mother’s angry inquisition that Harry involuntarily took a step back himself.

“Michael Corner, Dean Thomas? Two or three other boys?” Fred asked, somewhat less certainly.

“I am not dating Dean Thomas or any boy.” She examined a cage of miniature puffskeins. “These are adorable. I’ll take one of these—what are they called? Pygmy Puffs?—free in exchange for your slanderous allegations. And another for my girlfriend Susan if she wants one.”

“No thank you, Ginny, but it’s sweet of you to ask.” Susan seemed slightly stunned at Ginny’s sudden turn, but her eyes were shining with pride as she watched her lover easily handle her two mercurial brothers.

“Girlfriend?” Fred asked.

“As in a girl—”  George added before Ginny leaned over and gave Susan a quick peck on the cheek, causing both twins to fall silent.

Fred and George looked solemnly at each other in rapid silent communication.

“You’ve got it, Ginny.” They chorused.

“And Ron is a right prat,” Fred muttered.

“Well that’s what you get for listening to him,” Ginny chastised. “Are you losing your touch? Taking Ron’s word for gossip, about me? He must have been laughing his arse off.”

“Is someone taking my name in vain?” Ron asked, joining the group. He had an armful of products, including rather a lot of fireworks, in his arms.

“You’re banned,” George said immediately.

“Six months, no sales,” Fred added firmly. “And apologize to Ginny.”

“That’s okay,” Susan said, recovering from the change in her girlfriend’s public reserve. “We’ll take our own revenge on Ron at the time and place of Ginny’s choosing.”

Ron, his face fallen, looked from the twins to the two girls and realized that he had walked into a buzzsaw. He took the armload of merchandise and dropped it in a barrel of Edible Owls (“A Secret Message inside every bird!”).

“Well, bugger you lot,” grumbled Ron, flashing a rude gesture over his shoulder as he huffed with not-entirely-genuine high dudgeon towards the shop exit. Unfortunately, his gesture was clearly visible to Amelia Bones, who was standing in the doorway.

“I would prefer it, Mr. Weasley, if you didn’t show such vulgar gestures in front of my niece.”

Ron was immediately embarrassed nodded sheepishly. 

“Did you get everything you needed?” Amelia asked, turning to Susan and Ginny.

Harry didn’t want to get engaged in any further friction between Ginny and the twins, or his Aunt Amelia and Ron. He looked out of the window trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. Harry spotted Draco moving briskly past the storefront. 

He managed to slip away from his mother, Harry thought to himself. Should I go after him? No, that would be foolish. It could be a trap. Though I should talk to Auntie and Tonks about it.

Harry looked back to see Susan debating with herself about something. He walked over to Amelia.

“I think Susan wants to get Ginny a few things for her new Pygmy Puff,” Harry whispered. “Have you told her about her inheritance from Sirius?”

Amelia shook her head before she walked over to Susan and discretely handed her a couple of galleons while whispering in her ear. 

Harry grabbed Fred and George, while Ron standing awkwardly by the exit, defiantly not leaving but ready to step out if approached.

They stuck their heads together.

“Look,” Harry said. “I knew about Ginny, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. Ginny has been terrified of telling the family because she didn’t know how you guys would react. She doesn’t want to lose her family, so she’s been keeping it secret for over a year. They are happy together, so don’t fuck this up for her.”

Fred and George shared a look before they looked slightly offended at Harry.

“How could you even think we wouldn’t support her?” Fred asked, a little irritated.

“I don’t think there is a problem with you two, your dad, Bill, or Charlie,” Harry said. “And no one cares what Percy might think. It’s more your mum and Ron. Look, your mum is a nice woman, but she has this fantasy about how Ginny is supposed to live her life, and Ron is … well … a little too influenced by your mother’s traditional thinking, at least enough that he agrees with her on most things. It’s okay if it is other witches, but if it’s Ginny? You heard all these stories about her. He might have been more than half serious with all those relationship stories- it's how he still sees her.”

George nodded solemnly. 

“I’m just asking you to not burst out about it in front of everyone, and make sure she understands that you still love her,” Harry said. “We good?”

“Yeah, thanks. We guess we see why she might worry.”

“Good,” Harry nodded as he walked back to the group, which was slowly getting ready to leave. 

The others had gotten their shopping done in their own time. Ginny was holding a little cage with a Pygmy Puff and sending a subdued but loving gaze towards Susan. Mr. Weasley was holding a Magic Muggle Trick in his hands. Tonks was holding her free Daydream as well as some other WonderWitch Products. Harry quickly grabbed some of the products the twins had made Ron put back. They could serve as a Christmas present for him. Lupin had stood guard by the door the whole time.

“We should head back soon,” Amelia said loudly enough for everyone to hear. 

There was a general agreement and soon Harry found himself getting apparated back by Tonks to their living room.

“How were the twins?” Amelia asked concernedly towards Molly, who was sitting and drinking a cup of tea with Sirius’s painting.

“They were delightful,” Molly said. “They just fell asleep not long ago.”

“We got to see your twins, by the way. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to look after the girls,” Amelia said with a smile.

“Did you get everything?” Molly said towards Arthur. She turned quickly to Ginny. “What are you wearing? And what is that?”

Mrs. Weasley had spotted Ginny’s outfit and the Pygmy Puff in her arms.

“I borrowed it from Tonks,” Ginny said fiercely. “And this is my Pygmy Puff.” 

“I see,” Mrs. Weasley looked like she was ready to start an argument, but she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Molly,” Amelia said. “It is not that bad of an outfit– it’s rather modest compared to some of the dresses I have seen all the younger people wearing. I know what you think, I had my own reservations, but after I started living with Harry and Tonks I began to understand that Magical Society fashions look incomparably odd and outdated to the Muggles. Ginny might be wearing something you don’t approve of, but her outfit easily blends into the Muggles safely.” 

Harry had never seen Mrs. Weasley accept something that easily before. If he had been wearing a hat, he would have taken it off for Amelia’s ability to make everyone take a second more to think.

“I understand,” Molly said, “I suppose for Muggle fashion, it must be lovely.” 

Harry spotted Ginny and Susan looking surprised at each other. Mr. Weasley sent his wife a wide smile, and Ron was just looking at Amelia in something close to awe. 

“I guess, I should get dinner started,” Harry said casually. “Lupin, Mr. Weasley, could you help with setting up a dinner table for nine people and a portrait?”

The rest of August passed without much happening. Carnaby Street was a lot less insular than usual. Mrs. Weasley would regularly come over to be near the twins, and she and Amelia were developing a surprising but strong friendship. Ron would sometimes hang out with Harry. Ginny would get permission to come with her mother on some days, much to Susan’s delight. 

One of the days Ginny had come over, she had pulled Harry aside with Susan and thanked him for talking to her brothers. Apparently, they had been incredibly supportive and wanted to visit Susan and Harry to have fun together. They had gotten permission from Amelia and six people, Tonks included, went out for the second time that summer to the cinema, which had been a fantastic time as Fred and George were always good company. 

Harry woke up on the first of September feeling nervous and excited at the same time.

Chapter 15: Interlude: Walid Aibnatih

Summary:

Hermione prepares to return to Hogwarts, with mixed feelings from her parents but made somewhat easier by the support of her friend, Ronald Weasley.

Notes:

Author’s Note from ReverendKilljoy:

A tip of the authorial cap to screenwriter Debora Cahn for her work on “The West Wing” which inspired a passage in this chapter.

15 chapters down, about 30 to go.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 Interlude: Walid Aibnatih

 

John Granger stood in the crowded station, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders raised defensively. Everything about his body language said “danger,” and “do not approach.”

A few feet away, his wife Jean was going over last-minute details with their daughter and her escort for her trip, Ron Weasley. At least there was someone he could count on, John thought, to actually look out for his daughter. This whole enterprise was madness. He knew it in his bones, but somehow they had moved from “let’s wait and see,” to “let’s have a plan just in case,” to today, where suddenly it seemed “this isn’t the time to bring this up, John.”

Jean and Hermione embraced. Despite all she had been through at the hospital, and far too briefly at home with her parents, Hermione still hugged her mother more like the child she had been than the young woman she had briefly become—and still appeared on the surface to be.

 

“Now, Hermione,” her mother said, fussing, “You have your book-bag and your notes? You have the journal Healer Lewis asked you to keep? Oh, and your floss?”

“Yes, mother, yes.” Hermione was both chafing at being babied and comforted that her mother was with her. It was one thing to demand to return to her schooling, but quite another to board a magical train to be swept away to an enchanted castle to practice real, honest to goodness witchcraft. The reality seemed to be overtaking her preconceptions, but she knew that if she showed any hesitation now, her father would have her on the next tube train on the Northern Line back to Hampstead before she could whistle.

“I’m so proud of you, Hermione,” her mother said, tearing up yet again. “You must be so frightened, and so determined. I’m proud of you for doing this but I would hold you in my arms and never let you go anywhere ever again if I had the slightest chance.”

“I know, Mum,” Hermione said, then added in a hushed voice, “I’m ever so glad you’re here. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Well, you have Ronald.” Her mother smiled a bit, and added teasingly, “You best be careful. He seems awfully committed to your friendship. I don’t think your father is ready for another boyfriend quite so soon.”

Hermione paled and stole a quick glance at where Ronald and her father stood quietly, side by side, a short way apart from them.

“Mum! Stop it. He’s just a friend, a very good friend.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just very clear that he worries about you. You should have heard him, talking to us about your care at St. Mungo’s. He was such a very serious young man, but clearly a nice fellow.” Jean glanced at the boy, and admitted, “Even your father liked him, rather grudgingly as you might imagine.”

Hermione was blushing, and she quickly changed the subject back to her plans for staying in touch and following all of her Healer’s admonitions about gentle recovery.

 

While Jean and Hermione dabbed at tears and made their goodbyes, Ron approached John, stopping a respectful distance away before John nodded him closer.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say at this point to change her mind,” Granger said gruffly.

“I doubt it, sir,” Ron said, turning to look at the two women himself. “She seems pretty set on recovering what’s been taken. It’s her way of hitting back, I think, refusing to let him win.”

“And she still plans on meeting Potter.” It was not a question. “I still think that’s a mistake.”

“She knows you do,” Ron said honestly, surprising John briefly. He supposed he’d done a terrible job of hiding his thoughts on the matter, after all.

“But she won’t be alone.” Ron was looking at Hermione, a determined look on his face, and a seriousness John couldn’t remember from their first meeting. This thing had changed them all. Maybe some good might come of it somehow.

“I’m trusting you, Ron.” John’s voice lost some of its rough edge, and the boy could clearly hear the worry behind his words, the powerlessness that John felt when dealing in any way with this other world he found himself surrendering his daughter to once more.

“A few years ago, my family took a trip to Egypt. It was a prize, from our paper, quite a big deal for us.” Ron’s eyes stayed on Hermione and Jean. “All of my brothers, my mum and dad, and my little sister, Ginny. Everywhere we went, they were very friendly, but a bit, I don’t know, foreign. I mean, their lives must be very different from ours.”

He smiled. “Until they met Ginny. She was just twelve then, and into everything, a thousand questions. So anyway, every time the locals met Ginny, they’d get very solicitous towards my father, and start giving him tea and little sweets and such. They all called him “walid aibnatih” and they’d shake their heads very sadly. It wasn’t until the last night that my father found out what it meant.”

John looked at Ron, his curiosity captured. “And?”

“They were sympathizing with him, sir. ‘Walid aibnatih’ means ‘father of a daughter’ in Arabic.”

John looked at the lad’s deadpan face, and against his will, he cracked a smile. When Ron saw this, he finally smiled too, just a private grin between the two men.

And then it was time. Ron wanted to get Hermione safely onto the platform ahead of the rush of returning students, so they were in place for the moment the gateway between the Muggle station and the wizarding platform activated. Pushing both their luggage trollies lashed together with an extra belt, and holding Hermione’s hand behind him, Ron moved confidently towards the wall.

Even though the Grangers knew what to expect, had seen it before even, it was still a queer sensation to see the two teens and their belongings slide out of existence without a single person on the platform so much as looking up. They stood there, to one side of the selected section of the wall, holding one another for some time. Other students approached, and by ones and twos began to enter the platform. Not wanting to stay long enough to risk being recognized, the Grangers headed to the tube station for the ride back to Hampstead. It was a somber and very quiet ride home.

Chapter 16: The Hogwarts Express

Summary:

The trip back to Hogwarts is bitter-sweet, as Harry finally reunites with Hermione.
Awkwardness ensues.

Also, Harry meets a strange young woman on the train, a student he can't quite place.
Awkwardness ensues.

Neville gets a bit ruffled.
Well done, Neville, you absolute unit.

Notes:

Very much a Waske chapter, with me more on cleanup duty.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: The Hogwarts Express

Harry stared out the window unto the platform. His face was plastered with a big frown as he looked at the students and their parents coming through the passage. He couldn’t stop himself from looking for the Grangers and Weasleys. He felt like time was ticking even slower than usual as he watched parents hug their kids. Most of them tried to hide their concern or the frightened looks on their faces. He couldn’t blame them. He noticed that fewer kids were on the platform than usual. 

Some of the parents might not want their kids to return to Hogwarts, Harry thought to himself. 

Harry thought back to this morning when he woke up. There were a lot of things that didn’t quite add up. 

Harry had woken up feeling nervous and expectant. He was going to see Hermione for the first time since his failure at the Department of Mysteries. Failure, fiasco, disaster. He couldn’t really call it anything else. He had gotten up even earlier than usual to pack the rest of his stuff. He had filled his trunk with more extracurricular books than he ever had before. Hermione would have been impressed, he had thought to himself. The backpack from Amelia and Susan was likewise filled with tools, potion ingredients, and other things that he had just gotten a habit of carrying around. He had gone to the kitchen, made breakfast, exchanged a few words with Sirius’s painting before Susan, Amelia, and the twin girls had shown up. Tonks had been nowhere in sight. 

That was the first odd thing of the morning. Tonks had never not been at least part of the party to drop him off at the station or been one to pick him up. It felt wrong in a sense.

He had joked that maybe he should have gone to wake her up, but Amelia had told him Tonks had already left earlier that morning. She had headed to the Ministry while it was still closer to night than morning. 

Amelia wasn’t among the people to drop them off either, as she had said she was going to stay at home with the two girls. That seemed reasonable, but still odd for both Susan and Harry. Harry had asked if they were going to get there by themselves, but then Bill and Fleur had turned up in the living room after asking permission. Not that Harry minded the two of them, but they were just not the people he had expected. 

They had arrived a full hour before the train was leaving and the platform had been deserted. The train hadn’t even arrived at the platform. 

Harry felt out of sort. It felt out of place… this entire morning just felt wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, it was like everything around him was telling him that something bad was going to happen. Even when he and Susan were aboard the train, he found his thoughts turning in uneasy circles.

“You alright, Harry?” Susan asked, dragging him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, Susan,” Harry said. “Yeah, it’s just… odd, I guess?”

“What do you mean?” Susan asked.

“This morning… I don’t know, it was not what I expected,” Harry said, trying to smooth out his eyebrows which were bunched together on his forehead.

“I know what you mean,” Susan said. “I didn’t expect Bill and Fleur to be the ones escorting us. I thought it would be Tonks, and maybe Auntie.” 

“I know right?” Harry said. “I didn’t even get to– And we are here so early—”

Harry didn’t manage to finish his thought as the door to their compartment was opened and two heads of red hair appeared. Ginny jumped to hug Susan immediately upon their entry.

“Ron,” Harry said amiably. 

Harry’s eyes widened as he spotted the familiar brown hair behind Ron’s shoulder. 

“Right,” Ron scratched his jaw. “We better get this out of the way.” 

He took a step to the side and Hermione was fully revealed to the compartment. Harry felt an urge to run and hug her, she looked scared and frail, but also defiant, unwilling to accept what had happened to her. 

“Hermione,” Harry’s voice was so filled with care and concern that he drew everyone’s gazes to him.

“Hi,” she said quietly. “You must be Harry.”

Harry tried hard to hide the hint of hurt in his eyes as he realised how right Ron had been. She learned about him, but she didn’t know him.

“Yeah,” Harry said, raising his hand for a handshake. He held it up for a second before lowering it again. It was quick enough, that Hermione didn’t even have a chance to take it.

“Susan,” Susan introduced herself realizing that Hermione had little chance in knowing her if she didn’t know Harry.

“I see,” Hermione said with a weak smile. “Pleasure to… meet you?” 

“Good enough,” Susan smiled warmly. 

Ron helped Hermione and Ginny with their trunks, and soon the compartment was filled with owls and a cat alongside the trunks.

Ron sat down next to Harry, who was sitting at the edge of the compartment towards the window. Hermione sat on the other side of Ron, leaving Susan and Ginny on the opposite side.

Harry tried to observe Hermione out of the corner of his eye, but Ron was blocking his vision.

“Anyone spotted Neville or Luna?” Susan asked. 

“They are in their own compartment,” Ginny smiled mischievously. “They said they might join us later.”

“I understand,” Susan smirked.

Hermione nodded, blushing, recalling an embarrassing detail she’d memorised.

Soon the conversation turned from summer to what classes people were taking for their N.E.W.T.s. Harry quietly said a few words, but otherwise kept to himself as the train moved out from the platform.

“Bill and Fleur are getting married next summer,” Ginny said. 

“Really?” Susan said. “They escorted me and Harry this morning! They didn’t say anything.”

“Maybe they were just focused on getting you here safely,” Ron said amiably. 

“Who are Bill and Fleur?” An uncertain voice came from the other side of Ron.

“Our oldest brother and his fiancee,” Ron said as he pointed between Ginny and him.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Have I met them before?” 

“Not really all that much,” Ron explained. “Fleur was the Tri-Wizard champion for Beauxbatons in our fourth year. Bill came to cheer on Harry during the third task, they must have met there. I guess that would be the only time you met Bill.”

“He was also at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before our fourth year,” Harry said. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said quickly.

“Don’t be,” Harry said in his softest voice. “Ask all the questions you need.”

“Thanks,” Hermione muttered.

This Harry was a little intimidating, but he was nowhere near as bad as her father made him out to be, Hermione thought to herself. 

Harry sunk back into silence as his mind wandered. He suddenly remembered that he had to be at the Prefect meeting. He got up in a hurry. He opened his backpack and stuck his whole arm in to find his badge. 

“Right, forgot about this,” Harry said as he pinned it to his chest. “I don’t know if you want to go as well, Hermione, but we are supposed to be at a Prefect’s meeting at the beginning to coordinate patrols and such.”

“Oh, right. Ronald told me about that,” Hermione said quickly, getting her own badge out of her trunk. 

Of course he did, Harry muttered sourly in his mind.

“So, that means you are joining me?” Harry asked carefully.

“Yes,” Hermione said stubbornly. “I want to be able to do everything I did before.”

You have no idea how proud of you I am, Harry thought to himself. 

He nodded as he opened the compartment door and led the two of them down to the Prefects’ compartment. 

“If you have any questions about being a Prefect, I will try my best to answer them,” Harry said over his shoulder to Hermione.

“Mm hmm,” he heard the acknowledging sound back.

Harry opened the compartment to find the different years of Prefects were already gathered, except for Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin Prefects from their year.

Another odd thing today, Harry thought to himself. 

“Sorry for the delay,” Harry said with a charming smile. “I completely forgot about this meeting.” 

Hermione made a small sound behind him but didn’t speak up. The school knew about what happened to Hermione. Nothing could stop the rumour mill from running at Hogwarts, so they didn’t say anything to her.

The meeting was over soon after they arrived. Hermione had whispered some questions to Harry while the Head Boy and Head Girl had talked. 

Harry had done his best to answer them, and soon they broke up into their own pairs. 

Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott came over and re-introduced themselves to Hermione and hug Harry. Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil did the same. 

Harry could have sworn that Padma was sending him and Hermione a measuring gaze, and unless he was mistaken there was an element of appraisal in her attention. Harry had considered that with he and Hermione on uncertain ground, he might have to deal with renewed interest from some of his female peers, but he had put the idea out of his mind until Padma’s dark eyes looked him up and down carefully when they exchanged greetings.

Harry and Hermione were soon left alone in the compartment.

“So, any other questions?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione.

“No, not really,” Hermione said, looking more at ease with herself. 

“I guess we should patrol our part of the train before heading back to the others,” Harry suggested.

“Sounds fine,” Hermione said.

Harry hated the way people were leaning against their compartment windows as he walked down the train. He had never felt more like a monkey behind bars.

“Why are they all staring like that?” Hermione asked.

“How much do you know about me?” Harry asked.

“A bit,” Hermione said. “Dad didn’t want me to know too much, Mum told me more, but they didn’t say anything which could warrant these stares. Ronald said a bit too, and I know what you have done is impressive, but still.”

Harry felt like a knife was tearing at his heart when he listened to the words of an outside observer.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry muttered.

“What was that?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said ruffling his hair trying to compose himself. “They started calling me ‘the Chosen One’ in the papers. They are sure I am going to be the one to defeat Voldemort.”

“The dark wizard who did this to me?” Hermione asked, looking equal parts frightened and vengeful.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Honestly, it is all a load of nonsense if you ask me, but it is true that I survived during my infancy. But that was because my mother sacrificed herself for me.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hermione said. 

Harry looked shocked at her for a second.

“What’s with the look?” Hermione asked.

“It’s just,” Harry scratched his head. “When I met you back then in our first year, you knew more about me than I did. Had read all about me in books.” 

“Really?” Hermione looked shocked. “You have books about you?”

“Fabricated stuff and nonsense, mostly,” Harry said immediately. “Apparently I was supposed to fight dragons at the age of five.” 

He didn’t want to admit how much it hurt him that Hermione actually had the same look as the other students on her face. Like he was someone special, like he was ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’ or ‘the Chosen One.’ She didn’t see just Harry anymore. 

“I’m nothing special,” Harry tried. “I’m just like everybody else. Didn’t face a dragon until I was at least eight.”

Hermione looked suspiciously at him then grinned when she saw he was joking, but she didn’t say anything. 

You were the one to never look at me differently, Harry thought to himself. 

Harry passed the compartment where Malfoy and his entourage were lounging. The door wasn’t fully closed, so he heard a snippet of their conversation.

“—wasn’t even sure I was going back to Hogwarts this year; things have changed. I have moved on from silly books and teachers—”

Harry didn’t stop as he moved further down the train. Hermione followed beside him.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked all of a sudden.

“Excuse me?” Hermione looked defensive.

“I didn’t mean anything bad,” Harry said quickly. He felt like she was like a deer, easily getting startled if he moved quickly or something. “I ... I’ve been worried about you.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Harry,” Hermione said, keeping her distance. “I am doing perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Good,” Harry exhaled. “That’s really good.”

“I know about us,” Hermione said hesitantly. 

“Are the next words you are going to say ‘we need to talk’?” Harry asked grimly.

Hermione nodded.

“Maybe we should find an empty compartment then,” Harry sighed, fighting his roiling emotions. “I don’t want others to disturb that particular conversation.”

Hermione nodded hesitantly.

“I am not going to attack you,” Harry tried to calm her down. “Even if you don’t remember me or still have the same feelings for me, I want you to know I will always treat you as a friend.”

He found an empty compartment and moved into it, waiting for Hermione before he sat down.

She closed the door behind her.

“Do you mind if I use some privacy charms on the door?” Harry asked. 

“What do they do?” she asked suspiciously.

“They muffle the sound,” Harry said. “It doesn’t block it, so you could scream and people would hear you. If you wanted to.”

He couldn’t stop his face from turning incomparably sad as he said that.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione knew it must feel horrible for him to even have to utter those words. “I just feel the need to be cautious as I work out how everything, how this world, works. It’s not… personal.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “I half-way expected it, doesn’t make it hurt any less though. You know what, forget about the charms, it doesn’t matter. It will probably spread throughout the train anyway.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said as she sat down across from him.

“So what are your thoughts?” Harry asked. “I’m trying not to guess what you might be thinking.”

“Uhm…” Hermione said. “Could you tell me about how we got together?” 

Harry sighed before relieving the now bittersweet memories of their previous life together.

“... met on the train, you were helping our friend Neville find his toad…”

“... you found out about the giant snake which was hidden in the castle, and we fought it together…”

“... we spent hours pouring over books, and you challenged me to improve, to keep my focus…”

“...when the dementors were all around us, that’s when I realised that I loved you…”

“...I asked you to the Yule Ball, and I couldn’t believe it when you said yes…” 

“... you were the only one around me who always believed in me even when it got tough…”

“…too many times I tried to push everyone away, but you always broke through, were always with me…

“... I was hurt and couldn’t move, and he just stood there in front of me. He mocked you and looked down on you for who your parents were, he wanted to break you—and me—so he stole what was most important for you…”

“... you asked me ‘who are you?’ And it was like my world just stopped.”

Harry noticed that he was crying by the time he was done telling his story. He had left out some of the most intimate details from their story. They weren’t necessary. His throat felt parched and he looked into the eyes of the woman he loved and saw… nothing. She was crying, but it wasn’t because she remembered, it was because she could feel his hurt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered from behind her tears. “I just don’t remember any of it, it’s not enough. I can’t be with you. You are remembering a completely different me.”

“I know,” Harry said as he got up. “Can I, if you don’t mind I mean, can I hug you? Sort of a goodbye to what we had, and maybe a hello to you as a possible friend?”

Hermione nodded, she felt she owed him at least that much.

Harry pulled her into his embrace gently as if he was transferring all of his feelings for the old her into her. She unconsciously wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his body, as she had done a thousand times before. 

“Give me some time,” Harry said as he rested his cheek on her head. “I will still want to be friends with the most brilliant witch, I know, but right now…”

“I understand,” Hermione said, releasing him from their hug. “I completely understand. It’s best we not try to force anything when there is a chance we can still be friends.” 

“Could I ask you to grab my backpack from the compartment?” Harry asked. “I am afraid I’m not man enough to sit in the same compartment as the rest of you right now. I think I’m going to find my own space, maybe at the end of the train.”

He wiped away his tears and tried to give her a smile.

“Sure,” Hermione said, feeling a little guilty though she didn’t hold herself in any way responsible for what had happened between them. “I’d be glad to.”

“Don’t feel upset about this,” Harry said suddenly. “It is not your fault, it’s mine. I should have protected you.”

Hermione didn’t argue with him, she just touched his arm as she passed him and went to retrieve his backpack. 

“I finish our patrol myself,” Harry said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, trying to make his voice sound less brittle. He couldn’t do anything about his eyes, but thankfully they were somewhat hidden behind his glasses. “You visit with everyone, take time to adjust."

Hermione looked as he turned away from the compartment and walked further down the train. She looked at the firm shoulders behind the backpack and couldn’t help feel a sense of loss like her body was telling her this was all wrong, but her rational mind couldn’t agree with her.

After all, she argued with herself as she sat down with the three in the compartment, the map is not the territory.

Susan sent her a glance, but she didn’t comment on Harry’s behaviour or anything. Ron was trying his best to lighten the mood and soon they were talking about anything Hermione asked about, even if she felt a little more dispirited as the train ride progressed. 

Harry was in a stupor as he walked further away from his previous compartment. He debated whether he should go to the Prefects’ compartment, but decided against it. There had to be one compartment at the end of the train where no one was sitting. 

He got interrupted in his train of thought when a compartment door was opened and a familiar face looked out at him.

“Hello, Harry,” Luna’s dreamy voice gained his attention. “Foul mood?”

“Something like that,” Harry said briskly, noticing that Neville looked rather ruffled, in the compartment. “Doing something you aren’t supposed to?”

“No, just some boyfriend-girlfriend things,” Luna said honestly. “Want to talk?”

“I need to think first,” Harry said. “Got a new wand, Neville?”

“Oh, yeah,” Neville smiled. “Got it as soon as I was released from St. Mungo’s. One of Ollivander’s last. I think.”

“What happened to him?” Harry asked. 

“Dragged off, Gran said,” Neville shrugged. “Nothing official, you know how it’s getting.”

“That’s a disturbing thought,” Harry nodded. “Well, see you both later.”

Harry didn’t let Luna drag him into her tempo this time, he needed to sort out his emotions by himself.

Harry couldn’t find an empty compartment, but the last one was only occupied by a single girl who Harry didn’t know.

“Do you mind?” Harry asked as he sat down.

“You’re Harry Potter,” the girl said.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I was looking for some quiet to think about stuff.”

“Okay,” the girl looked at him intently with a hint of concern.

Harry felt the hazel eyes were incredibly familiar, but he could have sworn he had never seen the girl before. 

Harry sank into his thoughts. 

This is for the best, Harry kept telling himself, no matter how unwilling he was. This way, she won’t be targeted by anyone who wants to hurt you anymore. This way she is safe.

Memories of his times with Hermione kept flashing through his mind, maybe it was because he had told Hermione their whole story together, but it was like he was saying goodbye to the woman she had been in those memories, locking them away and slowly making room for the girl she had become. 

She is still Hermione, just not your Hermione. Harry thought.

“I am unwilling,” he muttered in his distraction.

“What was that?” the girl in front of him asked.

“Oh,” Harry hadn’t even noticed he was speaking out loud. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

“You can tell me, if it helps,” the girl said.

“I’m not sure I can trust you to keep my secrets,” Harry said, trying his best not to sound rude.

“I guess you can’t,” the girl shrugged as she focused back on the book she was reading.

Harry stared at her, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something incredibly familiar about the girl in front of him.

“Have we met before?” Harry asked.

“I’m going to Hogwarts as well,” the girl said. “It wouldn’t be impossible. Of course, everyone knows who you are.”

Harry winced visibly at that.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” the girl said quickly. “Well, I guess I did. You are quite famous.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered darkly, opened up his backpack, and grabbed a book from it to distract himself. Harry kept staring over the edge of the book at the girl.

“If you keep staring that intently at me I might begin to think you fancy me,” the girl teased. 

Harry didn’t know what to say. He had half expected her to be like the rest of the lovestruck girls on the train, but she didn’t push. Instead, she continued reading, hardly sparing him a glance. How could he not know who she was? Was he that wrapped up in his own world? Had they taken a class together? Did she eat near him in the Great Hall?

“That’s refreshing,” Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. “I have been getting a lot of those looks on the train already. I think most of the fourth through seventh year girls are looking at me like I am a fresh piece of meat.”

“I can imagine,” the girl chuckled. “Well, who’s to say I don’t see you as a tempting piece of meat as well?”

“Maybe,” Harry mused. “Sorry, I just got dumped. My reactions are all off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the girl said, with no emotion in her voice at all.

“I saw it coming,” Harry said. 

“Hermione Granger, right?” the girl said. “She is losing out on you.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled sadly. “It’s for the better, it’s not really safe to stay around me.”

“Why?”

“Because of you-know-who,” Harry said. “Apparently he really has a thing for guys with glasses and dark hair.”

The girl in front of him couldn’t stop a snort from escaping her. 

Harry smiled, it was refreshing to just hang around with someone. It made him think of Tonks.

Harry sighed. “Sorry, that just really miss my friend right now.” 

“They’re not on the train?” the girl asked, turning the page in her book and not looking up. 

“No,” Harry said. “She is out of Hogwarts. Her name is Nymphadora.”

Harry was looking down on the floor, but she could see the smile on his face.

“That’s a horrible name,” the girl in front of him said.

Harry chuckled. “She doesn’t care for it much either. Though she really is a great friend, I managed to screw it up royally during the summer with her. I’m having an off year.”

“How so?” 

“There was some flirting, and it seemed to be heading to something more,” Harry said leaning back against the wall. “It would have been amazing—She is amazing—but I was still together with my girlfriend at the time, so I shot it down. I know it was the right thing, at the time, but now… I don’t imagine anything is going to happen with her after that, she is too amazing to be a replacement… I don’t think I could start something with her even if I wanted to.”

Harry looked back into the eyes of the girl in front of him, who was now ignoring her book and focusing fully on him.

“Do you?” Her voice was less emotionless, there was something trying to peek through. “Want tom I mean?”

“You know,” Harry said. “You remind me of her, she has the same colour eyes, well she at least did for most of the summer. She can change them at will, but …”

Harry noticed a flicker in the girl’s eyes as he said that. Something which was very familiar to him.

“Wait a second,” Harry said, looking straight at her. “Nym-pha-do-ra,” he said, putting pressure on each syllable. 

The girl’s hair colour flickered ever so subtly at the roots. 

“Tonks?!” Harry cried, blushing.

“Fine,” Tonks said. “You got me.” 

She morphed back into her normal face, and her hair was bright pink, but she kept the smaller, younger stature of a student.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“Well, I’m the best suited for undercover guarding on the train, don’t you think?” she said off-handedly. “I mingled, checked each compartment, all nice as you please. Would have worked too, no one was asking any questions until you came along.”

Harry realised what he had been saying, and he paled. 

“I.. I… ehm…” Harry panicked.

“So, Hermione dumped you,” Tonks said looking at him with a measuring gaze.

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking sad. “Or rather, we agreed that it was over? I expected it in a way. How could she be with me when she doesn’t remember me?” 

“I guess not,” Tonks shrugged. 

“Well, please forget everything I said about you,” Harry said.

“Why?” Tonks asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Because it is embarrassing?” Harry countered.

“Why would it be embarrassing?” Tonks smiled at him.

“Because I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you because Hermione broke up with me,” Harry said seriously.

“Well, seeing as you didn’t know I was me I think you are good,” Tonks said. 

“I guess it also explains why you didn’t see me as a piece of meat,” Harry smiled, feeling a little better.

“I may have mentioned that I very much see you as a tempting piece of meat,” Tonks said casually, returning to her book.

Harry couldn’t quite process what she was saying.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked.

“Tempting,” Tonks said seriously. “You. To me. I’m done denying my attraction to you. I am not going to be a replacement or a fix for your broken heart, but that doesn’t change that I am attracted to you. In fact, I’m attracted to you rather a lot, if you must know.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times.

“Don’t look so silly,” Tonks mockingly reprimanded him. “Take your time, process this. I guess it is no surprise that I will be around Hogwarts this year, guarding the students. I’m staying in Hogsmeade. We can talk during your first weekend there.”

Harry just nodded his head mechanically as he looked at her.

“Good,” Tonks said. “Now, you look a lot better now than when you came in, and we will soonish be arriving at Hogwarts, so you should go back to the others. They are probably worried. A lot of people care about you, you know. It was never just her.”

Harry put the book back in his backpack and stood up. He pulled open the compartment door and looked over his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Tonks,” Harry said with an adorable grin as he left her sitting there.

“Damn Casanova,” Tonks muttered angrily, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face even after she morphed back into her school girl appearance.

Harry was still nursing a broken heart, but everything wasn’t all gloom anymore. He felt a certain sense of vain satisfaction in that Tonks had admitted she found him attractive. It didn’t change the fact that everything inside him hurt, but it served as a nice distraction compared to having to deal with this alone. Besides, he’d thought Tonks was beautiful since they had first met.

He arrived in front of the compartment with Ron, Susan, Ginny, and Hermione. Harry breathed in deeply before he opened the door once more.

“Where have you been?” Susan asked.

“Patrolling,” Harry said casually, trying hard not to look at Hermione. He got back into the seat which he had sat in earlier. “I think we will be arriving soon.” 

They all looked outside the window and spotted Hogwarts in the distance.

“Wow…” Hermione’s small voice came from across the compartment. 

“Right,” Harry smiled. “Seeing it for the first time. Same reaction and everything, though this time you aren’t telling us to get changed.”

Hermione blushed from the teasing, but she understood it wasn’t mean-spirited, so she smiled sweetly at him. Harry couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat.

Fuck me, Harry thought. And here I was sure Voldemort would be the death of me.

Ron had to stop Hermione from grabbing her trunk when they got off the train, telling her it would be brought to her dormitory for her by the staff. Harry noticed that he didn’t talk about the house-elves which were employed at Hogwarts. It was probably an attempt to not restart the whole S.P.E.W. thing with her once more. 

When they arrived at the carriages carrying them to the castle, Ron and Ginny were gasping at the sight of Thestrals.

“Oh, how magical,” Hermione said softly. “Horseless carriages.”

“Sorry to break it to you,” Harry said. “They are pulled by thestrals.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione’s inquisitive nature was lit. 

“Yeah,” Harry said with a sad smile.

“They look hideous,” Ron said. 

“I can’t see them,” Hermione said sadly. 

“You would have been able to, if not for what happened,” Harry said grimly. “You watched Sirius die as well.”

Hermione looked as shocked this time as she had been the first time she had realised the underlying meaning of why people could see the creatures. They sat quietly as the carriages took them to the castle of Hogwarts itself.

 

Chapter 17: Starlit Night

Summary:

Harry and Hermione find their way around one another, settling into the school and into their new relationship.

Snape teaches Defence, and Harry has a duel.

Luna shows Harry some consideration.

Notes:

Another Waske-heavy chapter, but this one needed extensive re-writes to comply with site policies. I did some tweaking of language for tone and to reinforce some character moments, especially for Snape and Luna. I thought they were a little flat in the previous draft.

Best, Killjoy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 Starlit Night

Harry found his way to the Great Hall with the others, everything was looking as usual. He spotted Professor Slughorn sitting at the high table with his giant walrus mustache. He looked less frazzled and haunted compared to when Harry met him a little more than a month ago. 

“Who is the new professor?” Ron asked.

“Horace Slughorn,” Harry said. “He used to teach here, and has left retirement.”

“How do you know that?” Ginny asked.

“I helped Dumbledore recruit him again,” Harry shrugged.

“What does he teach?” Hermione asked.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Ron said instantly. “It’s the only open position.”

Harry didn’t bother correcting him–it would be revealed at the feast either way. It was weird for him, he thought, looking at Hermione from a distance.

Well, technically not a distance, a tiny voice in his head told him. She is right there for the taking. 

Harry shook his head, that was the last thing she needed right now. An ex-boyfriend who tried to lay claim to her. He would just try to act casual around her and see how it turned out. It was better being able to talk to her than being hated—or even worse, feared—by her. Harry felt a wave of sadness come over him as he looked at her amazed expressions. She was looking up at the ceiling, just like she had in her first year. One benefit among all the pains, she at least had recaptured her sense of wonder.

“I heard you took the O.W.L. exams again,” Harry said. 

“How?” Hermione looked suspicious.

“I asked Ron,” Harry said.

“Oh,” Hermione sent a little glare towards Ron.

“Don’t be angry at him,” Harry said. “I was just concerned. How did you do?” 

“Not good enough,” Hermione said. “Well, I passed all of my exams, so that is something, but I only got two O’s, in Charms and Arithmancy. The rest were E’s.”

“That’s still really impressive,” Harry said. “You are absolutely brilliant, you know that.”

“Thanks,” Hermione blushed. “Still, I regret not being able to take all ten classes at N.E.W.T. levels. Professor Snape only takes Outstandings in Potions, Ronald told me.”

“I see,” Harry said as they sat down. “Well, still congratulations—you got an O.W.L. more than I did.”

“Really?” Hermione looked surprised.

“Yeah, failed History of Magic,” Harry shrugged. “I had a really bad headache on the day, so I wound up with a Poor for my exam.”

“What classes are you taking?” Hermione asked with the same glint in her eyes she had always had when it came to their studies.

Harry was just about to tell her when the doors opened and the new first years walked in with Professor McGonagall in the lead.

“There are a lot fewer of them this year,” Ginny muttered.

“There are even fewer than our year,” Harry agreed. “I don’t blame the parents at all.” 

“I suppose most parents could teach the first-year curriculum,” Ron said. “It’s not like it is all that advanced for most parents.”

“My parents couldn’t teach me,” Hermione said with a frown.

“Well, neither could mine,” Harry said trying to cheer her up.

Hermione looked aghast at his comment.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry knew he had messed up. “I didn’t mean that the way it must have sounded. I was just trying to lighten the mood. I have a bit of a morbid sense of humour. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t,” Hermione said quickly.

An awkward silence fell on the table. Thankfully they were rescued by Professor McGonagall, who put the old Sorting Hat on its tabouret. 

Harry looked as the Sorting Hat opened its ‘mouth’ and began to sing. It was pretty much the same as the year before. It was focusing on the fact that they had to stay together while listing the different values of the houses. Harry wasn’t surprised anymore, it was like the Hat just knew what was going on around it.

Harry clapped unenthusiastically when the Hat returned to silence.

“Why was I not in Ravenclaw?” Hermione asked.

“We’ve talked about that, actually. You were sitting there for ages,” Harry remembered. “The hat was undecided between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Professor McGonagall was the same as you, took more than five minutes for the hat to put her in Gryffindor. It wanted to put me in Slytherin for a brief moment. Well, the thing is the hat takes your own opinion into consideration, so I guess you must have read a lot about the houses, maybe even Professor Dumbledore, who was in Gryffindor. It might have influenced your choice.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “I could see that.” 

“I don’t think you would have been happier in Ravenclaw,” Harry mused. “They are quite competitive, not that Gryffindors aren’t… it’s just we are more focused on Quidditch. They’re a bit more cut-throat and don’t always look after each other as much as we do. Ask Luna some time.” 

“Why don’t you think I would have been happy in Ravenclaw?” Hermione asked. 

“You were so nervous when you got here, trying to fit in,” Harry thought back as the sorting continued on its way. They would sometimes need to clap for a new Gryffindor first year. “Well, I was too, so don’t worry. Well, anyway, you ended up being a little too worried about being right all the time. I mean, now, looking back at it, it was charming. At the time, not so much.”

“Oh shush,” Hermione blushed from embarrassment. “I can see why that would irritate people in a house for wisdom.”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Not that you didn’t irritate the rest of us either.”

“Harry Potter!” Hermione said affronted.

“I think you are missing my middle name ‘James’ there,” Harry grinned. “You would always use my full name, whenever I annoyed you or did something stupid.”

Hermione laughed. “And do you plan on doing a lot of things that are stupid? You are not nearly as bad as my father says you are.”

Harry frowned a little. 

“Well, there are some things he is right about,” Harry said. “I am a magnet for trouble, so it would probably be better if you took this chance to stay away from me.”

“Why would I do that?” Hermione asked.

“Because of what happened to you last time,” Harry said seriously.

Harry looked up and spotted Dumbledore standing at the lectern. His right hand was looking peculiar, a shade darker than Harry remembered it. 

“Before we begin our welcoming feast,” the old man said. “I would like to remind everyone to stay together, form friendships, as together we are strong, while divided we are weak. Now let the feast begin.”

Harry very much enjoyed the look on Hermione’s face when the platters in front of them were filled with food. She began studying the platters.

“Eat first,” Harry said. “I can explain the magics to you later.” 

“Really?” Hermione said. 

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said. 

“You never told me which classes you were taking,” Hermione said.

“Oh right,” Harry nodded. “Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Defence, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration.” 

“Oh wow,” Hermione said. “We will have a lot of classes together.” 

“I suspected we would,” Harry said. “You still taking Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures?”

“No,” Hermione said. “Ronald told me that N.E.W.T. courses are extremely tough. Also, I am not much of an outdoors girl.”

“What about you Ron?” Harry asked.

Ron swallowed the food he had in his mouth, a marked improvement from the habits of his younger years.

“I was going to take Charms, Transfiguration, and DefenceHerbology too, I think. I wanted to take Potions, but those should be enough for me to work in the DMLE after Hogwarts. Better than nothing.”

Hermione nodded approvingly. Harry noticed there was a warmth in her eyes as she looked at Ron.

Guess I have gotten replaced as the best friend too, Harry thought sourly to himself. It’s probably for the best. She never needed to depend on anyone, so she will do just fine without me.

Harry answered any question Hermione threw his way, but soon she didn’t have anything more to ask, and the feast was coming to a close when Professor Dumbledore stood up once more.

“I would like to remind the first years that the Forbidden Forest is aptly named and should be taken rather seriously. Some of the older students would do well to remember as well. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that several items are forbidden in Hogwarts and that several new items have been added to the list, specifically from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.”

That had gotten a few snickers from many of the students who remembered the legendary pranksters. 

“I would like to introduce our newest instructor, Professor Slughorn, who has gracefully returned from his retirement and taken up his old position as Potions Master.”

There was a general murmur and some people even applauded and celebrated the fact that Snape wasn’t teaching potions anymore. 

“Consequently, Professor Snape will be kind enough to assume the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Professor Dumbledore finished. “Now off to your beds, as it has been a rather long day.”

There was a general cheer for Professor Snape from the Slytherin table, while there were some of the other students who had turned pale at the fact that the man was now teaching DADA. 

Harry wasn’t at all surprised.

“Snape is teaching Defence?” Ron asked. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Finally got his wish.”

“Is Dumbledore mental?” Ron asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “Well, maybe he is.” 

“How can you speak about a Professor like that?” Hermione nagged.

“You’ll see,” Ron said solemnly. “Who do you think the new Quidditch captain is?”

“Oh, forgot to tell you,” Harry said. “It’s me.”

“Wicked,” Ron said. “Well I guess it was expected, you are the best player in Gryffindor and you helped coach us last year. Hope I will still make the team this year.”

“Well, seeing as there are so few of us left from that team, I was planning to do full try-outs for every position,” Harry said. “No favouritism to anyone.” 

Ron grimaced a little.

“When you play at your best there is no one who can beat you,” Harry said with a smile.

Ron regained his confidence and nodded. 

They got to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had been fascinated by everything like she was seeing it for the first time. It was novel to see a sixteen-year-old girl looking completely dazzled by the moving staircase. Harry kept watching everything about her, storing it in his mind. She was so beautiful and innocent, and decidedly not something he wanted to corrupt in the slightest. 

Ginny helped guide Hermione towards her dormitory and Ron still thankfully oblivious to the fact that Harry wasn’t okay at all trudged up to their own dormitory without even registering that Harry had stopped in the middle of the room. 

Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak from his robes; he never left anywhere without it anymore. It would be foolish. He fished out the Marauder's map from his pocket and looked at the names patrolling around. He never left that behind either. 

It wasn’t strictly necessary for Harry to do this seeing as him being a prefect it would be easy to explain why he was out of bed as just a patrol on the first night, but he didn’t want to be bothered. 

He quietly exited the common room and moved down the corridor. He needed fresh air and he wanted to look at the stars. He made his way towards the empty Astronomy Tower to sit down and contemplate.

He was unobstructed as he moved up there. He passed a couple of staff, worst of them all Filch, who looked like he was just waiting for the next reign of pranksters to fill the vacuum Fred and George left. 

Harry opened the door to the tower, locked the door behind him with every magical seal he had learned over the summer. He did not want to be disturbed as he moved to the viewing platform. He stood there looking up into the stars.

“Hey old man,” Harry said, looking at the dog constellation. “I know you have a painting at home, but I couldn’t possibly keep that away from your wife. So I am back to talking to a star. Saw her today, she is… innocent… like a blank canvas. She seems alright, but it feels like being next to a different person. She is younger than she was before, but I think that is going to change fast. She was … is brilliant like that, nothing keeps her down. I’m going to have most classes with her. Not saying I’m surprised, but really I can’t even hide from her. Knowing her as she was when she started, I’m probably going to turn into her goal or her rival in knowledge. That might be fun.”

Harry’s voice turned a little hoarser as the stars began to blur a bit. 

“She dumped me…” Harry had begun to cry as he let the realization wash over him. “We promised… We had promised to stay together forever. She promised that her love for me would always be like the ocean which this was supposed to represent.” Harry angrily held up his left arm, the small teardrop dangling from it. “I could have fooled around and she wouldn’t even know, wouldn’t care, because I am not important to her anymore. I’m just someone else, she still treats me well… BUT THIS IS KILLING ME!” 

Harry finally let loose and fell to his knees as tears streamed down his face. His body was silently heaving up and down as he tried his best to get his emotions back under control. He didn’t know how long he had been kneeling there. His legs felt cold, his body was exhausted, his eyes hurt and his throat was sore and parched. 

“I don’t even know why I am venting this out to you,” Harry said. “You are just a bloody star. Hermione needs Ron, Ginny has Susan, Luna has Neville and I am left by myself… all by myself. No one even asked me if I was alright. It was like my feelings didn’t even matter. They just got on with their lives, not realizing that I have lost far more than they ever imagined. Hermione, my parents, you!” 

Harry’s grievances and feelings poured forth in a second wave as he felt like he was going to explode from all the feelings inside him. 

“And I am just supposed to let it happen, like a good boy, like a selfless noble person, while my heart is being pulled from my chest every time I hear her voice. It’s not fair…”

Harry moved towards the abyss. 

“It would probably kill me if I fell from here,” Harry said sadly. “It wouldn’t even hurt I think.”

You promised me, a familiar, too familiar voice entered his head. 

“Shit, even my conscience is beginning to sound like Tonks,” Harry muttered angrily. “I’m not going to do it.”

Good, Tonks’s voice sounded in his head.

“Fuck, I must be going mental, talking to myself,” Harry sighed. “Everything is just fucked. I can’t do this alone, Sirius!” 

The empty sky did little to answer him as he looked up in indignant fury. No one was around to hear him. 

Harry, feeling like he had finally vented, moved towards his invisibility cloak and pulled it over himself once more. He noticed the sky changing colour slowly began to change as dawn was approaching. 

“Shit,” Harry cursed. “I didn’t expect to be out of bed all night.”

He quickly rushed back to his dormitory and thankfully still found all of them asleep in their beds. He didn’t need questions about where he had been from anybody right now. There would be enough questions as rumour would go around about him and Hermione not being together anymore. 

He didn’t even bother going to sleep as he pulled on a set of training clothes to go for a morning jog.

If I’m lucky then I might have a free period later today, Harry thought to himself.

Harry looked entirely dead as he stared into his glass of pumpkin juice at the breakfast table. He had by now learned to tune out the noise of people around him. He was too tired to care.

He watched as Professor McGonagall was passing down timetables for the different students. When she reached him, he noticed her glaring at him.

She can’t know that I have been out of bed all night, Harry shivered a little.

“Potter, follow me,” she said as she moved along down the table. They stopped in front of Ron and Hermione who were sitting a little away from him. 

“Mr. Weasley, I understood you hoped to be an Auror, so why don’t I see you taking Potions?” Professor McGonagall asked. 

“I didn’t get an Outstanding in my O.W.L.s,” Ron said a little bitterly. “I only got an E.”

“Well, that does not bar you from taking the class, Mr. Weasley, Professor Slughorn welcomes E’s in his classes,” Professor McGonagall said. 

“That means I can take it too?” Hermione asked. 

“If you have gotten Exceeds Expectations in your re-exam, I don’t see why not Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said. 

“Then I would like to add it to my schedule,” Hermione said quickly. “I don’t have the book or any potions ingredients though.”

“I am sure Professor Slughorn will lend you a copy of the book and potions ingredients for the time being,” Professor McGonagall said. “Mr. Longbottom, I am afraid I can’t let you take Transfiguration as I do not allow Acceptable in my class, though I know that Professor Flitwick is more than happy to take you in his charms course.”

Neville muttered something.

“What was that?” Professor McGonagall said.

“My gran says Charms is a soft course,” Neville said. 

“I will send Augusta a stern letter telling her that Charms is a perfectly good subject and if she has any complaints, she can take them up with me,” she ended the conversation by adding Charms to his timetable. 

“Now, Potter, follow me,” Professor McGonagall said. 

Ron, Hermione, and Neville sent him an interrogating glance, but Harry just shrugged, too tired to deal with any of this.

She led them into her office and beckoned for him to sit down.

“I have gotten a letter from Miss Granger’s father,” Professor McGonagall said. 

Harry lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

“He is adamant that I limit the contact between you and his daughter,” she continued.

“I’m not surprised,” Harry said bitterly.

“I have no intention of doing such,” Professor McGonagall said. 

“Wait -- what?” Harry said, confused.

“It is honestly nonsense,” Professor McGonagall said. “There is no way I can limit your interaction barring kicking either of you out of this school. While it is regrettable what happened to Miss Granger, she is more than capable of continuing and finishing her education. She is a strong woman, who will not let this setback slow her down in any way.”

Harry nodded in agreement with the professor in front of him.

“I would like to ask for you to help her settle in as much as possible, maybe even help her by tutoring if it is necessary. When your mind is on your studies, you are among the brightest in her year, so I think it would be natural.” 

Harry grimaced at that.

“Something wrong?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Well…” Harry didn’t really want to talk about it. “She broke up with me yesterday on the train.” 

“I see,” Professor McGonagall frowned. “That certainly complicates matters.”

Harry fought hard to not break down once again.

“And it clearly explains that dreadful look on your face,” Professor McGonagall said. “Well, I understand that asking you to be close to her in this situation would be cruel of me. Still, I would like for you to help her if she asks for it.”

“I think Ron is a better choice for that,” Harry said.

“Mr. Weasley?” Professor McGonagall asked. 

“He helped her during the summer, Professor,” Harry sent her a sad smile. “It must have worked, what with her scores on her exams.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “It’s generous of you to say that, Harry. It must not have been easy to accept. Well, I am not going to keep you for any longer, classes must have started already. Also, I have already had twenty people inquire about Quidditch Tryouts, so I will have someone give you a list”

“Right,” Harry said quickly as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. 

Harry hurried down to the Runes classroom and knocked on the door only a little late. 

“I’m sorry Professor Babbling,” Harry said. “I got held up by Professor McGonagall. She wanted to talk Quidditch tryouts.”

“Very well,” Professor Babbling said curtly. “Have a seat, Mr. Potter. As I was saying, N.E.W.T. level runes is different from what you learn during your O.W.L. years. These two years we will move from theoretical knowledge and translation towards more practical applications like Rune Carving and Rune Breaking.” 

Harry found himself an empty table at the back of the class, he grabbed his book and several sheets of parchment and began taking notes. He didn’t bother about the looks he got from everyone around him as they all knew, he would usually sit beside Hermione Granger in this class. 

The rest of the class ended swiftly as Professor Babbling gave them a ton of homework including the theoretical manufacturing of a working rune-cluster. Harry had of course worked on a lot of rune clusters during the summer both with Thordrum and alone, so he had a head start compared to others. 

When class was over he quickly left the classroom and headed towards the library to get started on his already sizable homework. 

“Hey, Harry,” Katie Bell said as he walked down the corridor to the library. “Congratulations on the captain’s position. Knew it would be you.”

“I honestly think you or Ginny would be just as qualified,” Harry said.

“Nonsense,” Katie laughed. “When are tryouts?”

“I was planning to do them during the weekend, McGonagall says twenty people have already inquired about it,” Harry said. 

“Okay,” Katie said. 

“I’m going to redo the team, all positions open,” Harry said. “Not playing favourites, but I think you have a great shot at getting in.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Katie smiled. “Where’s Hermione?” 

“Oh erm…” Harry hesitated. 

“Don’t tell me?!” Katie’s eyes went through several different emotions. “You guys really broke up? I didn’t believe it.”

“Well yeah,” Harry said, bitterly. “Happened on the train.”

“I’m sorry,” Katie said though her eyes did take a double-take over his body. 

“Thanks,” Harry said. “I’m going to go do some homework, I have a free period before lunch and Ancient Runes is going to be tough if I don’t get started.”

“I have that N.E.W.T., too,” Katie said eagerly. “I could tutor you if you like.” 

“Thanks,” Harry said. “But I think I’m good, got an Outstanding in my O.W.L.” 

“Impressive. Okay, then. I’ll look for you this weekend? Um, for tryouts?” 

Harry nodded and quickly moved past her to find an empty table in the library. He cast a couple of privacy charms and even a rather powerful Notice-Me-Not, which should keep people from seeing him working there. He spotted a group of girls walking in after him, looking around for a bit before leaving.

They couldn’t be here for me, could they? Harry thought but quickly shook that notion from his head. He did not need a group of fangirls following him around. 

“Worst case scenario, I will just walk around under my invisibility cloak,” Harry said to himself. 

He quickly sat down and opened his Advanced Runes book and got to work. He didn’t notice that Hermione had also come to the library, but had ultimately not sat down to work herself. 

By the time lunch came around Harry felt incredibly sleepy. I should have taken a nap instead, Harry thought to himself. He looked down at his timetable and spotted Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch. 

“This is going to be good,” Harry said to himself. He walked into the Great Hall and sat down next to Susan. 

“Any classes yet?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Susan said. “You look like shit.” 

“Feel like it too,” Harry stretched. “I had Runes this morning, and we are going to work on practical rune work.”

“Can’t be hard for you then,” Susan smirked. “Pretty much full practical already during the summer.”

Harry just smiled as he rubbed his forehead. 

“How come you’re sitting over here?” Susan asked.

“I…” Harry hesitated. “Do I need to have a reason to sit with my ‘sister’?” 

“Glib tongue,” Susan swatted his shoulder. “Real reason?” 

“Hermione dumped me yesterday,” Harry said. “I just felt like having some space.”

“I thought she had,” Susan said quietly. “She was distracted when she came back, and you just up and left.” 

“Was it really that obvious?” Harry groaned. 

“You have always been a shit liar,” Susan smiled. “Hide with me for as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Susan,” Harry smiled at her before he dug into the food. “You got Defence too?” 

“Yeah,” Susan said with a smile. “How bad is it going to be with Snape?” 

“Bad enough I think,” Harry said.

They finished eating and got up together and walked to the Defence Classroom. 

“Here’s to hoping the jinx works,” Harry said.

“What jinx?” Susan asked.

“We never had a teacher last more than a year,” Harry said. “So maybe Snape will be gone by the end of term?”

“That’s not okay,” Susan nagged. “He is still our professor.”

“Right, dearest sibling,” Harry teased. “Could you forgive this foolish younger brother of yours?” 

They didn’t get to say anymore as Ron, Hermione, and Neville walked over to them. 

“Fine,” Susan remarked. 

“I didn’t expect to find you cheating on your girlfriend already,” a drawling voice sounded out from behind him. “And with, is that Susan Bones?”

“You really don’t have anything better to do, do you?” Harry looked at Malfoy. “How’s your left arm? Itchy?” 

Malfoy paled but didn’t manage to say anything more before the door was opened. 

“Get in,” Snape’s voice came from the teacher’s desk. 

Odd, Harry thought, usually, he would let us bicker until it is just before wand point.

Harry looked around as they entered. The room had certainly been altered to reflect the newly installed professor’s personal touch. The room was dark and somehow managed to seem as though it was deep in the dungeons instead of in the heart of the castle. Long, sputtering candles dripped tallow from levitating sconces near each table, casting shadows that made familiar faces seem distorted and distressed. A series of paintings adorned the walls, appearing to show victims suffering from jinxes, curses, and dark magic. An uneasy hush fell over rate students.

“Books, down. Eyes, up. Yes, you too, Granger.”

Hermione flinched under his gaze, and quickly put away her text. Even Malfoy, who had been lounging casually at his table, sat up with stern attention as the somber professor compelled their attention with his voice and demeanor.

Snape’s dark eyes search each student, perhaps lingering longer on Harry’s before moving on but seemingly search with each student for something which he clearly did not find.

“Five teachers, in five years. No wonder your work has been so… it would be too generous of me to say ‘adequate’ during that time.”

And far be it from you to ever be generous in anything, Harry commented to himself. 

“Adequate work may have been sufficient for your past professors,” Snape drawled, “but at the N.E.W.T. level, more is expected. My standards are not going to be forgiving based on any past… inconsistencies.”

As Snape spoke, the candles flickered and popped, growing dimmer, and his dark for receded into the shadows. He described the Dark Arts, their seductive power, their dangerous, slippery slope towards corruption, even madness. Darker still, his voice reaching out now, holding them transfixed. Even Harry, despite himself, found the presentation compelling, drawing him in.

“The Dark Arts are fluid, eternal, yet ephemeral. Not a single path to power, but a mindset, a way of seeing the power of magic which opens itself with teasing, seductive glimpses into a powerful world just out of reach.” Only a hint of Snape’s pale face was visible now as the room neared total darkness. Harry was conflicted, fascinated by Snape’s view of the Dark Arts, but also repulsed by the silky, almost reverent way Snape was speaking of vile, reprehensible magics.

“The Unforgivable Curses,” Snape said, suddenly more loudly, snapping them to attention, “are not the end, but rather the beginning of the Dark Path. Beyond them lies a realm of unspeakable power, to forestall death itself,  or to raise the mocking corpses of the death, the Inferi…”

“Inferi?” whispered Parvati Patil in a wavering voice. “Have there been sitings of an Inferius?”

“You-Know-Who used them during the war,” someone whispered back. “You have to expect, don’t you, he would again?”

Snape clapped his hands, the sound echoing off the stone walls like a pistol shot. The candles flared and light returned with shocking clarity, as the students blinked and shivered where they sat.

“—you are, I imagine, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of the nonverbal spell?” 

Harry’s hand was raised into the air at the same time as Hermione’s. 

Snape looked conflicted, as if he was deciding which student of the two he liked the least. 

“Very well–Miss Granger?”

“Time,“ Hermione said firmly. “Without a warning from an audible incantation, you gain a split-second advantage over your opponent when it comes to defence.”

“Another fine example of what can be learned of magic by rote,” Snape said with a hint of a sneer. “True magic resides not in the book, but in the blood. It is inherent, but of course, not all witches can accomplish this. Or wizards."

Harry knew from Snape’s sideways glances that he was referring to Neville or even himself, even if he had proven him wrong last year. 

Snape divided them into pairs to practice silent jinxes and silent shield charms. Unknown to Snape, most of the students had learned the child charm the previous year from Harry and his friends, though the silent aspect was a new wrinkle. In soon became apparent to Harry, and presumably to Snape, that several students were mouthing or even whispering the incantations as they practiced. Whether this was cheating or a stopgap was unclear, but only a few, including both Harry and Hermione, were able to quickly become completely silent in the exercise.

Harry stood in front of Susan, who had an apprehensive look on her face. She was cheating, but Harry was silent as the grave as he confidently deflected jinx after jinx. Harry felt Snape’s eyes on him as he watched the boy perform. Hermione was similarly silent as she repelled Neville’s muttered Jelly-Legs jinxes. Harry was sure that any other DADA teacher would have given them points. 

“Everyone stop!” Snape said. “Some of you seem to have learnt to whisper in a lumber mill, but a few have met the first level of my challenge, so perhaps a more vigorous explanation is order.”

He paused in front of Harry and raised an eyebrow. Harry nodded, accepting the unspoken duelling challenge.

“In the interest of safety, I shall restrict myself to stunning and disarming spells, and shield charms for defence. I’m not worried about your elections, Potter, but you may find it safer to restrict yourself as well.” Snape condescendingly turned his back on Harry, pacing to the end of the classroom.

Harry didn’t take it to heart, he had been duelling for most of the summer, so he could perform a number of non-verbal spells. Tonks had made sure it was quite literally pounded into him. 

Snape cleared the desks with a wave of his wand and the other students scurried to the sides of the room.

“On your toes, you lot. I will not be responsible for students blundering into deflected jinxes,” Snape said, fixing Neville particularly with his gaze, despite the fact that Longbottom had moved quite well clear of the established duelling area.

Harry sketched a quick nod towards Snape and got into a traditional duelling position. 

“Three… two… one…” 

The duelling exploded as Harry and Snape both warded away each other’s spells in almost equal capacity. Snape, however, hardly moved, while Harry had to weave and dodge some of the bolts from Snape’s wand. He was clearly a more experienced duellist than Harry, and he seemed almost bored at first. 

Still, Harry didn’t get hit by a single jinx or charm, whether he dodged or blocked them. The duel moved on and soon Snape was becoming visibly frustrated at being unable to conclude the duel with the restricted list of spells they had agreed to. Harry noticed that Snape’s expression turned mocking, and then there was a new type of spell being thrown at him, a jet of blue-green fire fanning towards him and spilling over his shield. Harry didn’t reflect the next one but decided that it was better to dodge.

So we are breaking the rules, Harry thought, as he waved his wand and two desks turned into wolves and pounced towards Snape. 

Snape easily deflected them, letting their whimper show they were out of the contest.

Harry transfigured the floor to become uneven under Snape as he flung a desk in front of himself to take the jinx, which blasted it to pieces. Both Harry and Snape were using more and more lethal spells as their duel progressed. One mistake could get either of them seriously hurt. 

Harry dodged one last curse before yielding.

“I surrender,” Harry said as he dodged another jinx.

Snape snorted for a second but was grudgingly impressed at the boy’s prowess. 

“Why did you surrender, Potter?” Snape asked.

“I didn’t want to be late for my next class, sir,” Harry said, bringing attention to the fact that their duel had lasted for half an hour.

“I want all of you to be able to silently perform the Disarming Charm and Stinging Jinx as well as the Shield Charm before our next class, the ones who fail to perform them will write an essay on why they failed to manage these simplest of things,” Snape said as he dismissed the class.

No one mentioned that their duel had gone way past the initial limits they had set. 

“That was wicked,” Ron murmured to Harry they left the classroom. “I knew you were good, but that? Bugger!” 

Harry shrugged. 

“Harry has been training every day over the summer,” Susan said. “You didn’t even go full out there did you?” 

Harry didn’t say anything but just smiled at her. Malfoy sent him a dark glare as he walked past them. 

Harry didn’t bother replying. If this didn’t make the point come across to Malfoy then nothing would.

“What do you mean Harry trained all summer?” Hermione asked. “I thought you couldn’t do magic outside of school.”

“The Trace? It’s a load of codswallop,” Harry said. “Also my apartment is under a fidelius charm, so it’s unplottable.” 

“Really?” Hermione’s eyes were sparkling with interest. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “So I have been training with my guardian and Susan, mostly. Sometimes Susan’s aunt as well.”

“Why did you meet with Susan?” Hermione frowned. 

“Erm… we live together,” Harry said. “Her aunt married my godfather, and since we didn’t know who inherited his property after he died, they moved in with me and my guardian, Tonks.” 

“Oh,” Hermione said, clearly plotting that all out in her head. 

“Nothing happened between me and Harry,” Susan said. “If that is what you were wondering.”

“No, no,” Hermione said quickly. “I just couldn’t understand why you would live together, that’s all.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Susan said with a smile. “Sorry, Harry but you really aren’t my type.” 

“That’s okay,” Harry laughed. “Such a shame though. What guy would say no to the affections of such a beautiful witch.”

Harry didn’t look at Hermione to see her reaction, it was enough to see Ron’s.

“What are you playing at mate?” Ron asked him angrily. “Show some respect.”

Harry finally looked at Hermione for her to make a decision on how they should tell people.

Hermione hesitated before finally gathering her courage. 

“Harry and I are no longer together,” she said quietly. “It’s fine. But thanks for considering my feelings, Ronald.”

“Wait, really?” Ron seemed stunned. “You mean he—”

“I broke up with Harry,” Hermione said quickly. A brief silence followed.

“Better for both of us. Satisfied, Ron?” Harry asked icily. “Now if you will excuse me.”

Harry rushed off leaving them all behind, he ducked into an alcove and threw the invisibility cloak over his head as he headed to the Great Hall. It would be easier to just sit at another table. Maybe he could even disguise himself. That could work. Nobody would care so much if his looks were different.

He found a seat at one end of the Ravenclaw table. He thought since he hardly knew anyone in the house, they would leave him alone, but he saw Luna sit down in front of him.

“Hello, Harry,” she said.

“Hi, Luna,” Harry replied.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Luna asked.

“Well I think it will be official news by the time dinner ends anyway, Hermione broke up with me. Didn’t really feel like being the center of attention over at the Gryffindor table.”

“I see,” Luna said.

“Not surprised?” Harry asked.

“Not in the slightest,” Luna said. 

Harry grimaced at that.

“Why?” 

“She isn’t her anymore, so she wouldn’t be with you,” Luna said sadly. “Maybe she will, but not at present.”

“I know,” Harry groaned as he dug into his dinner. 

“She does look sad, however,” Luna said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She looks sad about it,” Luna said. “Not that it changes anything, but she is sad.”

“I see,” Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest once more. “It is probably for the best.”

“Many things that are for the best still hurt, Harry,” Luna said with an impressively serious tone.

Harry noticed Jack Sloper, who had been a beater for the Gryffindor Team last year talking to Ron and Hermione. He looked indecisive. 

“Hey Luna,” Harry said. “Could you go over to Ron and Hermione and see if he is looking for me?” 

“Sure thing Harry,” Luna said dreamily as she walked over to the Gryffindor Table. Harry noticed that she was bringing back Sloper to the Ravenclaw table. 

Harry sighed. 

“Harry,” Jack said surprised. “Why are you sitting over here?” 

“Some peace and quiet,” Harry said. “I guess you heard the news just now?”

“Uhm … Yeah,” Jack said. “Here this is for you.” 

“Thanks,” Harry said, grabbing the parchment and put it directly into his pocket. He could look at it later. 

“When are Quidditch Tryouts, then?” Jack asked.

“I was thinking this weekend,” Harry said. “Not sure if Saturday or Sunday yet.” 

“Wicked. See you then.”

Harry felt a headache coming over him, as he was quite unsure whether Jack would make the team this year.

“You are not going to read your note?” Luna asked. 

“I can do it when I’m alone,” Harry said with uncalled-for curtness. Luna, however, seemed unfazed.

“Okay,” Luna said. 

Harry quickly finished dinner and moved out of the Great Hall and found another class room where he ducked under the Invisibility Cloak and went to the library. He knew this wasn’t a practical long-term solution but he just needed some time alone. 

He unrolled the parchment he had been given earlier, and recognized the thin, slanting writing on it. Dumbledore was summoning him to begin their private study starting Saturday evening after dinner, and had included the password to bypass the stone argyle which secured his office: “Acid Pops.”

Harry chuckled to himself; at least he would finally know what these lessons would be about. He burned the note, a habit he had picked it up over the summer. He cast several privacy charms and another Notice-Me-Not before getting to work. Harry felt fatigue washing over him by the time he had finished his accompanying essay to the rune cluster explaining his thought process and its likelihood of working. He waited for the ink to dry and rolled it up before heading back to the Gryffindor Tower. He entered the dormitory.

“Harry?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, who else?” Harry muttered.

“Heard the news. Hard luck, mate,” Dean commiserated.

“Already spread this far huh,” Harry said. “Yeah, it’s true. I’m tired.”

He undressed and fell into his bed. Another swing of his wand and the curtains were pulled together and a few silencing charms kept all noise out. 

Chapter 18: Cinnamon and Lavender, Potions and Parties

Summary:

Harry and friends are challenged in their first O.W.L.-level Potions class, but they make it through with a little help from an old textbook.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny brave the clutching embrace of Horace Slughorn's social circle.

Harry begins to suspect that he has neglected Hermione in some serious ways during their relationship.

Harry dreads an appointment with Dumbledore.

Notes:

Sorry for the many, many delays. This chapter needed MUCH revision, both for originality and for continuity. You'd think if it was too "copy-paste" it would have continuity at least, but alas, no.

I continue to slog along and appreciate your patience and support.

Best
Killjoy

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 Cinnamon and Lavender, Potions and Parties

 

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. He quickly got up and walked downstairs to start his usual training regimen, which was necessary for Harry to wake up as coffee was for Tonks. He ran a couple of laps around the grounds before he headed back inside. 

He quickly went upstairs when he noticed the different girls looking at him. 

Great, Harry thought, just what I needed, another group of fangirls.

Harry didn’t make it to the Gryffindor common room before being blocked by a group of witches. One of them stood in front.

“Hello, Harry,” she said. “My name’s Romilda Vane, and I was thinking of asking you to eat with us?”

“Sorry,” Harry said, trying to get around the group which blocked him. “I really need a shower right now.” 

“We will be waiting for you downstairs,” Romilda said.

“No need,” Harry said quickly. “I promised to eat with my friend.” Secretly thinking to himself that he would have to apologise to Susan for doing this.

“Another time then,” Romilda said without looking too upset.

Harry passed the corridor before letting out a groan quite similar to a Hippogriff with a severe stomach ache. He opened up the portrait and began walking toward the dormitories.

“Harry?” He heard Hermione’s voice behind him.

“Yeah?” Harry asked.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Still the same old Hermione, concerned about everyone around you, Harry sighed inwardly.

“I would be lying if I said, I was,” Harry sighed. “Look, there is nothing you or I can do about it right now. I really just need time to accept that everything has changed.”

“I…” 

“Don’t,” Harry interrupted, probably a little more sharply than intended. “You did nothing wrong, it just hurts. I will be fine, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermione said, looking both pensive and sorry.

“The worst part about it is having to deal with fangirls again,” Harry tried to joke.

“Really?” Hermione looked shocked.

“Yup,” Harry smiled and emphasised the ‘p’. 

He went through the door and headed straight to the shower. The smile he had forcefully put on his face was gone. He felt the water hit his face and was happy that no one but him knew where shower stopped and tears began.

He found himself the target of a multitude of different gazes in the Great Hall. A good many of them looked at him with pity, while another group looked at him with mocking glee, mostly from the Slytherin table, and lastly the not so small group of girls who were less than subtle about their flirting. Harry looked towards the Gryffindor Table and found Hermione and Ron in deep conversation. He looked towards the Ravenclaw table and saw Neville and Luna with their heads together in intense rapport. He decided that it would be better to sit with Susan, so he headed towards her and spotted Ginny next to her. 

“Morning, ladies,” Harry said with a strained smile. 

“Good morning,” Susan said. 

“They are really looking hungry,” Ginny commented as Harry poured himself a bowl of porridge. 

“What do you mean?” Susan asked.

“At least half the single girls in fourth through seventh year are looking at Harry right now,” Ginny said.

“Please, don’t remind me,” Harry said. “I don’t see why they’re like this.”

“Ugh,” Ginny groaned. “Sometimes you are too oblivious for your own good.”

“Oi,” Harry said. “I’m not oblivious.”

“You really are, Harry,” Susan teased. 

Harry sighed, but then smiled at least these two didn’t treat him differently, which was something. 

“Arithmancy first thing in the morning,” Harry looked at his timetable. “Then Potions after lunch.”

“Well, I am going to spend the morning practising for Snape’s Defence class,” Susan said. “Any pointers?” 

“It’s all about intent,” Harry said. “Visualising the incantation works to focus it, but take the stinging jinx, you need to want to sting them when you wave your wand. Same with the Shield Charm, you need to want to form a shield.”

“Right,” Susan said. “Thank you. You really are a good teacher, you know that.”

“You flatter me,” Harry said as he finished off his bowl of porridge. “Ginny, don’t let the O.W.L. year get you down, and if you feel like getting some tutoring, I am more than happy to help, Susan too, I imagine.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Ginny said. “But one tutor is more than enough for me, and honestly I don’t feel like having your fangirls hate me for spending time with you.”

“Right,” Harry grimaced. “Well, see you at lunch.”

Harry moved towards the Arithmancy classroom a little before class to avoid the students still in the Great Hall. He found the classroom door open, and Harry walked in to grab a seat near the wall and picked up his books from his bag. He idly opened one of them up in the middle and continued to read off from where he left it.

He noticed when people began shuffling into the classroom. There weren’t many people left in the class as most people would focus on their core subjects when starting N.E.W.T. levels.

Harry heard a heavy bag being plopped down on the table next to him. He looked up to see Hermione’s brown hair.

“Are you actively trying to avoid me?” Hermione asked.

“No, no,” Harry lied quickly. “I just had a promise with Susan.” 

“Oh, okay,” Hermione said. 

“I didn’t imagine that you would be able to surpass me in just a summer,” Harry said. “I only managed to get an E on my Arithmancy exam.”

Hermione looked decidedly smug at the compliment. 

“It’s such an interesting subject, you know,” Hermione said. “The math and the magic and how it works together to predict probability, it’s just very fascinating.”

Harry chuckled to himself. 

“I have said that before haven’t I?” Hermione frowned.

“Maybe,” Harry teased. “It’s fine, you were absolutely brilliant before, I am sure you are brilliant again. It is pretty much all to your credit that I can sit here. Not that good with the mental calculations.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “It is absolutely criminal that we can’t use a calculator or any other electronics at Hogwarts, apparently magic fries the circuitry.”

“That’s what I heard as well,” Harry smiled. 

Professor Vector joined the class and began speaking about what they were going to be taught in their N.E.W.T.-course. Before and the class ended with her giving them another load of homework. 

“Ronald wasn’t kidding,” Hermione said. “There is a lot of homework.”

“This is probably still nothing to you,” Harry said as they walked down towards lunch. “How is your Runes homework coming along?” 

“Okay, I think,” Hermione said. “It’s a lot more complicated going from theory and translations to actually make a functioning rune cluster.”

“You will get it in no time,” Harry encouraged. “I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hermione stopped and asked.

“Even if you don’t remember, I spent a long time together with you,” Harry said sadly. “I feel like I know you pretty well. You are stubborn and a perfectionist, and it makes you a more accomplished student than me.”

Hermione nodded, and there was even a little spring in her step. 

“Look, I really am sorry,” she said. 

“Don’t be,” Harry said. “You just need to work on getting back to speed, there is no need for you to worry about me too.”

Hermione sent him a glance, but Harry had long since perfected his ‘I’m Okay’ face, and you had to really know him to be able to see through it. The number of people being able to do that was dwindling fast. 

Harry went towards the Hufflepuff table once more and sat next to Susan. He was rather surprised, though when Hermione sat on the opposite side of the table.

“Erm…” Harry said. 

“What? If you can sit here then so can I,” Hermione said. 

“Right,” Harry said. 

Susan was having a hard time hiding her pity for Harry. She looked at him and asked with her eyes.

Do I need to talk to her and make her understand?

No need, Harry’s eyes seemed to say.

“So, how does it feel to be back?” Susan asked. 

“It feels odd,” Hermione admitted. “But also wonderful. Magic really is interesting. There are so many things I want to learn and get better at.”

“Well that sounds very much like you are back on track,” Susan said. 

“It feels like things are tugging at my memories,” Hermione said. “I was right to come back here. Healer Lewis had a theory, that being in the place where a lot of my lost memories were made would somehow help me in regaining them.”

“That’s promising,” Susan said, as she looked at Harry. 

She couldn’t quite tell what he felt about that information, but she was certain it had an impact. I need to get Auntie to teach me how to read Harry, Susan thought to herself. 

Harry didn’t say much during lunch and just lightly nodding and smiling at the two girls’ conversation. 

They had only just finished eating when it was time for the afternoon’s double Potions, so they made their way to the dungeons, to a classroom they would probably always think of as Snape’s potions lab.

Harry, Susan, and Hermione were joined by Ron, who had finished lunch with the Gryffindors. Arriving, they saw that only thirteen students were moving on to N.E.W.T. level. Four Slytherins had made it through, excluding the odious Crabbe and Goyle but including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, but Susan and a boy named Ernie McMillan were the only Hufflepuff representatives, alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione from Gryffindor.

Unlike Snape, who had always managed a dramatic entrance, Slughorn merely opened the door and invited them in, back-pedalling as the students navigated around his rather bulky form into the brightly lit room. Slughorn tugged absently at his substantial walrus moustaches he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm. 

Most unusually, the dungeon was already full of vapours and odd smells, they sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The Slytherins took a table together, as did the Ravenclaws. This left McMillan alongside Harry, Susan, Ron, and Hermione to crowd around the last table. They found themselves seated nearest to a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled. Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of cinnamon and lavender, overlaid with a faint a hint of mint and oranges. There were impressions of a person’s earthy smell after a workout with an after-note of ink and parchment. Amortentia, Harry shuddered as he clamped his nose. He spotted Ron with a silly smile on his face. Susan wasn’t doing much better, and Hermione had turned bright red. 

“Now then,” intoned Slughorn through the many shimmering vapours. “Advanced Potion-Making, standard kits, now.” 

“Sir?” said Harry, raising his hand.

“Harry, m’boy?” 

“My friends haven’t got a book or scales or anything, they didn’t realise they’d be able to do the N.E.W.T.-level course, you see—”

“Of course, Professor McGonagall did mention…not to worry, not to worry at all. They can use ingredients from the store cupboards today, and I’m sure we can lend them some scales. I have a small stock of older texts here. They should do until you can send off for one of your own…” After a moment foraging in his cabinets, he emerged with two very battered copies of Advanced Potion-Making which he gave to Hermione and Ron. Harry and Susan each contributed some supplies and there was soon enough material for each student for the day.

Professor Slughorn gathered their attention and explained that the cauldrons around the classroom contained various common N.E.W.T.-level potions. He hoped that, even if they could not yet brew these potions, they would identify them and possibly share something of their nature and preparation with the class. The task was challenging but not impossible, a fitting start to their higher-level study of potion-brewing.

“Now, who can tell the class what this potion is?” 

Slughorn gestured toward the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry saw what looked like ordinary water boiling away inside it. He instantly raised his hand.

“Harry?”

Veritaserum, Professor, also known as truth serum—though it is fallible as both Occlumency and the antidote for it makes the drinker of it able to lie. It is also possible to tell half-truths as they aren’t technically lies,” Harry said. 

“A very Auror-like perspective,” Slughorn praised. “That is indeed correct, as it works similarly to a strong confundus spell which instigates the person to tell the truth; however, it can indeed be fought or tricked.”

“Now,” he continued, pointing to the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, “this one is fairly well known… If I recall, it’s been featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too. Does anyone—?”

Hermione’s hand was the fastest this time.

“That would be Polyjuice Potion, Professor,” she said.

Harry had also recognised the slow-bubbling, mud-like substance in the second cauldron, but he did not resent Hermione answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it back in their second year. 

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here…” Slughorn looked out in the class, his words hanging expectantly in the air. 

Harry reluctantly raised his hand, as did both Hermione and Ron.

Slughorn beamed at Harry.

“It’s Amortentia, sir,” Harry grimaced. “Nasty stuff.”

“Some would say so, yes indeed,” said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed. “I assume you can tell everyone what it does?”

Harry looked at Hermione.

“It’s supposed to be the most powerful love potion in the world,” Ron said quietly. He’d felt the effects of more than one love potion first-hand before when his brothers were testing their products, and something as powerful as Amortentia frankly scared him.

“Quite right! You recognised its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

Ron nodded silently.

“Also the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” added Hermione enthusiastically.

“Excellent! And you, Harry?” 

“I noticed the smell, which is supposedly whatever I find most attractive.” 

Harry felt that every female in the room looked at him at that instant.

“Go on?” Slughorn looked like he was having a field day.

Harry groaned as he mechanically listed the elements that had caught his nose.

“Cinnamon, lavender; fainter notes of orange and mint,” Harry said. He added quickly, “Er, I’ll not say more than that.”

“Wise,” Slughorn said. “May I ask your name, my dear?” 

“Hermione Granger, Professor.”

“Granger? As in Hector Dagworth-Granger? The famous potion-master of Kent?”

“No. I don’t believe so, sir. My parents are both Muggles, sir.”

Harry saw Malfoy and Nott whispering and sniggering, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked at Hermione.

“I have had more than one Muggle-born student who ended up being the best in her year,” Slughorn said. “Harry’s mother was one of them, an absolute genius with a cauldron. You must be the latest heir to her position. Take ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Now then, Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate real love. Like lasting death, real love is beyond the reach of even the most powerful magics. The potion can cause a powerful infatuation, nearing obsession, however. It is quite possibly the most dangerous potion in the classroom,” he said, raising an eyebrow archly at Malfoy and Nott who were openly smirking with scepticism. “When you have seen as much of life as I, my boys, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” 

Harry shuddered to think about what could happen if a student got their hands on it. Especially some of the more predatory girls, looking to snare The Chosen One.

Maybe I should start drinking from my own flask like Moody, Harry thought.

“And on that note,” said Slughorn, “it is time for you all to start your work.”

One potion, in a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn’s desk, had not been discussed. Ernie pointed this out, and Slughorn gave a performance of surprise worthy of a Christmas pantomime.

“Oho,” chuckled Slughorn. Harry was sure that Slughorn had waited to be asked for dramatic effect, and he was smiling it for all it was worth. “Yes. This is a rare and precious little concoction known as Felix Felicis.” He turned to Hermione, who had gasped at the name, “And what does Felix Felicis do, Miss Granger?” 

“It’s liquid luck,” said Hermione excitedly. “Incredibly difficult to brew, and there are all sorts of regulations on its production and use!”

The whole class seemed to bee paying undivided. attention.  

“Yes, well done.” Slughorn mused on as if lost in thought, “Terribly troublesome to brew, with disastrous consequences for failure. However, when brewed correctly it will… Let me just suggest that all your actions will tend to have the best possible result, at least until the effects wear off.”

“Well then, why wouldn’t people drink it all the time, Professor?” asked Terry Boot in disbelief.  

“There is a finalise between boundless good fortune and giddy recklessness, my boy,” said Slughorn. “Dangerous overconfidence. Too much of a good thing. Besides, unless taken very sparingly, it’s a deadly toxin. Did I not mention that?” 

“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked a quiet voice from somewhere near the back of the class. 

“Twice,” said Slughorn. “Two perfect days. Once as a young man, and again some decades later.” He gazed thoughtfully into the distance, although he was legitimately bemused or acting up for the class, Harry could not say for certain. 

Slughorn sighed, and shook himself, apparently coming back to the present. “One tiny bottle of this potion, enough for 12 hours’ luck, is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.” 

There was silence in which every summerly bubble of the surrounding potions seemed magnified, and each student swore their own heartbeats must be audible to all. 

“Fair warning! Felix Felicis is a banned substance. Sporting events, examinations, elections and so forth. So the winner is honour-bound to use it only for an ordinary day. And with a little help from Felix, that day should become extraordinary.” 

“So,” said Slughorn, suddenly businesslike, “I would ask you to turn now to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour which should be time for you to make a solid go at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is rather more complex than what you have attempted before, so I do not expect a perfect potion. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!” 

Everyone turned their attention to their stations, but nobody spoke. Malfoy was thumbing feverishly through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that he wanted that liquid luck. Others around the room were similarly focused.

Harry bent swiftly down over his own copy of the textbook.

He heard a groan from the other side of the table and looked up.

“What?” he whispered. 

“Someone has scribbled all over this book,” Hermione said in disgust.

Harry looked across the table and found that, indeed, it was heavily annotated in a dark, archly incisive script.

“May I see?” Harry asked quietly. “We can compare the two books if you and Susan swap seats.”

Susan looked at him quizzically but gave a nod towards Hermione if she wanted to. Hermione looked ever-grateful as they swapped seats.

Harry pulled his copy into the middle between them, placing it over Hermione’s old tattered one.

Harry quickly checked the ingredients list and compared the two. The more he thought about the differences, the more he was impressed by the original owner. The official recipe seemed incredibly compromised to anyone who had studied ingredients interactions. 

“Your revised recipe is tons better,” Harry said. “Let me copy it later.” 

“Really?” Hermione said in shock. “But the official—”

“—Is seriously flawed compared to that one,” Harry said, pointing at the tattered book. “Trust me? And grab your ingredients.”

Harry read further down the page and was legitimately impressed by the alterations from the original owner. It was actually genius.

He began following the revised recipe and compared the differences as he got further along. 

“You are not following the original,” Hermione reproved. 

“Don’t let your love of authority get in the way of something better,” Harry said as he worked quickly. 

He noticed that Hermione was now following the same revised recipe as he did. He looked up, and they were now far ahead of the rest of the class. Harry was a little further, but that was only because he was a step ahead of Hermione. 

“Professor Slughorn, I believe you knew my grandfather? Abraxas Malfoy?” Harry looked up at the unctuous voice Malfoy used with Professors he was trying to impress. 

“Yes,” said Slughorn, passing without a glance, “So sorry to hear of his passing. To be expected, though. Dragon pox, at his age…” 

Harry repressed a smirk as he continued his work. Clearly, Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini; perhaps he even hoped for the preferential treatment he had been given by Snape. It looked as talent would be Malfoy’s only resource to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

Harry noticed a spidery annotation next to the instructions in his text for the sopophorous bean.

Crush with the flat side of silver dagger: releases juice better than cutting.

Harry thought about the ingredients’ properties and remembered that the bean’s internal structure was filled with tiny sacks of liquid, which might not be punctured if he just cut it. 

He crushed the bean and saw the juices flowing out of it.

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“Look up the internal structure of the ingredient later,” Harry said quickly as he added the juice to his potion, which turned a light shade of lilac. 

He looked down at the older textbook once more and noticed a difference once again. The previous owner added a clockwise stir to the recipe. 

Harry felt apprehensive. He was already ahead of everyone else. 

Do I risk it? Will the previous owner be right twice?

Harry boldly added the clockwise stir like a real Gryffindor, and he noticed an immediate difference.

It was the last part of the recipe, so he just kept stirring in the new way. Hermione was looking half annoyed and half impressed that the previous owner improved the original recipe. She was soon following behind, and their potions remained far ahead of the rest of the class. 

“And time’s…up!” called Slughorn. “Hands down. Stop stirring, please!” 

Slughorn meandered curiously among the tables, peering carefully into cauldrons. The large man moved with surprising delicacy and grace around the simmering vessels on each potions table but made no comment. Occasionally gave the potions a judicious sniff. At last, he reached Harry and the others’ table. He nodded over Ron’s navy concoction and Susan’s potion, testing the viscosity of Ron’s brew with a spoon, yielding an approving smile. Then he saw Harry’s and Hermione’s work, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

“Well, well, well,” Professor Slughorn said. “I did not expect for there to be two equally brilliant concoctions in my class. Well, to whom am I to give the prize?”

“Give it to Hermione,” Harry said. “Our results seem identical, and maybe she deserves a little bit of luck.”

Hermione seemed about to protest but then gave Harry a brief smile as she accepted the small bottle. 

“Excellent, excellent,” Professor Slughorn said. “Well, I must say, Harry, you really do have your mother’s talent at potions. She was a dab hand. Well done, both of you!”

Harry almost felt sick with Slughorn’s apparent favouritism. He waved away the compliment in an off-handed manner. 

The class gathered their used tools and left-over ingredients. Harry watched as Hermione took the tattered book and slid it into her book bag. He was eager to further study the different annotations it included. 

Harry was just about to follow his group outside.

“Harry, Miss Granger,” Slughorn said. “One moment, please! Mr Zabini, as well.”

Harry turned.

“I have decided to resume my custom having my own social gatherings, just a chosen few, from time to time,” Slughorn said. “I was planning to have a small get together on Saturday, just around dinner.” 

Harry felt a headache coming on, as he already had his private lesson with Dumbledore on Saturday.

Horace has a memory that could be vital to defeating Voldemort, Dumbledore’s voice sounded in his head.

“I would love to join, Professor,” Harry said, plastering the best smile he could muster on his face. “I am afraid I will be occupied at eight o’clock afterwards, though.”

“No problem at all, my dear boy,” Slughorn said. “Dinner will be around six, so if you all three could show up at my private quarters then?”

Harry nodded and turned around. He heard Hermione following behind him as well as the steps of Blaise Zabini. 

When they left the dungeon, Hermione pulled on Harry’s arm.

“This is cheating,” she said as she dug the old tattered book from her bag.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “I would love to have it if you want to swap; it would be excellent self-study. The thinking of the notes in the book appear far more advanced than the usual copy.”

Hermione hesitated.

“Is that why you gave the reward to me?” she asked. “So you could demand the book from me?”

Harry frowned.

“Do you really think so little of me?” Harry said, scarcely concealing the hurt. “You know what? Don’t answer that.” 

Harry quickly sped off, leaving Hermione even more conflicted than she had been for accepting the prize in the first place.

Harry didn’t bother going to the Great Hall. He walked directly towards the kitchens. He had been there enough to know that he would at least be offered something, and Dobby would be more than happy to see him. 

Harry tickled the pear on the portrait and walked into the kitchen. He was soon surrounded by a horde of elves.

“Is Dobby here?” Harry asked.

“Dobby is working hard,” one of the elves said. 

“Is it a bad time? I can wait?” Harry asked.

“It’s dinner time,” another elf said. 

“Of course! Sorry to bother you during the rush,” Harry said and began to turn for the exit. 

“Filthy master Potter,” Harry heard an old voice say. “Is there something you wish of this lowly servant?” 

Harry had forgotten entirely that Kreacher was staying at the castle.

“Something to eat, please?” Harry asked politely, making Kreacher scowl further, if possible. 

He watched as Kreacher went to get a plate for him.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry said with a sad smile. 

“It is nothing,” Kreacher croaked as he walked away once more, grumbling and muttering.

Harry took the provided plate of sandwiches and headed to the Astronomy tower once again. He finished the plate and called for Kreacher to bring it back to the kitchen. As much as he loathed the elf, it was not entirely Kreacher’s fault that Sirius had died. It was just as much Harry’s own fault. Forgiveness was Harry’s inclination, but it would take time.

He sat there, staring out into the distance until it finally began to grow dark. He brushed the crumbs off his jeans from the sandwiches and walked back to the Gryffindor common room. 

The rest of the week followed much the same pace. Each class started by having the teacher explaining the differences from the O.W.L. level. Most of it was actually just non-verbal magic, which Harry didn’t have that many problems with as he had spent the summer getting trained to use it by Tonks and Amelia. 

Saturday arrived, and Harry looked down at the pompous invitation which Slughorn had sent him. He already dreaded attending the dinner but sucked it up because apparently, he needed to get on Slughorn’s good side. 

He donned his dragonskin coat over a nice shirt instead of his usual robes. The invitation had said formal wear, so Harry had interpreted it that way. He spotted Hermione in a pantsuit in the common room, looking rather uncomfortable in her own skin.

“Shall we get this over with?” Harry said. 

“Wait up,” Ginny’s voice came from the staircase to the Girl’s dormitory.

“Ginny?” Harry asked,

“Yeah, you guys are going to Slughorn’s little dinner party, right?” Ginny asked. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry said.

“I got an invitation too,” Ginny said. “Apparently my spell-work on one of the more obtusely forward Ravenclaw boys was impressive enough for Slughorn to invite me. Either that or he’s a Quidditch fan...”

Harry nodded a little bemusedly at that. He opened up the portrait for the two witches to pass through.

“So, what should we expect?” Ginny asked.

“Amelia says he is a collector,” Harry said. “A collector of people. He uses these parties to make connections between himself and students who have the potential to become something great.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione muttered, a little dismayed. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I think it is a rather typical Slytherin approach, but it’s not bad being connected. It can bring you business partners and allies in unseen places. It makes a lot of sense from that perspective. I just wish he didn’t have that look in his eyes like I was a treasure chest filled with galleons. He really isn’t my type.”

That earned him a small chuckle from the two girls as they walked down into the dungeons. 

Harry knocked on the door and soon found a full table with delicious food. Harry noticed Blaise Zabini sitting there as well, looking relatively uninterested in the gathering.

“Harry!” Slughorn called with glee. “I didn’t expect you to bring two lovely witches to accompany you.”

Harry smiled, but inwardly his ferocious side was growling quietly. Harry had noticed the changes in him since he was aware that his Patronus had changed. He hated to think that he had become tainted by Leo’s ruthlessness and his fondness for hunting. Maybe those traits had been in him all along, and Leo had just found them useful.

“I do not think myself worthy of such beautiful company,” Harry said disarmingly. 

Harry felt a small punch from Ginny, but he didn’t dare look at Hermione’s expression at that moment. 

Slughorn introduced them to a seventh-year named Cormac McLaggen, who they knew casually from Gryffindor, and several other people, the names making little impression on Harry. He was quietly counting down until it was time to leave again. 

“Cormac, are you still friendly with your uncle Tiberius,” Slughorn asked.

“We used to go dragon hunting, but he and my father had a falling out a couple of years back,” McLaggen admitted. 

“Shame,” Slughorn said, instantly losing interest in the boy. He turned his head towards a younger boy, who Harry faintly remembered was called Marcus Belby. 

Harry listened with half an ear and just really played along with whatever was thrown towards him by Slughorn. He stopped caring until the attention was focused on Hermione.

“And dear Miss Granger,” Slughorn said. “What is it that your parents do?”

Harry instantly felt his body tense up. He knew enough about Slughorn to predict where this is going.

“They are dentists,” Hermione said. 

“What did you say?” Slughorn’s smile was fading a little.

“They are Muggle healers,” Harry said. “Rather prestigious in the Muggle World as well. They own their own practice.”

Hermione looked at him with a tiny hint of doubt, but when she spotted the beaming smile on Slughorn’s face, she decided to just roll with it.

“Impressive, impressive indeed,” Slughorn said. “Have you ever yourself thought about being a healer?” 

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. He had actually never really thought about what Hermione would like to do. To be honest, Harry had rather short-sightedly assumed she would just follow him for the rest of their lives in whatever profession Harry ended up in. Hermione was more than capable of becoming an Auror if she wanted to, but he had actually never asked her. At least, he didn’t remember if he had.

“I don’t know yet,” Hermione said quietly. “I lost five years of memories before the summer, so I haven’t had much chance to think about it.”

“Dreadful!” Slughorn said. “How, child?” 

“I was obliviated. By You-Know-Who, in the battle at the Ministry. At least that is what I have been told,” Hermione said, looking both a little proud and still somewhat scared. 

“Dreadful indeed, dear,” Slughorn said. “I’d heard rumours, of course, but I’m afraid I hadn’t made the connection. Well, that makes it all the more impressive that you have managed to keep on top of your studies.”

“Indeed it is, professor,” Harry said. “Hermione was at the top of our year before summer, and I will bet you ten galleons she will be back at the top of our year by this coming summer as well.”

“I am not a fan of taking a losing bet,” Slughorn chuckled. 

Hermione blushed a little from the compliments. Ginny got a lot of praise for her spell-work, and Slughorn was proudly boasting that he knew Gwenog Jones, the Holyhead Harpies captain, when Ginny mentioned that she wanted to pursue a career in Quidditch. 

Harry checked the time. It was a quarter to eight.

“I am afraid, Professor, that this is where I must leave you all,” Harry said with his most charming smile. “I have a prior appointment waiting for me.”

“Right, look at the time,” Slughorn said, checking the clock himself. “Well, on your way then.”

Harry gave a small gracious bow of his head as he walked out of the room and gave a heavy sigh.

Shit, this is a lot harder than I’d imagined, Harry thought as he rushed towards Professor Dumbledore’s office.

He stood in front of the Gargoyle.

“Acid Pops?” Harry asked more than said, and the Gargoyle stood aside as he walked up the staircase.

He took a deep breath and focused on the heavy door. He would need all of his concentration, as he was determined to not be led by the nose by the old man on the other side. 

Chapter 19: The Sad Tale of Merope Gaunt

Summary:

Harry learns more than he wished to know about the parentage of Tom Riddle and confronts Dumbledore about both the Headmaster's health and his past lack of openness with Harry.

Quidditch tryouts. Cormac McLaggen has a temper, Ron has nerves, Harry has a headache.

Susan and Ginny try to help.

A rendezvous in the night with an attractive witch.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: The Sad Tale of Merope Gaunt

 

Harry knocked on the heavy oaken door in front of him. 

“Come in, Harry,” Dumbledore said. He welcomed Harry with a tired smile and invited him to sit in one of the delicate-looking chairs before his crowded desk. They made awkwardly casual chitchat for a few minutes about the beginning of term and Harry’s re-adjustment to life at school.

“It was alright,” Harry said. “I’ve gotten ahead in most subjects practically, so it isn’t too hard at the moment.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, looking him over once more. 

“Ah, the Pensieve?” Harry grimaced, indicating Dumbledore’s wardrobe. “Slughorn’s little club had a dinner tonight, and I assume you want me to gather that special memory through cunning rather than force.”

“Indeed, I do,” Dumbledore said with half a smile, the twinkle not quite reaching his eyes.

“So, then,” said Dumbledore, getting down to business, “You must have been curious about what I have planned for you during our time together.”

“I should say so.”

“It’s time I think that I was a bit more forthcoming about your history with Voldemort and his attack on you and your parents.” He paused.

More forthcoming?” Harry looked at him with dry humour. “So, less keeping secrets and fewer distortions or lies ‘for my own good’ is the plan now, is it?” 

“What do you mean?” Dumbledore asked.

“With Snape around, I am surprised your hand still couldn’t be fixed. I’m guessing powerful cursework. You’re running out of time, aren’t you, Professor?” Harry asked.

“We are all in a certain way running out of time,” Dumbledore said. 

“How long do you have, sir?” Harry asked. 

“I don’t know,” Dumbledore admitted. “Long enough, one hopes.”

Harry was moved by the older wizard’s frank admission but didn’t say anything more. 

“In our previous discussions, I have told you, or you have discovered, all I know for certain about our mutual foe’s history and actions. We now enter the realm of interpretation and the battle between Occlumency and Legilimency to discover memories hidden, lost, or intentionally clouded.” Dumbledore said. “I think I know where we must look and which versions of events are most likely true, but I am not perfect. I have been mistaken before.”

“And I have been wrong as well,” admitted Harry with some difficulty. “I grant you that trusting you at your word is difficult, but I’m willing to work with you on this and see where it takes us.”

“That means a great deal to me, Harry. While I admit that my attention has always been on the greater good, I will not deny that you have become an impressive wizard and a fine student. I hope that in the future, my focus on future events during your early life will not stand in the way of you seeing me as an ally.” 

“As I said, trust is difficult,” Harry said. “But I need information, and ideally some sort of advantage if I am going to defeat Voldemort and save myself and my friends. It’s worth the risk.”

“Fair enough,” said Dumbledore, “and I certainly hope that we will find you the advantage you require.” 

Dumbledore motioned with his wand, and the doors to a dark wood cabinet opened, revealing the familiar shallow stone Pensieve. He gestured to it, and Harry placed it between them on the Headmaster’s desk.

Harry’s eyebrows lifted.

“No need for alarm, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s alarm, Professor. I just know how intrusive it can be to watch other people’s memories,” Harry frowned.

“This time, you have permission to see these,” Dumbledore said.

Permission from whom? Harry wondered. 

As if answering the question in Harry’s mind, Dumbledore said, “These are the memories of an Auror, or rather, an official at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, named Bob Ogden.” He emptied the viscous white substance of memory into the Pensive from a small bottle. 

“Bob Ogden?”

Dumbledore looked at the basin wistfully for a moment. “A fine student, Bob, in his day. Very fond of jokes and puns, quite clever. He died some time ago, I'm afraid. Not before he had come to me and insisted that I allow him to confide these recollections to me. He knew they were important, but the time neither of us were certain as to how they related to the questions at hand.” 

Harry and Dumbledore entered into the memory, plunging their faces into the Pensieve and arriving on a sunny country lane. High, tangled hedgerows arched overhead, but the summer sun showed brightly through, casting a patchwork pattern on the road.

Harry watched as the ministry man began his fateful interaction with the Gaunts, the flap of the butterfly’s wing, which would lead to the inexorable chain of events. Merope Gaunt’s emancipation, her seduction of the Muggle Riddle family’s scion, and the tragic conception of Tom Marvolo Riddle, self-styled Lord Voldemort.

 

“That was… a lot to take in,” Harry said, slumping in his seat as they emerged from the Pensieve. Dumbledore nodded sourly, settling heavily into his high-backed chair.

“Marvolo, Morfin, and Merope were the last of the Gaunts, one of several wizarding families who happened to reach their end around that time.” Dumbledore lowered himself gracelessly into his chair, very much showing his age for once. His eyes, however, were clear, and his voice steady. “It may have been a coincidence, but at the time, there was an oppressive feeling of things coming to an end, of old ways passing. Young Tom played on that with his so-called pureblood followers, you can be certain.”

“Merope must have done something,” Harry thought back to his Potions class. “She didn’t?! A love potion?”

“I’m afraid everything points to that,” Dumbledore sighed. 

Harry shuddered. “That’s vile. Can a love potion even work that long, that well?”

“She must have been rather desperate. You must remember, she had been terribly abused,” Dumbledore said. 

“Not likely to forget,” Harry muttered darkly. “But even at my worst, I don’t think I could have done that, to steal a person’s will away. It should be Unforgivable, like the Imperious.”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful at that comment. 

“Don’t be so certain what you might have done, Harry. You were never so alone, so hopeless as Merope Gaunt.”

“I had Leo, I suppose,” Harry mused. “Maybe that was it.”

They sat quietly together for a moment, each letting his mind wander where it would as they thought about what they had learned.

“And Merope? She…she died, didn’t she? Voldemort was brought up in an orphanage?” 

“Yes, indeed,” said Dumbledore. 

“What went wrong?” asked Harry. “Why did the love potion stop working?” 

“I believe that Merope made a choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps she thought he had grown into true love or that he would stay for the baby’s sake. Either way, he left her, never to return nor trouble to discover what became of his child.” 

The lamps in Dumbledore’s office seemed to glow more brightly, as the sky outside had turned inky black.

“I think that will do for this evening, Harry. I'm afraid it's getting late,” said the Headmaster said after a few moments of reflective silence between them.

“Yes, Professor,” said Harry.

He got to his feet but did not leave. 

“Sir… It’s important to know all this? About Voldemort’s past?” 

“Very important, I think,” said Dumbledore. 

“Right,” said Harry. “And when will this start making sense?”

“When we have Slughorn’s memory, I hope,” Dumbledore said honestly. “But it will have to wait. I have more to show you first.”

Harry nodded, grabbed his dragon-skin coat and was just about to walk out the door.

“Marvolo’s ring,” Harry said, turning back to the Headmaster. “You wore it on the night we went to convince Slughorn.”

“I did indeed,” Dumbledore said. 

“But something happened—It was the cause of your injury,” Harry said, looking sharply at the man.

“Another time, Harry. Goodnight.”

 

Harry walked out of Dumbledore’s office. He cast a quick time-charm and saw that it was past curfew. He felt dirty for looking at Ogden’s memories. He felt even worse thinking about their content. He thought about Merope Gaunt’s desperate actions. 

He felt the whole memory churning inside his head.

Before I would have been able to talk to Hermione about this, Harry sighed to himself.

He opened up the Marauder’s Map—he didn’t want to run into anyone on his way back. He traced his path back to the Gryffindor common room and saw Hermione and Ginny sitting in there.

“Okay, not going back just yet then,” Harry said. He looked for a place where he could be alone. He regretfully spotted Filch walking around the Astronomy tower. 

“That’s out of the question,” Harry muttered to himself. “Guess I’ll head outside.”

He quickly glanced over the map before pulling on his invisibility cloak and walking outside. The moon was poking out behind some clouds and gave ample enough lighting that Harry could see where he went. He walked alongside the lake as he let the past week flitter through his mind. 

I am still quite interested in that Potion’s book of Hermione’s, he thought. 

Harry sat down, still covered in the cloak next to the same tree from Snape’s memory. It felt fitting to sit here—some sort of ironic, poetic gesture. 

Harry was lost in his thoughts until someone fell over his legs. 

“Ouch, who’s there?” a female voice called.

Harry looked up and was quickly rolled away from the wand, which was pointed in his direction.

Stupefy!

Harry dodged the red jet of light, and the invisibility cloak fell off his body.

“Wait, wait!” Harry said quickly. “I’m a student at the school!”

“Harry?!” 

“Huh?” Harry finally focused on the person who had tried to stun him. “Tonks?” 

“What the hell are you doing out of bed? And under your cloak!” Tonks reprimanded him, walking directly over to him. “Which summer did Harry Potter almost jinx me after waking up from a nightmare?”

“Wait, what?” Harry said. 

“Answer!” The wand was now firmly fixed on his chest. 

Harry was slowly getting into a fighting position, and with a flick of his wrist, his wand would fly out of the holster wrapped to his right forearm. 

“Summer after my fourth year, first night back at our place,” Harry said. 

“Phew,” Tonks said and lowered her wand. 

Harry flicked his wrist and cast a silent disarming charm at her watching her wand fly out of her hand.

“What did you do that for?!” Tonks looked angry.

“What was the first birthday present I got for Nymphadora Tonks?” Harry asked. 

“It wasn’t one present, but two. Two different sets of soap and shampoos, Orange and Cinnamon,” Tonks said. “Can I have my wand back now?”

Harry threw the wand to her and relaxed his guard.

“Sorry, had to check,” Harry mumbled loud enough for them both to hear. 

“It was the right approach,” Tonks said with a relieved smile. “Also, you could have done a lot worse to me. Now, what are you doing out of bed?”

“Private lesson with Dumbledore,” Harry said. “Lots to think about, and Hermione and Ginny are waiting in the common room for me to get back.”

“So… you guys are going good?” Tonks asked hesitantly.

“Yes and no,” Harry said. “She doesn’t seem to get that I need space to process what happened. She is doing alright in classes. Worked together a couple of times. I just don’t want to make it weird.”

“But you are still avoiding going back to your dormitory because she is waiting for you?” Tonks said. 

“Well, Filch was guarding the Astronomy tower. I sometimes go to talk to Sirius there,” Harry said. 

Harry slumped down next to the tree. He had picked up his cloak and put it in his pocket. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, looking up at the now pink-haired witch.

“Patrolling,” Tonks said. “Aurors take turns walking the grounds. The rest are stationed at the gate or at Hogsmeade. The teachers focus on the castle.”

“I see,” Harry said.

Tonks looked at him. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“About what?” Harry said.

“About what is on your mind,” Tonks said, irritated now.

Harry put on his best ‘I’m okay’ face.

“Do not pull that shit with me,” Tonks bonked him on the head. 

“What?” Harry rubbed the spot she had hit.

“Don’t you realise I can see right through you?” Tonks sat down next to him.

“Fine,” Harry said. “It’s just what Dumbledore showed me. Old memory from a guy, Bob Ogden. Showed me Voldemort’s family from before he was born.” 

“I see,” Tonks said. 

Harry breathed in deeply and then began to recall everything he saw and everything he talked to Dumbledore about.

“Holy shit,” Tonks said. “That’s some dark stuff. Voldemort’s mother really drugged a Muggle to rape him?” 

“Dumbledore believes that,” Harry said. “It’s fucked up.”

“Sounds like the whole family was fucked up,” Tonks said.

“I pity her,” Harry said. “Her situation was so similar to mine. Maybe I would have love-potioned someone if I had to stay with the Dursley’s all this time.”

“I don’t think you would,” Tonks said. “You are better than that.”

“Only because I don’t yet know how to brew them,” Harry joked. “Watch out. Maybe I would have used it on you.” 

Tonks bonked him once more on the shoulder.

“That’s not even funny,” she grimaced. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Tonks said. 

“Come on,” Harry leaned against her shoulder. “If I can tell you about my problems, you can tell me about yours.”

“Fine,” Tonks sighed. “Not a word to anyone!”

“Never,” Harry said. 

“I was once made to drink a love-potion. It wasn’t a strong one,” Tonks said with an angry expression. “A guy in Slytherin a couple of years ahead of me, I am not saying his name. It didn’t work. I just suddenly found him incredibly hot. My friends thankfully thought something was wrong with me and took me to Madam Pomfrey. I made sure to never take something from someone I didn’t trust after that.”

Harry hissed.

“That’s fucked up,” Harry said. “Did you ever get him?” 

“Nope,” Tonks said. “It was right after his last year. He denied everything, and Snape… well, needless to say, it didn’t matter all that much. I never saw him again.”

“I’m glad nothing bad happened,” Harry said. “They should be illegal.” 

“Yeah, some of them are,” Tonks said. “I don’t think attraction potions are, though. He just wanted me for my abilities.”

Harry leaned his head back against the tree.

“Shit, that really is messed up,” he said. “Sorry to even joke about something like that.”

“You didn’t know,” Tonks said, getting ready to get up. 

Harry looked at her pink hair as she stood next to him and leaned down to hold out her hand for him to get up. 

“I know this is probably the worst timing, but how do you look without any changes? Like what is your natural look?” Harry asked. 

Harry hadn’t expected Tonks to attack him at his question. He fell hard on his back and got the wind knocked out of him from her sudden shove into his chest. He had to breathe in deeply to get some air into his lungs.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. You didn’t need to attack me like that.”

“I didn’t attack you,” Tonks said from his chest. “I was just startled and fell over my own feet.”

“Ah, I’ve missed the clumsy Tonks,” Harry said with a small laugh. “You were beginning to look way too cool for your own good.”

Tonks raised her head and looked into his eyes. 

Harry helped her up again from his chest and decidedly ignored the sound of Tonks clicking her tongue.

“Look, I shouldn’t have asked,” Harry said with a smile as he got up on his feet. “That was incredibly rude. For all I know, you were born with pink hair, a heart-shaped face and hazel-blue eyes. You are you, no matter how you look.”

Tonks took his hand and got pulled up on her feet.

“I should get back,” Harry said. “Have a good patrol, goodnight, Tonks.”

Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his head and walked back to the castle. He heard a quiet ‘Goodnight’ from behind him, but he didn’t turn around. 

He checked the map once more and found the common room empty. He quietly crept up into his bed and fell asleep. He was happy that he had run into Tonks—well, technically, she had run into his invisible legs, but that wasn’t the point. She was probably the only one left he felt comfortable talking to about Voldemort, the prophecy and the memories Dumbledore was going to show him. He needed to find a way to actually talk to her. He fell into a contented sleep.

 

Harry woke up early Sunday morning and went for his usual run. He smiled as he looked at the tree where they had sat last night. He still had people he could confide in. He could probably confide in Susan, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, but he wasn’t about to put them in danger by getting them involved. Not again.

He felt his muscles burn by the time he was back at the entrance hall. The castle was still relatively quiet this early in the morning, especially on a Sunday. Harry had put up the notice in the Gryffindor common room that the Quidditch Try-outs would happen later in the day. 

Harry walked through the portrait hole to find an angry Hermione and a conflicted Ginny stand in his way.

“Morning,” Harry scratched his head.

“Where were you last night?” Hermione asked him.

“Dumbledore’s office,” Harry said. 

“What were you doing there?” she asked. 

“Just some private lessons,” Harry said, trying to walk around her. 

“You weren’t back before midnight,” Hermione said as she stepped in front of him.

“Why do you care?” Harry asked. “Look, I’m sorry if you stayed up to wait for me, but you really didn’t have to. I’m a prefect too, remember, I can stay out after curfew.” 

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before moving past him and walking out of the portrait.

Harry looked at Ginny, who looked between him and the portrait. 

“Would you check up on her for me?” Harry asked. 

“Why are you acting like that?” Ginny asked. “We were worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry hesitated. “It’s just… I don’t want to…” 

“Look, if you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine… okay, it’s not, but I can’t force it out of you. Hecate’s tits, you can be frustrating, Potter,” Ginny groused.

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said as he moved towards the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. “See you later on the pitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ginny’s voice reached his ears before the door closed behind him. 

Harry spent breakfast at the Hufflepuff table, as was of late his usual practice. He casually chatted with Susan and Ginny while trying to ignore the gazes from hopeful girls, Gryffindors who wanted to join the team and a distinct glare from a brown-haired girl. 

By the time Harry reached the Quidditch pitch, jersey on and Firebolt over his shoulder, there was already a group of students standing around. Most had their own brooms as well. 

“I thought we weren’t going to start until eleven,” Harry said as he walked out on the pitch. 

It looked like half of Gryffindor House had turned up, from first-years nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful school brooms to seventh-years who towered over the youngest students, looking coolly intimidating. This older group included a large, wiry-haired boy Harry recalled from Slughorn's party.

“Hullo, Harry,” the lad said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry’s hand. “Cormac McLaggen, Keeper.”

“I remember,” Harry said, taking note of the breadth of McLaggen's shoulders and thinking that he could probably block two goal-hoops before even moving. “You weren’t on the team last year?”

“Bunged up in the hospital wing when they held the trials,” said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. “I ate a pound of doxy eggs on a bet. Turned the colour of a cave troll but kept them down until I collected.” 

“Erm, right,” Harry said. “Well, if you could wait over there." 

He pointed over the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was surprisingly sitting. 

Why is she here? She never cared one way or another about sport.

Harry saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen’s face. Surely he didn't expect preferential treatment because they were both “old Sluggy’s” favourites? Harry shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Alright, LISTEN UP!” Harry shouted out unto the field. “Form a line, first-year to seventh-year, and SHUT IT!”

Harry spotted a lot of the students jumping a bit in fright at him. He watched as they lined up.

“First order of business,” Harry said. “I want to see your ability to stay on a broom.”

Harry split up the people into groups and sent them up so he could watch them fly. That had turned out to have been probably the best idea he had had that morning. The first ten was made up of first-years, and it could not have been more explicit that they had barely flown before, if at all. Only one managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into a goalpost. 

The second group was comprised of ten silly girls, Romilda Vane amongst them. When Harry blew his whistle, they promptly fell about giggling and clutching one another. When he told them to leave, they went to the stands to sit in a tight cluster and heckle everyone else. 

The third group had a pileup, all elbows, arses, and broomsticks, halfway through their flight around the pitch. Most of the fourth group hadn't brought broomsticks and admitted they were not confident fliers. The small fifth group turned out to be Hufflepuffs, all girls, who eyed Harry with blushing cheeks and shy smiles. 

“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” sighed Harry loudly as they gathered their dignity and marched off the pitch, “please leave now. Please! 

After a pregnant pause, a couple of little Ravenclaws who had blended with the crowd of applicants went sprinting off the pitch, chirping with boisterous humour. 

After most of the morning, many complaints and tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and a warning jinx into the fray, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returning to the team after a smashing trial; a new find named Demelza Robins, who wasn't particularly fast but slipped evasively through impossible gaps at full speed and seemed to have a special awareness for dodging Bludgers; and Ginny Weasley, who had not only outflown her competition but had clearly scored the most goals as well. Harry noted her for backup Seeker as well, if she had the eyes for it. Pleased though he was with his team, Harry still had choices to make.

“I don’t care if you don’t like my decisions,” Harry said to the unhappy applicants. “They flew the best, and those are the people I am going with. I’m Captain: my decisions, my team.”

There were still a few disgruntled people, but they soon fled when Harry stared them down. 

The choosing of Beaters hadn’t left people all that happy either. Several of them were angry and complained until Harry firmly shut them up with a glare that looked about ready to kill.

“That is my final decision, and if you don’t get out of the way of the Keepers, I’ll stun you and leave you in a pile,” Harry growled menacingly. 

“Harry, that’s enough,” Ginny said as she put a hand on his shoulder. “He means it, too, people! Even if you try to duel him, all of you, you would probably lose. He was equal to Professor Snape, remember?”

That had gotten the disgruntled Beater applicants to leave the pitch and join the others in the stands.

Neither of his new Beaters had the improvisational brilliance of Fred and George. However, he was still optimistic: Jimmy Peakes, a short, barrel-chested younger lad who had raised a goose egg on a Chaser's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked a little unsteady yet flew okay and aimed very well. I can probably get him stronger by implementing physical training, Harry thought. They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny on the edge of the pitch to watch their last team member’s selection. 

Harry had deliberately left Keepers’ trial until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, the rejected players had been joined by several people who had come down to watch after breakfast, and the crowd was at its peak. As each Keeper flew, the crowd roared and jeered according to their own allegiances. Harry glanced at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves. Harry had hoped that summer to look back on the win ion their final match might have softened Ron's condition, but apparently not. Ron was a familiar, delicate shade of green that made his hair and freckles even more prominent. 

None of the first applicants saved more than two goals apiece, and they returned to the stands with resignation. To Harry’s great surprise, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. However, on the final shot, he shot off in entirely the wrong direction; the crowd jeered, and McLaggen returned to the ground in a sour temper.

Ron looked as if he'd swallowed a slug as he grimly mounted his broom. 

“Good luck!” cried an enthusiastic voice from the stands. Harry looked around, expecting to find Hermione, but it was a brightly flushed Lavender Brown.

Harry need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted and resisting joining in the crowd’s cheers with difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. Harry stepped back warily. 

“She didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly, gesturing to Ginny. There was a vein pulsing ominously in his temple like the one Harry had often seen with his Uncle Vernon. “His sister! She gave him an easy save.”

“You don't have as good an eye for the quaffle as I gave you credit for." Harry's flat voice was a clear warning, but McLaggen continued, oblivious in his pique.

“Give me another go.”

"Do you want to duel me on it?” Harry asked grimly. “You know, I have had a lot of pent up stress during these tryouts. I could really use a good duelling partner.”

McLaggen had visibly paled at that before he took a grim step forward. Harry just looked at him bemusedly. 

“No,” Harry said dismissively. “Get off of my pitch.”

He thought for a moment that the older boy might take a swing at him, but McLaggen contented himself with an ugly grimace and stomped away, muttering darkly to himself. 

Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts, looking his new team up and down. “I plan to do things differently than we have in the past. We will incorporate weight-training, running, and balance exercises in addition to flying practice.”

There were shocked looks on the players' faces.

“Running will help with stamina. I have barely missed a morning in the past couple of years. Weight-training will give the chasers more powerful shots and the beaters too, and it will also let everyone get a better understanding of their body. Balance exercises will give you better flying as you will not lose your balance even on the broom,” Harry explained. “I expect you to run for at least half an hour before breakfast every day. Don’t worry, I usually run for at least two, but I will not force you to do that. The first training will be on Thursday.”

Harry watched as the team shuffled out. He spotted Hermione having a rather annoyed look at the way Lavender was showing interest in Ron. Parvati looked grumpy about the fact that she had to be there at all. 

Harry spotted Ginny still standing next to him. 

“What?” Harry asked.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Just annoyed,” Harry said. “I really wish Snape would ask me for another duel. I need to let off some steam.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

“Congratulations, Ginny,” Susan said with a smile. “Team’s looking good, Harry.” 

“I’ll get them into shape,” Harry smiled. 

“Harry needs to let off steam,” Ginny said. “He hasn’t been able to have a proper duel since Monday.”

Susan groaned and rolled his eyes at him. 

“It’s times like these where I really miss Tonks,” Susan said. “Fine, Ginny, I need back up!”

“Thanks,” Harry had his first genuine smile on his face. “Room of Requirement? Basic DA layout.”

Susan and Ginny nodded. Harry quickly cast a couple of cleaning charms on them both. He was going to wait with his second shower until after their little duelling practice. 

An hour later, Harry looked down at Ginny and Susan in the Room of Requirement, feeling absolutely refreshed. 

“Ah, that really did it,” Harry said emphatically to himself. 

“You are an absolute monster,” Ginny said. “Fuck, we need to get Harry a new girlfriend.”

“Oi!” Harry said. 

“What?!” Ginny looked at him, fiercely. “If you had a girlfriend, you wouldn’t be so pent up. It’s not like you can’t just pick a random girl.”

Harry grumbled a bit.

“Harry,” Susan said, wiping a sweaty lock of hair out of her face. “What Ginny is trying to say is that we are worried about you and that you can talk to us.” 

“I know,” Harry grimaced. “I just don’t want to involve you any more than I already have.”

“We are already involved,” Ginny protested.

“No, you are not,” Harry said. “Ginny, I love you like a sister, but I am not losing another family member because I involve them. I have to deal with this on my own.”

Ginny wanted to say something more, but Susan put a hand on her shoulder.

“Go on, Harry,” Susan said with a weak smile. “You stink.”

Susan and Ginny watched him as he left the room, looking a little tense in his shoulders once more.

“Why did you stop me?” Ginny snarled. 

“Because Harry really thinks that way, and he is right,” Susan said directly. “We are in no shape to help him at all.” 

Ginny clenched her fist irritatedly. 

“Why?!” Ginny asked. “We were there too!” 

“We were fortunate. Hermione lost all of her memories, effectively erasing the woman Harry loved, and Sirius died,” Susan said, wiping away the frustrated tears on Ginny’s face. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but he is right. We are in no way near a level where Harry thinks we can take care of ourselves. This is not a game, people have died, and people will die.”

Ginny half-way slammed into Susan, tackling her to the floor as she cried. 

“It’s just not fair,” Ginny said. 

“I know, it’s not,” Susan said, gently stroking her back. “Look, let’s go get a shower and then let’s send a letter to Tonks. She is probably the only one who is close enough to Harry and that he thinks can defend herself.”

Ginny looked up.

“You are not trying to get them together, are you?” Ginny frowned.

“Hermione doesn’t remember Harry, and she dumped him, no matter how justified it is,” Susan said seriously. “Also, Tonks is a hundred times better for Harry than any random bimbo in this castle.”

Ginny giggled a little at that. 

“Fair point, also she likes him,” Ginny said. 

“We need to be smart about this,” Susan looked positively mischievous as she smiled at Ginny.

“Please remind me to never ever piss you off,” Ginny said with a shiver down her spine.

“Well, Sirius was my step-father,” Susan grinned. “And my Aunt is not known for her easygoing and forgiving nature, either.”

 

Harry felt torn between opening up to Susan and Ginny and not telling them anything. He felt the water hitting his face as he tried to relax his tense and sore muscles. 

You could just tell them, they obviously care about you.

(Don’t tell anyone anything. They could die if they knew too much.)

How would anyone know what you have told them?

(They wouldn’t be able to protect themselves. It would be like killing them yourself.)

She couldn’t protect herself.

Harry groaned as he finally shut off the water. He had missed lunch but could probably go get something from the kitchen. Harry was sure that he didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He wiped off his body and decided that his late lunch could be spent in the Astronomy tower once again. He still had homework to do after all.

Notes:

I decided that we didn't need to see the entire sad tale of Bob Odgen's memories- It's not Rowling's best work, and this book is too freaking long as it is. We're only 1/3 of the way through if I recall correctly, by page count. Woof!

Also, trying to add some depth to the very flat side characters. Why is almost every new supporting character so new to Harry in the OG text? McLaggen would have been in the same year as the twins, right? Gryffindor house isn't that large, but Harry acts like he's never heard of him before. The same for Susan and the new Hufflepuff students throughout...

I miss Luna and Neville. They're fun to write. I wonder what they're up to? At this point, I honestly don't remember.

Coming up:
A few interludes, with a nice bit of Ginny characterization and even a Ron POV section, very rare...
There is a Tonks-focused scene on its way as well as I recall. Thanks for staying with me.

Chapter 20: Interlude- Rumours and Romances

Summary:

Susan and Ginny’s relationship goes slightly more public as Ginny is partially outed.

Ronald and Hermione have a tête-à-tête.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 Interlude- Rumours and Romances

 

In the Gryffindor common room, Ron was working his way through the reading for Slughorn’s potions class. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas had reached their saturation point, trying to study charms. They had defaulted to highly speculative talk about witches, especially who was newly paired, newly split, and what “new talent” was available for pursuit this term. Ron tried to screen them out. Now that he finally had a potions master who didn’t loathe him for no good reason, he was determined to improve his classwork.

“So, Hermione Granger,” Seamus said, slightly too loudly, “back on the market, or still off-limits, do ye figure?”

“Well, it depends,” Dean said carefully. “Do you fancy a jealous Harry Potter looking over your shoulder every waking moment? I’d rather snog a mountain troll than have that hanging over my head.”

Ron grunted and shuffled his scrolls of notes loudly, hoping they’d take the hint. Unfortunately, the two red-blooded young wizards were just warming to their subject.

“Lovegood and Longbottom,” Dean puzzled, “how long you reckon that will last? Do two odd ducks make a pair?”

“I dunno,” Seamus replied, “but he’s not the wee round laddie he was our first year, is he? Plus, he’s pureblood, like her. Some witches fancy that, they say.”

“You know Harry’s been spending a lot of time with that cute brunette, what’s her name, the Hufflepuff, Susan Bones? Sat with her at meals and all. You suppose he’s moving on already?” Dean watched as Seamus considered this, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Could you find somewhere else to have these discussions?” Ron asked shortly. “Trying to work on my N.E.W.T. studies here. And besides, Susan and Harry are certainly not together. She’s more like his sister, now. They live together. Her aunt married his godfather.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean mused. “Still, she’s not even his step-sister. More like a cousin. I’ve read stories…”

“Kissing cousins,” Seamus chimed in, clearly enjoying the idea.

“She has a girlfriend,” Ron said, grabbing up his books to head to the library. “Said so, in potions, to Malfoy in front of several of us. Leave her alone, why don’t you?”

Seamus seemed subdued, but Dean pressed on with one more comment.

“Girlfriend? I’d pay a sickle or two to see that, eh? She’s fit, that one. Ginny’s friends with her, maybe she can clue us in on who the mystery witch is.”

Ron turned, his mouth twitching. He had been working so hard to not blurt out every thought in his head this term, but his some-time friends were pushing it.

“Leave. My. Sister. Alone.” He swept out, heading to the library to try to get in a little more actual study time before dinner.

“Who poked his pixie?” Seamus muttered, picking up his text idly.

“Alright, Quidditch girls: Cho Chang, or Katie Bell?” Dean asked, rekindling an old debate.

“Or Ginny Weasley?” Seamus asked, looking around to be sure Ron had gone. He knew Dean had a soft spot for Gryffindor girls.

“Yeah, that’s true…” Dean pondered. “Can I pick two?”

“Good luck trying, ye prat!” The two boys went on with their musings, broken up by occasional brief bouts of studying.

 

Ron found a quiet table in the library with just a few first-years, mostly Slytherins by their clothes, having a whispered conversation. A quick raised eyebrow, and they found somewhere else to hatch their plots or whatever it is first-year Slytherins do. Ron spread out his notes, his textbook, and some blank parchment. Just as he was getting to work, he heard a low chuckle from the next row of bookshelves over. It sounded familiar, but he did his best to ignore it.

A few minutes later, there was a giggle, followed by some whispering. Just as Ron was considering saying something, Susan Bones walked by from that direction, nodding to him as she passed.

He tried to decide if he should say hello, or nod casually, or pretend to be occupied in his reading. By the time he came to a decision, she had passed, and he realised that he had just gawped at her blankly as she passed. Not a cool move. A moment later, Ginny came by, running her fingers through her long red hair.

“Oi, Ginny,” he said quietly. She turned, saw him, and she came to a stop. Her hand dropped from her hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, just hey,” he said defensively. Being closest in age to Ginny, Ron was probably the least close to her among the Weasley boys. She and Charlie had always been close, and Bill seemed to favour her as much as he did anyone. Ron indicated the chair opposite him. “What’s up?”

She pursed her lips and then sat. He noticed that the top two buttons of her jumper were miss-buttoned. He tried a conversational approach.

“How’s it going, then?” He asked and saw her hesitate. “Your classes, I mean. Going okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Be better when practice starts, I guess.”

“I sort of wanted to ask you,” Ron said awkwardly, “about Quidditch and other stuff. You heard about Hermione and Harry, yeah?”

She nodded and shrugged. “I expected it. I mean, five years, that was like a third of her life, and all of her time with him. Hard to put that behind you, I expect.”

“Yeah, she’s been really quiet about it.” Ron looked seriously at Ginny. “So, about Harry… and you?”

“Me?” She looked at him like he was barmy. “What about me?”

Ron was sweating and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “Well, I mean, I know you fancied him before. I just wanted to warn you. He’s going to need, you know, some time.”

She stared at him, blankly. “Me and Harry?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, he’s a good mate, and I know you spent all that time over at his place this summer while I was working with Hermione. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Over Harry?” Her mouth was twitching, trying to suppress something.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Ron felt this whole conversation had been a mistake. “I know you’re friendly with Susan, and she’s like his sister now, sort of.”

Friendly?” Ginny couldn’t help herself, and she started to laugh, doing her best to hold it in and not disturb others in the library.

“Well, I just want you to be careful,” Ron said, a little too loudly. “He’s in a weird place right now, and Susan, well, I don’t know how much you know about this sort of thing, but I’ve heard her say that she has a girlfriend, and she sounded serious about it, too.”

Ginny was starting to turn purple from not breathing and had begun to sink under the library table slowly.

“Come on, this is important,” Ron said with frustration. Sobbing, choked laughter could be heard from under the table. “Fine, look out for yourself, then. See if I ever try to give you advice again.”

After a few minutes, as Ron loudly sighed from time to time and read his text, Ginny emerged from beneath the table. She wordlessly came around to Ron’s side and threw her arms around him, nearly choking him in her fierce embrace.

“What’s all that for?” He wondered aloud.

“You’re either the smartest idiot or the stupidest genius I know, Ron, honestly.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and ruffled his hair with her fingers. “I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me.”

“Whatever,” he grunted, returning to his readings while shooting her sidelong looks as he tried to understand what was happening.

“And you needn’t worry about Harry and me,” Ginny said, gathering her bag. “Just friends, he and I. Promise.”

“Okay, if you say so,” he said, wanting to put the conversation behind him. He was sure that he was missing something, but he knew better than to pry into Ginny’s personal life. She had a vicious streak and a long memory.

The smile faded from Ginny’s face, and she got an uncertain, serious expression all of a sudden.

“Did Susan really say she has a serious girlfriend?” She looked nervous.

“It sounded that way. Why? Do you know something about—”

But before Ron could finish, Ginny had ducked away, and he found himself talking to the empty library. He realised it was past time to get to dinner.

He started stuffing his supplies in his bag. Missing dinner? It’s like he wasn’t even Ron Weasley any more, sometimes. He wondered if Hermione would already be there when he got there.

 

In the great hall, the feast was well underway as Ron scooted in. He found Hermione, Neville, and Luna Lovegood sitting together and took a seat next to Hermione, across from Luna. Harry had once again decided to eat over at the Hufflepuff table, near but not talking with Susan. Across from Susan was Ginny, who was talking about Quidditch based on how she had charmed several bread rolls to hover over the table to illustrate the opposing chasers as her hand wove in and out, apparently representing her team’s seeker.

Ginny said something, her face serious, and paused to emphasise her point when Susan snatched one of her chasers from the air over the table and dipped it in her gravy. Ginny huffed in outrage and bounced the other roll off of Susan’s forehead before grabbing it in her own hand and tearing off a ferocious bite. The two witches sat across from one another, chewing rolls. It was outwardly innocent, but something in the way they were looking at each other…

Ron found himself on his feet, hands on his hips, staring at his sister and her friend from across the room. He suddenly felt very silly and sat back down slowly.

Luna caught his eye and nodded deliberately, her large, unblinking eyes slightly mesmerising. Ron looked at Neville, who also nodded after casting a quick look at Luna. Neville at least seemed somewhat embarrassed for Ron’s sake.

“Does everyone know about this but me?” Ron whispered, catching Hermione’s attention, causing her to stare past the two witches at Harry.

“Know about what? Is it something I should have known?” Hermione was craning her neck, looking at Harry, Susan, and Ginny. She was afraid to ask too much if it was a “Harry and Hermione before” question.

“I think it’s a private thing,” Luna said in her lilting voice. “But they’ve been very happy for some time. Maybe you should talk to Ginny privately when you have a chance.”

Ron lowered his head and began eating, mechanically filling his mouth without paying any real attention to what he was doing.

Not Ginny, surely? Ron thought. Bloody hell, what will Mum say?

 

Hermione caught Ronald’s hand as they were about to enter the common room. She asked him softly, “Is there somewhere you and I could talk? Maybe away from the others?”

“Sure,” he said, thinking quickly. Not the Room of Requirement. He’d read enough between her and Harry to know that was not what they needed. He recalled a corridor in the owlery, where they should be okay if they hurried.

A few minutes later, they were overlooking the castle walls listening to owls swooping softly into the air for nightly exercise and hunting in the forests around Hogwarts.

Ron sat back to the wall, and Hermione sat next to him. For a while, there were only the sounds of the owls, and Ron tried to be patient until she finally spoke.

“I have,” she started, then hesitated a long while, “feelings? I guess? That I don’t understand, and I don’t have anyone I can talk to about them.”

It’s Harry, Ron thought. You knew this was coming. Stiff upper lip and all that.

“That’s understandable,” Ron said. “I hope you can always talk to me, though. We’ve been good friends, I thought, since…”

“Yes,” she said quickly, looking away. “That’s part of the problem, Ronald. I sometimes feel like you’re the only person who really understands—who respects—what I’m going through. The others, even the professors, all talk about getting back on track.”

She sighed bitterly.

“On track? What does that even mean? That girl, her plans, hopes, love... Sometimes I feel like that girl died that day. I understand her a bit, but in other ways, she’s so foreign to me. Why did she fall so hard? He seems like the only thing she wanted or needed, but I never imagined any man being the focus of my whole life. I have plans, dreams, and I must have had so many more. Where did they all go?”

Ron wasn’t sure what to say, so he just listened. It was a strategy that was paying off more and more for him lately.

“There are times I look at him, and I can almost see him as she did.” She looked at Ron and blushed very slightly. “But when I close my eyes, and I try to imagine someone who’s there for me, who cares about me, who wants to protect me and help me, I don’t see him. I don’t see anyone. I feel ashamed and guilty but also free. Am I a bad person?”

Ron reached over and slowly took her hand. She startled, then relaxed.

“If you and, and Harry,” he said, forcing himself to say the name, “if you two belong together, like fate or destiny, it will happen. That’s how destiny works, right?”

“Thank you, Ronald.” She continued to look away but kept holding his hand tight. “I don’t know about fate, or destiny, or true love. I just want to be happy and be true to myself.”

“That’s fair,” Ron said. “It’s getting late, so we should get back.”

She let go of his hand and stood. For a moment, he felt sorry for himself. His feelings for her were becoming complicated, and he knew that. But he also knew that if he tried to push or pull her in one direction or another, he’d be exactly the kind of person her father had wanted him to look out for.

“Better get back before it’s late.” He shook his head. “The rumours are insane this year, I swear.”

 

 

 

Notes:

"Setec Astronomy." If you’re old enough, you’ll get the reference.

I admit that I wrote or rewrote a lot of the Ron scenes in this volume compared to our previous stories. I hope I am crafting a believable and sympathetic version of the character who has faults but remains worthy of inclusion as a serious character...

Chapter 21: What Dreams May Come

Summary:

A very short chapter, really another interlude, but it gives us a peek into the troubled mind of Hermione Granger.

This chapter did not appear in the original drafts of this story.

Chapter Text

 Chapter 21. What Dreams May Come.

 

Hermione settled into her bed gratefully. Lately, she seemed so tired, almost all of the time. In the past, or what of it she recalled, schoolwork had never made her weary. Only idleness had exhausted at her, like Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps studying magic was just different somehow than other learning. She’d have to ask Ronald if it had always been like this since she arrived at Hogwarts.

Ronald. Something else that was keeping her from resting. She had said—truthfully, she had thought—that she didn’t need Harry, she didn’t need anyone. She now realised two things. First, this was patently absurd. She enjoyed a rich support structure of teachers, family, friends (friends!), and even had an ex-boyfriend. She silently mouthed the words “ex-lover” but that was too much to take in, and she steered away from it.

Second, and best of all, she had Ronald. He had been steadfast, kind, patient, and even thoughtful during her recovery and lately since they arrived at school. She realised from the way he interacted with others, and the way they talked about and treated him, that this must be unusual for the somewhat lanky ginger. His oldest friends and family teased him constantly about his boorishness, his thoughtlessness, his temper, all traits she could scarcely see.

Was this because he had changed, and his old friends and family were slow to adjust to the new reality? Was he in some ways different with her than with others? She wished she had someone she could ask. Ginny was not a good choice, obviously. Lavender, one of her roommates, was clearly interested in Ron herself, something that made Hermione uncomfortable in ways she didn’t want to think about. Perhaps Parvati Patil or one of the other girls might have some insight to share. Luna Lovegood seemed preternaturally perceptive about some things if you could get past her very odd way of expressing her thoughts at times.

Eventually, Hermione managed to clear her mind, and she sank into what began as deep and peaceful sleep.

She was wearing a beautiful gown, and lovely music was floating through the perfumed air. She was holding hands with a boy, boldly, openly. Their conversation was hushed, and the fragment of dream or memory was buzzing in her head. There were rose bushes, and she was in his arms, and then on her knees. Oh, my. 

Then the world transformed around her, and he was in a luxurious bath, and the big was there again, but now he was between her legs and moving inside her, and there was a dissonant note of pain lost in the swelling passion. Oh, my!

Her world was spinning, and she was standing in a cold and echoing chamber, and He was there. She heard a voice, calling out in fear.

“Hermione! Do something!” 

All she could do was stand, frozen in terror. A wand reached out to her forehead, the dead eyes looking down at her, then the flash.

“Where am I?” she whimpered softly, “What’s going on?! Where are my mum and dad?! Who are you?!” She began to sob brokenly, “Someone... anyone, help? Please?” 

Hermione awoke with a gasp, disoriented and afraid. She had been dreaming, though of what, she knew not of. As she slowly realised where she was, and that she was safe, she still felt terror and shame. She found that she had, for the first time in her memory, wet the bed. She began to clean up, trying not to disturb her roommates, but she found herself reluctant to use magic. Instead, her sodden bedclothes and soiled nightshirt were stripped by hand and put down the chute for the house-elves. Once she was dry and clean, she wrapped herself in an old robe, and went down to the common room, to sit distractedly by the fire until morning.

Chapter 22: Interlude- The Riddle of Power

Summary:

Tonks and Carmichael take a break from patrolling the grounds, but Tonks has something on her mind she cannot shake.

Notes:

Author’s Note from ReverendKilljoy:

The price of freedom is charged to all who are free, not just those who battle for freedom.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22. Interlude- The Riddle of Power

 

Tonks raised a finger to Rosmerta, and soon another ale was in front of her. She could only stand so much butterbeer, and firewhiskey was a taste she had never really acquired. It was ironic, she supposed, that her preferred drink of late was something she had picked up from her only serious attempt at a boyfriend, the Muggle boy, Reagan Hill.

She was completely rattled. In her pocket was a crumpled-up, short letter from Susan she had received earlier that evening.

 

Tonks

It’s really bad, Harry is shutting everyone out. He had the Quidditch Try-outs earlier, and it wasn’t pretty. Let’s just say that Harry was another complaint away from sending thirty people to the hospital wing. Ginny and I had to let him relieve some steam. He duelled us for a whole hour, and he still wasn’t looking good afterwards. He doesn’t tell us anything and he shuts us both out. It isn’t going great between him and Hermione either. It hurts him when she constantly hovers around him. I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to involve me or Ginny in anything. He thinks we are too weak, and frankly, I think in some ways he is right. He needs someone close to him strong, someone strong enough to protect him. 

He needs you.

Susan

 

She took a sip, enjoying the complex bitter and sweet tastes, the slight bite of the alcohol, and the dark notes that butterbeer sorely lacked. Her current partner, Carmichael, was nursing the same firewhiskey he’d been at for an hour. It was technically their night off, with no duty for forty-eight hours.

“Our night off, C.,” Tonks said a bit harshly. “Going to cling to that all night?”

“Not really much of a drinker,” the older Auror admitted. “Too many lessons with Alastor.”

“Constant vigilance!” They shared the chorus, and she clinked her bottle to his glass before they both drank.

“So, what is it, Tonks? I’ve seen you serious before, but never brooding like this.” He lowered his voice and asked confidentially, “Is it the boy?”

She curled her lip in a sneer and took a long pull from her ale.

“How much do you remember …  about before?” Tonks asked suddenly.

“Before?”

“You-Know-Who. The terror, the war between the ministry and his death eaters?”

“Not that much, I suppose.” Carmichael sighed. “I was young, just out of school. Not even in the Ministry yet, much less an Auror. I worked at my uncle’s ice cream shop in Diagon Alley.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “What I remember most was how afraid everyone was, all the time. Trying to watch the skies, watch the shadows, watch each other even towards the end. That kind of power, to reshape our world like that, it was chilling.”

“Power,” Tonks said. “That’s the riddle, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Carmichael was still looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar, musing over the rise of Voldemort years before.

“We fear You-Know-Who, what he can do, because he had all that power. Not just his followers and all that, but his own power. The terror, the killing, and so much magic. At the ministry, I saw what he did to the Granger girl, the way he battled Dumbledore. No wizard should have that kind of power.”

“It’s a good thing Dumbledore was there. Potter, too, if you ask me. They seem to have some level of power that even He Who Must Not Be Named respects, in his way.” Carmichael suddenly took a swig and finished his firewhiskey, a few tendrils of steam wafting from his nostrils.

“There’s a Muggle saying about power that a—well a friend, anyway—told me. We were training, physical combat, and he was going on about the limits of strength. He said something like power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I haven’t been able to shake it, the last few months.”

She sighed and rolled her empty bottle back and forth in her hands. She saw Rosmerta looking at them questioningly, but she shook her head.

“My mother told me stories about Dumbledore, his famous duel against Grindelwald. And later, fighting You-Know-Who. And there are things I’ve seen Harry do, just so far beyond what a man his age, what a student, should be able to do. I just wonder, how do we know we can trust them, in the end? I believe that they're good men, especially Harry. I love him more than… love him like a brother. But what if the only way to use all that power is to become more like their enemy? I’ve already seen Dumbledore manipulate people who trust him, all for the greater good. We both know how compromised the Ministry has become over the years. How do I know that Harry will never make that unforgivable decision in the name of what he thinks is right?”

“I think you’ve had a little too much, Tonks,” Carmichael said gently. “You can’t ever know, really, what’s in another person’s heart. You have to trust your feelings, your instincts. That of course, and…”

She looked at him, ruefully. “Constant vigilance?"

He grinned, and firmly “suggested” she get some sleep. When she left the Three Broomsticks, he had another firewhiskey, untouched, sitting before him on the bar.

Tonks made it to her room in Hogsmeade, where she had taken to sleeping even on her breaks. Carnaby Street was both too crowded, with Amelia, the twins, and more and more frequent visits from Molly Weasley, and too empty, with the two empty bedrooms on the second floor. The one bedroom really, if she was honest with herself.

She stripped off and climbed into her bed, an old t-shirt of Harry’s she’d transfigured into a nightshirt her only clothing. She remembered when she had first “borrowed” it from his room, and the way it had smelled of him and comforted her in the night. Now, it just smelled like her. Comfort was getting harder to come by for everyone, she supposed.

She normally had little trouble sleeping. Getting up was her challenge. Tonight though, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, and thinking about Harry. They had talked the recently. 

The stuff he had told her about Voldemort’s family was disturbing, to say the least. It was no wonder the girl—What was her name again? Merope something?—had run away. She might have done the same thing if she was honest with herself. She wasn’t going to love-potion someone, of course not, but she would probably have run away as soon as she was seventeen. Mum had in a sense run away from the family when she married Dad.

No, it wasn’t romantic thoughts that kept her awake, though she had had enough of those for a lifetime of sleepless nights. Not sexual thoughts either, though those, too, had made themselves known to her. No, tonight, she was worried. Slightly, she was worried about Harry, about what he could do, about how his life had prepared him very much for conflict, but not at all for what to do with his power if peace should ever really come. More than that, however, she worried for Harry, for what would happen to him, what further sacrifices he would be called on to make, and what little of the helpful, caring boy she had met on the platform years before might remain before his journey was over.

“Is it too much to ask,” she thought aloud, “for him to be cared for, and come out alright?”

 

The next morning, Tonks was transfigured to look like a tallish girl she had noticed from Slytherin who liked to sit by the lake and read in the mornings. Today that girl was not here, but Tonks was, in her guise, pretending to read as she watched Harry.

She could have said she was putting in overtime, looking out for trouble on the Hogwarts grounds. She could have said a lot of things. But she was trying to be honest with herself, so she told herself the truth. She had just needed to see him.

Harry was completing his third circuit of the lake and had begun to really sweat. His arms were muscular but not bulky, and his body was hard. His eyes, though, were blank. He was not here, he was somewhere else, lost in memory, or focused on his plans, something she could not fathom.

As he passed by she watched the determined figure, pushing himself to his limits, punishing his body over something as simple as a morning workout. She wondered, not for the first time, if she had come at all close to her self-appointed task of saving the boy she had found on that platform, of undoing any part of what had been done to him before she came into his life.

As he moved away, his regular pace eating up the path with deliberate, unceasing effort, she sighed. She knew despite her declarations that she would not be Harry’s consolation prize, that she was no man’s second choice, she loved him. She had loved him for a long time, and though her feelings had grown more nuanced, more complicated, she expected she would love him for all of her days.

She could only hope that there was something of the young man she loved left after the coming war was over. For seeing the way Harry trained, the way he studied, the way he compartmentalised his friendships and feelings now, she knew that he was expecting a war, and perhaps not expecting that he himself would survive it.

She went back to pretending to read, while she tried to remember happier times.

Chapter 23: Birthday Disaster

Summary:

Another collaborative chapter. Waske wrote much of the Harry and Hermione, while I wrote most of the other characters, especially Neville and Tonks.

Hermione's Birthday
The Half-Blood Prince
Harry and Hermione fall out
Harry prepares for the worst

Chapter Text

Chapter 23 Birthday Disaster

 

The next ten days leading up to Hermione’s birthday had been almost uneventful. She and Harry had found some sort of equilibrium. They were just study-buddies. They would barely mention anything about their past, and outside of classes and the library, they barely spoke a word. Susan, Neville, and Ron would join their study sessions depending on the subject, but Arithmancy and Ancient Runes had ended up being only the two of them. That didn’t mean the others weren’t allowed to join them, but they would work on their assignments during that time, asking the occasional question. 

Harry had been incredibly surprised when he had spotted Hermione changing the cover of her Advanced Potion-Making during breakfast one morning. It had struck home that the woman in front of him was a different person.

“I never imagined you ever doing that to a book,” Harry had commented.

“Well, you were right about it being a better book than the original,” Hermione had said. “I cross-referenced it with potion theory, and I don’t think it is cheating after I have done the basic work for it. It was actually nice that it challenged me on my notion of sticking to authority.”

Harry had been unable to hide his surprise at her words, but then again, he was more than happy to copy the alterations into his own book whenever she lent it to him. It would come in handy if he ever needed to brew a Blood-replenishing potion or maybe an antidote. The original belonged to The Half-Blood Prince, which Ron had found funny. Harry, however, was less of a fan of the name. There were too many half-bloods with titles, he thought.

Harry The Chosen One Potter, Tom You-Know-Who Riddle, and now the Half-Blood Prince, who was apparently a master potioneer. He had spotted some spells in the book and had warned Hermione to at least bring someone else to try them out. Especially towards a spell Sectumsempra which had the note ‘For Enemies’. Harry had, of course, jotted down the spells themselves too, but he wasn’t foolish enough to try them out on a living person, at least not before he checked out the underlying meaning of the words. 

Well, none of that mattered right now as he was flipping a present in his hand. It was Hermione’s birthday present, the calculator he had spent almost a month getting to work in a magic-filled environment. He still hadn’t openly used his own when they had studied together, but the third test one had worked perfectly, and all three of them were identical either way. 

Should I give it to her, or should I not? 

He felt torn; it was one thing if they were just regular friends. He would still buy gifts for his regular friends. The problem was Hermione was in no way a regular friend. He wasn’t even sure if he could still call her a friend. It was more like Harry had become her rival. He was still ahead of her practically, but there was barely any difference in their theoretical knowledge. It was stimulating. She would surpass him once again if he didn’t pick up the slack.

He was still looking down at her present when the door to the dormitory opened. Harry looked up.

“So this is where you were?” Ron said. “Come on. We are ready to go to the library.”

“Serious question,” Harry said, drawing attention to the gift he was holding.

“Shoot,” Ron said. 

“Should I give Hermione her birthday present?” Harry said looking calmly at Ron. “I don’t know if it would be a good idea.”

“Who doesn’t…” Ron began before the reality of the situation hit him. “What is it?”

“A tool to help in Arithmancy,” Harry said. “Muggle calculator … erm, Susan got it when I called it a super abacus… well, I carved in the runes and necessary enchantments for it to work by picking up magic in the air, kind of like your dad’s car.”

“It flies?!” Ron looked shocked. 

“No! No, of course not,” Harry grinned. “It works just the same as a normal one, except it also works at Hogwarts.”

“Well…” Ron frowned. “Honestly I don’t know, at least it is not something like jewellery or something. Still, you know she’d been keen on using it.”

Harry involuntarily moved his free right hand to his left wrist. 

“Is that it?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Look, should I or should I not? Are you giving her a birthday present?”

“It’s not something big, but yeah,” Ron said. “I mean, I am giving her something as well.”

“Figures,” Harry said.

Harry put the present back into the trunk. He had the rest of the day to think about it. He could always ask Susan, too, but in reality, this one he really wanted to ask Sirius or maybe even Amelia about. He just didn’t know if it was appropriate. 

One thing for sure is that what I have done on the past couple of birthdays is not appropriate at all, he thought to himself. 

He and Ron walked downstairs to meet Hermione and Neville.

“Finally,” Hermione said. “What were you doing?”

“Oh sorry,” Harry scratched his head. “Just had something to think about.”

“Reached a conclusion?”

“Not yet,” Harry admitted honestly. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.”

“If it is nothing serious, then it shouldn’t be hard to make a decision,” Hermione teased. 

“I guess not,” Harry said. “Susan is still waiting for us in the library, and Luna would probably like to have her man-toy back.”

“We’re just friends,” Neville said unconvincingly. “Very, very good friends.”

Harry quickly followed and slung an arm around his shoulder.

“Professor Longbottom, you seriously need to help me on my Herbology homework,” Harry teased.

“Professor Longbottom?” Neville asked.

“Doesn’t sound bad at all,” Harry grinned. “Professors Potter and Longbottom, between the two of us they would have to close the school in a week. We’d end up driving either Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall mad.”

Neville laughed at that, but there was a thoughtful look on his face while they walked to the library where they were supposed to meet Ginny, Luna, and Susan. 

Harry ended up asking all five of his friends without letting Hermione know during their study session. Susan was for giving Hermione the birthday present, Ginny was against it, and Luna just asked about how it had an effect on spell-casting. 

Neville turned out to give the most constructive advice. 

“You spent time on it, didn’t you?” he had said. “And it’s going to make her happy? If you don’t want to make her happy, then don’t give it to her. If you want to make her happy, then give it to her.”

One part of Harry rebelled at even thinking of taking relationship advice from Neville Longbottom. Still, another part noted wryly that Neville was the only wizard in their group currently in a happy relationship with a witch.

So here Harry was now sitting in his bed once more flipping over the present in his hand, not quite sure what to do with it. On the one hand, he did want to make Hermione happy, but on the other hand, he really wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be the one to make her happy anymore. 

Guilty, I am too guilty to have any position in her life, Harry thought to himself as he put the present down on his nightstand. I could always get Neville or Ron to give it to her, while I am out for my run or eating breakfast with Susan. Yeah, that might do. Just a casual note about how it was a pet project, and I thought she might enjoy it. Yeah, let’s go with that.

 

Harry got up early the next morning to go for his run. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team had finally begun taking him seriously when he had chewed them out at a few Quidditch practices for not following his training program, so now they would run into him half an hour before breakfast quite grumbly.

Still, as Katie put it, “This is nothing to Wood or Angelina. They went completely insane.”

The results had also begun to show now two weeks later. Their stamina, flying, precision, and power had all improved with their new type of practice. It made Harry proud when he looked at them.

Harry had left the present with a tiny note to Ron about giving it to Hermione when he got up. She would usually get up around the same time as him since Ron started running in the mornings. 

Harry nodded to the sleepy Quidditch team when he spotted them as they came out one by one. They were less grumpy, but Ginny was still giving him an evil eye when he passed her. Ron ran up next to him after his warm-up.

“So, I gave her the present,” he said. “She was happy about it, but she wasn’t happy that you didn’t give it yourself.”

Harry groaned.

“What is going on?” Ron asked. 

“I just don’t want something happening to her like last time,” Harry said. 

“Mate, that is a silly reason for avoiding her like that,” Ron said. 

You have no clue, do you? Harry snarled in his head. 

“I guess, I’ll have to talk to her then,” Harry said as he once more sped up his pace to really push himself on the last lap. 

Harry spotted a figure sitting next to that same tree he had met Tonks under. He had felt her eyes on him a lot lately, oddly enough the staring didn’t feel bad like it did with so many others. 

Harry rounded the edge of the lake once more and stopped near the tree.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he started stretching his sore muscles. 

A moan escaped his lips as some of his stiff muscles relaxed. 

He looked out of the corner of his eyes to see the reaction. The girl was staring at him intently with her hazel eyes. 

“So Tonks, to what do I owe the honour?” Harry asked with a smirk as he turned around.

“Wait — what?” she yelped. “How did you know?”

“Different people sitting under the same tree reading, getting up at the break of dawn, all of them hazel blue eyes and the way they were looking at me was caring and concerned,” Harry listed off. “That is not normal Hogwarts girl behaviour.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Usually, the girls around here just look at me like I am a monkey in a cage, and none of their stares feel pleasant in any way,” Harry smiled. “Moody would skin me if I didn’t notice you sitting there.”

Tonks laughed. 

“Fair point, Harry, how are you doing?” Tonks asked, though she still kept the same appearance.

“Doing okay,” Harry said as he leaned against the tree to stretch his calves. 

“It’s her birthday,” Tonks commented. 

“Yeah, made Ron give her the present I prepared,” Harry sighed. “Apparently that didn’t go down well, so I am looking forward to that conversation.”

“Why would she care?” Tonks asked, not looking up from her book.

“She thinks I’m avoiding her,” Harry said.

“Are you?” 

“Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want her to get involved in what I am going to do,” Harry said. “I am too weak to protect her from Voldemort; I am too weak to protect anyone.” 

“You are not weak,” Tonks said, looking straight up at him.

“I am, though,” Harry smiled sadly. “As I am right now, I can’t even protect myself, what chance do I have bringing along weak teenagers.”

“Susan wrote to me,” Tonks said. 

Harry winced at the penetrating stare.

“She was angry that I didn’t tell them anything either?” Harry asked.

“Something like that,” Tonks said. 

“Well, you know why I didn’t, it would only put them in danger if I did,” Harry said as he got away from the tree. 

“Yeah,” Tonks said. 

“Well, I can’t stay any longer,” Harry said. “It looks suspicious if I begin talking to a Slytherin girl, well any girl. I tell you the girls here are vicious.”

“Don’t forget, I went to Hogwarts too,” Tonks laughed. “Go on, get some breakfast.”

“It was nice talking to you, you know,” Harry said as he turned around and jogged back to the castle.

“It was nice talking to you too,” Tonks whispered under her breath. She waited a little while before she got up to do a quick round around the castle, and then she would be back to gate duty.

Harry got out of the shower and was walking down towards the Great Hall when he spotted Hermione standing leaning against a free spot of wall. 

“We need to talk,” she said, gesturing to a nearby classroom.

Harry groaned and ruffled his hair, but decided it was better to follow her in than try and ignore the problem.

He closed the door behind him and looked at the somewhat angry witch.

“You told me you weren’t avoiding me!” Hermione said.

“Happy birthday?” Harry tried.

“Shut it, what’s going on?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“Look, I just thought it would be better to get Ron to give you the present,” Harry said, avoiding eye contact.

“Why are you keeping your distance like this?” Hermione was now standing right next to him and looking up at his face. “It’s very… confusing.”

“You are my ex-girlfriend,” Harry said, taking a step back. 

“So?” Hermione looked eerily similar to Mrs. Weasley when she was about to explode.

“Your dad forbade me to have anything to do with you,” Harry said.

“And since when did you ever listen to anybody?” 

“Since you got hurt!” Harry looked into her eyes directly. “I can’t protect you, I can’t even protect myself, and because of some damn prophecy about me and the Dark Wanker, I don’t have a choice. You do! I’m keeping my distance so you don’t get pulled into this mess by being close to me again. Go on, find someone to fall in love with, do your N.E.W.T.s, get a job, I don’t know. It is not safe for you to be near me. Listen to your dad, I’m probably the worst scum on the earth according to him.” 

Harry turned around, done with this conversation.

“Train me then.”

“What did you say?”

“I said train me then,” Hermione’s voice was firm and determined.

“Absolutely not,” Harry said. “Last time I did that, the woman who loved me died. I can’t do that again.”

Harry opened up the door and walked out, not looking back at all. He proceeded to walk directly to his corner of the Hufflepuff table and sat down alone. 

He heard the sounds of clothes against wooden benches and looked up to find Susan.

“What has you so down today?” Susan asked.

“Hermione asked me to train her,” Harry said. 

“Could you train me too then?” Susan asked. “Just like in the DA.”

“I told her no, and I am telling you the same, I am not training anyone to follow me on this suicide mission,” Harry looked directly at her. “I can’t do that to either Auntie or Ginny. I will not train a single one of you.”

Susan looked angry for a second, but instead sighed and began rubbing her temples.

“You are serious, aren’t you?” she asked. 

“Completely,” Harry said. “Look, I am just trying to look out for you.” 

Susan put down her hands on the table and looked up at him. Harry was sure, she had never looked more like Amelia than at this moment. 

“Either you decide to train us, or we will begin training on our own,” Susan said.

“On your own then,” Harry said. “I can lend you some books, but I am not getting involved.”

“Fine,” Susan sighed. “Look, I understand. You don’t want us to get involved, but there is no telling whether or not something will come for us anyway. You’re not leaving us safe, Harry, you’re leaving us unprepared, undefended.”

“There is a difference between something coming for you because of a war and you being targeted directly because of me,” Harry said. “I will not train up a personal army.”

“I don’t want to fight you about it,” Susan said. “I take it that Hermione wasn’t happy about getting a no, either.”

“Don’t know,” Harry said. “Left before she could really get going.”

“Well, she is glaring your way quite fiercely right now,” Susan grimaced. “I take it you aren’t going to join study sessions for the moment. I’ll let the others know. Could we go get the books now?”

“Sure,” Harry said. “I wasn’t feeling very hungry. They’re in my trunk.”

Harry and Susan got up from the Hufflepuff table together and walked out of the Great Hall.

 

Ron was sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating a healthy breakfast. He had noticed that Hermione was looking stormy as she fiercely stabbed into her sausages. 

“What’s got to you?” he asked. He usually could tell when something was bothering her, lately.

“Harry Potter,” Hermione said bitingly. 

“What happened?” Ron asked. “Did he say something, or…?”

“He blew me off,” Hermione said. “He was awful. He said that he wasn’t able to protect me. I don’t want his protection, I want to learn to protect myself.”

“I see,” Ron said. 

“I even asked him to train me,” Hermione said, looking straight at Ron. “Do you know what he said, Ronald?”

Ron didn’t say anything and just waited.

“He just said no! The arrogance! I don’t care what my father says; he doesn’t get to dictate my life, either. They aren’t going to tell me what to do,” Hermione huffed.

“So what are you going to do?” Ron asked. 

“I’m going to train myself,” Hermione said. “If Harry is too good to teach me, then I can just study on my own, and then I am going to beat him and make him realise that I don’t need anybody to protect me.”

“If that is what you want to do,” Ron said. “I understand why you feel that way. He does actually care about what happens to you—”

“I bet he helps Susan,” Hermione interrupted, still clearly upset. “They left together again.”

“There is no reason to think about this now,” Ron said. “It’s your birthday, what should we do to celebrate?” 

“Ronald, we have a mountain of homework, and I need to read up on defensive spells,” Hermione said. “I don’t have time to celebrate my birthday. Thanks for asking though. It’s just … this is important to me.”

“Alright,” Ron said. “Anything you want help with?” 

 

Harry had handed over his three volumes of Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts to Susan, when he came out of the common room once more.

“I got these from Sirius and Remus, so take good care of them, okay?” Harry said. “They are quite good as a basis for practical DADA, so they should be more than enough for you to get started. I recommend cardio training as well. No matter how good you are at counter-curses, it doesn’t matter if you get too tired to dodge the Unforgivable. I’ve got to run, I’m late for Arithmancy.” 

“See you, Harry, and thanks these should be more than enough to get me started,” Susan said with a smile. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry said with a smile as he moved down the corridor.

Susan ran her finger over the cover of volume one. 

“Well, I guess I now have something to read outside of my homework. I should probably go find Ginny or Ron, so that they can tell Hermione that I got there,” Susan muttered to herself as she walked towards the library once more. 

Harry found an empty table away from Hermione in Arithmancy and pulled out his books and notes. He felt her glaring at him, but he decided that either this was the end of their friendship or she would cool down at some point. It wouldn’t make it any better if he decided to approach her right now. He was not going to change his decision. 

The days went by quickly. Harry didn’t mind not being able to study with Hermione anymore. Actually, it was a little freeing. He could still study with the rest of the group at different times. Well,l Ron wasn’t around much either if Hermione wasn’t, so he was missing him a little but not by much. 

Harry caught himself thinking about when the next private lesson with Dumbledore was going to be. Harry couldn’t quite avoid sitting at the same table as Hermione during Potions, but in all the other classes, they avoided each other as much as possible. Harry had managed to write down enough of the Half-Blood Prince’s revisions in his own potions book, and he even managed to apply some more advanced potions theory to the recipes he hadn’t, so that his results were by and large just as good as Hermione’s by the end of each class. They were by far Slughorn’s best students in the class, and they would usually end up with at least ten points each every time they delivered their potions to the Professor. 

Quidditch practise showed progress as well. The beaters were coming into form, and sometimes Harry would spot some of that ingenuity that had made Fred and George such menaces on the field as well, Ron was beginning to be more consistent as the training outside of the pitch made him more stable on the broom. Harry even nourished a small hope of winning the Quidditch Cup by the time October came around. 

Harry spotted the notice for the first weekend in Hogsmeade one morning. 

“Take your time, process this. I guess it is no surprise that I will be around Hogwarts this year guarding the students. I’m staying in Hogsmeade. We can talk about it your first weekend there.”

Tonks’ words ran through his head as he looked at the notice. Harry sighed. It wasn’t like they didn’t sometimes talk in the mornings when Harry spotted her sitting at the tree watching sometimes. They just never brushed that topic at all.

“What’s got your knickers in a pinch?” Harry heard Dean saying from behind him.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. “First Hogsmeade-weekend is up.” 

“Yeah so?” Dean asked. 

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. “You know, just weird being single again, I think.”

“It’s not like you couldn’t ask any girl in the castle on a Hogsmeade date and not get a yes,” Dean teased. “Buck up, Old Man.”

“Well, you can have most of my fangirls for all I care,” Harry shuddered. “Most of them look ready to pull me apart if I let them.” 

“Tsk… you are saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Too much of a good thing can be a poison as well,” Harry laughed. “See you, Dean.”

“See ya, Harry,” Dean said as Harry turned around and walked downstairs to the Great Hall. 

Harry barely sat down for breakfast, when Colin Creevey came up to him with a scroll in his hand. Harry thanked him and opened it up to look at the handwriting once more. 

 

Harry

Same time next Saturday.

Dumbledore

 

Harry incinerated the scrap of paper and watched it crumple up and turn to ash on his plate before he vanished the remains.

“What was that for?” Ron asked. 

Harry spotted Hermione looking at him before she quickly turned her head away.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Harry,” Ron groused. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Sorry. Nothing, really.”

Harry quickly ate something while ignoring Hermione’s obvious attempts at silently getting his attention. He really didn’t need her to know that he was taking private lessons with Dumbledore, even more so when the content of the classes were Voldemort’s history. 

He still hadn’t quite figured out why he was made to watch memories, but as usual, Dumbledore probably had a plan or two behind it. It was easier to just go along with the flow than trying to wrestle out information from the old man. 

Harry couldn’t help himself from getting excited about the next private lesson with Dumbledore, if this was going to help him survive, then it might be good to bring a notebook to write stuff down. He wondered how difficult it would be to get a hold of his own Pensieve someday.

 

Chapter 24: Catching Up

Summary:

Harry meets with Hagrid and is reacquainted with Buckbeak the hippogriff.

Hagrid shares his worries about Aragog.

Hermione investigates Harry's state of mind by talking with Susan and learns a lot more than she expected.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24.   Catching Up

 

Harry found himself Saturday morning just wanting to get away from everyone. He was getting apprehensive that Dumbledore had been nowhere in sight at breakfast in the Great Hall.

He can’t have forgotten, can he? He’s not that old,  Harry had thought to himself.

Hermione was still giving him the stink eye, and Ron wasn’t much better being a right idiot and pretty obviously on her side. Well, the Ron thing hadn’t come as a surprise. It wasn’t like it was the first time Ron turned away from Harry when the wind wasn’t blowing in Harry’s favour. 

So Harry found himself walking the grounds alone and spotted smoke coming out of Hagrid’s cabin.

“Now there is someone I actually miss,” Harry muttered to himself as he walked towards the cabin. He spotted what was unmistakably Buckbeak lying next to the house.

Harry bowed as Hagrid had taught him in his third year, and Buckbeak gave a low nod to him as well. Harry was just about to reach out and pet Buckbeak’s head when he heard a bellowing voice.

“Oi! Get yer ‘and away from ’im, he’ll bite yer finger -- Oh, it’s you,” Hagrid said as he turned around on the spot and walked inside his cabin, slamming the door shut behind him,

Harry wasn’t perturbed about that at all; he had enough of whining people around him. There hardly was a day in the Gryffindor common room where he didn’t hear a complaint from hopeful Gryffindors who hadn’t made the team. There wasn’t a day where Hermione wasn’t glaring at him since her birthday, and there wasn’t a day where he wasn’t apparently offending a girl for not wanting to get in her knickers. Adding a half-giant to that list might seem daunting to most, but at this point, to Harry, it was just a typical Tuesday. 

Harry ran his fingers through Buckbeak’s feathers for another minute before he looked into Hagrid’s cabin and spotted the man moving away from it in a hurry.

Harry clapped his hands like he was brushing off dirt and then walked over to the door and knocked. He listened as Fang began barking on the other side of the door.

“Hagrid, open up!” Harry said calmly. 

No answer. 

“Hagrid, I SAID OPEN UP!” Harry shouted this time.

Still no answer. 

“You leave me no choice. Either you open up this door, or I am going to blast it right off its hinges,” Harry said loud enough for it to get through the door.

Harry flicked his wrist, and his wand was in his hand. He counted down from three and didn’t even manage to hit two before the door was slammed open.

“What do yer think yer playing at, Potter?!” Hagrid looked angry. “I’m a teacher. A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!””

“I’m sorry,  sir ,” Harry said, emphasising the last word as he stowed his wand back into its holster on his right forearm.

Hagrid looked stunned. “Since when have yeh called me ‘sir’?”

“Around the same time that you started calling me ‘Potter’.”

“Oh, very clever,” growled Hagrid. “Very amusin’. That’s me outsmarted, innit? All right, come in then, yeh ungrateful little…”

Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let Harry pass. 

“Well?” said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry sat down at his enormous wooden table, Fang laying his head immediately upon Harry’s knee and drooling all over his robes.

“What’s this? Feelin’ sorry for me? Reckon I’m lonely or summat?”

“No,” Harry said. “I was feeling lonely.”

“Wait -- what? Is this yeh tryin’ to outsmart me again?” Hagrid looked confused.

Harry sighed and began telling Hagrid everything that had happened so far this year.

Harry paused, and he and Hagrid looked at one another, both feeling guilty for their outbursts and relieved to have someone to talk to.

“Tea?” Hagrid asked, and Harry nodded. 

Soon Harry and Hagrid were sitting each with a large tankard in front of them.

“Yeh know, yeh really deserve Hermione being angry at yeh,” Hagrid said.

“I know,” Harry said, sipping on his tankard. “Still I am not going to change my mind. You know how bad last time ended.” 

“Of course, I know,” Hagrid grumbled. “Yeh know I was hurt when none of yeh showed up for my N.E.W.T.-class.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I am already taking seven N.E.W.T.s and with private lessons with Dumbledore and being Captain of the Quidditch team, and I just didn’t have any more time.”

“Phew, seven yeh say?” Hagrid sat back. “I guess I can’t really fault yeh for that.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet up with you and have a talk,” Harry said. 

There was a funny squelching sound, and Harry looked around. There was a large barrel standing in the corner that Harry had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots, slimy, white, and writhing.

“What are they, Hagrid?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too revolted. 

“Jus’ giant grubs,” Hagrid said.

“Grub? As in food? Who is eating such things?” Harry asked.

“I use ’em ter feed Aragog,” Hagrid said.

And without warning, he burst into tears.

Harry had cried enough this summer to know it was useless to hold it back. Instead, he just let it happen. He sat back and sipped his tea until Hagrid was feeling okay to talk again.

“It’s… him…” Hagrid gulped, his beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. “It’s… Aragog. I think he’s dying. He got ill over the summer, and he’s not gettin’ better. I don’t know what I’ll do if he—if he— We’ve bin together so long—”

Harry patted Hagrid’s shoulder, looking at a complete loss for anything to say. He had known Hagrid to present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen him croon over giant scorpions with suckers and stingers, attempt to reason with his brutal giant of a half-brother, but this was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all his monster fancies: the giant talking spider, Aragog, who dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest. Harry had never actually met the Acromantula, but he had read up about it after having watched the memory of Riddle four years prior. Apparently, they could grow genuinely enormous. 

“I know how it feels to have a friend die,” Harry said. “Too many friends for my liking at this point.”

Hagrid gulped.

“I’m not trying to compete with you,” Harry said, putting his tankard down. “I just mean that I understand what it’s like.”

The two of them ended up in silence as they both thought back to the people they had lost through life.

“Well, I must admit I am a little jealous of you,” Harry finally broke the silence. “You get to spend time with Aragog. Does he have any family?”

“Oh yes, yes,” Hagrid said, smiling. “Big ol’ family, lives in the forest. Well, the rest of the tribe— Aragog’s family— they’re gettin’ a bit funny now he’s ill. A bit restive.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “They aren’t about to leave the forest, are they?” 

“No, no,” Hagrid waved his hand. “But I don’ reckon it’d be safe for anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo’,” Hagrid finished, blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up. “Thanks for listening, Harry… It means a lot.”

“Any time,” Harry said. “Also, if I didn’t listen to your problems, then how could I expect you to listen to mine.” 

Hagrid smiled at that, and the mood lightened considerably. 

“Yeh know I’m sorry for acting like that,” Hagrid said. “I always knew yeh’d find it hard to squeeze me inter yer timetable,” he said gruffly, pouring the two of them more tea. “Even if yeh applied for time-turners --”

“Blew those up before summer, I’m afraid,” Harry smiled sadly. “There was an article in the  Prophet  and all, and the Unspeakables are not fans of me right now.”

“Well, I suppose not, when you go breaking all their stuff,” Hagrid laughed. “So, what yeh going to do about Hermione?”

“Why am I supposed to do anything?” Harry lifted his eyebrow.

“Because yeh are not going to leave her to fend for herself,” Hagrid said knowingly. 

“If I train her, she is going to join me on some suicide mission to fight Voldemort,” Harry said. “Because of that Prophecy, he is never going to leave me alone until I am dead.”

“Doesn’t mean yeh can’t help ’em prepare,” Hagrid said wisely.

“I guess not,” Harry admitted. “I’m just afraid it is going to end up with them arguing that ‘this is what I prepared them for.”

Harry took a long sip of his tea.

“Yeh know, I could see that,” Hagrid said. “Still doesn’t change the fact.”

“Let me think about it,” Harry said as he emptied his second tankard of tea. “I should head back to the castle. It really was good talking to you, Hagrid. I will drop by again.”

Harry walked outside and noticed that it was already approaching dinner by the time he left Hagrid’s.

“Sure, I was starting to feel a little hungry,” Harry muttered as he walked up the path.

Much to Harry’s relief, he had stopped being the centre of everyone’s attention as the first month had passed and homework was mounting. He rarely got exaggerated stares any longer. Only a select group of fangirls were still openly flirting with him, which was a stark improvement considering the beginning of the year. 

Harry could finally sit down at the Gryffindor table without getting surrounded by people who were obnoxiously interested in him since half the house was still mad at him for not picking them for the Quidditch team. Harry settled down directly next to Hermione, who demonstratively looked away from him.

“Hermione - look at me,” Harry said. 

She turned her head towards him.

“I’m sorry, I was being a git,” Harry said. “Try and understand it from my perspective: the last time I agreed to teach people, Sirius died. You lost your memories. Everything just went tits up.”

“Language,” Hermione said per reflex.

Harry chuckled at that. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll try.” 

“Look, I don’t know if Susan has shown you yet,” Harry said placatingly, “but I lent her some books which are a good basis for self-study. I have a lot more advanced books with me too. I spent my whole summer preparing for a possible suicide mission, so I have pretty much the A-Z on trying to stay alive in my trunk. I had to redo the extension charm with extra Rune work to make all of them fit, and that is still only a tenth of the books I’ve bought and read over the summer.”

“I’ve seen them,” Hermione said. “You are right– they are quite good.” 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I don’t mind if you guys self-study. I don’t want to leave you unprepared. I don’t want to end up in a situation where you argue that because I was the one to teach you, then you are involved.”

“I wouldn’t,” Hermione said.

Harry looked at Ron, who didn’t look up from his plate. Neville was having much the same expression, but his ears were turning red. 

“I did, didn’t I?” Hermione said. “Just before summer, we all did.”

“Yeah, look, I am only blaming myself for letting you go with me,” Harry said. “Well, I guess if you hadn’t I would have probably been dead, and so would Tonks.”

“Tonks?” Hermione shot a glance at Ron. “Your guardian?”

“She took me into her home in our second year because my relatives were—no, I can’t go through all of this again. Ask Ron later, or Ginny, Susan. They know the important parts. But Tonks is the closest thing I have left to family, and Voldemort had his Death Eaters kidnap her. They dragged her to the Ministry to get me to go there too, bait for a trap,” Harry said. 

“I went, of course. And you all insisted on coming to help, and I couldn’t stop you. I didn’t stop you, whichever. Do none of you realise the danger it is to be important to me?”

“Ronald,” Hermione said, “You left a lot out.”

“I had to, didn’t I?” Ron gritted his teeth, looking down and refusing to meet her eyes. “There was no way you were ready for all that, for the way we all of us practically forced Harry to take us with him. You think he’s the only one of us that feels guilty for what happened to you?”

Neville reached over and put a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Anyway, that is why I am not teaching you,” Harry said as he got up once more. “Because you are that loyal of a friend. I would much rather you hated me for the rest of my life than have anything else happen to you.”

Hermione watched Harry with a conflicted expression as he walked over to the Hufflepuff table once more and sat down. 

Hermione thought for a moment, then asked Ron, “Harry really thinks about that night and everything leading up to it as his fault?”

“He must do.” Ron looked over at Harry, almost wistfully. “Probably hates me more, now.”

“You said Susan and Harry were living together, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ron shrugged. 

Hermione nodded and once more focused on her dinner. 

No wonder he’s so angry and afraid all of the time,  she thought.

 

By the time dinner was almost over, Hermione had looked up to find Harry and Susan leaving the Hufflepuff table together once more. She had decided to have a girl-to-girl talk with Susan about Harry. She hoped that they weren’t going together to the library and was relieved when she spotted Harry walking off in a different direction. 

“Erm -- Susan?” Hermione called.

“Huh,” Susan turned around. “Hermione, what’s up?”

“Could I trouble you for a little, erm, girl talk?” Hermione looked a little embarrassed.

“Of course,” Susan beamed. “Want to head to the library?” 

“Sure,” Hermione said, and they headed off together. 

“So, I found out you and Ginny are together,” Hermione said quietly. 

“Really?” Susan looked amused. “And?”

“Well, you two look good together,” Hermione said.

“Thank you. It was thanks to you, actually.” Susan looked nostalgic. “We swapped rooms at the wedding- my aunt and Sirius. You were sharing a room with Ginny, and well, Auntie and Sirius were rather enthusiastic about leaving by themselves.” 

“Why would I do that?” Hermione asked.

“Well, you would have a room to yourself and Harry…” Susan hesitated.

“Oh,” Hermione blushed. “I see.”

“Well, you ran in on Ginny and me the next morning and found Ginny in my bed,” Susan smiled. “So, how did you find out?” 

“Ronald realised,” Hermione said. “So I just asked Luna and Neville, in case he was misreading things.”

“He hasn’t been around to talk with Ginny as far as I know,” Susan looked thoughtful. “I think she would have told me if he had.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to have that conversation?” Hermione asked. 

“Probably not,” Susan said. “So, what is it that you want to talk about?”

“Well, Harry,” Hermione said. “I think I need a more unbiased opinion of him.”

“I thought you hated him,” Susan raised an eyebrow. 

 “I don’t hate him. I do find him incredibly arrogant and selfish,” Hermione huffed. “He acts as if I don’t even mean anything to him anymore. Like we aren’t even friends.”

“That’s the thing, he ‘ acts’ ,” Susan said. “He is hurting far more than you think.”

“That’s… that’s why I need to talk to you,” Hermione said. “I want to know about him from someone who honestly understands him.” 

“I don’t understand him,” Susan said blankly. “Harry doesn’t let anyone in; he blocks everyone out. He only really shared himself with you before, maybe Tonks.”

“Seriously, what is all this about Tonks?” Hermione asked. “I have very little feel for her, either in memories or from talking to Ronald.”

“Harry’s guardian, his big sister, his training partner, his mentor, his confidant, the one who has had to help him through crippling nightmares and panic attacks, the woman who has on more than one occasion been attacked after Harry has woken up from a nightmare,” Susan stated bluntly.

“Nightmares?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Susan said. “Harry has night terrors. He keeps dreaming about the time his friend Cedric was killed,  that  night, probably the basilisk too, but I don’t know a lot about it. There are some other things, but I’m sorry. It’s just not my story to tell.” 

“Who can I talk to?” Hermione asked. “It’s not as if Harry will tell me the important things, not now.”

“Tonks, maybe my aunt, and then the painting of Sirius in our flat,” Susan counted on her fingers. “That’s pretty much it. I don’t even think he would open up to my aunt either anymore. She has baby twins to take care of, and Harry wouldn’t like to put them in danger. He would take a Killing Curse for any of them.”

“Your aunt had twins?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, Harry is their godfather,” Susan said. “I’m their godmother. But this isn’t what’s bothering you, is it?”

“No,” Hermione said. “I want to know what Harry did during the summer to change so much.”

Susan winced. 

“Again, I can’t tell you everything,” Susan said. “Some things would betray my friendship with Harry. I can tell you that he spent every single day physically bruised from training. The rest of the time, he would either work on the flat or read whatever book he could get his hands on. My aunt used to be Head of the D.M.L.E., she was an Auror, and she has trained Aurors, she began teaching and testing him in anything from Curses to Poisons, Dark creatures, and basic first aid. Tonks, who is an Auror right now, would help train him, too. Sometimes he would even duel, both of us against him. Never won in a two versus one scenario, but Harry has won more than once against an active Auror. He pushed himself past what his body could handle. All so he could do all of this on his own. He thinks it will protect us if he isolates himself.”

“He is wrong, of course,” Susan said. “That’s why as soon as I have any questions about the books he hands me, I’ll ask him questions. I won’t train myself to death, but I won’t be unprepared, either.” 

“I want to prepare, too,” Hermione said with conviction. “You think I could join you?”

“Of course,” Susan said. “I am already practising with Ginny, so you can join us if you want.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled. “This feels like the most progress I’ve made on anything important in days.”

 

 

Chapter 25: Tom Riddle

Summary:

Harry and Dumbledore deal directly with memories of young Tom Riddle, and his invitation to study at Hogwarts.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 25. Tom Riddle

 

“Acid Pops.” 

The gargoyle in front of Harry stood aside and let Harry walk up the staircase towards Dumbledore’s office. He was replaying everything from their last private lesson in his mind. 

He knocked on the door before he was allowed into the office.

“Good evening, Professor,” Harry said. 

“Good evening, Harry;” Dumbledore was sitting in his chair. 

“Where have you been?” Harry asked.

“It is not yet time for me to tell you that.”

Harry snorted inwardly but let it go. He put down his bag and retrieved a notebook from it and a muggle pen.

“What is that for?” Dumbledore asked.

“Notes,” Harry said briskly. “It wouldn’t be good to forget any of these lessons if my life ended up depending on it.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as he rose and poured fresh memories into the Pensive and began swirling the stone basin once more.

“So the cruel but handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope remained in London, expecting the baby who would one day become your adversary, Lord Voldemort.” 

“How do we know she was in London? She might have gone anywhere.” 

“I have another memory here, the memory of my meeting with Caractacus Burke,” said Dumbledore, “The locket we have been discussing was found in his shop.” 

He swirled the Pensieve as Harry had seen him do, as a prospector panning for gold. Within the silver liquid, whorls and eddies coalesced into a face, then a form, a little man, old, with watery eyes and hair drooping across his pate to nearly obscure his face.

The memory spoke, and despite the ghostly image, the voice was strong, sly, and proud.

“That piece? Yes, a rather curious story there. Very proud of that deal, if I say so myself. She came to me just before Christmas, years back. Covered in rags and pretty far along. In the family way, as they say. She said the locket had been Salazar Slytherin’s. They always do say, don’t they? ‘Oh, this was Merlin’s—his favourite teapot,’ but when I looked at it, it had Slytherin’s mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Near-enough priceless, clearly. She had no clue, bless her heart. Told her it was worth five galleons, maybe. But as it was Christmas, I might go as high as ten. Ten galleons! And she was happy to get it. Made a right happy Christmas for me, that deal did.” 

Dumbledore shook the Pensieve dismissively, and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come. 

“Ten galleons?” said Harry indignantly. 

“The Burkes are not famed for their generosity,” scowled Dumbledore. “So, Merope was alone. She was in London and desperately in need of gold, desperate enough to sell her last valuable possession, Marvolo’s locket.” 

“But she could do magic!” said Harry impatiently. “She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn’t she?” 

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, “perhaps she could. But it is my belief — I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right — that she did not even want to be a witch any longer. Now, it is also possible that her physical and emotional exhaustion, her deep despair, sapped her of her powers. She was unwilling, or unable, to fight much longer, even to preserve her own life.” 

“She wouldn’t even fight for the sake of her son?” 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Sympathy Harry, for Lord Voldemort?” 

“No, but perhaps a little for Tom Riddle,” Harry admitted. “His situation was quite similar to my own -- as he has pointed out multiple times before.”

“I suspect he has,” Dumbledore said.

“Still, she had a choice, didn’t she? Not like some.”

“Your mother had a choice as well, you know,” said Dumbledore perceptively. “Yes, Merope Riddle chose death. Death, despite a son in need of her, true. But let us not judge her too harshly. A life of suffering had weakened her intensely. Plus, she did not have the advantages of love and companionship your mother enjoyed, did she?”

“Where are we going?” Harry changed the subject as Dumbledore moved to his side. 

“A memory of my own,” said Dumbledore, “which I think you will find both detailed and somehow lacking. As I do myself.” 

 

Harry entered the Pensieve, and he found that he and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling London street. Muggle London, from the look of it.

“Here I am,” said Dumbledore presently, pointing ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road. 

Younger Dumbledore’s long hair and beard were auburn, and his fashionable suit was unique in being a particular shade of plum that stood out amongst the drab Muggles. 

“Nice suit,” chuckled Harry, and Dumbledore joined him. They followed the younger wizard through a set of iron gates before a grim, square building. He knocked once, and after a brief wait, the door was opened by a scruffy girl in an apron. 

“Good day. I have an appointment with Mrs Cole.” 

“Cole?” The girl seemed quite out of sorts, confronted with the dapper wizard in his plum suit.

“The Matron here?” Dumbledore smiled disarmingly. 

The girl smiled uncertainly at Dumbledore. “Come in, and I’ll fetch her, sir.”

Dumbledore stepped inside. Harry and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the door had even closed behind them, a woman worn beyond her middle years came hurrying toward them. She appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another servant as she approached Dumbledore. 

“…and take the iodine upstairs to Martha. Billy Bathshot has been picking his scabs, and Aaron Hoots is oozing all over his sheets — the pox on top of everything else,” she said to nobody in particular. Then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore, and she stopped dead in her tracks, transfigured, shocked to stillness. 

“Good afternoon,” said Dumbledore, holding out his hand. Mrs Cole took it absently. 

“My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment, and you very kindly invited me here today.” 

Mrs Cole blinked. Deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, “Letter? You sent—Oh, about young mister Tom. Yes.” 

She led Dumbledore into a small office. It was as clean but rather shabby, and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on less worn of two chairs and took a seat behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him apprehensively. 

“I am here to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his attendance at my school, which is called Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore. 

“And how come you’re interested in Tom?” 

“I assure you, his name has been down for our school since birth. We believe he has certain qualities that we are looking for.” 

“What, like a scholarship? But then, who registered him? His parents?” 

“Here you are,” said Dumbledore, waving his wand subtly as he passed her a nondescript scrap of paper from her desk. “I think this will make everything clear.” 

Mrs Cole’s eyes struggled to focus as she gazed intently at the blank paper, but after a moment, she nodded. 

“That seems in order,” she said, handing it back. As she did, her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that Harry was sure had not been there a few seconds earlier. 

“Ah — may I offer you a glass of gin?” she said in a carefully polite voice. 

“Thank you very much,” said Dumbledore, beaming. 

It was clear that Mrs Cole was no novice when it came to gin. Pouring each of them a generous measure, she drained her own quickly, refilling it before closing the bottle somewhat regretfully.

“I was wondering,” Dumbledore inquired kindly, “if you could share with me anything of Tom Riddle’s history? I believe he was born here? In the orphanage itself?” 

“That’s right,” said Mrs Cole, sipping at her gin. “I won’t soon forget, as I’d just started here that week. New Year’s Eve, it was snowing and bitter cold, a nasty night. And this poor girl, not much older than me at the time, came staggering up the front steps, no coat, almost in rags. Not the first, or the last, sadly. She had that baby within the hour, and her spirit passed within the next. God Bless her.”

Mrs Cole nodded sadly and continued to sip at her drink. 

“Did she say anything about the boy’s father, perhaps, before she died?” asked Dumbledore. “Anything at all?”

“Matter of fact she did, yes, she did,” said Mrs Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with gin in her hand and an eager audience. “She said, ‘I hope he looks like his papa,’ and I won’t lie, that was a blessing come true because she was no beauty. She told me to name him Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, that’s for hers. His surname was to be Riddle. I guess because he was such a puzzle. She passed without another word.”

“It seemed important to the poor girl, so we named him as she asked, though no one of any name or description ever came looking for him. No family ever showed, so he’s stayed here with us ever since.” 

Mrs Cole finished her measure of gin. She was somewhat flushed and sat silently for a moment. Then she added suddenly, “He’s a funny child.” 

“Oh, yes?,” said Dumbledore. “How might that might be?”

“He was a funny baby too,” she continued. “He hardly ever cried. And then, when he got a little older, it began to be noticed that he was… odd.” 

“Odd in what way?” asked Dumbledore gently. 

“Well, he —” 

Mrs Cole pulled up short, sending an inquisitorial glance at Dumbledore. 

“You’re taking him, for certain?” she asked cautiously. “To this school of yours?” 

“Definitely,” said Dumbledore. 

“And nothing I say will change that?” 

“Nothing,” said Dumbledore. 

She squinted at the Professor as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently, she reached a decision that stilled her fears because she said in a sudden rush, “He frightens the other children.” 

“Do you mean that he is a bully?” asked Dumbledore. 

“He must be,” said Mrs Cole, frowning, “but it’s so difficult to catch him at anything. There have been incidents, awful things…” 

Dumbledore did not immediately press her, though Harry could tell that he was curious about this report. Instead, they waited, and eventually, she continued, staring into the distance in distraction as she spoke. 

“There was the Stubbs boy’s rabbit…well, Tom said he didn’t do anything to it, and I can’t imagine how he could have done, but the poor thing didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it?” 

“I should imagine not, no,” said Dumbledore quietly. 

“But blast if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then”— Mrs Cole took another swig of gin— “on the summer outing — we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or the seaside — well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they’d gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they’d just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I’m sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things…” 

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady. “I don’t think many people will be sorry to see the back of him.” 

“You understand, I’m sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?” said Dumbledore. “He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer.” 

“Oh, well, that’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, at any rate,” said Mrs Cole somewhat too brightly. She got to her feet, and Harry was impressed to see that she was relatively steady, considering the ease with which she had dispatched her gin. “I suppose you’d like to see him?”

“Very much,” said Dumbledore, rising too. 

Mrs Cole led Dumbledore, followed by Harry and the modern Headmaster Dumbledore, out of her office and up the stone stairs. She called out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Harry saw, all wore the same kind of greyish tunic. They appeared reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up. Harry eyed them critically but did not see any signs of concealed abuse in their postures or demeanours.

“Here you go,” said Mrs Cole, as they turned off the landing and stopped outside a door, one of many in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered. 

“Tom? You’ve got a visitor. He’s come to— well, best let him tell it.” 

Harry and the two Dumbledores entered the room. Mrs Cole closed the door on her way out. It was a small, bare chamber with nothing in it except an old wardrobe, a wooden chair, and an iron-framed bed. A lean, pale boy was sitting on top of the grey blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book. 

There was no trace of the Gaunt blood in Tom Riddle’s features. His mother had got her dying wish: her son was his handsome father in miniature, tall for his age, dark-haired, and slender. His eyes narrowed only slightly as he took in Dumbledore’s eccentric appearance. The two waited a moment in silence. 

“How do you do, Tom?” said Dumbledore, stepping forward and extending his hand. 

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook seriously. Dumbledore pulled the hard, wooden chair up beside Riddle. The pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

“I am Professor Albus Dumbledore.” 

“‘Professor’?” repeated Riddle warily. “Is that like ‘doctor’? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” 

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs Cole had just left. 

“No, no,” said Dumbledore calmly. 

“I don’t believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn’t she?” His voice took on an air of command. “Tell the truth!” 

The last three words rang with an almost shocking force. It was as though he had given the command many times before and expected obedience. His eyes widened, and he glared at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds, Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. 

“Who are you,  really ?” 

“I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore, and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school — your new school — if you would like to come.” 

Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. 

“Don’t lie to me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, you see? It’s Cole, the old cat, that’s who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Benson or Bishop — you ask them, they’ll tell you!” 

“You have made an error, Tom, which I understand under the circumstances,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you would be so kind as to sit down calmly, I shall tell you about my school, Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” 

“I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle. 

“Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle’s last words, “is a school for people with special abilities —” 

“I’m not mad!”

“I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.” 

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore’s, as though trying to catch one of them lying. 

“Magic?” he repeated in a whisper. 

“That’s right,” said Dumbledore. 

“It’s… it’s magic, what I can do?” 

“And what is it that you can do?”

“All sorts,” breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising into his hollow cheeks; he looked almost fevered. “I can make leaves and filings move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to without training them. I make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.” 

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

“I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.” 

“Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling but watching Riddle intently. “You are a wizard.” 

Riddle lifted his head. The boy was transfigured: There was an exulting, wild happiness upon his face. For some reason, this did not make Tom better looking; instead, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial. There was a suggestion around his eyes of the zeal and contempt of Lord Voldemort.

“You’re a wizard too,” he declared, as though daring Dumbledore to deny it.

“Yes, I am.” 

“Prove it,” said Riddle commanded immediately, using the same commanding tone he had used when he had earlier said, “Tell the truth.” 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 

“I take it you are accepting your place at Hogwarts?” 

“Of course I am!” Tom failed to conceal his contempt at the suggestion, and Dumbledore did not let the moment pass.

“Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’”

Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he again changed courses and said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. Please, Professor, could you show me—?” 

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse. He would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious. Instead, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, and to Harry’s great surprise, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner. 

Dumbledore gave his wand a subtle flick. The wardrobe burst into flames, roaring in the small room. 

Riddle staggered, nearly falling to his knees; Harry could identify with him at that moment, could forgive him for his shock and rage; all the boy’s worldly possessions must be in that wardrobe. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore in anger, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. The silence of the extinguished flames filled the room as Riddle stared from the unharmed cabinet to Dumbledore. Eagerly, Riddle pointed to the wand in Dumbledore’s hand, his expression greedy. “Where do I get one of them?” 

“All in good time,” said Dumbledore. “I think something is trying to get out of your wardrobe.” 

And sure enough, Harry could hear a faint rattling from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened. 

“Open the door,” said Dumbledore. 

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. Above a rail of threadbare clothes on the topmost shelf, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though several frantic mice were trapped inside it.

 “Take it out,” said Dumbledore. Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved. 

“Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?” asked Dumbledore. Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. 

“Yes, I suppose so, sir,” he said finally, in an expressionless voice. 

“Open it,” said Dumbledore. Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished tin ocarina among them. Once freed from the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets. 

“You must, and will, return each of these items to their rightful owners with your apologies,” said Dumbledore calmly, slipping his wand back inside his suit jacket. “Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts. And be warned: I shall know whether it has been done.” 

Riddle did not look abashed in the slightest; instead, he was cooly regarding Dumbledore, making some mental appraisal. At last, he said in a flat and non-committal voice, “Yes, sir.” 

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore continued, “we will teach you to control your magic, not merely use it. You are not the first prospective student, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to get the better of your judgement. The uses to which you have put your magic are neither taught nor tolerated under my instruction nor that of your other professors. Therefore, you should be aware that our school can expel students should the need arise. The Ministry of Magic punishes lawbreakers more severely still. In entering our world, new wizards must accept that they must abide by our laws.”

“Yes, sir,” repeated Riddle, without hesitation. 

It was impossible to tell what young Tom Riddle was thinking; his face remained composed as he returned his little cache of stolen objects to the cardboard box. This task complete, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, “I haven’t any money.” 

“One problem easily remedied,” said Dumbledore, drawing a leather pouch from his pocket. “There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spell-books and so on secondhand, but —” 

“Where do you buy spell-books?” interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore and was now examining a fat gold galleon. 

“In Diagon Alley,” replied Dumbledore. “I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything —” 

“You’re coming with me?” asked Riddle, looking up. 

“Certainly, if you —”

“I don’t need you,” said Riddle. “I’m used to doing things for myself. I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley — sir?” he added, catching Dumbledore’s eye. 

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again, he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment. After telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, “You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you — non-magical people, that is — will not. Ask for Tom the barman — easy enough to remember, as he shares your name —” 

Riddle gave an irritable twitch as though trying to displace a bothersome fly. 

“You dislike the name ‘Tom’?” 

“Nothing special about being called Tom,” muttered Riddle. As though he could not hold back the thought, he blurted out, “Was my father a wizard? He was Tom Riddle, like me, they’ve said.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Dumbledore, his voice gentle. 

“My mother can’t have been magic, or she wouldn’t have died,” said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. “It must’ve been him. So — when I’ve got all my stuff — when do I come to this Hogwarts?” 

“All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope,” said Dumbledore. “You will leave from King’s Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too.”

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, “I can speak to snakes. I found out when we’ve been to the country on trips — they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?” 

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress. 

“It is unusual,” said Dumbledore, after a moment’s hesitation, “but not unheard of.” 

His tone was casual, but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle’s face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. The moment passed, and Dumbledore was at the door. 

“Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at school.” 

“Enough, I should imagine,” said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry’s side, and seconds later, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more before returning to the present-day office. 

 

“Sit down,” said Dumbledore, alighting aside Harry. 

Harry was deep in thought about what they had just witnessed. 

“He believed it much quicker than I did — about being a wizard,” said Harry. “I couldn’t believe Hagrid when he first told me.” 

“Yes, young Tom was perfectly ready to believe that he was — to use his word — ‘special,’” said Dumbledore. 

“Did you know — then?” Harry’s question was cautious, respectful. 

“Did I see in him his dark future? His rise as the great evil of his age?” asked Dumbledore. “Of course not, I had no idea. I was certainly intrigued by him, however, and I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep a close eye upon him.” 

Dumbledore sighed softly, suddenly seeming to Harry very old indeed. “His powers struck me as surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard, wandless and untrained. Most ominously, he had already discovered some measure of control over them and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: He was already using magic against other people to frighten, punish, and control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most illuminating… ‘I can make them hurt if I want to.’” 

“And the snakes,” interjected Harry. 

“Yes, Parselmouth; a rare ability, supposedly connected with the Dark Arts. Though, as I told you before, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good as well. His ability to speak to serpents worried me much less than his apparent instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination. 

“Time mocks our efforts once more,” said Dumbledore, indicating the darkness which had fallen beyond the office windows. “Before we end our discussion tonight, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene just observed, for they have a significant bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.” 

Harry asked, “Why did he react so strongly when you mentioned the barman, Tom?”

“You noticed? Good. Even then, young Tom Riddle wished to be different, notorious. He created the identity of ‘Lord Voldemort’ not long after arriving at school and has clung to it since.” Dumbledore paused, considering. “I trust that you also noticed how he was already a secretive, friendless boy? Even today, he wants subjects, followers, not confidantes. Not friends. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend. I do not believe that he sees any benefit to one. An audience, yes, but not of friends, not of equals, for he will admit none.”

“Trophies.” Harry’s sudden comment caused Dumbledore’s eyes to widen, and he nodded with respect. He waited, his silence prodding Harry to continue the thought.

“His little box. I’ve known bullies, and they like to keep trophies, proof of their power over someone weaker. Reminders of the other’s helplessness.” Harry’s voice was cold.

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “Souvenirs of particularly unpleasant bits of magic, that box. Keep in mind this childlike, almost sentimental habit of his. It shall be important later. But surely this is enough for today, as it truly is past time for bed.” 

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt’s ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there. 

“Yes, Harry?” said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to a halt. 

“The ring’s gone,” said Harry, looking around. “But I thought you might still have the ocarina or something.” 

Dumbledore beamed at Harry, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Very wise, Harry, but the ocarina was only ever an ocarina. Be careful never to make too much soup from one oyster, my good lad.” 

And on that enigmatic note, he waved away Harry, dismissing him for the evening. 

Notes:

This was the single-most revised and labored-over chapter thus far.

Trying to keep all of Waske's changes, and all of my revisions, AND avoid leaving out details, all without plagiarizing the original text?

Oy veh!

Still, it is done, and soon we return with more purely original stuff!

Chapter 26: Questions, Answers

Summary:

Harry ponders the riddle of Voldemort (pun intended).

Susan does Harry a favour.

Neville questions his relationship status.

The Slug Club meets again.

Harry and Hermione have a heart to heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26. Questions, Answers 

 

Harry spent the next week writing down all sorts of conspiracies about Voldemort. His notebook was beginning to look like a monthly issue of The Quibbler

Some of his notes read:

It is Voldemort’s long lost brother who has replaced him.

Voldemort is a ghost who possessed a physical body. 

Voldemort has somehow managed to tie himself to this plane and therefore cannot die until the tethers are removed.

Something to do with nargles?

Harry had scratched, stretched, and twisted multiple theories past their logical extremes. He knew that somehow the fact that Voldemort liked to keep trophies and the ring had something in common, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t make any sense of it. 

I’ll just have to wait until Dumbledore’s next lesson, Harry thought to himself the Friday morning after the latest lesson. 

Harry was torn out of his reverie when a purple-clothed stomach almost smashed against his face.

“Harry, m’boy,” Slughorn’s voice boomed at him. “You simply must come tomorrow night.” 

Harry looked at the invitation with a violet bow in his hand. He looked up at the head table and made eye contact with Dumbledore, who nodded slightly. 

“I would be delighted to,” Harry said in a falsely cheerful voice. “I have nothing planned for tomorrow evening.”

“Splendid, m’boy, splendid indeed,” Slughorn said. “You are encouraged to bring a plus one.” 

Harry instantly felt a lot of stares on him from the girls, who heard what Slughorn said.

Harry did his best to keep the smile on his face consistent, but Neville and Ron noticed a twitching muscle near Harry’s eye. 

Slughorn swaggered back to the Head table, leaving Harry with a more intense headache than the mystery that was Lord Voldemort. 

Neville had a smirk on his face, but Ron was trying hard not to look glum. 

Harry knew from his experience with the Yule Ball that it was easier to bite the bullet fast before he was surrounded by girls who would very much like to be his plus one. 

Harry instantly got up and walked towards Susan, who was just rubbing her face.

“Care to take a bullet for me?” Harry asked.

“One evening of instruction,” Susan haggled directly.

“Three hours and four people at most,” Harry said. 

“Deal,” Susan said. “We can find a night that fits later.”

“Thanks, Susan,” Harry sighed in relief. “I’m sorry about the glares.”

“Don’t mind them,” Susan said with a smile. “Most of them know I’m gay now, so they are just jealous that you would ask me rather than them.”

“You are a life-saver, sis,” Harry whispered into her ear as he hugged her.

“No problem, Harry,” Susan blushed a little. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“Ah… sorry, it just slipped out,” Harry backed away.

“It’s fine, just surprised,” Susan smiled. “I don’t mind.”

Harry sat down next to her so that they could read the invitation together.

 

Harry, my boy!

It would delight me if you and a lucky plus one would join me at my quarters Saturday at seven o’clock for a little dinner party.

The expectation is semi-formal dress and dress robes. I am very much looking forward to seeing you.

Horace Slughorn

 Chairman of the Slug Club

 

“He actually calls it the Slug Club?” Susan looked appalled. “Also, I don’t have a dress.”

“I can help fix something up,” Harry said. “I am rather nifty with transfiguration.”

“That is the least you can do,” Susan said. “Tomorrow morning, Room of Requirement.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Harry saluted as he got up to go to his morning class.

“Shut it, Potter,” Susan said. 

Harry just waved as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder and left the Great Hall. Harry tried his best to avoid any girl who approached him, but somehow Romilda Vane was relentless.

“Harry,” she called out from her group of giggling girls. 

This is my fourth year all over again, Harry thought.

“Yes, Vane,” Harry nodded.

“I know you are bringing Bones tomorrow, but do you want to go to Hogsmeade next weekend with me?” Romilda asked.

Harry had to think fast.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I have other plans.”

“Oh -- what plans if you don’t mind me asking?” Romilda looked suspiciously at him.

Harry kept a straight face, but inwardly he was starting to panic. 

“Harry, I was just about to ask you about our plans for Hogsmeade,” Harry heard a dreamy voice behind him. “You promised to give an interview for The Quibbler like last year.” 

Harry spun around and looked into the rather focused eyes of Luna.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” Harry smiled, relief oozing out of him. “You are right. I suspect it is a full day thing.”

“I’m afraid so,” Luna said. “Dad would not like less than that.” 

“I see,” Harry looked over his shoulder at Romilda Vane. “I’m sorry, as you can see, I am rather occupied.”

Romilda Vane looked like she was just about to shred Luna into pieces, but she had read enough about the night in the Ministry to know that Luna had been one of the people there.

Harry watched until the group of girls were out of sight before he hugged Luna.

“You are a lifesaver,” Harry said. 

“That’s what friends are for,” Luna was back to her dreamy self. “You know, daddy wouldn’t mind if you really could give an interview with The Quibbler–you are hot stuff right now.”

“Let me think about it, okay?” Harry said as he rushed off towards his class, already feeling like he was running late. 

After class, Harry hid in the library under a load of privacy charms and Notice-Me-Nots, so he might be able to get some peace while he worked on his homework. 

Apparently, it had spread around the castle by the time dinner arrived that Harry had asked Susan out and that he was supposedly giving an interview to The Quibbler the following weekend. 

Harry couldn’t help a sigh from escaping his lips when he arrived in the Gryffindor common room that evening, and he was bombarded with questions about him and Susan.

Ginny couldn’t help a bemused smile when she saw the distress on his face. 

Harry had tried his best to escape to his dormitory when Neville pulled him aside.

“Can I talk to you for just a minute, Harry?” Neville asked somewhat nervously.

“Sure, Neville.” Harry was already thinking ahead to the following three things on his mind and was relatively short with his friend.

“You and Luna,” Neville gestured vaguely, “is there something…?”

“Of course not,” Harry said quickly. “No, no, Luna just came to my rescue when I was getting surrounded by a group of girls. We’re just friends.”

Harry could visibly spot the relief on Neville’s face when he heard that. 

 

“Look, Harry, you’re experienced in this kind of thing…” Neville swallowed nervously, then pushed ahead. “How do you know if you and a girl you’re seeing are, what do they call it, exclusive?”

“Never thought about.” Harry scratched at his jaw. “Ask her, maybe?”

“Sorry, Harry, I shouldn’t have…” 

“Nonsense,” Harry smiled. “I get it. If it had been—well, no matter. Tell Luna I am thankful, though when you see her? And just so you know, I don’t plan to start anything with anyone at Hogwarts this year.”

“Sure thing,” Neville smiled. “Thanks.”

Harry quickly secured his bed as he fell back on it. He pulled the curtains closed in front of him. He found his notebook in his bag and was soon deep in his thoughts about Voldemort once more. 

 

Harry spotted Tonks sitting under the same tree during his morning run. He waved at her but only received a somewhat brisk nod in response.

Harry walked over.

“Wotcher?” Harry greeted her carefully. He felt like he’d been in an escalating game of exploding snap all week already. 

“Morning,” Tonks replied coolly.

“What have I done now?” Harry asked. He tried to keep frustration from his voice. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Tonks’s fault.

“Nothing. Rumour is that you have already booked your first Hogsmeade weekend,” Tonks said. “Lining them up already, I see.”

“Wait -- what?” Harry asked. “How do you mean?”

“Your whole school is buzzing that you are going on a date with that Lovegood girl,” Tonks said.

“No, certainly not,” Harry denied. “I was surrounded by a group of very persistent girls. Luna just helped me out by giving them a story about how I am supposed to give an interview to The Quibbler like I did last year.” 

“Are you?” Tonks raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course not,” Harry said. “I don’t need more publicity. Also, I promised to have that talk with you. On the train, remember? I was hoping we could finally sit down together.”

“Maybe you should have asked me. Maybe I don’t have time.” 

“Well, even if you can only spare fifteen minutes for me, I still need to talk to you,” Harry begged. “Please, Tonks, it’s important to me.”

“Fine,” Tonks said, hiding her face with her book. “And what’s this about a party date with Susan?”

“Oh, come on! Susan is gay, Tonks,” Harry almost cried.

“Gotcha. That one, I was just teasing you,” said Tonks with a smile. 

Harry groaned loudly, which made Tonks laugh aloud. 

“Go on and run– you are nowhere near your usual limit,” Tonks said as she got up.

“I am going to use my twenties disguise next weekend,” Harry said. “I’ll probably change in the Three Broomsticks’ bathroom or something. I don’t want to be spotted by other Hogwarts students.”

“That sounds good,” Tonks said. “I don’t want to be disturbed by your fangirls.”

“I don’t either. Excellent, it’s a date,” Harry shouted as he ran off.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Tonks muttered to herself.

 

Harry decided to spend breakfast with Susan, who was already busy deciding on the design of her dress with sketches she had made the night before with Ginny, who was also going to the dinner party.

“I’m sorry, did you two want to go together?” Harry asked. 

“Well, I hoped to, but it was a little too public of a step for Ginny just yet,” Susan looked a little crestfallen. “So really, you saved me. I hope you don’t mind if I sneak off with her during the party?”

“Of course not,” Harry smiled. “I will probably be held up by Slughorn at some point so he can really pester me. You should take full advantage.”

“He can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, he is,” Harry lamented. “Shall we get to dress adjustments?” 

“Yes,” Susan smiled. “Let’s go.”

Harry and Susan found themselves in the Room of Requirement, which looked oddly like Madam Malkin’s right now, except there wasn’t a big glass window to look out into Diagon Alley. Instead, the walls were covered in mirrors.

Susan put down her dress on a nearby table before walking behind the divider.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked. 

“Well, you can’t fit the dress properly if I am wearing it over my clothes,” said Susan. “Could you transfigure it into design number three?” 

Harry picked up the dress, and soon he was standing with a dark purple dress which covered the front, but had a diamond-shaped cutout in the back, with a long slit up the right leg.

“Susan, what are you doing?” Harry choked, trying to find a safe place to look as Susan came out in her underthings. Harry had noted that Susan was rather statuesque during the summer, and she had not grown plainer or less curvy in any sense.

“Oh, don’t be such a boy,” Susan laughed. “If we’re going to be like brother and sister, let’s be like brother and sister. Hand me the dress so I can try it on for size.”

Harry handed her the dress while looking down to the floor. No matter where he looked around the room, there would be a mirror reflecting Susan.

“Okay, blushy boy, you can look up now,” Susan said. “I think it needs to be a little tighter around the waist.” 

Harry waved his wand, and the dress fit snuggly to Susan’s abdomen and accentuated her waist.

“Do you think it should be a little shorter?”

“How short?” Harry asked. 

“Just under the knees,” Susan looked at herself in the mirror as the dress shortened.

“You’ve got nice legs,” Harry observed critically, “but I think the longer look, with the thigh slit, showed them off better. Bit of mystery?”

He motioned silently with his wand, and the dress lengthened slightly, making it flare a little more when she moved.

“That’s perfect,” Susan said with a smile as she turned around and looked at Harry. “I am so getting Ginny back to this room after the dinner party.”

“Too much information,” Harry said. “Look, hand it back here, and I will set the transfiguration as permanent -- Behind the divider!” 

Susan had begun pulling the dress over her head. 

“Sheesh, you really do get your knickers in a pinch,” Susan laughed as she threw the dress over the divider. 

Harry muttered something about crazy girls but put a permanent charm on the dress in his hands. Susan walked out from behind the divider with a smile on her face. 

“You know where the Hufflepuff common room is?” Susan asked.

“No, but I do know the secret entrance to the kitchens,” Harry said.

“You can pick me up there then,” Susan smiled. “The Hufflepuff common room is near the barrels down the corridor.” 

“Sure,” Harry said. “So, how would you like my outfit?” 

“You could just go for your usual dress robes,” Susan thought out loud. “Well, what about a black coat with gold trimmings, black trousers, and a white shirt?” 

“Sure,” Harry said. “I can do that. It should just be colouring some of my dress robes.”

Susan hugged Harry before she went out of the door. 

“Thanks for the invite, Harry. This should be fun.”

 

Harry felt stuffy in his outfit as he walked down towards the kitchens. He had done as Susan asked. He had even done his absolute best to tame his hair, but the Potter hair was going strong as always. 

Harry felt super conscious of himself as he waited in front of the painting of a fruit bowl. He looked up and down the corridor and even threw a tempus charm to check the time. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard the sound of heels on the stone floor. 

“Wow,” Harry said. “You are looking stunning.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Susan smiled. “You think Ginny will like it?”

“I’m sure she will love it,” Harry said. 

She beamed, her face lighting up. “Well, our family has certain standards to uphold, after all.”

Harry extended his arm for Susan to rest her own on. She happily grabbed him, and he led her towards Slughorn’s quarters, where the party would be held.

When they arrived, there were already quite a few people gathered.

“Harry, m’boy,” Slughorn beamed at him. “Who is your fabulous partner?” 

“Professor, may I present Susan Bones, niece to the former Head of the DMLE Amelia Black,” Harry introduced. 

“I always regretted not inviting your aunt when she was here at Hogwarts,” Slughorn lamented. “How is she doing now?”

“She is taking care of her twins,” Susan said. “Two sweet girls, Sirius Black is their father.”

“Oh my, oh my,” Slughorn said. “I don’t think a lot of us expected dear Madam Bones, well I guess it is Madam Black now, to get married.”

“It came as quite a surprise to me as well,” Susan said. 

“I would love for you to join us even if Harry decides he isn’t worthy enough to invite you,” Slughorn said.

“Quite likely indeed,” Harry smiled. 

“Shush,” Susan said. “Harry and I are the godparents to the two children, so we are practically family already. I’m sure I will fix him up properly should he decide to not bring me in the future.”

Slughorn laughed at that while Harry put on a mock-grimace. Maybe because her aunt had always worked with influential people, or just her open nature, Susan had a knack for this kind of socialising that Harry admired. Better she than him, he thought.

Soon Ginny joined them, and Harry couldn’t help but smile when he spotted the glint in Susan’s eyes. 

“Go on,” Harry said. “I will bring us some refreshments.”

Susan just nodded, and soon both of the girls were admiring each other’s dresses. 

Harry walked over to the buffet to grab two goblets which looked like they were filled with butterbeer. He was on his way back when he ran into Hermione. 

“Hi there,” Harry said. “You are looking incredible tonight.”

“Thank you,” Hermione blushed. “You aren’t looking so bad yourself.”

“Compliment accepted,” Harry smiled. “Susan and Ginny are over there. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I think I might just do that,” Hermione said. “These gatherings are rather pretentious.” 

“Tell me about it,” Harry said. “I hate being here.”

“Why did you come this time then?” Hermione asked.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said quietly.

“What do you mean?” 

“He wants me to butter up Slughorn,” Harry admitted. “I can’t ignore his invitations.”

“Why would he want that?” Hermione asked. 

“He hasn’t told me yet,” Harry lied. It was surprising how little lying to Hermione bothered him. Another casualty of war, he supposed.

“Hermione,” Susan exclaimed. “You are looking gorgeous tonight.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “Your dress is fantastic.”

“Harry helped me,” Susan smiled. “He is rather good at transfiguration. If saving the world doesn’t pay off, he could become a tailor if he wanted to.”

“If the world goes unsaved, will there be much call for tailoring?” Harry chuckled as he handed one of the goblets to Susan. “You two, don’t run out on me too soon. I can’t survive a whole evening alone with Slughorn and McLaggen.” 

The three witches giggled at that. 

“He has told me at least five times already tonight that he knows Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies,” Ginny groaned. 

“He was rather enthusiastic about inviting me next time when he heard who my aunt is,” Susan said. “At least I don’t need to tag along with Harry to flirt with you, my love.” 

Harry tried to keep his face expressionless. Those words still stung a bit, even more so when Hermione was standing in front of him. 

“You okay?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, yes,” Harry said. “It’s just these robes. They’re uncomfortable.”

“They’re meant to be,” Hermione said. “Keeps the focus on the ladies, I think.”

Harry was soon brought around like a trophy to the other students and introduced to them. The Slug Club had been expanded quite considerably since the first dinner party. There were a lot of new faces. Quite a few of them had family in high positions, or some of them had big businesses.

Harry wasn’t really in the mood for this kind of networking, but he knew that the happier he kept Slughorn, the easier it would be to get that memory from him. 

“Harry, m’boy,” Slughorn said as they stood together. “I never got to ask you what your plans for the future were like.”

“Depending on my N.E.W.T.s, I was thinking about becoming an Auror,” Harry said. “It might just be because of what happened to my parents, but I don’t want other kids to grow up like me.” 

“How noble,” Slughorn said. “It certainly would suit you according to The Daily Prophet.” 

Harry fought hard to not release a snort at the large man’s comment. 

“How much truth is there to what they are writing?” Slughorn asked. “You can be sure that I will keep it confidential, of course.”

“Of course. Professor, you know how it is. The more something is repeated, the more people believe it,” Harry smirked. “If my name can be used to calm down the people, then I don’t mind it.”

“Indeed like your mother,” Slughorn said. “I miss her very much. She was one of my favourites.”

“I miss her too,” Harry said. “I really do.”

“One can only imagine,” Slughorn said as he patted Harry on the shoulder. 

“Professor, I think I will go find my date,” Harry said.

“Quite right,” Slughorn said. “I shall find you later.”

So you can parade me around some more like we are the best of buddies. Harry tried not to grit his teeth at the man as he walked away. Slughorn was an excellent potions teacher, but his naked ambition grated on Harry.

Harry didn’t find either Susan or Ginny, but instead, he located a lonely Hermione by the edge of the room in an armchair.

“So, how are you doing?” Harry asked. “And have you seen my date anywhere?”

“She said she had to go to the restroom, but Ginny left soon after,” Hermione said.

“Ah, my date has been stolen,” Harry grimaced theatrically. “I don’t blame them though, it was half of the deal after all. I’m sure they both wanted some romance together tonight.”

“Well, I guess you could call it mission accomplished then,” Hermione joked. 

They looked at each other before they laughed. 

Silence fell over them while they sipped on the content of their goblets. 

“You hungry?” Harry asked to break the silence.

“A little,” Hermione said. 

“Want to join me at the buffet table?” Harry asked. “I could use a bite.”

“Me too, thank you.”

Harry and Hermione sat in some armchairs with their plates and began eating in silence.

Hermione was looking at Harry. He was looking rather charming tonight, and he had behaved more like a gentleman than her father would ever admit. 

“Harry?” Hermione broke the silence.

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Haven’t you already?” Harry teased.

“You know what I mean,” Hermione pouted. 

"Sure, go ahead," Harry said. 

"What really happened during the summer?" Hermione asked. "You are like a different person. I mean, from what I understood of you in our letters and my diary. You don't seem much like the man my parents and Ronald have told me about, either."

Harry looked at her questioningly. 

"Please, tell me I'm wrong." Her eyes were searching his. "Tell me that you haven't changed, and I'll leave it be."

"It could ruin your evening," Harry said, trying to drag it out or make her change her mind.

"I want to know," Hermione said firmly. "I think if anyone deserves this, I do."

"Okay," Harry said as he put down his plate and emptied the contents of his goblet. "This is not a good place to talk."

Hermione left her own plate as well with a half-full goblet beside it.

"Let me just say my farewells to Professor Slughorn," Harry said. "He would be offended if I just snuck out."

Hermione just nodded.

"Professor," Harry moved over to where Slughorn was entertaining two second-year students. Yes, he could pile on the charm when he wanted to do so.

"Harry," Slughorn turned around grandly, with a smile. 

"I'm afraid, this is where I must say goodnight for the evening," Harry said. "I have early Quidditch practice tomorrow, and it would be a bad example for my team if I stayed out all night."

"Quite so, quite so," Slughorn said. "I am looking forward to your first match after the amount of training you are putting them through." 

"I feel like I am already letting them off lightly," Harry smiled. "Especially if Ginny is serious about pursuing a career in Quidditch."

"Indeed," Slughorn chuckled. "Gwenog Jones would always tell me that they trained for several hours a day."

"It wouldn't do with less," Harry smiled. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, m'boy," Slughorn said. 

"I will also be escorting Miss Granger back to the Gryffindor Tower," Harry said. "It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to leave her to traverse the castle alone."

"No, that is indeed true," Slughorn said. "As always, your company was enjoyable, Miss Granger."

"The pleasure was all mine," Hermione curtsied.

Harry held out his arm, and Hermione reluctantly took it.

They walked in silence until they reached a moving staircase.

"Can you tell me now?" Hermione asked as she withdrew her arm.

"Has anyone told you about Leo?" Harry asked. 

"No," Hermione said. "Who is Leo?"

"When I was very young, possibly starting when my parents were killed, things happened to me. Some terrible things. At that age, I didn't understand. I couldn't cope, so my mind, it developed a way to defend itself, to try to protect me." Harry explained as best he could what had happened and what he had learned through study later.

He told her briefly how Leo had asserted himself, more and more openly stepping forward to protect Harry. He told her very briefly about Umbridge and Leo's role in his life before the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

"Anyway," Harry said. "After I watched you get Obliviated by Voldemort, Dumbledore arrived and duelled with him. I put you under an enchanted sleep because, as you can imagine, you were freaking out."

"I don't have to imagine," she said softly. "It's the first thing I remembered, after. The confusion. The terror."

"Then Dumbledore sent me back to his office while you were taken to St. Mungo's. When I arrived, they'd put you back to sleep, to help you heal, they said," Harry said with a bitter voice. "My heart aches every day that you had to go through that. Well, as you can imagine, your dad was not happy to see me, decked me straight into the floor. I deserved it too."

Hermione looked like she was about to interrupt, but Harry held up his hand.

"Well, after he was done shouting at me, Tonks and I went home," Harry looked sad. "I—there's no easy way to say this—I haven't told most of my friends anything about it, just my family. Leo did something stupid; please understand that I was hurting really badly. I was wounded all over. I was physically, emotionally, even magically exhausted. Even Leo was overwhelmed, trying to protect us, protect me really, from pain, so he— he tried to stop the pain. Permanently."

Hermione gasped. "You don't mean?"

"Tonks found me. Blood was everywhere," Harry grimaced. "It was stupid. I am never going to let something like that happen ever again. Auntie– erm, Amelia arrived the next morning and helped me get better. I should probably have been brought back to St. Mungo's, but it doesn't matter... I survived."

"That's when I knew. I have to do all of this alone. The people I care about," he looked at her and dropped his eyes before continuing, "the people I love, they can't be hurt anymore. I couldn't take that again. So I trained as if my life depended on it," Harry said. "Amelia and Tonks helped me, and Susan as well. I was forbidden from seeing you by your father and by the healers. They were afraid it would break you if you met me too soon. So instead, I trained and trained and trained until I was sick of it, and still, after that, I would train some more." 

"My Patronus changed as well," Harry said as they were standing in the Gryffindor common room. "You know what they say about a Patronus, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "The shape it takes reveals the secrets of a person's inner self."

"Something like that," Harry said. 

"What was it before," Hermione asked, "and what is it now?"

"It used to be a stag," Harry said. "Now, well, see for yourself. Expecto Patronum."

The silver lion prowled around the two of them before it disappeared into a wisp of silver smoke.

"Leo," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Look, I'm exhausted. I know this was a lot for you to take in, and it's draining for me to talk about. Hopefully, it explains something about how I've changed in a way that makes sense to you. If you have questions, I hope they'll wait for another time."

She nodded silently.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry. And thank you."

Harry walked off towards his dormitory without another word, leaving Hermione behind with her own thoughts.

This is good. She deserved an explanation, Harry consoled himself as he climbed the stairs towards his bed. And it feels better to have it all out in the open.

Chapter 27: Cursed…

Summary:

Hermione and Susan have a difficult discussion.

Harry works himself into the ground.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione visit Hogsmeade, where Harry's meeting with Tonks goes awry.

Harry's disguise skills are put to the McGonnagal test.

Buttermakers, fish 'n chips, and "a jolt of fire and ice."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 27. Cursed…

 

Over the following days, Harry noticed a difference in the way Hermione would look at him. She had also changed how she interacted with him. She became more careful around what she said to him, or she would sometimes look at him with worried eyes or even pity, and frankly, it was starting to annoy him to no end. He should have known that telling her about what happened to him would change something. He thought it would make their friendship, or whatever this was, easier. Instead, he felt suffocated by the time Wednesday arrived.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” Harry snarled.

“Like what?” Hermione said.

They were back to doing their study sessions together. Susan, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all looked at the two of them.

“Like I am about to break apart, or that you need to be worried about me,” Harry said after taking a few deep breaths. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I don’t think that,” Hermione sounded offended. 

“Fine, you don’t,” Harry said. “I’m getting out of here.”

Harry gathered his things in a hurry and rushed off.

“I don’t do that, do I?” Hermione asked.

Susan didn’t know what to say. Ginny likewise looked down into the table. Ron was trying his best to keep quiet.

“No, of course, you don’t,” Ron said.

“Thank you, Ronald,” Hermione said. She felt vindicated. 

Luna looked up from her book like she had just missed something. 

“You are making Harry feel smothered, though,” Luna said in her dreamy voice. 

“I’m not smothering him,” Hermione said indignantly. “I’m just worried about him... “

Susan decided this was a ‘just the two of them’ kind of conversation. 

“Hermione, a minute?” Susan asked. 

“Alright,” Hermione said, honestly looking relieved that she had an excuse to not be under Luna’s penetrating eyes.

Susan led them further down some bookshelves and found an empty table. She waited until Hermione sat down before she threw every privacy charm she knew around them. 

“So, what happened?” Susan asked directly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermione said.

“You have been acting weird around Harry since this weekend,” Susan stated bluntly. “What happened?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say,” Hermione hesitated.

“He told you about everything that happened during the summer?” Susan sighed.

“What do you mean?” 

“I know everything that happened, even the worst,” Susan said bluntly.

“Then you understand why I am so worried about him,” Hermione said, almost pleadingly.

“Stop it right there,” Susan said. “You have no special right to be worried about him. Look, Hermione, I really do see you as a friend, but I have to play the role of protective sister right now. Harry does not need nor want your worry, not now that you’re broken up..”

“But …” 

“No buts,” Susan said. “I know why you two broke up, and I am not blaming either of you for it, but as a friend, you can’t go on the way you have been behaving for the past few days. It’s cruel.”

“So, you’re telling me to just ignore the fact that Harry has tried to kill himself?!” Hermione fumed. 

“Of course not,” Susan said. “Do you think I don’t worry about him? But there is a difference between worrying while trusting him to not do something stupid like that again and worrying about when he will do something stupid like that again. Frankly, the only time I have been anxious about him this school year was the first night back.” 

“Why that night?” Hermione said, not really catching where Susan was going with this. 

Susan shook her head, muttering, “Smartest witch of her generation…”

She took a deep breath and spoke slowly and clearly, as if to a child. “Hermione, his world revolved around keeping you safe and happy. Then he messed that up—at least in his mind—and now the girl he was desperate to keep safe doesn’t recognise him, breaks up with him, and when he finally opens up to her, she rubs it in his face with her pity. He sees this all as his life’s greatest mistake, his unforgivable failure. You’re unbelievable.” 

“I never meant it that way,” Hermione said after a long moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” Susan looked straight into her eyes. “That is the way it feels to Harry. You are making him feel weak and insignificant. I assume he’s now gone off somewhere to try and push his limits to the breaking point again.” 

“I just want him to be safe.”

“Harry is never going to be safe until Voldemort is dead,” Susan said. “Either you realise that, or you should keep your distance from him.”

Susan got up and walked back to the other table. 

By the time Hermione had gathered her thoughts and gone back, only Ron was left sitting at the table.

“Where is everyone?” Hermione asked. 

“Susan and Ginny left together, then Luna pulled Neville away to see something in the greenhouse,” Ron said. “I didn’t want you to feel like everyone was abandoning you, so I hung around. I can stay if you still want to study.” 

“Thank you, Ronald,” Hermione smiled at him.

 

Susan was rushing off towards the grounds, Ginny following behind her.

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked. 

“To find Harry,” Susan said. “He is about to train himself to death.”

“Wait,” Ginny pulled on Susan’s arm and turned her around to find Susan’s face bunched up in worry. “What is going on?”

“Something happened between Hermione and Harry. She found out something which made her pity him. Harry, of course, got moody, feeling weak and responsible the way he does,” Susan said. “You know how he gets when he thinks he isn’t strong enough.”

Ginny paled. She had seen Harry on more than one occasion just lying wholly spent on the third floor at Carnaby Street, so she knew what Susan meant. 

“I can’t believe her,” Susan growled. “She dumps him and lets him fend for himself, and as soon as he opens up, she decides her best response is to … to… to… argh!”

“Calm down, love,” Ginny grabbed Susan and made her pause for a moment. She whispered into Susan’s ear as she hugged her. “I know you are protective of him, but you are freaking out yourself right now.”

“Sorry, Gin,” Susan muttered into the girl’s shoulder. 

“Come on,” Ginny said. “Let’s go find Harry. You think he decided to go running?”

“Where else could he be?” Susan asked. 

“I don’t know,” Ginny pondered. “I guess it is as good of a start as any.”

Susan and Ginny spent the next hour looking for Harry. Ginny even went to his dormitory to look for him.

“Where could he be?” Susan frowned.

“We haven’t checked the Room,” Ginny said.

“Shit, if he is in there, we won’t have a chance to get to him,” Susan said.

“We can at least try,” Ginny said as she pulled Susan towards the seventh floor.

I want to find the place Harry is, I want to find the place Harry is hiding, I want to get to Harry Potter.

Susan opened her eyes and looked at the stone wall, which hadn’t revealed anything. She kept trying different combinations of words to open up the room.

“It doesn’t work,” Susan said.

“Let me try,” Ginny said. 

She walked three paces in front of the stone wall, and a door appeared.

“How did you do that?” Susan asked.

“I asked for a training room,” Ginny said. “I am not sure if he is in there, though.”

“Only one way to find out,” Susan gritted her teeth as she pulled open the door. 

They were assaulted by the stench of sweat as they moved into the room. Training equipment of all sorts was lying around. Some targets at one end of the room looked like they had had a run-in with a Werewolf. They spotted Harry with his back turned towards them. He was using a skipping rope, the sweat literally flying from his body as he whipped the rope around and a rapid pace.

Harry had decided that wearing anything on his torso was too hot for him at the moment. His muscles looked taut, and his skin was flushed. He didn’t even turn around when they got into the room. Ginny turned away from the pale network of scars that stood out against the skin on Harry’s back. She was just about to say something when Susan put a finger over her lips. 

Susan pulled out her wand and fired a stunning spell towards Harry.

Instantly Harry dropped to the floor, but he wasn’t stunned. He had used gravity to avoid the spell, going limp and falling away from the attack. He rolled on the floor, and instantly, his wand was in his hand, pointing it at Susan and Ginny.

“What did you do that for?” Harry panted.

“Because you’re being a great big fool right now,” Susan said brusquely. “What do you think would have happened if we didn’t find you?” 

“Nothing,” Harry said as he holstered his wand once more. His voice was even, but his body was trembling with adrenaline and fatigue. “I would just have kept training.”

“That’s why you are an idiot,” Susan said. “You would train until you got yourself injured, or you collapsed completely. How long have you been up here?” 

“Don’t know,” Harry said. “I’ve done maxed out sets every few times. I was doing a cool-down with the rope-work.”

“You aren’t cooling down, you’re burning out.” Susan summoned a water container from a nearby table and waited until Harry reluctantly took at least a few gulps. “You really are a piece of work. Look, I know you’re upset at how she’s treating you, but you can’t let her get into your head like this. You just managed to dodge my best silent stunning spell while totally exhausted. You are more than strong enough right now.” 

Harry looked at her grimly, as if about to say something genuinely harsh before he completely deflated. He slumped, spilling the water and collapsing unconscious to the floor.

“Did you hit him with a stunner?” Ginny asked, moving forward to him.

“Of course not,” Susan said, putting her hand to his face and feeling the feverish glow burning there. “He’s exhausted himself, and now he is paying the price. Accio shirt.” 

Harry’s shirt flew from a corner of the room. Susan tried to put it over Harry’s unconscious head.

“A little help please?” Susan asked Ginny.

“Oh right,” Ginny said as she helped lift him up and pull the t-shirt over his head. 

“Okay, Mobilicorpus,” Susan waved her wand, and Harry’s unconscious body began to float. “Help me with his bag and robes. We’re taking him to the hospital wing.”

“Is that necessary?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know the strain he has put on his body to fall unconscious like that,” Susan said. “So I am going to let him get a lecture from Madam Pomfrey instead. Grab his cloak. We can at least hide him from unwanted attention.

Ginny felt rather silly, hiding Harry’s body like this, but she did as she was asked. It was only after they made their way to the hospital wing, having run into Romilda Vane’s group of harpies, that she realised that Susan’s caution was fully justified. 

They managed to sneak into the hospital wing and put Harry down on a bed before Madam Pomfrey showed up. Susan had stealthily slid the invisibility cloak back into Harry’s backpack. 

“Miss Bones, Miss Weasley, what is going on?” Madam Pomfrey asked before she spotted Harry in the bed.

Susan just pointed to him. 

“What happened to Mr Potter?” Madam Pomfrey asked before muttering, “This time?”

“Overtraining,” Susan stated blandly. “Bad habit he picked up over the summer. Whenever he is too stressed, he ends up like this.”

Madam Pomfrey began casting diagnostic spells to find out what really happened.

“You are right. It is definitely overexertion. Overheating, dehydration. Signs of minor muscle damage, a strained tendon, but that is easily fixable,” Madam Pomfrey murmured as she investigated Harry’s condition. “Thaumaturgical fatigue.”

“That sounds serious,” Ginny observed with concern.

Pomfrey waved her hand. “Fancy way of saying he’s magically exhausted as well as physically. That will be fine with rest. How long was he going at this 'training' of his?”

“It took him around an hour to get like this,” Susan said.

“Only an hour?” 

“Yes, from his normal state to this, it can’t have been more than an hour,” Susan said.

“That shouldn’t be possible. Is he trying to kill himself?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Susan shrugged. “Could you keep him here and maybe even give him a lecture about taking better care of himself?” 

“Of course, dear,” Madam Pomfrey said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I have had that specific conversation with Mr Potter. He is quite the regular here.”

Susan finally let go of the tension in her shoulders and almost stumbled to the floor herself.

Ginny managed to put an arm around her waist before she embarrassed herself.

“He really knows how to make you worry,” Susan whispered to Ginny.

“If I didn’t know better, I might have become jealous,” Ginny whispered back. “I love it when you take care of others. It’s so Hufflepuff… and also so incredibly sexy.”

Susan blushed furiously. She still was caught off guard when Ginny would take the direct approach. It tingled her stomach in a different way than usual.

“You are coming with me,” Ginny whispered before they left the Hospital Wing.

Susan sent one last glance towards Harry and Madam Pomfrey before she rushed after her fiery redhead.

 

Harry only got let out of hospital imprisonment on Friday morning. Professor McGonagall had even gone to see him, and according to rumours, it had been an entirely one-sided scolding, the likes of which Gryffindor House hadn’t seen in at least a decade. Harry at least played his part by looking somewhat downcast when he got into the Great Hall Friday morning.

Harry slouched his way towards the Hufflepuff table and eased himself down next to Susan, who was looking at him with a rather amused look on her face.

“Shut it,” Harry groaned. “I know, I was wrong. Professor McGonagall made sure I remembered that.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Susan laughed. 

“You are oozing schadenfreude,” Harry filled a large bowl with porridge and tucked into it. 

“I tell you,” he said after a while. “Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall alternating with the riot act is intimidating. Why can’t Voldemort get sent to the hospital wing?”

“I see,” Susan couldn’t help snorting from the mental image. “That would indeed solve a lot of our problems.” 

“I know right,” Harry said with a smile. “Well, Madam Pomfrey specifically told me to wait until Monday before I start training again. And then, I have to start with jogging only for a few more days. My muscles still feel like I’ve had a run-in with a mountain troll.” 

“You deserve that for your stupidity,” Susan said. “Did Madam Pomfrey give you something to speed up the process?”

“No,” Harry grumbled. “She said that maybe it would serve as a lesson so that I was more careful with my training. Susan, I’m not that bad.”

“You are at least ten times worse than you think right now,” Susan teased. “Still love you, though.”

“Love you too,” Harry said as he hugged her. “Next time, just leave me on the floor. I would rather that than having another run-in with Madam Pomfrey.”

Susan pretended to consider it. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“More than I deserve,” Harry said. “So what did I miss yesterday?”

“Another load of homework, oh, and Professor McGonagall is going to test if you can vanish non-verbally next time,” Susan said. 

Harry swished his wand over his goblet and turned it upside down. The remaining contents had vanished.

“I think I’m good,” Harry smiled.

“Show off,” Susan said. “So when are you going to train me and the others?”

“Not training,” Harry said. “Lecturing and teaching maybe, not training.”

“Fine,” Susan said. “Still, when?”

“End of next week?” Harry asked. “I have to finish Pomfrey’s resting course first. I was thinking the first hour, I’ll answer questions, and we’ll just have a talk session; the second hour will be you guys practising the spells you want me to teach you. Of course, if I don’t know them, I can’t do anything about that. The last hour will be you and whoever you bring duelling against me. Live practice enhances your skills a lot better than a classroom setting.”

“Sounds good,” Susan said. “Planning to go easy on us?” 

“Not a chance,” Harry said seriously. “I will be trying to take you down. I will keep reviving you and healing any bruises you might get for that hour. Just you and three others, right? Tops.”

“Sounds good,” Susan said. “Ginny and Hermione are coming. I don’t know who the last one will be.” 

Harry twitched for a second but decided that he shouldn’t let it bother him.

“You going to be okay duelling against her?” Susan asked.

“It won’t be lethal spells, but I am going to explain that every spell that I hit you with should be seen as a killing curse or cutting curse if I had been a death eater,” Harry said. 

“God you are broody sometimes,” Susan said, but her eyes had turned firm.

“I guess,” Harry said with a shrug. “I know I should thank you. If you guys hadn’t found me, I might have done more serious damage to myself.”

“Any time,” Susan said. “And you’re welcome.”

“Right,” Harry leaned slightly back and stretched. “Shit, my body hurts.” 

“Language!” Susan reprimanded. “I will not have you unconsciously teach Castoria and Cassiopeia bad language later.” 

“It’s not like they don’t have Sirius for that,” Harry smiled.

“I guess you have a point,” Susan smiled as well. “Now we really should get down to Herbology.” 

“I hope we aren’t supposed to prune something massive,” Harry moaned. “My arms feel like they are about to fall off.”

“No sympathy from me,” Susan said as she hoisted her shoulder bag over her shoulder. 

 

Harry woke up Saturday morning feeling even worse than he had the day before. His body was pleading with him to stay in bed. Harry let out a melodramatic but heartfelt groan as he sat up in bed. He went out to the middle of the dormitory and slowly began stretching his sore muscles. By the time his body went from hurting to just a general, diffused soreness, the rest of the dormitory was up.

“Morning,” Harry said from the floor.

“What are you doing down there?” Dean asked.

“Just trying to loosen up my muscles,” Harry said. “It was either that, or I think I wouldn’t be able to walk today.” 

“Right,” Dean grinned. “So is it true, did Professor McGonagall read you the riot act?”

“Let’s just say that I will be more careful in the future,” Harry grimaced.

There was a round of laughter at his expense.

“Well, I’ll hit the showers then,” Harry got up with what he was sure were audible creaking sounds.

The hot water helped loosen his body up further, and by the time he got out, he was feeling more or less normal. He was actually beginning to feel nervous, looking ahead to his commitments later. He secretly extended a pocket in his robes for today’s second outfit accompanied by his muggle make-up and a pair of contacts. 

By the time he got down to breakfast, people were talking about their plans for their trips into Hogsmeade. The first and second years were listening with rapt attention and were looking longingly at the prospect of visiting Hogsmeade themselves in the coming years.

Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged.

“What happened? Why were you in the Hospital Wing?”

“Just a training accident,” Harry smiled. “Professor McGonagall has reprimanded me more than enough. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“Good,” Hermione said. 

“So are you really giving an interview with Luna?” Ron asked.

Harry was thankfully saved when the owl post arrived, and Hedwig landed in front of him with a note. Harry pulled it off and read the small feminine handwriting.

 

I’ll be off after lunch, so let’s meet up around four. I’ll be waiting at the Three Broomsticks. Look for black curls.

Tonks

 

Harry had seen Tonks looking like a "big sister" version of himself before. It was a good choice of disguise.

“Who is it from?” Hermione asked.

“Just Tonks, a little update on the twins that’s all,” Harry smiled and put the note into his pocket. “They are growing at a fast pace. Apparently, Amelia is pulling her hair out some mornings.”

“That’s great,” Hermione said. “Have I ever met them?” 

“No, they were born during the summer,” Harry said. “They are quite cute, you know.”

“I can imagine,” Hermione said.

Harry quickly ate before lining up to go to Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione joined him in the queue.

Filch was prodding everyone with a sensor to detect dark artefacts.

“Why would he check us on the way out?” Ron complained. “He should be more worried about what we would be bringing back in.”

That had earned him a couple more prods with the sensor. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down towards the village.

“So, you never answered. Are you going to meet up with Luna straight away?” Hermione asked once more.

“Erm —” Harry said. “No, I have some time before meeting up with her.”

“You want to join us until then?” Ron asked.

Harry honestly didn’t want to join them, but he decided that it would be suspicious if he didn’t show all day.

“Sure,” Harry said. “Want to go to Honeydukes first?”

Harry spent the day following behind Hermione and Ron. Hermione looked around the different shops as if it was the first time she had ever seen them. Around one in the afternoon, they sat down to have some lunch, which was going to be the last thing Harry had planned with them that day.

“What is the interview going to be about?” Ron asked off-handedly. 

Harry blurted out the first thing in his mind.

“It’s just about some of the times I have fought Voldemort,” Harry ad-libbed. 

Ron looked a little put off at the way Harry answered him. Harry was too focused on meeting Tonks to either notice or care. Harry paid for his part of lunch and headed to the bathroom to change. 

He went into the gentlemen’s bathroom and locked the door behind him. He pulled out one of the t-shirts Tonks had given him, a pair of black jeans and his Dragonskin coat, and put them on the sink. He placed his make-up and contacts near it as well.

“Might as well change first,” Harry muttered to himself as he began pulling off his clothes and threw them in the sink. He quickly donned his replacement clothes and even changed his shoes into some leather combat boots, which Tonks had told him would look perfect on him. He looked into the mirror for a second before putting down his glasses and managing to put in his contacts. 

He already looked a lot different than usual. He then transfigured his face into what he would look like if he was ten years older. The well-trimmed beard he once more sported made it so that only Ginny, Susan, and Tonks would realise who he really was by now, he hoped. 

Harry couldn’t help scratching his beard. It somehow felt wrong to hide in front of Tonks considering the personal discussion they needed to have, but it had to be done for a minute of quiet and less of a chance of ending up on the front page the day after. 

He packed his spare clothes into the extended pocket of his Dragonskin coat and applied the make-up to hide his scar. 

Vox Mutante,” Harry muttered as he pointed his wand to his throat. His voice became a deep baritone once more, and his transformation was complete. 

“Harry, you still in there?” Ron’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Harry looked himself over once more to check if he had missed anything before testing if his disguise was as good as he believed. He unlocked the door to stand in front of Ron.

“Ah, sorry,” Ron said immediately. “I thought my friend was still in there.”

“Sorry, mate, Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, you see anyone before you?” 

“Can’t say that I did,” Harry said. “Was free when I got here.”

“Okay,” Ron said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Don’t mind it,” Harry said. “You need to go?”

“Oh yeah,” Ron said as he moved past Harry and into the bathroom. 

Harry walked out, shaking his head. He walked up to the bar and ordered a butterbeer to sip while he waited for Tonks. He had brought one of his extracurricular books, which he was planning to read as he waited. 

He could feel more than a few eyes on him as he sat there with his book in his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” Rosmerta’s voice hit his ear.

“It’s been a long time since I was last in Hogsmeade,” Harry said. “I’m not surprised.”

“So, what brings you back?” Rosmerta asked.

“Do I really seem that suspicious?” Harry teased. 

“No, no,” Rosmerta blushed.

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you,” Harry said. “I’m actually waiting for a friend. She should be here in a couple of hours, but I didn’t have anything better to do today, so I thought I might as well wait here.”

“Well, I appreciate the company if you want to talk,” Rosmerta said. “Not everyday someone as handsome as you walk into my establishment.”

“Don’t let my friend hear you say that,” Harry smiled. “She is rather annoyed at the attention I get.”

“So more than a friend?” Rosmerta asked. 

“Not at present,” Harry said, evading her question with the truth. “It’s complicated. We go way back, and a lot has happened. Also, I just got out of a long-term relationship.” 

“I see,” Rosmerta pondered. “Complicated. Well, what do you think about this friend?”

“Oh,” Harry flustered a little. “I think she is amazing, fantastic, and beautiful. She’s caring, always fun to be around...” 

“Doesn’t sound all that complicated to me,” Rosmerta lifted an eyebrow.

“Let’s just wait and see,” Harry sighed. “I might be too late, after all, if I am not too early. You see? Complicated.”

“Right,” Rosmerta began cleaning a glass, pausing in front of him. 

“Three butterbeers,” a couple of students from Hogwarts ordered, coming to stand at the bar next to him.

“Coming,” Rosmerta said and moved to hand them their bottles. 

Harry returned to his book when he was suddenly surrounded by a small group of seventh-year girls he had seen around Hogwarts.

“Hello there, handsome,” one of the girls said boldly. Her friends giggled.

“Erm — hello?” Harry answered. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” one of the others asked. More giggles.

“Excuse me?” Harry replied. “Don’t you think I am a little too old for you girls?”

“What do you mean? How old could you be? Not more than twenty-seven,” The first girl sat down to his right, and her friends sat to his left. He had been neatly surrounded.

“I’m not twenty-seven,” Harry admitted. “Still, isn’t this rather inappropriate?” 

“Why? We are all of age, and you looked lonely, sitting here with just your book. Name’s Marie, Marie Dover. My girls here are Henrietta and Victoria.” Marie said.

“Hi,” Henrietta said with a smile. 

“Uh… Hello,” Victoria mumbled, then flashed a broad smile. In this crowd, she qualified as the shy one, apparently. 

“Hi,” Harry lifted his hand.

“So handsome,” Marie chided him, “what’s your name?”

Harry panicked and blurted out the first name in his mind.

 

“Hill,” he said. 

“That’s an interesting name, Hill,” Henrietta cooed from the other side. 

“I know some Hills, from London,” Victoria added, eyeing him from behind the long brown hair which artfully fell across her face.

“Reagan Hill,” Harry said. “Look, ladies, I appreciate the attention, but I really am just waiting here for my friend. So please —”

“You heard him, girls,” Rosmerta came to the rescue. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t gang up on my customers. 

She nodded to a group of Ravenclaw boys who were passing a pitcher of butterbeer around a corner table. “Maybe you should try fishing in another pond.”

“Thank you,” Harry said as soon as Rosmerta had chased the girls off. 

“You’re welcome,” Rosmerta said. “I can understand if it is hard to turn them away lightly. They are at that age, after all. Still all hormones and everything, even if they are considered adults.”

Harry couldn’t help wincing at that comment. 

“I have never been good with the fairer sex,” Harry said. “You really saved me there.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rosmerta said. “Do you need a refill?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Harry said as he put down coins for another butterbeer on the bar.

Harry waited until it was a little before four. He closed his book and downed his butterbeer. 

He pulled out his wand and shrunk the book before putting it into his pocket.

“I take it your friend should arrive soon, Reagan,” Rosmerta said. 

“She is supposed to be here at four,” Harry said. “Any minute now.”

Harry waited for a little longer before the door to the Three Broomsticks was opened, and a woman who looked distinctly like Andromeda Tonks walked into the bar. She was wearing a similar Dragonskin coat like Harry. 

Harry waved to the woman, whom he could only assume was Tonks.

“Over here,” he said. 

“Have you waited long?” Tonks asked. “Sorry, I only just managed to get off work.”

“No problem at all,” Harry said. “Rosmerta here has been keeping me company.”

“Oh, has she now?” Tonks asked with a raised eyebrow, only mostly in jest. 

“Not in that way,” Harry said quickly as he got up to hug her. “She kept all the riff-raff away. Thanks again. Shall we head out?”

“Enjoy your day, Reagan.” Rosmerta winked before she spotted the look on Tonks’s face. “I’m sorry, Mr Hill, that was inappropriate.”

Harry spotted Tonks storming out of the door, and he followed her quickly.

“That was rather cruel, you know.” She said as he came outside.

“What?” It dawned on Harry even as the words left his mouth. “Shit, sorry. I’m an idiot. I got ambushed by a group of girls, and it was the first name that popped into my mind. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.”

“I’m really sorry, Tonks,” Harry said. “Please forgive me?”

Tonks’s cold glowering showed off just how closely related she was to Bellatrix Lestrange for a minute before she relented and briefly hugged Harry. “I forgive you, but please prepare another name I can use today.”

“You can call me Leo then,” Harry said. “Or James if that is easier.” 

“James, then,” Tonks said. 

 “So, is this what you look like when you aren’t, you know, trying to look a particular way?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It used to be when I relaxed and just let myself go blank. I looked more or less like this. But it’s been so long, I had to really put an effort in to get this look back. I’m afraid I was subconsciously influenced by my mother, actually. I think this might be her nose.”

“Well, what happens when you totally relax now? What do you look like?” Harry was amazed to realise that he’d not more than idly considered what her “natural” appearance might be in their years together. It hadn’t seemed that important.

She frowned, and he found himself looking at a slightly shorter, slightly curvier girl with a heart-shaped face and bubblegum hair. In short, he was looking at “his” Tonks. She changed back, touching her nose self-consciously and glancing around to make sure no one had seen.

“The me that I am around you, I think that’s the real me, as much as ‘real’ can mean anything to a metamorphmagus.” She had a regretful, faraway look in her eyes.

They sat quietly for a minute. Harry said deliberately, “You’re always real to me. I hope you believe that.”

“Anyway,” she said, anxious to change the subject, “we were talking about...”

They were interrupted by a scream, and suddenly a girl was flying in the air. Harry was sure he recognised the blonde hair of Katie Bell.

He and Tonks simultaneously set off towards the girl, who had landed next to a friend, who was crying uncontrollably.

“What happened?” Harry asked quickly to the wailing girl next to Katie, who was twitching on the ground. 

“Something happened to her!” sobbed the girl. 

“She’s been cursed,” Tonks said.

“We have to bring her to Snape then,” Harry said. “He knows the most about curses.” 

“Pick her up,” Tonks said. “Girl, you’re coming with us to the castle. I am one of the Aurors stationed around the school.”

“What’s your name?” Harry asked.

“Leanne,” the girl said. “Don’t touch that!”

Tonks had bent down to pick up a brown package on the ground.

Tonks nodded and whipped out her wand to levitate the package before him. 

Harry had gotten Katie onto his back, and they quickly moved towards the castle. Tonks had soon dropped her disguise, and they moved quickly towards the castle. She affixed her Auror badge to the front of her coat. 

They were about to be stopped by Filch when Tonks shouted at him to let them through and that she was an Auror.

They quickly sprinted towards Snape’s office and found him sitting in his chair grading papers.

“What’s this?” he asked as the door was slammed open. 

Harry whipped out his wand and transfigured a chair into a table. 

“One of your students has been cursed,” Tonks said. “You are the one here to know most about those, aren’t you?”

Snape instantly turned severe.

“Where is the cursed artefact?” 

Tonks levitated the package to his desk. 

Snape slashed his wand, and a necklace fell out of the brown paper. 

Snape only needed a second to look at the necklace.

“Move aside,” he growled, and Harry, Leanne, and Tonks moved away from Katie. 

“Can you save her, Professor?” Leanne sobbed.

“Shut your mouth, girl, while I work,” Snape snarled. 

Harry pulled Leanne out of the office and into the empty classroom. 

“Wait here,” he said. “I have heard enough about Severus Snape to know that he is supposedly the man who knows most about these things.”

Tonks soon joined them.

“Well, we won’t know for certain if he can save her,” Tonks said. “Tell me, what happened?”

“We were arguing. Katie came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it…Oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused, and I didn’t realise!” 

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Tonks patted her shoulder gently.

“She didn’t say who’d given it to her, Leanne?”

“No… she wouldn’t tell me… and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn’t listen and … and then I tried to grab it from her… and — and —” 

“It’s okay,” Tonks said. “James, could I ask you to escort miss Leanne here to her Head of House’s office?”

“Of course, Tonks,” Harry said. 

“Miss Leanne, could you please show me the way?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” the girl cried. 

She guided Harry towards Professor McGonagall’s office, and Harry went up and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Professor McGonagall said. 

Harry opened the door and hoped his disguise would hold.

“And you are?” Professor McGonagall asked, unaccustomed to strangers at her door. 

“James Harper,” Harry said. “I’m a friend of Auror Tonks. We were meeting in Hogsmeade when one of your students was cursed. It is assumed she was placed under the Imperius Curse and in possession of a dark artefact that injured her. The student in question is named Katie Bell, and she is now in Severus Snape’s office undergoing immediate treatment. Auror Tonks is with them. Leanne here was a witness to the whole thing, and Auror Tonks asked me to bring her to you.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “I don’t think I have ever seen you before.”

“I did my studying in the States, Ma’am, Ilvermorny,” Harry lied, throwing a little more weight into his ‘R’ sounds. “Moved back here a couple of years ago.”

“Right then,” Professor McGonagall said. “I will take care of Miss Jones. I must say you resemble a former student, but I know he no longer has family in the area. You can go back to Auror Tonks, Mr Harper. Can you recall your way? ”

“Certainly, Ma’am,” Harry said as he walked out of the door and returned to stand next to Tonks. 

“James Harper, Ilvermorny, came back a couple of years ago,” Harry whispered into Tonks’s ear.

“Got it,” Tonks said. 

The door was opened behind them. 

“I have done everything I can to limit the damage of the curse, Tonks,” Snape said. “Transport her to St. Mungo’s immediately, and you should call for Welch if he’s on duty.”

Tonks nodded, and she and Harry walked into the office and floo’ed directly to St. Mungo’s where Katie was taken directly for treatment. 

“I need to go back and report to Dumbledore,” Tonks said a little sadly. 

“I’ll wait for you at the Three Broomsticks, might sniff around a little,” Harry said. 

“Okay,” Tonks said. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“Yes, Dear,” Harry sighed teasingly. 

She stuck out her tongue before putting her serious work expression in place and reentering the floo for Snape’s office. Harry took a moment to check his own “game face” before he floo’ed to the Three Broomsticks.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and looked around the pub. He headed towards the bathrooms. Risking a quick peek into the ladies’, he looked for anything that could be a potential clue, but he found nothing except that the bathroom was too clean for a pub. 

He walked back and sat down at the bar.

“Hello handsome, new in the village, are you?” Rosmerta asked.

Harry looked suspiciously at her. 

“No, I was here earlier,” Harry said. “We talked. It was at least a couple of hours.”

“Are you teasing me?” Rosmerta said with a smile. “I’m not so old as to forget someone like you among all the Hogwarts students. I’d wager money. I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name, and what will you have?”

“Harper, James Harper,” Harry said, looking rather suspiciously at her.

“And what can I get you, James?” Rosmerta asked patiently.

“Something stronger than a butterbeer, that’s for sure,” Harry said. 

Rosmerta came back with a pint of lager for him. “That would be five sickles.”

Harry paid her and went back to recalling everything he had heard and seen. It was too suspicious all of it.

Harry had two theories running through his head. It hadn’t been Rosmerta who had served him earlier. She might have been an imposter using Polyjuice, but why? Or, it had been Rosmerta, but she had been under the Imperius as well and been Obliviated so skilfully she wasn’t missing the last several hours. 

Harry didn’t know which one was worse, but they were the most likely explanations as to why Rosmerta seemingly couldn’t remember him even though it had hardly been an hour since he had sat at the same spot at her bar. 

Harry slowly drank his pint while waiting for Tonks, trying not to make a face. He actually quite liked butterbeer for its sweetness, and the lager seemed like the bitter base for a healing potion. He was relieved when he spotted the bubblegum pink hair through the front window. 

Harry motioned for her to keep quiet when she walked in. 

“Can I have another pint for my friend?” Harry asked. 

“She’s a pale ale drinker, that one. In here last week.” Rosmerta opened a bottle, and Harry paid for it before he moved to a more secluded table.

“Rosmerta doesn’t remember me,” Harry said when Tonks sat down. “She remembers your drink, though, so it was carefully done.”

“What do you mean? She’s been tampered with?” 

“She asked for my name when I came back through the fireplace,” Harry said. “I’m thinking either the one who served me earlier was an imposter using Polyjuice, or she has been Obliviated and was likely the one to give the package to Katie in the bathroom. Also, the girl’s bathroom is too clean for a pub even if it is the Three Broomsticks.”

Tonks nodded and took a sip of her pint. She licked a bit of foam off her lip, which Harry found slightly distracting.

“I talked to Dumbledore,” Tonks said. “He didn’t say much, but he asked about Katie. I told him that she was likely going to be fine but that the healers didn’t know how long it would take.”

“Shit,” Harry cursed, focusing on the problem at hand. “Well as much as I hate to admit it, Snape really does know his curses.” 

“What happened after I sent you two off?”

“She took me to professor McGonagall,” Harry said. “The Professor was suspicious of me, though, that’s why the whole Ilvermorny thing. I think the first name was too much, got her thinking.” 

“Right, good catch,” Tonks said. “Why didn’t you just show it was you?”

“And have to explain why I am in disguise?” Harry asked. 

“Another good point,” Tonks said. “I’ll have you thinking like an Auror yet. You will have to act surprised later at the news about Katie.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I have to say, it’s a real weight off, just seeing you again. I kept thinking about if it had been you who had been cursed.”

Tonks looked at Harry with a concerned look, but at the same time, something in her face seemed to relax slightly. 

“Don’t worry about such things,” Tonks said. “We take care of each other, right? Like old times.”

“I really do care about you,” Harry said earnestly, ignoring her attempt to shrug off his concern. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you got hurt.”

Tonks reached out and caressed Harry’s cheek. 

“I’m not hurt,” she whispered softly. 

“I know,” Harry sighed in relief. 

“I need something stronger than this,” Tonks said after a moment. 

“Me too,” Harry said. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a good student?” Tonks teased. 

“I’m James Harper, twenty-five years old, and I need a drink,” Harry said. 

“I know I shouldn’t allow you, but after what we’ve been through just today?” Tonks hesitated. 

Harry didn’t allow her to make a decision. He got up from the table and returned with four butterbeers and four shots of firewhisky. Her eyes grew wide, and he waved his hand preemptively.

“Read about this in an American DADA memoir. They call it a Buttermaker.”

He held out a simmering shot and dropped it into a frosty mug of butterbeer. As the foam began to race out of the top, he quickly put the glass to his mouth and downed it rapidly over Tonks’s protest. He then looked at her, licking foam from his trimmed disguise moustache, as tendrils of steam left his ears and sank around his shoulders.

“Like that,” he said challengingly.

“Fine,” she gave up. “You are going to have a hangover tomorrow.”

Harry just nodded, an almost grim smile still in place on his lips.

He exhaled a small puff of smoke.

“Have you ever had Firewhisky before?” Tonks asked. 

“A couple of times,” Harry admitted. “All of them involved Sirius.”

“Well that makes me feel instantly better about this,” Tonks smiled as she dropped the first of her own shots into the glass, then rapidly drained the mug in one long pull.

She also exhaled a puff of steam, but for extra panache, she blew it in the form of a smoke ring, right into Harry’s face.

He grinned. Even though his disguise, she knew that grin. She had not seen it for a long time. Harry followed suit with his drink but took his time, drinking only half on the first go. 

“So, anything happened to you?” Tonks asked. “Since we talked?”

Harry nodded, blinking quickly but otherwise holding his liquor. “Second private lesson with Dumbledore.” 

He then began to explain what he had seen in the memories of Burke and Dumbledore.

“So Voldemort was creepy even as a kid?” Tonks paled. 

“Seems that way,” Harry said. “I pity him a little, having to grow up in an orphanage, no parents. I mean, the parallels are obvious.”

“You are not similar at all,” Tonks disagreed. “Your experiences made you extra considerate and caring. His... well, he reacted very differently. He’s in no way the man you are.”

“Am I a good man?” Harry asked, looking into his cup. “I used the Cruciatus on your aunt. I was ready to kill that night.” 

Tonks had just been about to tell Harry that, of course, he was a good person, but she stopped herself. 

“I don’t think it is as simple as that in a war,” she finally said. “I have had to kill people while I’ve been on missions. I don’t think it makes me a bad person. I think it matters more what you intend to do and how you feel after. Are you trying to do good rather than evil? Do you put yourself in the person’s shoes, trying to figure out if there was some other way it could have turned out? Or do you shut yourself off and feel nothing... I don’t think I’m explaining this very well.”

Harry looked into her hazel eyes. In this light, they looked more green than blue, always a surprise. But always her, just like her face or her hair. “No, I get what you mean.”

He looked at her, his head cocked slightly to one side, as serious as she had ever seen him. “You are magnificent.”

“Wha -- what?” Tonks blushed. “Why would you say that? Are you already drunk?”

“No,” Harry smiled. “Well, maybe a little tipsy, but I am definitely not drunk.” 

“That’s what all drunk people say,” Tonks laughed nervously, quickly downing her own final drink. “Kitchen is open. Fish ’n’ chips?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I could eat.”

Tonks unconsciously swayed her hips from side to side as she went up to Rosmerta, and she seemed to be bouncing slightly on her toes as she ordered two plates of fish ’n’ chips. Something like a cougar, Harry thought. Or a puma, he allowed, admitting to himself that yes, he was, in fact, tipsy.

Harry continued to watch her as she stood there, bouncing gently with her pink hair. His eyes never left her, and they almost teared up as he realised he had forgotten to blink. He’d have to ask Luna how she managed that.

There were hardly any more students from Hogwarts around them. He realised he had no idea what time it was.

“You should probably head back after we eat,” Tonks said.

“Mhmm,” Harry nodded as he took the last sip of his Buttermaker. 

Tonks followed suit and then took a drink from a bottle of water she took from inside her coat before handing the rest to Harry. “Hydration,” she mumbled around a bite of chips.

They ate in silence, neither of them ready to broach the topic they had actually met up to talk about.

Harry watched as Tonks slowly fiddled with her chips on the plate. He downed the rest of her water and got up.

“You leaving?” Tonks asked.

“Well, I could use another drink,” Harry said. 

“Right, me too,” Tonks said. 

“What should I get us?” 

“I’d like another ale,” Tonks said. 

“You mind if I sip another firewhisky?” Harry asked.

“No, no,” Tonks said. “Not much point in moderation now, is there? But get yourself some water as well. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” 

“Great,” Harry said. “Be right back.”

Harry soon returned with a half bottle of firewhisky and a pint of ale.

“I assumed you were just going to get a shot,” Tonks lifted her eyebrows. 

“I didn’t want to go back and forth,” Harry said. “I enjoy this feeling. Either you make me feel better than I have since the beginning of summer, or the alcohol is really helping.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Tonks said. “I am not taking care of you if you get sick.”

“Okay,” Harry smiled. “I’ll be careful.”

He poured himself a shot and slowly sipped it. 

“But I know you would,” he said without looking her in the eye. “Take care of me, I mean.”

He looked up then and caught her staring. His green eyes looked like they were on fire to Tonks, glowing like will-o’-the-wisps.

I shouldn’t have let him drink, Tonks thought to herself. I shouldn’t have let me drink either. 

He is looking real good right now, and the way he is looking at you feels fantastic. He wants you. The little voice in Tonks’s head kept whispering to her.

“So, erm…” Tonks stammered. “About what we talked about on the Hogwarts express?”

“You’re such an amazing person,” Harry said. “I’m a fortunate man.”

“You’re just saying that,” Tonks deflected. She looked down at the table, anywhere but into those eyes. If she didn’t look into those eyes, she could convince herself this wasn’t happening.

She felt the rough skin of Harry’s fingers under her chin. He gently nudged her face upwards, and when she looked up, his face was only centimetres away from hers. She closed her eyes, too afraid to look at him.

“May I kiss you?” she heard his husky voice in her ears. 

Don’t look, she told herself.

She almost imperceptibly nodded before she felt his soft lips on her own, and a jolt of ice and fire ran down her spine. 

Notes:

Waske wrote most of the beginning of this chapter but generously agreed to allow me to write the majority of the Harry-Tonks scenes. Writing Tonks was really my intro to this collaboration, and her experiences and backstory were largely influenced by my work. That said, Waske had done a great job setting up this chapter, I think, and it was great fun to write the details. As well as the aftermath scenes in the following chapter.

I take full credit for inventing the Buttermaker as a wizard drink.

PS- I don't know how many of you (if any) are reading this re-post, or bothering with author comments. If you find any value to these notes, please drop a comment for one or more of these chapters so I know, or I'll skip them and just post the texts. Thanks! -Killjoy

Chapter 28: …Hangover

Summary:

"The more romantic term, I believe, is nude."

“What’s it going to be? In the front or up the back way?”

“Are you an idiot? Self-destructive? Hopeless about women?”

Susan gives Harry an abridged version of The Talk.

Harry makes a date.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 28. …Hangover

 

The early morning sun made its leisurely way over the hills surrounding Hogsmeade. Its golden rays intersected a specific, partially un-curtained window at a particular spot and came to rest on the occupants inside. This was immediately perceived by both bedmates as a Bad Thing, as it woke them from their emotional- and physical exhaustion-induced- rest to look wearily around the small room, littered with discarded clothes, pillows, and at least one leather boot.

Harry smacked his lips, feeling an unpleasant moistness against his face, and he realised that in his sleep, he had apparently been drooling slightly into Tonks’s navel. When he pulled away and tried to sit up, he found that she rolled forward with her pillow, also trying to escape the glare of the morning sun. The crown of his head connected with her lower jaw, creating an impressive thud and sending them both back to the mattress for a minute.

Harry looked at her askance, taking in the chaos and the generally dissolute nature of the scene surrounding them. Neither of them seemed to be wearing any clothes. He had his own face back, based on the lack of a beard, at least. Tonks was her usual self, only she also seemed perversely radiant considering his own rough state.

“Well, let’s face it,” he said with a rough voice. “This is not actually the worst wakeup we’ve ever had, is it?”

“Well, no one is dying, shouting, shooting jinxes, or, you know, being your Aunt Amelia, so I will go with no.” Tonks’s voice was also raw but more dry and raspy than his. She was, he knew from long experience, not a morning person in the very best of times, which this probably could not be considered to be. Still, there was something about her...

Harry managed to get to his feet, clutching the bottom of the sheet around his waist, and promptly tripped over the empty Firewhisky bottle, pulling most of the covers off of the bed.

“We finished the whole thing?”

“Not we. I think that was all you, hotshot.” At least Tonks had her sense of sarcasm back. Baby steps, baby steps.

“Shit... no wonder my head feels like it has been split in two.”

Tonks rubbed her jaw. “And part of that might be from the way you bashed it into my face just now, too.”

“Sorry.” Harry looked around, one eye closed as he seemed to be wearing one dry contact and nothing at all in the other eye, and he could not focus. “My clothes, my school clothes and glasses, they’re in my coat pocket. Do you see my coat?”

“You can see anything besides the blazing sun shining directly in our face?” Tonks pulled the pillow up over her face, with the distracting side effect of uncovering everything the pillow had been hiding since she first woke up. He took a moment, one-eyed and bleary though it was, to appreciate how beautiful she managed to look despite the way they had woken up together.

Together.

“Tonks?” His voice was a low growl and suddenly much more mature and commanding than she had become used to. “You’re, you’re naked.”

“Point for the Chosen One,” she said, with a long stretch that took her arms high over her head. “The more romantic term, I believe, is nude. Have you noticed your own outfit?”

Her pillow fell away, and he could see nothing but Tonks. A lot of Tonks. Essentially, all of Tonks. His mouth hung open. He was dressed as she was, except for the sheet twisted around one ankle.

“Last night, did we, did you and I…” He couldn’t complete the thought, much less the sentence. His hands drifted down to a defensive and more modest position.

She lowered her arms, crossing them demurely over her breasts while leaving the rest of her naked. Nude. Whichever. She asked him carefully, “Having regrets, Harry?”

Harry’s stomach suddenly lurched, and he felt the world spinning. It reminded him of nothing so much as the first time he side-along apparated, not a fond memory. He looked at the three doors. One must lead out, one to a closet, presumably, and the last he desperately hoped would lead to a bath. He lunged for the nearest, nearly falling as his ankle dragged the bedsheet along behind. To his immense relief, a small but functional bath was revealed, and with a great deal of effort, he made it to his knees before the toilet.

He violently emptied his stomach for what seemed like ages. He felt awful for his reaction, which even he knew was an ungentlemanly response to a beautiful woman the morning after, but firewhisky is a cruel mistress, and fish and chips had clearly been a poor choice.

He had a relatively long time to reflect on this before he felt a hand on his shoulder. His cheek rested on the cool porcelain of the sink, his sweaty hair plastered to his forehead. He squinted up to see Tonks, wearing one of his shirts that had gone missing some time ago, holding a damp cloth towards his face. She also had a glass of water, which he used to rinse his mouth carefully.

Having cleaned himself off, he managed to stand. Before he could dress or even wrap himself in a towel, Tonks took his face in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have—”

But he cut her off, taking her in his arms and pulling her to his body.

“No, don’t say anything.” He pressed his face to her shoulder, and his arms tightened around her. “It was the drink. I’m not so good with firewhisky as I thought, apparently.”

“But, you should know, really—”

Again he refused to let her take any blame.

“This is something I’ve wanted for a while,” he confessed. “I hadn’t admitted it to myself even, but now I’m so hungover I barely remember anything. You must feel horrible.”

“It was a bit of a shock to the system for both of us,” she allowed. “But you haven’t made me feel horrible, Harry. So let’s clean up properly, and we’ll see about getting you back to school.”

“School,” he groaned, putting a hand back to his aching head. “I hadn’t even begun to think about… I need a shower.”

“So do I,” Tonks said, her shirt coming off over her head. She hesitated a moment. “Might be fun to share. If you’re up to it?”

 “I would like that,” he said. “I would like that very much.”

 

After a relatively quick and businesslike shower, everything considered, Harry was checking his clothes in the mirror, adjusting his glasses. He felt at least forty per cent human again, and his head was only aching, not splitting open and taking his will to live with it. All things considered, a friendly shower with “Don’t Call Me Nymphadora” Tonks was a vast improvement over a sharp stick in the eye as a way to deal with a hangover.

Tonks was dressed, looking unbearably cheerful and professional, as if nothing in the world had transpired of interest over the last twenty-four hours. 

“So?” she said at last as he emerged, handing him his own coat, his disguise items returned to the hidden pocket, except for his contact lenses. One had gone missing in the night, and the other must-have inadvertently made a permanent detour down the loo earlier in the morning during Harry’s unfortunate purging experience.

“So?” He asked, slightly confused. Was he supposed to kiss her? Thank her for the evening? Apologise yet again? Harry was beginning to realise that having found what he had assumed would be the love of his life at the age of eleven, he had not really amassed any fundamental dating skills that seemed to address his current situation.

“What’s it going to be? In the front or up the back way?” Tonks looked at him expectantly.

“P-Pardon?” Harry stammered.

“Hogwarts,” she said, eying him curiously. “In the front gates, or up the secret passage you told me about, in the back of Honeydukes?”

“Oh,” he said with relief. “Front gate, I think. There will be questions either way, and I’ve gotten too comfortable lying to my friends lately. It’s a nasty habit because I can always justify it in the name of security. If my friends don’t trust me, what kind of friend can I be?”

“Fair point, Chosen One.”

“And please stop calling me that,” he begged.

She tapped her finger on her jaw, thoughtfully. 

“Okay, on one condition.” She waited.

“Sure, of course,” he quickly agreed.

She grinned, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips dramatically. “I want one real kiss before this morning is UMPH!”

Harry’s arms were around her. His hands, one was in her hair, tipping her head back firmly but not roughly, the other was at the small of her back, pulling her into his body. His lips were, there was no other word, they were commanding, taking the kiss from her mouth more than just offering one. He stopped too quickly, leaving her hanging, eyes closed, lips parted, breathless.

“Bugger me,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“Language,” he teased. “And thank you.”

 

They walked in silence to the school gates. Harry smiled when they passed the bench where Neville had been singing when Harry and Hermione returned from Hogsmeade the previous year. The smile died on his face, and he walked more briskly. Tonks had to skip a little to catch up with his pace as they reached the gates.

Hagrid was standing at the gates, looking down suspiciously at Tonks and Harry.

“Morning, Hagrid,” Harry said, trying to sound casual.

“Been some excitement, Harry.” Hagrid unlocked the gates with an enormous iron key that fit neatly in his massive hand, bringing truth to his “Keeper of Keys” title at the school.

“The headmaster himself asked me ter be lookin’ out for yeh,” Hagrid rumbled, with a barely polite nod to Tonks. “People was worried, yeh know.”

Harry stopped and put a hand on Hagrid’s huge fist as he went to return the key to a pocket of his titanic, bristly coat. Harry looked Hagrid directly in the eye.

 

“I’m very sorry for worrying you, Hagrid.” His tone was contrite. “You know I’d never want to upset you intentionally.”

Hagrid sniffled thunderously, his eyes bright and his heart as ever firmly affixed to his sleeve.

“No worries, Harry. Never you mind. Got ter be getting ready for class now, so you just run along.”

“Thank you, I will.” Harry waved as the groundskeeper ponderously jogged off towards his cottage, puddles jumping from the ground as his feet pounded the cobbles.

“He cares about you,” Tonks said. “I mean, especially. You can’t be all bad, can you?”

Harry shrugged uneasily. “We best find Professor McGonagall. I’ve got another lecture due to me, I’m sure. If you want to head off, I’ll understand.”

“No,” Tonks said. “If there’s punishment to be dealt out, I should take my share. Besides, I need to check in about the curse on Katie Bell.”

 

The conversation with McGonagall had not gone anything like Harry had expected or feared. She had taken less than a minute to thank Tonks for his belated return before dismissing her to follow up with Snape, then visit St. Mongo’s personally to check on Katie Bell. Under the circumstances, Tonks could not exactly say no, so she left, giving Harry a clearly conflicted look before closing the office door.

“Mr Potter,” she said, taking a seat behind her desk and looking at him over her steepled fingers. “Mr Potter.”

“I assume right about now you’re wondering... where I’ve been all night?” Harry began.

“Actually, Mr Potter,” said McGonagall, “after all these years I just, sort of go with it, as they say.”

They sat there a moment as Harry sorted that out in his own mind. He felt he did owe her something of an explanation.

“I was in Hogsmeade, enjoying some private time. I went with Ron and Hermione, but I needed some time to myself.” That much was indeed true.

“I see.” McGonagall may have claimed indifference, but it was clear to Harry that she was paying careful attention to what he had to say. “Do go on.”

“I ran into Tonks later in the day. She and I… we needed to have a talk. It was personal. But then she had to leave– that business with Katie Bell she told me about. By the time she got back, and we’d talked, it was quite late. We wound up staying in the village. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” Also, technically accurate.

The professor stood and came around to stand close to Harry in what he realised with alarm was supposed to be a comforting fashion. Were it not for everything he had already gone through in his short life, it would have been terrifying. She put what she hoped was an understanding hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t deny that you, out of perhaps all my students, could use a little bit of privacy,” McGonagall said. “But in future, at least do send a note if you decide to stay in Hogsmeade for the night. Hagrid was very distraught, and the poor Miss Lovegood had to explain to several young ladies that you did not show up for an interview, and she did not know your current whereabouts. I think a few of them were ready to jinx the poor dear.”

Harry had totally forgotten his alibi, and the idea that he had distressed Luna Lovegood, one of the few people who had been unconditionally his friend since they met, caused him acute discomfort.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Very well. I believe you can still get some study before lunch.”

Harry went to fetch his study materials before going to the library. He was heading down the stairs from his room when he ran into Neville, coming up.

“Heard you were back,” Neville said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry hefted his book-bag and moved to pass Neville, but the other boy put a long arm out, blocking his way. “I said sorry, Neville. Something came up in Hogsmeade. I’ve just spoken to McGonagall.”

“And what about Luna?” Neville’s face was hard, his normally open and friendly expression guarded. “Did you think for even a second, Harry, what would happen to her? When all those girls you told that she was going to interview you heard you were missing?”

“I know, Neville.” Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking, and I’m going to apologise, I promise.”

Neville shook his head, a frank and disgusted look on his face. “Fine, yeah. She’ll forgive you, Harry. Because she’s innocent. She’s good, deep inside good. Not because she doesn’t understand, either, like people think.”

He moved his arm and backed off the step, letting Harry step into the common room. He wasn’t finished, though. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, hard enough to hold him in place.

“She’s innocent because that’s how she chooses to see the world, Harry, no matter how much it costs her. You remember that when you decide to break your promises in the future.”

Harry looked at Neville, really looked at him, and was surprised by what he saw. Neville was empathetic, considerate, polite. All of the soft virtues—the measures of a wizard that you would want in a friend—Neville had shown, and he was largely ignored or mocked for it.

“You’re absolutely right, Neville.” Harry nodded sharply. “I should apologise now, and I should do better in future. Do you know where she is?”

“She was in the library, with Susan and them, wondering what happened to you when I saw her last.” Now that he’d said his piece, Neville was clearly ducking into his more comfortable, more differential persona.

“I’m going there now. Would you come with me?” Harry offered his hand.

Neville shook it briefly, clearly embarrassed now, and they made their way to the library.

Luna was sitting on the floor, several herbology samples pressed between panes of crystal laid out before her, her bare feet displaying fresh daisy-yellow nail polish. Susan was sitting next to Ron, who was reading an extensive book on Potion theory that Harry recognised as being one Hermione had mentioned several times. Susan was writing an essay, and Hermione was comparing what appeared to be two different editions of the Potions textbook, both much older than the current text.

All of them looked up when Harry and Neville arrived. Luna saw Harry but smiled widely when she saw Neville behind him.

“Hello, Neville. You came back.” Her remarkable eyes blinked slowly, one at a time. “That’s delightful.”

She reached out her hands, and Neville gladly took them, slowly collapsing his long-form next to her much smaller one on the floor. He briefly kissed her cheek, blushing.

“Luna,” Harry began, “I need to tell you how sorry I am about yesterday.”

“You’re okay, Harry.” Luna looked at him. “Something’s changed.”

“Yes,” Harry said quickly, “I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s what matters, isn’t it?” Luna held his gaze for a moment, then went back to her herbology, one hand finding Neville’s as they sat together. A kind of bubble, like a privacy charm but not so sharp or sudden, seemed to cut the two of them off from the rest of the world.

Harry looked to the others. Susan looked up, then lowered her attention back to her essay.

“Don’t go looking for me to let you off that easy. Out of our heads, Ginny and I.” She huffed. “Good thing I love you, you prat.”

“And us as well,” Ron said. “I mean, I’ve covered for you before, but to just have you disappear like that? Not okay, Harry.”

Harry nodded, accepting the rebukes and not trying to argue. He turned to Hermione, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout all this.

“You don’t look well, Harry.” She said this dispassionately as if commenting on the weather. “Your friends were worried.”

“I know.” Harry opened his hands, palms up in supplication. “I feel awful for worrying you all, I do, and for dropping out of sight. Plus, if it makes you feel any better, I did manage to pick up a splitting headache. And a rather delicate stomach this morning.”

“I’d like to take a walk before lunch,” Luna’s voice came from near the floor suddenly, as if she’d been reminded about an appointment. “Neville, would you like to go look at the wildflowers by the greenhouses with me?”

In a flash, the two were packed and gone, the tall Gryffindor carrying all of the smaller Ravenclaw’s books and study materials under one long arm. Something about them, some feature of their bond, made it sometimes seem like they moved in a separate world from their friends, just appearing from time to time like faerie circles. 

Ron looked at the vast text he was reading and at his own notes. “I think I’m just going to run this lot back to my room before lunch. Meet you all there?”

Susan shrugged, but Hermione said, “Thank you, Ronald. And if you have any of those sugar-quills left from yesterday, I’d rather like it if you would share one at lunch?”

Ron looked around awkwardly, “Sure thing. Happy to. See you all, then.”

Harry watched him go and turned to the two girls who remained. “I didn’t mean to rush everyone away, honestly.”

Susan looked up to say something and frowned.

“You weren’t kidding, Hermione. Harry, you do look awful. You didn’t overexert yourself? You’re supposed to have two or three more days of light work only, no endurance running.”

Harry sat next to Susan, and after a quick glance at Hermione, he addressed Susan quietly.

“There was some excitement, but nothing to do with me, I swear. For once.” He looked around, then blushingly admitted. “Then, I had to have a talk with Tonks. Erm, personal stuff. There was some drinking involved.”

Susan’s eyebrows shot up. “You were drinking?” Her voice was a hissing whisper louder than she intended. Hermione threw a quick privacy charm around them all, and Harry noted that she did it almost reflexively. She was still making progress.

“You were drinking?” Susan repeated in a more normal but still accusing tone. “Why didn’t Tonks stop you?”

Harry blushed and looked down at the table, and Hermione answered for him.

“Who do you suppose he was drinking with?” Hermione asked Susan tartly.

Harry shook his head ruefully, confirming Hermione’s suspicions.

“There is something called a Buttermaker. It’s got firewhisky and… anyway, just don’t ever, ever have one on an empty stomach. Or two.” Harry shuddered at the memory.

“You drank firewhisky on an empty stomach?” Susan held her head in her hands in sympathy. “It didn’t occur to you to eat anything at least?”

“Tonks got us fish and chips,” Harry said miserably, remembering the morning. “It’s all pretty fuzzy after that until I woke up and was confronted with the inevitable consequences.”

“Sounds like your behaviour brought its own punishments, I guess,” Hermione allowed after some consideration.

“Fried food on top of firewhisky,” Susan was still shaking her head. “When you bollocks things up, you don’t go halfway, do you? Was it a huge clean up afterwards, with lots of painful explanations?”

“You don’t have to sound so gleeful, you know,” Harry said, starting to relax somewhat. “Fortunately I didn’t have to worry about our clothes. That would have been truly awful.”

It took a moment for him to notice the silence at the table. 

Our clothes?” Hermione finally was looking at him with something other than pity. Worse than pity, actually. Her face was ashen. “You, and Tonks. Drinking all night, and then… Harry, what were you thinking?!”

Her voice only cracked at the end, but for some reason, Harry was suddenly through with dreading every pain or injury perceived by Hermione Granger.

“I’m sorry,” he said bitterly. “I’m not sure exactly why you’re taking that tone with me right now, Hermione.”

“I just think, after everything that has happened…” She paused, clearly at a loss to explain how she felt.

“You know, Tonks has been in my life nearly as long as you. Longer than I have been in yours now, depending on how we measure.” Harry gritted his teeth, the muscles working in his jaw, but then he continued calmly. “So, I don’t feel you get to decide how I move on, Hermione. Or with whom.”

She looked at him, her face a complex map of hurt, rage, surprise, and... disappointment?

She collected her things calmly and stalked away, with a terse “Goodbye” over her shoulder that could have been for Susan, for Harry, or both of them.

Harry lowered his forehead gently to the table, letting the cool hardwood soothe his pounding temples. Susan waited a minute, watching him, then she picked up a largish book and deliberately slammed it down on the table. The crashing sound, absent Hermione’s privacy charm, resounded through the library, drawing various groans and hisses from other students. Harry jerked into motion, clutching his head while frantically looking for the source of this attack. Susan, slowly leaning back, regarded Harry calmly.

“You bloody bastard,” she said, waving her wand to recreate the privacy charm that would have been ideal moments before. “Are you an idiot? Self-destructive? Hopeless about women?”

“All of the above,” Harry confessed miserably. “I swear, I’m not even sure what happened last night.”

He looked around, then asked sheepishly, “If you wake up together, and you’re, you know, together, naked...erm, I mean, nude. It’s not like there are other explanations, right?”

Susan gaped at him. “You’re not kidding? You really don’t remember?”

“Well, it’s not like I can ask the other person who was there, is it?” Harry rubbed his temples with his fingers. “I mean, I woke up, I saw her, you know, all of her, and then I threw up for a quarter-hour. There didn’t seem to be an ideal time to ask, ‘Oh, by the way, did we shag?’ What was I supposed to do?”

“I see your point,” Susan said thoughtfully. “Well, at least it’s not like it was your first time. You were safe, whatever you did.”

Harry turned pale and looked at her in silent shock.

“You were safe, weren’t you, Harry?” Susan’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You had a lover for, what two years? It must have come up.”

Harry said quietly, almost calmly. “Hermione, she took care of all that. There are charms, then she went on The Potion.”

“I know about The Potion, Harry,” Susan glared at him. “I’m a lesbian, not a moron. Well, at least Tonks knows what she’s doing, right? I mean, she’s experienced. Oh, Merlin, she has had experience, yeah?”

“Not a lot, I think.” Harry was running his wand back and forth from hand to hand as if considering violence. “I mean, she was with a guy for a while, but they broke up.”

Susan sighed.

“So to be clear, you do not know if you had sex with Tonks. You don’t know if you used a charm. You don’t know if she’s on The Potion. Did she at least mention anything about possibly being on a safe day?”

“What are safe days?” Harry reacted quickly to her look. “Hey, like I said, Hermione took care of all this stuff.”

“You need to talk to her, Potter. Soon. Really, really soon.” She shook her head. “And read a book! Jadis’s Jumping Cat, it’s the twentieth century. Wizard up.”

 

Harry, of course, missed Tonks before she left for St. Mongo’s. He thought about trying to follow her, but by the time he informed Professor McGonagall, got to Hogsmeade, and made his way to St. Mungo’s, she’d probably be back. But back where?

He took a few deep breaths and realised that his feet knew the answer when his brain had not. He had been walking out to the tree by the lake, where he and Tonks had shared many conversations as she kept an eye on him. And of course, now he had an all-new appreciation of what keeping an eye on him might have entailed for Tonks.

How long had she felt this way? He knew, clearly looking back, that she had expressed some feeling for him before. Since the summer? Before? Had she had feelings for him when he was with Hermione? What about his feelings for her? At what point was she not just a big sister? Had she ever been, really?

Harry stopped, realising he was pacing a bare patch in the grass near their tree. He sat down and forced himself to be calm. Occlumency had several strengths, but dealing with teenage lover’s angst was not among them, he found. Still, the attempt to calm his mind at least settled his body, and as his heart rate fell, it was easier to wait. He managed to go from frantic to merely terribly agitated by the time he spotted her heading towards the gate on her way from the castle.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she called out brightly, seemingly impervious to the many factors pulling him in different directions.

He found himself on his feet and about to take her in his arms before he realised he’d even stood up. He paused and said, “Hello. I’m thrilled I caught you.”

“Me too,” she said cheerfully. “Just made my report to Dumbledore. Bell’s definitely going to be okay, but they want to keep her in St. Mungo’s until she’s fully rested and has been interviewed by Aurors who deal with memory modification.”

She lost a good deal of her smile at the mention of that sensitive subject.

“That’s good, great, of course,” Harry said before ploughing on to his point before he was too nervous to talk to her. “We need to talk about last night.”

She nodded, and he thought he could detect a trace of guilt in her eyes.

“About that,” she said. “I have a bit of a confession to make.”

“No, please, let me finish?” His eyes were solemn, and she nodded. “I had a talk with Susan, and it came out that I’d been out all night… with you. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out, but I had to explain what happened, and I wasn’t as careful as I should have been.”

“How did she take it?”

“Surprisingly well, actually, but that’s not what I needed to ask you about.” Harry swallowed and hung his head. “The details of last night are still pretty fuzzy, but I have to ask you…”

“No, Harry,” she put her hand on his arm and gave a squeeze. Nice arms. Focus, Tonks, Focus.

“No?” He looked stricken while she had expected relief. “Oh, that’s… unfortunate.”

“Is it?” She smiled again, throwing him off. “You thought that we should have?”

“Of course we should have,” his voice was filled with anguish. “But it’s not your fault. I don’t mean that at all. This is all me. I should have been more careful.”

“Careful?” She looked at him and pulled him closer to look into his eyes. “Harry, what are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? Charms, you know,” he gestured vaguely towards her abdomen. “The Potion? It’s my fault. The witch isn’t responsible alone, I know that. And if, if something were to… I need you to know, I care about you, I’ll be responsible. You should never feel like, like this was a mistake or that I regret…”

He stopped as he realised she was not dissolving into tears but rather was suppressing laughter. She was laughing at him.

“I’m baring my soul here, and you’re laughing at me?” She lost it and fell to her knees, clutching onto their tree for support as the laughter overtook her.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she gasped, “Oh, Mélusine’s Magical Muffin…”

Harry slumped down, watching Tonks’s hair strobe in many colours as her face grew redder and redder with laughter.

“I get the impression I’ve missed something important,” Harry said.

Tonks wiped the tears from her eyes and suddenly embraced him, her body still trembling with suppressed glee. “You noble, lovable, lunatic. You’re my sweet boy, oh, phew!”

She took a few deep breaths, and some of the people watching from a distance pretended somewhat more strongly to not be trying to listen. Finally, she took Harry’s face in her hands and told him what was so damned funny.

“You thought, when I said no, that we were talking, but I was talking, and then you thought…” She took a final deep breath, and her face and hair both settled down. “Harry, I thought you had remembered what happened last night, but you really have no idea?”

“I’m trying to do the right thing, Tonks.” He sounded a little petulant, but as a boy, Harry had never been much for self-indulgent displays, and he still wasn’t. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

“Harry, we went to my room with every intention of… well, we had intentions.” She nodded as he accepted this quietly. “But you had a lot to drink. I had too, but I think you were, at one point, complimenting my belly button while trying to drink firewhisky from it? The details are a bit blurry for me too. But trust me, Harry, neither of us was in any condition last night to, erm, endanger my virtue in the way you’re thinking.”

“You’re sure?” He sounded dubious.

“Well, I don’t have the romantic history you have,” she said wryly, “but I think I’d know. I’m sure I would, and nothing happened. But your little speech just now was very, very noble.”

“I meant it,” Harry said a little bitterly. “I’m not the kind of man who would just… I don’t want you to ever think that of me.”

“And that’s another reason I love you, Harry,” she said. As the words hung in the air between them, she grew serious, and her face went pale. “You know what I meant.”

“Tonks,” Harry said carefully. “Would you do something for me? No, not for me. Would you do it if you just wanted to?”

“What do you want?” She looked at him with a massive lump in her throat, and she felt as if every word was torture like she’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language. “What is it, Harry?”

“Tonks, will you go out with me? I mean, on a proper date? No Susan and Ginny, no drinking. Just a date? With me?”

“I’d like that.”

Notes:

I am immature. I admit that now. Having admitted it, I'll add that when I wrote these lines, I laughed so hard that I fell off my chair at least once. Sue me...

“What’s it going to be? In the front or up the back way?” Tonks looked at him expectantly.

“P-Pardon?” Harry stammered.

 

Witch references:

Jadis's Jumping Cat-
Jadis, the White Witch of Narnia, was not previously known to have a cat, jumping or otherwise.

 

Mélusine’s Magical Muffin-
"Mélusine" is a Belgian comic created by artist Clarke and writer Gilson that centres on the life of a young witch who lives as an au pair in a castle and studies at a witches’ school. Reports as to the nature of her muffin, magical or no, are not definitively truthful.

Chapter 29: Crossfire

Summary:

Harry has a date and gets an invitation.

Malfoy is mysterious. Also, a dick.

The Big Training Scene™ in which a witch is whacked and Death is closer than anyone expects.

Notes:

In this chapter, Harry duels his friends. This was my first attempt in this series of writing a real action scene, trying to balance detail with pacing.

I hope that I gave enough information for you to visualize the fight, without devolving into a blow-by-blow commentary. I'm basically a character and atmosphere guy, so writing exciting, "cinematic" action has been on my bucket list for self-improvement.

The scene in which [SPOILER] falls to the ground bleeding after nearly killing Harry has been a pin on my plot board for many, many chapters, and I hope I did it justice without overplaying it. Especially as it eventually leads to [SPOILER]. Any thoughts on how it turned out?

Chapter Text

Chapter 29. Crossfire

 

Nothing could stop Harry from smiling for the rest of that Sunday. He had shared a long kiss with Tonks as they stood in front of the gate leading out of the Hogwarts grounds.

Nothing seemed to get his mood down until he ran into Hermione in the common room that evening. They had managed to avoid each other for the whole day until now. 

Harry was ready to put up a hard front if she began scolding him, but what he hadn’t expected was for her to just look at him for a second before tears gathered in her eyes, and she rushed off to the girls’ dormitories. 

I should have expected that, I suppose, Harry sighed inwardly. 

He didn’t like the way whispers seemed to form around him. He still hadn’t heard anything about how long Katie would be staying in St. Mungo’s, and Quidditch started the month after. He decided that it might just be easier to go and find Professor McGonagall to hear anything more.

Harry stalked out of the Gryffindor Tower and made his way to her office. It was getting a little late, but Harry was sure she wouldn’t have gone to bed yet.

He knocked on the office door and was soon summoned in.

“Mr Potter, twice in a day,” Professor McGonagall said. “What disaster are you bringing to my doorstep this time?”

“Hopefully nothing,” Harry grimaced. “I was just going to ask about Katie. Do you know how long she is going to stay at St. Mungo’s?”

“I’m afraid we are likely only going to see miss Bell back after Christmas at the earliest.” Professor McGonagall sighed. “Such a horrible thing to happen to her.”

“Not to sound insensitive,” Harry hesitated. “But I assume that means I need to find a replacement for her on the Quidditch Team.”

“I’m afraid it does,” Professor McGonagall said. “I assume you have someone in mind.”

“I do,” Harry said. “I’ll wait for a little before talking to them, but soon enough so that we can start practising with them.”

“That is the best we can do at the moment indeed,” Professor McGonagall sighed. “Anything else?” 

“Do you know who was supposed to get the cursed item?” Harry asked.

“I have no idea, Mr Potter.” Professor McGonagall said. “I assume the Headmaster might have a theory or two, but he isn’t likely to tell me.”

“Right, Professor,” Harry said quickly. “I just thought I might ask. If it was supposed to be sent to me, then I would like to be prepared.” 

“As much as I want to tell you that you are paranoid, I sadly cannot. ‘Constant Vigilance,’ as Alastor might say,” Professor McGonagall said. “If there isn’t anything else? Curfew is almost upon us, and I would be thankful if you managed to stay in your bed tonight.”

“Of course, Professor,” Harry nodded quickly. 

He ignored everyone, trying to find out what happened between him and Hermione when he got back to the tower. He paced off towards the dormitories, not even sparing anyone a glance. 

He found Ron sitting on his bed, anxiously fidgeting with his wand when he came in.

“What did you do to Hermione?” Ron asked as soon as he spotted Harry.

“I moved on,” Harry said. 

“So, what? You were out all night with some tart?”

“It is frankly none of your business, but now she is not a tart,” Harry said coldly. “What did you expect me to do? Wait until Hermione Granger decided that maybe she would want me back? And if that never happened, I should wait until she found another person to get together with? Or just die alone?” 

“Mate, that is not fair,” Ron said.

“None of this is fair!” Harry burst out. “Look, I found someone who actually gets me and wants to be with me, not because of whatever ridiculous title The Daily Prophet calls me as a flavour of the month. Someone who actually sees me, Harry, and not some goddamn Merlin reincarnated, Saviour of everyone.”

“You still haven’t said anything about Hermione,” Ron argued. “How is she supposed to feel?” 

“How do I know?” Harry asked with exasperation. “She decided that we weren’t supposed to be a thing anymore. Should I now feel guilty for trying to be happy? Is that it?”

“That’s not what I said, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“No, but you might as well have done.” Harry knew he had lost his temper, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“You can be a right prick, you know that?” Ron knew that Harry had been put in an impossible situation, but they had all become used to Harry escaping precisely that kind of problem.

“What am I supposed to do, Ron? I can’t stay sad and hurt and wait for a girl who might never look my way again.”

“Sorry.” Ron could not look at Harry, but they were starting to repeat their arguments.

“Good,” Harry said as he pulled off his robe and threw it in his trunk. He stood for a moment, hands on his hips, and said more quietly, “Sorry.”

Both boys went to their beds, with Harry pulling the curtains close and putting every restrictive charm and privacy charm on his bed. He was not going to be disturbed anymore tonight.

 

Harry could honestly say that the worst part about Hogwarts was the dreaded rumour mill, which continued to go on and on. It didn’t take more than a few days for people to put together that Harry ‘The Chosen One’ Potter had been missing during the weekend, nor that he had been spotted in the company of a young witch with pink hair the following morning outside the castle. 

Harry found solitude in the library under a relatively strong Notice-Me-Not. He tried to keep his homework at bay, but a nagging worry had begun to fester in his mind. He had no idea what sort of date he was supposed to take Tonks on. 

She had accepted, of course, and that was fantastic, but as he thought about it, he had no idea what to actually do on a proper date. It had always been so natural with Hermione. They had spent oceans of time together. Studying could be a date if they had wanted it to, or a walk around the lake or a picnic with the help of Dobby. None of those ideas would work with Tonks, he felt. Even something nice like a picnic couldn’t work if it was just recycled from his time with Hermione. That would do no one any favours.

He didn’t even know whom he was supposed to turn to. Susan and Ginny were still mad at him for making them worry, and Hermione was definitely out of the question. Luna seemed to have forgiven him, but that only made him feel even more guilty about how he had treated her. 

Ron and Harry had managed to salvage their friendship by simply not talking about feelings, dating, girls, or any subject more controversial than Quidditch or homework for the time being.

The cherry on top was when Slughorn came to him with a horrifying invitation to another one of his dinner parties. Harry felt like just burning it, but he couldn’t do that. If what Dumbledore said was true, he really needed Slughorn’s memory to keep the others safe, defeat Voldemort, or even survive.

Harry sighed deeply as he sat down in one corner of the Gryffindor table alone. Hermione had taken to finding the opposite corner of wherever Harry was in a room and sitting there. Great Hall, classrooms or even the common room, the only place she was still in somewhat close proximity to him was during potions, where she always shared a table with Harry, Ron, and Susan. 

Potions had once again become Harry’s least favourite subject. Between the awkward atmosphere between him and Hermione and Slughorn’s lavish praise of them both as new potions prodigies, it felt suffocating. 

Harry decided that now was as good a time as any to open Slughorn’s invitation. He cast a Notice-Me-Not on himself and opened up the letter.

 

Harry, Dear Boy!

I have heard the rumours that you have begun seeing a certain pink-haired witch. Usually, it would be against the rules for her to join us in the castle, but I can bend a few rules. I am very fascinated by the prospect of meeting the woman who could catch your eye. I want to invite both of you to a little evening gathering after the Halloween feast in the Great Hall. It will essentially be a bit of a chance to socialise over punch and canapés. 

Dress robes or cocktail attire is suitable for the evening.

Slughorn

Chairman of the Slug Club

 

Harry cursed silently under his breath. Of course, even Slughorn had heard about Tonks. He lifted the charm around him and was just about to storm off when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

“Dear brother of mine,” Susan’s voice sounded in his ear. “You should be more than ready to do our evening together, shouldn’t you?” 

Harry groaned and turned his head back to look into Susan’s face. She was wearing a smug grin.

“Right, I did promise,” Harry surrendered.

“That you did, sunshine,” Susan said. “Now, what is that in your hands?”

“Slughorn’s invitation to an afterparty thing on Halloween,” Harry said. 

“Want me to go with you again?” Susan asked. 

“Read,” Harry said, simply handing her the invitation rather than trusting himself to relay the professor’s request.

Susan couldn’t help grinning even further when she read through it.

“So, Old Sluggy wants to meet dear Tonks,” Susan teased. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Quidditch practice?” Harry asked weakly.

“Won’t work,” Susan said. “Too late after the feast. You have no excuse, Harry. Also, Slughorn will take it as a personal offence if you don’t bring her or at least give an explanation of why she couldn’t show.”

Harry ended up resting his head on the table.

“Perfect,” he grumbled. “Just perfect. This memory better be good.” 

“What memory?” Susan asked.

“Slughorn has a memory about Riddle from his time here at school,” Harry explained quietly. He had been making a concerted effort to avoid lying about stuff so casually in self-protection, especially with Susan. “Apparently, it is vital, so Dumbledore has been throwing me at Slughorn in an attempt to wheedle out this memory.”

Susan looked indignant at that.

“Don’t look like that,” Harry said quickly. “If it can save my life later or help defeat Voldemort, then I am more than happy to do it. That doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it, right? Also, Slughorn is at least a more effective teacher than Snape in Potions if you look past his little Slug Club obsession.”

“If you say so,” Susan said dubiously. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I shouldn’t have kept it from you in the first place,” Harry said with a smile. “Now, what day did you think, for training?”

“Could we do it during the weekend?”

“I guess,” Harry said. “Erm-- is she still coming?”

“She hasn’t said she isn’t,” Susan said. “So I would expect so.” 

 

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Well, tomorrow then, afternoon between lunch and dinner? You can just bring them up there—DA room standard. Also, don’t mind the four people limit if you want to invite Neville, Luna, and Ron in addition to Ginny and Hermione. Just it is a one-time thing. Make sure they understand that.”

“Okay, Harry,” Susan smiled. “Let’s get to Herbology then.”

“Sure,” Harry said as he got up from the table. “Also, erm—I—”

“Out with it,” Susan said.

“I invited Tonks on a date, but I have no idea what I am doing.”

“Was the past two years completely useless in teaching you about women?” Susan sighed. 

“No, no, it’s just most of the dates with Hermione were things I could do around the castle. A picnic in the snow under a bunch of heating charms, or just casually studying together or walking around the lake or going to Hogsmeade. It’s just, those don’t seem to fit.”

“I see what you mean,” Susan said. “Well, I guess you have to plan it with Hogsmeade weekends in mind. Or you could always ask a teacher to let you leave Hogwarts on a date.” 

She had meant to tease Harry on that last part, but the look on Harry’s face was thoughtful more than anything.

“You couldn’t, could you?” Susan said in disbelief.

“Professor McGonagall has admitted that I deserve more privacy than most, and I guess at this point she would rather be in the know than me disappearing again,” Harry whispered.

“You have broken her,” Susan said with a mix of awe and fear. “You have completely broken Professor McGonagall.”

“Do you have to make it sound that bad?” Harry grumbled.

“Harry James Potter, you have ruined a respectable professor– reflect on your actions!” Susan scolded him as they walked down towards the greenhouses. The whole lesson, she kept looking at him askance and shaking her head.

Harry spent Saturday morning revising his knowledge of defensive spells and curses. He felt confident that he could teach at least as well as Snape. Sometimes he thought he might even be a better teacher, as Snape rarely taught. He just lectured or instructed. 

Still, Harry paled in comparison to Snape with the Dark Arts, so he had been soaking up everything Snape had said in his DADA classes so far. It was even showing on his papers. Harry had never gotten as many passed papers from Snape as he did now. There was even a single Outstanding which had almost floored Harry in surprise. 

Harry spotted Dean Thomas walking in with Seamus Finnegan. He had not found a good time to ask Dean if he wanted to replace Katie on the team.

“Dean, you have a second?” Harry said, looking up from his notes. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So you went to Hogsmeade to be with an older woman, huh? Who is she?”

“None of your business,” Harry said. “I was going to ask if you would be willing to replace Katie as long as she is in St. Mungo’s?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said with a smile. “Not the way I wanted to get on the team, but yes, I’ll join.” 

“Good,” Harry said. “Morning runs start half an hour before breakfast. I’ll get you up to speed on everything else during practice Tuesday.”

“Why would we run in the morning?” Dean asked.

“To get in better shape,” Harry said. “All of the people on the Quidditch team run in the morning. I run for two hours before breakfast. You’re free to join me if you want.” 

“Half an hour is enough,” Dean said quickly. 

“See you tomorrow morning then,” Harry smiled at him.

Dean didn’t feel uplifted at the smile but had a sneaking suspicion that Harry was being petty about being asked about the mysterious pink-haired woman.

“You should have kept your mouth shut, mate,” Seamus sighed as they walked over to a nearby couch.

“You can’t tell me you aren’t interested as well?” Dean asked. “Beautiful and colourful?”

“Of course I am, but Harry’s always been a private person,” Seamus said. “He doesn’t like the fame at all or being in the spotlight.”

 

Harry quickly gathered his notes and set off for lunch. He would eat and then head to the Room of Requirement to begin preparing for his training session. 

No, it’s a lesson. This isn’t a training session, Harry kept telling himself. 

Harry quickly ate his lunch and walked towards the seventh floor. In the corridor leading to the Room of Requirement, a small first-year girl was standing with her back to him.

“Are you lost?” Harry asked in his friendliest voice. 

He must have startled her because she dropped the scales in her hands, and they smashed on the floor. She seemed distraught, so Harry quickly bent down and drew his wand.

“Reparo!”

He handed the little girl her scales. “I’m sorry for startling you. There aren’t any classrooms in this corridor, so I was afraid you had gotten lost.”

“No, no,” the young witch said. 

“Uhm -- alright?” Harry raised himself up. He was practically towering above her now. “Still, there is no reason for you to stay up here– there is nothing in this corridor, so you should move along.”

“Then, why are you here?” The little girl looked more cheekily defiant than anything.

Harry just pointed to the prefect badge on his chest.

“Part of the duties, I’m afraid,” he said with the best smile he could. “You really should move along. Someone might think you are up to no good.”

Harry watched as the small girl ran down along the corridor before he turned to look at the wall across from the tapestry of the dancing trolls.  

I need a room where we can practice spells, I need a place where no one can find us, I need a place where we can learn new magic.

Harry looked up, and nothing happened on the wall. 

“That’s odd,” Harry muttered to himself. “It has never done that before. Is someone in there already?”

The girl? 

Harry replayed the scene from before. It was too unusual the way she had spoken back to him. It wasn’t the expected behaviour of a first-year around him. They would either be wholly starstruck or be intimidated by the fact that he was several heads higher than them. They wouldn’t react that way, also the way the scales fell and made a racket. It was too much like a lookout. 

It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to bribe, pay, or bully a first-year into standing guard during lunch or something. Give them a few Galleons and then ask them to drop a set of scales if someone walked down the corridor. 

Actually, it was rather genius. 

Harry made a good deal of noise as he left, cursing about how the Room had never failed to work for him and that he would go find Professor Dumbledore to investigate. 

He quickly ducked into an alcove and hid under his Invisibility Cloak, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long before a door appeared on the wall. 

Malfoy? What in Merlin’s name is he doing in there? 

Harry watched as two girls came over to Malfoy, and they left together, all three of them. 

Harry was about to follow when he spotted his group of five people coming down another corridor. 

Harry stealthily got out of his cloak and appeared behind the group,

“Constant Vigilance,” he whispered behind them.

Susan, Hermione, and Ginny all swung around with their wands in hand and fired what looked like two stunners and a disarming charm at him. Luna had remained completely calm as if she was confident she was in no danger. Ron, Harry noticed with interest, had instinctively moved his body between the threat and Luna, the smallest member of the group, though he was slower to ready his wand as a result.

Harry easily swiped his shield charm between them and deflected the three spells harmlessly off to the side.

“Good,” he said. “Shoot first, ask questions later. If you stun someone, it is easy to get them back to consciousness, and it is largely not that harmful to most adults, so don’t be afraid to stun people. Also, good choice on the disarming charm Hermione, if it had been most wizards. I would still be able to fight hand-to-hand, and while it would hurt, I like to think I would be able to take a few of you down before you got to me. Shall we?”

Harry quickly opened the room and threw Malfoy and whatever he was doing to the back of his mind.

Harry had gotten a typical classroom set up in the room.

“Okay, as Susan might have told you, I will use this first part to let you ask any Defence-related questions, including poisons, spells, curses, and dark creatures,” Harry said. “It is not a Q&A session about what is going on in our lives, gossip, or catching up on trivia. Let’s stay focused.”

Harry spent around twenty minutes answering questions about the use of different spells, what he did to train on his own, and even how the ones who were interested could set up a physical training program to follow if they were actually serious about it. 

“This looks like what you’ve had the Gryffindor Quidditch team going through,” Ginny said.

“The basics are essentially the same, running for cardio and endurance, muscle training for strength in a fistfight, and balancing and aiming practice are just as important as knowing another fancy spell. Dodging can save you from a Killing Curse, some sort of physical barrier can save you from an Unforgivable, your shields cannot. So combat transfiguration is important as well, conjuring a stone wall or transfiguring a statue to move.”

Harry spent time explaining how Dumbledore had used the fountain statues to fight Voldemort in the Atrium at the Ministry.

“I do have books tailored to that sort of fighting, and you are free to borrow them, but I would like them back,” Harry smiled. “Now, let’s get to practical spell-casting. I would like to go from basic to more complicated. It won’t take long since the beginning will be a lot like DA last year.”

Harry took them through every spell he had taught them last year. He asked Susan, Ron, Hermione, and Neville to at least try and perform them non-verbally as well. Ginny shocked him by being able to fire a stunner without a word. Luna soon after also began firing non-verbally as if it was natural. She was a curiosity, with some complex spells coming very quickly to her, while with other, more straightforward spells, she seemed to find herself distracted.

Harry took some bottles filled with water and handed one to each of them.

“Drink,” Harry said. “Dehydration seriously degrades you physically and magically, as I found out myself. The next part will be a round-robin style fight, where everyone will duel everyone. Myself included. Depending on your abilities, I will face off against groups of you as well.”

“You’re joking, right?” Ron asked. “Like, two or more of us at once?”

“He’s not,” Susan said. “He wiped the floor with Ginny and me together against him.” 

“Respect,” Ron said, not quite willing to believe it until he had seen it himself.

It was soon demonstrated that Harry was by far and large a better fighter than all of them, much to Hermione’s frustration and Ron’s grudging admiration. Luna seemed to be a good match-up against Harry’s spell-casting, as she seemed like a fairy dancing around the jets of light. She was doing well, firing unorthodox and creative combinations at Harry until she was surrounded by three walls and then hit with a stunner. 

Ron and Ginny were more athletic about it than the others, which gave them a better opportunity to dodge. Ron did favour the more straightforward, more direct spells in his repertoire, which meant that his opponents could more easily predict and counter whatever he flung at them, though his shields and counter-spells were strong. Ginny was a little more aggressive in her choice of spells, so she had a slight edge until her neglect of defensive awareness caught up with her. 

What Hermione lacked in fitness and athleticism, she made up for in her breadth and depth of spells. She was clearly the one closest to Harry in terms of variety, but it didn’t take long for Harry to get her off balance after a series of exchanges, and she was down for the count as well. 

Neville turned out to have really studied hard, and clearly, his new wand was a much better fit than his father’s that he had wielded previously. His tenacity made it hard for Harry to overpower him, and it turned out to be a good fight as Harry was forced to wear Neville down with chain after chain of stunners and non-lethal curses. Neville continued his dogged resistance even after taking glancing hits until, at last, a rapid combination of stunners finally collapsed his shield and rendered him briefly unconscious.

Susan turned out to be the most balanced of them all. She had decent physicality, and her creativity with spells served her well. She had no signature best spell, but instead, she always answered whatever Harry threw at her, which made her versatile in all situations. It was an overly conservative offence that ultimately led to Susan’s defeat.

Harry helped them by pointing out where and what they needed to focus on in as friendly a manner as he could. He knew this could easily make him seem arrogant, but it was the best way to learn. He had learned that in close combat training with Reagan Hill and had been reminded again after getting tortured, or rather, tutored by Amelia and Tonks during the summer. 

 

“Pair up, Susan and Ginny. You are up first,” Harry said. 

He then defeated them by placing himself between them and carefully dodging or reflecting their spells towards each other, essentially using their own attacks against them.

He did the same with Ron and Hermione, while Luna and Neville somehow put up the fiercest challenge. No matter how Harry moved, he couldn’t get into a favourable position until he had transfigured a dome around Neville while he focused directly on Luna. This time he quickly put her down while Neville smashed the dome around him. Harry managed to roll underneath his guard and pointed his wand at Neville’s gut. 

Once again, Harry explained how each battle had gone, what they did right and wrong. He gave pointers and even suggested paths they could study to enhance their own qualities.

Harry had spotted that by now, some of them were gnashing their teeth in frustration. 

“Okay, I was planning to go three against one, but we can also just go all six of you against me. If you manage to take me down before five minutes, then I will accept a punishment within reason.”

That had lit a fire in Ron’s and Ginny’s eyes. Susan just shook her head as she could already see too many unknowns if they went six against one. It wasn’t necessarily an advantage if Harry managed to deflect their spells at each other. She made eye contact with Hermione, but Hermione seemed eager for another try against Harry. Luna had a calm but focused look, already imagining the battle unfolding in her head. Neville had a determined look on his face that told Harry he wouldn’t quickly back down. 

“I think we need a bit more terrain for this,” Harry said with a smile, and soon the room had been transfigured into a rocky formation, partly with help from the Room of Requirement but also due to their combined transfiguration skills.

“Shall we?” Harry said. “Three… two…… one… Now!”

Harry threw himself down behind a protruding rock and heard the sound of five spells being flung his way. Someone had held back, looking for a clue as to his strategy. Excellent. He spotted the edge of Susan’s body behind another rock, and he threw a more minor bombardment spell in front of her cover, followed by a quick stunner while the rock fell. Susan managed to shield it but was still thrown back and landed on her butt from the bombardment curse. Harry was just about to stun her when Ginny jumped in front of her and shielded the spell. 

“Good,” Harry smiled. He ducked out of sight again. Harry was pushed towards his limits as he wove around spells, deflecting some of them towards the others. They had to learn teamwork. He could beat them quickly if the battle turned into a free-for-all. Harry dodged a particularly powerful stunner flying towards him, and he instinctively threw a disarming charm in the direction it had come from. 

Ron nearly nailed him with a stunner which he managed to bounce off an obstacle behind Harry, but the aim was just a little off, and the spell only grazed Harry’s leg. Ron had overcommitted, following up with some kind of jinx, and Harry managed to hit him with a disarming spell.

Ron’s wand flew into the air, and Harry was able to grab it first, and he stunned Ron with it before he could react. Now using two wands against the five left, Harry picked up his pace. Switching from a physical cat-and-mouse strategy to a direct assault, his change in tactics caught Neville and Luna by surprise, and they were dispatched.

Now reduced by half, his attackers felt pressured, even as the duel raged on and they began pushing Harry toward his self-imposed time limit. By getting Hermione positioned in the crossfire between Susan and Ginny, Harry was able to pin her down and moved towards her, intent on stunning or disarming her quickly.

She managed to shield his disarming spell, but conscious of how she had been outmanoeuvred yet again, Hermione began firing spells, some nonverbal, as quickly as she could towards Harry. When he managed to dodge a stunner immediately after blocking a jelly-legs jinx with his shield, Hermione grew frustrated and desperate. Perhaps she panicked, or maybe she was angry, reminded of the story of her failure against Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic. For whatever reason, she shouted out a spell and slashed at the air with her wand with a frenzied motion.

Sectumsempra!”

Harry felt a moment of sick foreboding as a whirling blade of light flew towards him. He dodged and rolled on the ground, trying to shield as he did so. His shield collapsed utterly, and the rock around him sundered, shards flying away from a deep, smouldering gouge in the stone itself. Everyone looked on in shock as a long piece of Harry’s robe, cut completely free by the golden blade, fluttered to the ground.

Stupefy!”

Harry’s spell was meant to overpower Hermione’s shield and make sure she stopped whatever it was she had just done. But Hermione, realising that the spell she had cast could have killed had it struck true, had pulled back, raising her hands in front of her, her shield angled aside. Harry’s stunner, fuelled by his desire to make sure Hermione was stopped, hit her squarely in the chest. Her body collapsed, and when she fell, her head made a sickening sound as it contacted the rubble around her on the ground.

For a moment, the room was still, Harry and the others speechless. The transfiguration of the room began to come unwound. Those who had been stunned earlier made their way to their feet. Harry approached Hermione, and he saw the wand drop from her hand onto the floor. Her eyes were closed. There was blood.

“What have you done?” Ron was there, sliding through the slowly dissolving rubble and dust until he was cradling Hermione in his arms. Harry dropped to his knees, numb, struck dumb by what he saw. Susan and Ginny helped Harry and the others over until they were gathered around the fallen witch. Hermione struggled and sat up. Her eyes were open, her face pale.

“Harry?” Hermione called out, searching the faces around her until she found him, relief clear on her face. “I thought I’d killed you.”

Luna, her voice shrill and agitated, something so out of place as to be almost as disturbing as what they had just witnessed, asked urgently, “What was that spell you cast at Harry?”

Harry answered before Hermione could. “Sectumsempra…. for enemies.”

Ron asked Hermione urgently, “Are you okay? Do you need the hospital?”

Hermione reached to the back of her head and winced before pulling back her hand, two fingertips tainted with blood. “I just got a good crack on the head. I’m fine.”

“What the hell, Harry?” Ron’s voice was more relieved than angry.

“It was just a stunner,” Harry said, still quiet, still dead-voiced. “I thought she might block it. I thought… Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ginny clucked her tongue at them. “Come on, you lot. Back off. Give the girl room to take a breath.”

Susan was peering at the back of Hermione’s head. “Looks like just a bad scrape. Head wounds always bleed like anything. At least, so Auntie says.”

Hermione rose to her feet, leaning on Ron and accepting a hand from Neville.

“I’ll be fine. Erm, did we win?”

“What was that spell you cast at Harry?” Luna was still kneeling, looking at Hermione with a mixture of surprise and horror. Neville reached down and helped her to her feet, and she huddled against him.

“It was in one of my books,” Hermione said to Luna, searching the others’ faces for understanding. “I didn’t know it was so violent.”

They all took a moment to dust themselves off, collect their wands and belongings, and quietly assess themselves and each other for injuries. Other than a minor burn on Neville’s leg and some scrapes, only Hermione seemed injured enough to warrant a trip to Madam Pomfrey. She protested but finally agreed when Ron bluntly told her she could be walked there or carried there.

As they prepared to leave, Hermione took Harry’s arm and leaned closer to him for a moment.

“It’s not your fault Harry. I’m sorry. We’ll be okay.”

For just a moment, there was a tenderness in her voice he had not heard for far too long, but then she was gone, walking with Ron to see about her head. Susan and Ginny had taken it upon themselves to make sure that Harry was okay and allowed him to walk through the final duel. They made sure he was honest about what had happened and refused to let him take too much blame for his own actions or anyone else’s.

They wound up, of all places, in the owlery. Hedwig, who he had spent far too little time with, was being standoffish, turning her back on Harry, but after a moment, she nipped his hand and allowed herself to be stroked soothingly. After being sure he was okay, Ginny and Susan left him to his thoughts, though they seemed to be whispering about something between themselves as they passed a particular spot against the railing on the walkway.

Harry spent a long time staring out from the owlery. He knew that until Ron was confident that Hermione was okay, neither would be back in the common room. At last, he gave Hedwig a final pat and the promise of future bacon, and he headed down.

Well, Harry, he thought. No one died. Is this what a victory looks like these days?

Chapter 30: "No spell brings patience in love."

Summary:

A long-ish chapter, with a lot in...

"...you could have been seriously hurt."
"Or killed."
"Or worse, expelled." [Ah, memories....]

Harry navigates an actual date with Tonks.

Azkaban breakout.

Slughorn's next affair.

Best. Halloween. Ever.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 30. “No spell brings patience in love.”

Harry sat at the breakfast table, considering the letter he had been writing instead of his morning run. How do you ask your new girlfriend—who is also your old friend—and sometimes your bodyguard, to what essentially boils down to a school dance? Well, he decided, when all else fails, to tell the truth. It saves effort in remembering your lies later.

 

Dear Tonks,

So, this is awkward. I was hoping to talk to you about this in person, but I wanted to be sure you would get this letter in time. We—that is, you and I together—have been invited by Professor Slughorn to a party. It’s complicated, but I have to go. I’d love for you to be with me, but I don’t want to demand or make it weirder than it already is. Is it wrong that I want to be with you or be seen with you? I don’t mean like showing you off as my girl or whatever.

This is impossible. Please read the attached invitation. Let me know if you want to come. We can meet here for dinner, or just for the party. I’m hopeless and rubbish about girls, as all my friends here keep telling me. Take pity and let me know.

Harry

 

Too casual? Perhaps. Desperate, surely. But this was the best he could do, and he wrapped it up for delivery. He was just finishing when he saw Neville, Ginny, and Ron coming into the Great Hall. Other students were arriving as well. Soon, everyone from the disastrous defence lesson was gathered around him, except for Hermione. Ron had told him the previous night that she was being held until the afternoon by Madam Pomfrey. They had spent a few pointless minutes glaring at each other, but they both had known they were too emotionally exhausted to process anything else that night.

There was a moment where everyone looked at one another, unsure where to start. Finally, Susan looked at Harry and said, “So, you can see why we need your help.”

“What?” Harry said disbelievingly.

“What?” Ron echoed. He and Harry exchanged glances.

Neville slowly nodded while Luna silently sat by his side.

“There’s so much more that we need to learn. There’s more that we can learn.” Neville’s jaw worked, tension clear as he said softly. “Another war’s coming, and it won’t wait for us to get training after Hogwarts, will it?”

Harry shook his head. “You saw what happened. One afternoon and I nearly—I pushed Hermione too far, and any one of you could have been seriously hurt.”

“Or killed,” Ron added.

“Or worse, expelled,” Harry added, with a smile at the corner of his mouth. Ron chuckled despite himself as the others looked at them in confusion.

Susan looked at the others and said at last, “Okay. Harry isn’t the one who should train us. There’s just too much going on there. For now, we’ll meet on our own, like the DA, until we figure out a better plan.”

“Guys, I think this is a bad idea,” Harry said, but before he could argue further, he was cut short.

“I’m in,” Ginny said without hesitation.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Luna said quietly to Neville. He seemed disappointed but nodded. Then, she put her arm around him. “So we better train as well.”

He looked up at her with a grin. “We’re in, Susan.”

“So,” Ginny asked her brother, “what is it going to be?”

Ron looked at Harry, then to his gathered friends.

“I can’t speak for Hermione, obviously. But yeah, count me in.” He punched Harry on the arm. “Sorry, mate. Needs to be done, but it’s not on you, okay?”

Harry shook his head. “I wish I could talk you out of this, but I won’t stand in your way.”

At that point, breakfast began, and various owls swooped in with the morning post. Hedwig landed on Harry’s shoulder and promptly began eying his bacon expectantly. He made sure she had all she fancied before affixing his letter to her leg and whispering its destination to her. With a reproachful nip at his hand, she took flight.

Harry distanced himself a little from the group which was now discussing their new practice sessions. Susan would sometimes ask him for recommendations on books they should study for different things. She especially wanted to borrow some of his material on combat-oriented transfiguration since it seemed like the most versatile type of magic. It could be used to pin or slow down while also making physical defences in a pinch.

Harry answered her questions and any other they threw at him and told her that he would pick out a few basic books for them to get started on. He also recommended that everyone read the three-volume set on practical defence magic, which he had already lent to Susan earlier.

Harry got up from breakfast and was just about to head off for the library when an idea hit him. He wasn’t sure it was going to be possible, but maybe if he framed it the right way, then he might just be allowed to do it. 

He headed towards the Head Table, noticing that Dumbledore was once again away from the castle. 

“Uhm, Professor McGonagall, there is something I would like to talk to you about,” Harry said. 

“Can it be done here, or is it better to do it in my office?” Professor McGonagall eyed him suspiciously. 

“Office, Ma’am,” Harry said. 

“Very well, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “You can meet me there in half an hour.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry smiled.

Harry went back to the Gryffindor table and sat down with a grin. 

“What was that about?” Ron asked.

Susan looked at him with incredulity, “Was that what I think it was?”

“Probably?” Harry smiled. “I just need to have a private talk with Professor McGonagall, Ron.” 

“Alright, mate,” Ron said. “Never expected you to go to her on your own.”

Harry’s odd behaviour didn’t gather any more attention, and when Professor McGonagall was done eating, Harry followed her out of the Great Hall. 

Harry honestly felt he had been inside this office more than any other Gryffindor student in Hogwarts’ history. 

“So, Potter,” Professor McGonagall asked. “What is this about?”

“I would like to ask for permission to go to Hogsmeade on Halloween during the day,” Harry said nervously. 

“And why would I allow that?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“I have been invited to Slughorn’s evening gathering, and he also invited Tonks,” Harry said awkwardly. “I would like to spend at least a day with her before she is to be introduced as my… erm… date.” 

“I have heard a bit about this,” Professor McGonagall said, “but one hates to rely upon rumour. I can’t just let you come and go as you please, however. I will have to take this up with Albus.”

“You might remind him that the choices we make are more important than who we are at birth. Sometimes we need a friend to keep us from turning the wrong way,” Harry said. 

“You are even beginning to sound like him,” Professor McGonagall sighed. “Fine, as soon as the Headmaster returns, I will tell him.” 

“Thank you so much, Professor,” Harry smiled. 

“Just make sure you win the first quidditch game against Ravenclaw,” Professor McGonagall smiled. “I have a longstanding bet with Professor Flitwick that their more experienced team, as he puts it, cannot win decisively against our newly reformed team.” 

“I don’t see how we are not a better team than the eagles,” Harry smiled. “We’ll show them that the top predator is still a lion, after all.”

“Excellent,” Professor McGonagall smiled. 

 

Time flowed on. N.E.W.T.s study continued. Hermione was back to normal, well as normal as could be expected, after having thrown a dark curse at her ex-boyfriend and almost killing him. She had apologised so much and had been so sorrowful that Harry had no idea how to make her stop. She had started sitting next to him in class again, though as with Ron, she didn’t talk about Harry’s new relationship either. The three of them had found a new sort of friendship balance as they worked together on homework, especially as Hermione and Harry worked on Runes and Arithmancy. A brush with death helped put the priorities of study and revising into perspective. 

Harry had gone to the owlery more often since he had sent his letter to Tonks. He had hoped that she would have answered him by the time Sunday evening arrived. It wasn’t like she was all that far away, but it was now Wednesday evening, and Harry hadn’t heard from either Tonks or Professor McGonagall. 

He was pacing nervously as he looked for Hedwig. She wasn’t there. Maybe she was out hunting. Perhaps she was patiently waiting for Tonks to answer the letter Harry had sent. Halloween was next Thursday. He felt like he had to have an answer by the weekend, or he would ultimately lose his mind. 

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Hedwig landing on his shoulder before she hooted directly into his ear.

“Hey, girl,” Harry complained. “That was loud. You back from a hunt?”

Hedwig pecked him on the head and stuck out her leg. 

“Is that from Tonks?” Harry asked. 

*hoot, hoot*

“Thank you, girl,” Harry said. “Come down for breakfast tomorrow, and I will feed you so full of bacon that you will have to hop back to the owlery.”

He received an affectionate headbutt from Hedwig as he removed the short letter from her leg before she flew off to find her perch.

Harry opened up his letter to find some squiggly lines, Tonks’s distinctive penmanship.

 

Of course, I’ll come.

Why so nervous about it? I want to be together with you. If that means I have to go fight off a walrus to see you, then I’ll make a muffler from his moustache.

So you weren’t clear about whether I should join the feast or if you would pick me up later by the gate. Anyway, just send Hedwig back with an answer before Tuesday.

Yours,

Tonks

 

Harry felt entirely too lucky to have her in his life. Now, if he could just get the day off, technically, he only needed to get the day off from Professor McGonagall as he only had a double lesson of transfiguration on Thursdays, but still leaving the castle was a big step up from merely ditching transfiguration.

 

Harry didn’t hear back from Professor McGonagall until after the weekend had passed.

“Potter,” she called out to him during breakfast on Monday. “I have gotten word from the Headmaster, you are allowed to take Thursday to be with your family.”

Harry hadn’t really expected her to say it out loud in the Great Hall. Instantly there was a lot of whispering going on around him. 

“Why would you get the day off on Thursday?” Ron asked.

“Ronald! It’s Halloween, it’s the day Harry’s parents…”

“Sorry, it’s just you never took the day off before,” Ron apologised. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. “I just need to get away, especially since some people get so weird about my family and me, on the anniversary of that night. Plus, it would be nice to spend a day with Tonks.” 

“I can understand that,” Hermione said with a hint of sadness in her voice. 

“Sorry, that was insensitive of me,” Harry said quickly.

“No, I understand,” Hermione ran a finger across her sternum absently. “It’s time we managed to be adults about this with each other. This is what I asked for, after all.”

Harry felt uncomfortable at her melancholy resolution, but he appreciated her acceptance of things between them as well. He unconsciously moved his right hand to his left forearm and rubbed it. 

He failed to spot the tightness in Hermione’s eyes as she followed his movement. 

Harry had gotten up and was just about to head for Ancient Runes when he was stopped by Susan in the entrance hall.

“You’re shameless,” she began, clearly frustrated. 

“I’m sorry?” Harry asked.

“You really did get permission to go out of the castle on a weekday!” Susan huffed. “ And it’s ‘To be with family’ no less.”

“I don’t understand why this is making you angry,” Harry hesitated. “Didn’t you suggest it, even?”

“I was being sarcastic,” she growled. She sighed but continued more calmly, “I just sort of feel at a loss. Harry, you shouldn’t have to leave the castle; you should be able to confide in us, in your friends. In me.”

Harry said, “Look, this is just a little different. It’s not like I am going to stay out all weekend. I’ll be back for Slughorn’s evening thing. I just need a break if I’m forced to listen to Slughorn sing my praises and over-dramatically mourn my mother. You can’t tell me you don’t think he is going to do that.”

“I suppose,” Susan said. “It’s just, I felt like we were getting closer, and then after the defence class, you pulled away again. I’m here for you whenever you think everything is just a little too much.”

“I know,” Harry smiled and hugged her. “It means a lot that you are. I just need to get away from it a little, and I want to see Tonks before we’re both thrown to the wolves. You know that she’s going to have a hard time being my girlfriend, right, or whatever it is we are.”

He realised that Hermione was standing right behind him and had to have heard their conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said over his shoulder.

“You have nothing to apologise for, so stop it,” Hermione said. “Now we really need to get to class.”

“Alright,” Harry said, ruffling his hair. “See you later, Susan.” 

Harry waited until he was alone to write a reply to Tonks. He was unsure whether he should make that he had been allowed to leave the castle and see her a surprise or if he should just tell her that he was coming earlier in the day. 

 

Dear Tonks,

Is it weird that your name seems strange to me now? Not like I don’t like it. I love your name and the fierce way you assert it. At the same time, when I feel close to someone, I find myself wanting a nickname. But “Tonks” is perfect. I refuse to tease you with your hated birth name, even though I find it beautiful. “Dora” seems too plain, “Nymph” is cute but too awkward. I guess you will have to trust me that when I write your name, I am writing it with the same intention and care as when I say it- the name of the person I admire, adore and care for.

That was a long and pointless way to wander into what I am writing to you to say. Sorry. Hopeless- they weren’t kidding. First, I’m thrilled that you’ll be with me at Slughorn’s party. Not even he could spoil an evening with you. As for meeting at the party or before, I have managed to arrange to be free earlier in the day. I’ll give you details later, but the critical bit is that I could come to meet you earlier if you like. The day is nearly here, so if I don’t hear otherwise, I’ll assume that meeting during the day is okay.

I’m tempted to tear this up and start again, but as this is already my third draft and time is running short, I’ll send this ‘as is’ and trust to my good luck and to your good heart.

 

Happily Yours,

Harry

 

Harry woke up on Thursday and already felt the whispers following him even if everyone was still asleep. Dean had gotten used to the quidditch routine and didn’t even bicker anymore about having to run during the October cold. Harry had reluctantly allowed them to stop running on days when snow was actually falling but would still recommend it for those who wanted to keep in shape over the winter. 

He made his way down into the common room and surprisingly found Hermione awake as well.

“Erm -- Good Morning,” Harry said.

“Huh? Oh, Harry,” she said with a glance before looking into the fire again. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, not wanting to intrude but also no longer afraid to show he cared about her as a friend.

“Oh, yeah,” Hermione smiled at him even if it didn’t reach her eyes. “I just had this dream… it’s nothing.” 

“I understand,” Harry said. “I’ve had my share of ‘stare into nothing the next morning’ kind of dreams. So, if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

“I don’t think we are ready just yet for those kinds of promises, do you?” She grinned sadly. “Let’s stick to promises a little easier to keep for now.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Harry sighed. “I’ll head out for my run.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Hermione said, still staring into the fire as he left the room. Her following words fell softly upon the closed portrait exit. “You be careful.”

 

Harry got out into the dark. There was barely any light this early in the morning, and the cold air was clear, crisp, and almost begging for him to get warmed by his run. Tonks wasn’t under their tree, though he checked as always, just in case.

She probably had an evening shift and left during the night, Harry thought. 

He slowly began his warm-ups and stretches, deciding against a quick warming charm on himself before he started running around the grounds. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness before dawn as he ran along his favourite track around the lake. It was refreshing and freeing to be able to run like this, and the way his body came alive as he warmed up made him glad he’d skipped the shortcut of the warming charm. It was like coming to life again, breath by breath.

By the time he had run his second lap around the lake, the Gryffindor quidditch team was beginning to arrive and do their own morning stretches. What Harry hadn’t expected to see was Hermione doing her own stretches and warming up before she began to run at a leisurely pace next to Ron. She had talked about starting the physical program Harry had suggested the week before. He just hadn’t expected her to follow through with it.

He decided to not comment or make a big deal of it as he quickly made his way into his third and last lap around the lake before he headed back in and grabbed a shower. 

 

Harry joined Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, where they were already sitting. Harry noticed that Ron had a plate with a lot of protein and a lot of fruit, but not his usual pile of hotcakes, toast and jam, or pastries.  

“I thought you would have already left,” Ron said after swallowing a large bite of sausage. Harry suddenly realised that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard Ron talk through—instead of after—a mouthful at the table. 

“No, I’m leaving soon as I grab my Daily Prophet,” Harry said. 

Harry didn’t have to wait long before a brown owl landed in front of him and Hermione and put down two issues of the Daily Prophet.

“This is silly,” Hermione said. “We don’t need two issues a day. We can share.”

“Then let me pay for it?” Harry said. 

“Alright,” Hermione said. “This term, at least.”

“Okay, see you both later.” Harry quickly excused himself and headed towards the front gates.

He was briefly stopped by the Aurors stationed at the gate, but after producing his permission slip from Professor McGonagall, they let him through with a nod. 

Harry opened up his Daily Prophet and began reading as he walked towards the village. He immediately spotted a picture of Azkaban on the front page and another typically restrained Prophet headline.

 

Terror at Azkaban! Dementors Abandon Their Charges!

In the early morning of October Thirty-first, it has been reported that the Dementors guarding Azkaban prison have disappeared during the night. At the same time, perhaps by design, many known Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov, have escaped from the Prison. All prisoners were taken during the attack on the Department of Mysteries…

 

The article was continued on pages two and three, along with a relatively useless list of “ten ways to keep the dementor away” which didn’t even mention the Patronus or the remedial effects of chocolate.

“Well, Halloween seems to hold to tradition at least,” Harry muttered bitterly to himself. He could almost see Malfoy’s smug face as his father had been “liberated” by Voldemort. Apparently, devious machinations in the dark were being replaced, or even worse, supplemented, with open action by the other side. Either way, Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters were now back in Voldemort’s ranks. 

Harry was throwing his edition of the paper into a nearby rubbish bin when he spotted a familiar face in an alleyway at the edge of the village.

“Mundungus?” Harry asked.

“Oh, hi, Harry,” Mundungus Fletcher looked positively twitchy as he looked at Harry.

Harry spotted the merchandise in front of Mundungus. 

“Is that what it looks like?!” Harry growled. 

“No, no idea what you mean!” Mundungus began frantically packing up his stuff in a bag.

“It looks like it was you who pilfered Grimmauld Place after Sirius’s death!” Harry snarled. “Sirius’s stuff, my stuff! Give it back!”

But Harry didn’t get to grab Mundungus before he had disapparated.

“That thieving little slime,” Harry muttered darkly to himself. “If I ever get to him...”

Harry glared at the spot where Mundungus had disappeared, leaving his foldable table behind. Harry kicked it into pieces before he made his way to his destination.

He silently let himself into the room, closing it quietly behind him.

Yup, looks like she had a late shift, Harry thought as he admired the sleeping woman in the bed in the corner.

He walked over to the small kitchenette and began cooking a simple breakfast for both of them. He hadn’t eaten yet either, and he missed those simpler times when he would cook for her during his first summer at Carnaby Street. 

The room had filled with comforting scents of breakfast when Harry heard a groan from the bed at the other end of the room. 

He turned around to look at the woman waking up beneath the blankets on the bed.

“Morning, beautiful,” Harry said softly, trying not to startle her. It didn’t work. Before he could react, Tonks’s wand was aimed at his chest. His eyes followed from the wand to the hand, to the bare shoulder just visible from under the covers.

“Surprise?” Harry said carefully. “I made breakfast.”

“I could have hexed you,” Tonks grumbled, still processing that Harry was here in her room.

“Before your coffee?” Harry smiled at her. “That’s optimistic. Come on out, I made you a full pot.”

Tonks emerged, blinking and beaming at him as she lowered her wand.

“How did you get here?” she asked, reaching for the offered cup of coffee gleefully.

“Well, Professor McGonagall was very accommodating of my need for privacy, especially on a day like this,” Harry said as he handed over her coffee. He paused to somewhat experimentally kiss her on the forehead. She made a happy sound very much like the one she made a second later after her first sip of coffee.

“Well, in the end,” Harry said, carefully, sitting down beside her, “Dumbledore had to give the okay as well, but I think he’s worried that I might go down the same path as Voldemort. Not that I blame him, I’ve been a bit rubbish at having friends this year.” 

“Well, I am happy to see you,” Tonks nursed her first mug of coffee. “So, what are your plans, other than this lovely breakfast?”

“I thought we could spend the day together if you don’t have to work,” Harry smiled. “If you do have to work, I can just hang around the village. I don’t want to go back to the castle.” 

“You’re a lucky boy,” Tonks smiled. “I took the late shift yesterday so I could get a day off today.” 

“You don’t have to tell me that I’m lucky,” Harry grinned. He leaned in and stole a brief, coffee-flavoured kiss. “I was thinking we could spend a little time together just walking around, see the Shrieking Shack. I don’t know, as I said in my letter, I am clearly horrible with girls.” 

“You’re doing perfectly fine so far,” Tonks said as she got up from the bed and walked to the small table. Harry was momentarily bewitched as he watched her shapely backside, and he was grinning foolishly as he thought it a good thing he’d made two good-sized plates of food for them to eat. 

“Come here,” Tonks said as she put down her mug on the table.

Harry walked towards her and felt his pulse quickening as she pressed herself against his chest.

“You know, I’ve dreamt about kissing you like this for a long time,” she said.

“Well, I am happy to make that dream come true,” Harry said as he leaned down and kissed her lips. “I missed you this morning, out on my run.”

“I miss you every morning, but I can’t always sit around watching you,” Tonks smiled at him. “Now, I’m famished.”

“Then dig in,” Harry chuckled. She seemed genuinely torn between more kissing and more breakfast.

They spent a little time eating in comfortable silence before they somehow ended up interlocking their fingers on the table, and they ate the rest of their breakfast with one free hand each.

Tonks leaned back, “I’ve seriously missed your cooking.” 

“I’ve missed cooking for you,” Harry said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having Auntie, Susan and the twins at our place, but I sometimes miss it just being us, you know.”

“Me too, Harry,” Tonks smiled as she leaned in over the table and kissed him again. “I am really excited this is happening.”

“I am, too.”

“So, I am definitely going to need a shower,” Tonks stretched her arms over her head, lifting up her shirt, which revealed her pants and a small strip of her bare stomach.

Harry couldn’t help staring at her legs.

“Like what you see?” Tonks smirked.

“Very much,” Harry said, looking straight into her eyes.

Tonks blushed. “Stop, you’re embarrassing me.”

“You really are beautiful,” Harry said. “And you haven’t exactly been shy around me before.”

“It was different– I wasn’t sure you were paying attention before. That’s enough of that, Casanova,” Tonks smiled as she got up from her chair and walked into the small bathroom, tucking her shirt down over her bum as she did so. 

Harry began cleaning up after them, and soon he even began cleaning up some of the clothes strewn around the floor. No matter where Tonks resided, her habit of throwing her clothes around never ceased. 

Harry couldn’t help smiling as he cleaned up. It felt like a little slice of normalcy, a taste of simpler times. He didn’t even notice the door to the bathroom being opened again before he heard Tonks’s voice.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Harry simply said in response. 

Tonks relished the happiness she saw in his eyes. He looked more at peace at this moment than he had all summer. It honestly made him even more attractive in her eyes. 

“Thank you,” Harry smiled at her. He dropped the clothes on an empty chair, walked towards her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You make me remember better times.” 

“And thank you,” Tonks said as she laid her head on his chest.

“As much as I hate to say it, you should put some clothes on,” Harry said. 

Tonks felt a little conflicted, as she had almost hoped that Harry would just have his way with her. She didn’t actually know how this was supposed to work. For a second, she felt a doubt, an insecure voice whispering that maybe Harry wasn’t really physically attracted to her, but then she felt his lips linger for a moment on her cheek, his warm breath making her pulse race. 

“Come on, my Little Cougar,” Harry said. “I want to walk around with you.”

Tonks’s face lit up, even as she play-pouted and said, “She’s a puma.”

“Don’t worry about being fancy, you’re beautiful no matter what you’re wearing,” Harry added as he went into the bathroom.

Tonks growled, a low purring noise in her throat and almost reached out for him again as the door closed.

“It’s a good thing he can’t tell what I’m thinking most of the time,” she muttered to herself before she quickly threw on some of her better-looking clothes.

“I’m dressed now,” Tonks called to Harry.

Harry left the bathroom and extended his hand. She grabbed her own coat, and soon they were walking down the street, holding hands looking around at all of the shops. 

“I’ve never been on a real date in Hogsmeade before,” Tonks said. 

“How come?” Harry asked.

“The boys at Hogwarts were a little too fixated on my ability to look like their dream woman,” Tonks said sadly.

“I understand,” Harry said.

“What about you?” Tonks asked a little apprehensively.

“I don’t mind how you look. I am attracted to the way you make me feel more than the way you look. Though I must admit, I do have a preference for your pink hair. Always have. It somehow feels like you.”

Tonks smiled sweetly at him and grabbed his hand a little tighter. 

“You’re lovely, Harry. You always have been, and I’m glad it hasn’t changed.”

“Is there anything special you want to do?” Harry asked.

“Not really,” Tonks said. “Well…”

“What?” 

“I wouldn’t mind finding a place where we can sit and talk,” Tonks said quietly. “And by talk, I might also mean snog you silly. I really enjoy kissing you, Potter.”

“Then we could go see the Shrieking Shack,” Harry said. “Not the most romantic of places, but at least people are not going to be hanging around it either.” 

“Mmm,” Tonks smiled and hugged his arm. 

They made their way a little outside of Hogsmeade and soon stood in front of the Shrieking Shack. 

“You know, that is where Sirius would get into Hogwarts from during my third year,” Harry told Tonks. “There is a secret passage under the house.”

“Do we need to be afraid that Death Eaters could go through there?” Tonks asked.

“No, no,” Harry smiled. “The Whomping Willow is standing on top of it. They wouldn’t be able to sneak in.” 

“Good,” Tonks said. “Sorry, I still am an Auror.”

“I understand,” Harry said. “I still think about the passage under Honeydukes. Maybe it should be collapsed as well.”

“I don’t think it would be possible for people to sneak in through there.”

“I’ve done it a lot of times,” Harry pointed out. 

“You have an invisibility cloak,” Tonks said. “Also, there is a difference between one person and a group of Death Eaters.” 

“Fair enough, just be on the lookout for it, okay?” Harry smiled. 

“I know, constant vigilance,” Tonks said. “Now mister, I thought you had brought me here to snog me.”

“Why yes, I believe that I did,” Harry said as he pulled her into his arms. 

They didn’t stop until both of them were gasping for air.

“I’ve never been kissed like that before,” Tonks muttered.

“You don’t like it?” Harry asked nervously.

“I love it.” Tonks said. “You have this urgency—like when you’re kissing me, there is absolutely nothing else on your mind but me. It’s exhilarating. You really don’t have to be so nervous around me.”

“Sorry,” Harry ruffled his hair. “I can’t help it.”

“What’s got you so fearful. I don’t put you off, do I?” 

“No! It’s just that, well, it still seems a little unreal,” Harry said honestly. “You are this powerful, beautiful, accomplished grown-up woman. Sometimes I worry that I’m not good enough for you.”

“Harry,” Tonks looked straight into his eyes. “It seems like we both have this combination of brashness and self-doubt. We’re going to have to trust each other and trust ourselves that we’re good for each other. If either of us ever loses that trust, this can’t work.”

Harry answered her by kissing her again.

“You are very wise. I bow to your wisdom.” He bowed floridly, and she laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

“Since you have never had a proper date in Hogsmeade before,” Harry asked, “is there any place you wanted to visit, maybe something you wish you’d done while you were at Hogwarts?”

Tonks blushed and looked a little embarrassed.

“I’ve never … to …” she muttered.

“I really can’t hear what you are saying,” Harry teased.

“I’ve never been to Madam Puddifoot’s,” Tonks pouted. “I always heard it was so romantic, and the other girls said it was a good place to bring your boyfriend.”

“We can go there if you want,” Harry said. 

“Have you been there before?” Tonks asked.

“Once,” Harry said honestly, “with Hermione. I’ll understand if you want to find something else to do.”

“No,” Tonks said firmly. “I don’t think there are many places nearby we will find a ‘new’ spot. But they can all be new to us together. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have our own spots in London.” 

“That’s true,” Harry said. “Still, I don’t want you to feel insecure. I want to be with you, Little Cougar.”

“She’s a puma,” Tonks hissed. “Why are you calling me that?”

“Don’t like it?” 

“Well, you know I’m insecure about being older than you,” Tonks began.

“I can stop if you want,” Harry said. “I don’t mind our ages, and I have to admit, your Patronus is perfect for you. Sleek, powerful, but playful, and very, very pretty.” 

Tonks couldn’t stop herself from feeling hot and bothered at the sincerity and how he was looking at her. 

“You are smooth, I’ll grant you that. Whoever said you’re no good with women has been watching you around the wrong women. And the nickname isn’t that bad,” Tonks said. “But only when we’re alone. We can’t be one of those moony-Juney, lovey-dovey couples, right?” 

“Okay,” Harry kissed her forehead, something that seemed to be turning into his go-to move for reassuring her when she appeared insecure. “Only when we are alone then.” 

Tonks wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to meet hers. She pressed her body against his and was rather proud to feel him stiffening against her before she released him.

“Someone is getting excited,” Tonks smirked.

“I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t get excited when someone I feel this way about did that,” Harry rasped in a husky voice.

Tonks felt like someone had just sent an ice cube down her spine while starting a fire in her heart that quickly spread much lower. He could have called her beautiful, and he had. He could have told her she was sexy, which he also had. But instead, his first explanation for being physically aroused with her was that he had feelings for her. Why had they left the room at all?

Harry pulled her back into his strong arms, and she felt like she was melting by the time he released her lips. 

“Let’s go,” Harry whispered in her ear. 

“Mmm,” she nodded almost drunkenly before she wrapped her own arms around his and pressed her body against him. His body against hers, kissing, even just walking together, it was all intoxicating.

Harry caught her hand and interlocked their fingers again. 

“Madam Puddifoot’s?” Harry asked.

Tonks was debating with herself whether she should just drag him back to her room and continue what they didn’t do a couple of weeks ago, but she also wanted to actually spend the day as a couple. 

“We have plenty of time,” Harry’s voice entered her ear. “We can do that some other time.”

“Seriously, are you using Legilimency on me?” Tonks asked.

“No,” Harry said. “I just read your facial expression. Your face scrunches up real cute when you are making a tough decision.”

Tonks rested her head on his shoulder, stuck out her tongue, and pulled his head down for another kiss before they walked back towards Hogsmeade. “So, you think it was a tough decision? Pretty sure of yourself. Which, you know what, I actually like. You’re a nice balance of confidence and vulnerability.”

“And that’s good, is it?”

“Well, it’s sexy as hell, so you decide.”

Harry hadn’t seen Madam Puddifoot’s outside of Valentine’s day. It was a lot better. There was a slight Halloween theme in the shop, but it was in no way as over the top as it had been on Valentine’s. 

Harry ordered Tonks a cup of coffee, and Harry got himself a cup of tea. They shared cinnamon scones and a plate of small chocolates. 

Harry enjoyed the way Tonks complained about the place in a small voice only he could hear. She was not finding Madam Puddifoot’s as romantic as advertised from her own school days and more syrupy than the stories she had heard about the place. Harry had to agree with her. It was a rather superficial place. Still, he could hardly blame Madam Puddifoot for it. She had probably tailored the business to significantly impact teenage girls and their unsuspecting boyfriends rather than adult women. Hogsmeade couldn’t wholly escape the fact that it was so close to Hogwarts and was essentially a school town. 

Harry couldn’t have felt happier than when Tonks decided that she at least had to try and snog someone in Madam Puddifoot’s, and he was the one lucky enough for it to happen. 

Their fingers interlocked, and their tongues met in probably the raciest kiss of the day so far. Harry felt almost dizzy when Tonks finally released him.

“I think that should do it for any lingering schoolgirl dreams,” she smirked as they got up and paid their bill. 

Tonks loosened up further, bouncing on her toes like an excited teenager as she dragged Harry to all of the most popular stores for students in Hogsmeade. She was especially fond of walking around Zonko’s and Honeydukes, where she would tell stories from her time during school and what she had been up to with her friends.

Harry felt like he saw a whole new side of her that he hadn’t seen before, and she managed to make him completely lost in her words, with a smile constantly on his lips. 

She was so excited when they were done with their tour that she jumped into his arms and kissed him once more on the high street. 

“You are such a gentleman,” she purred as she landed back on her feet. “I feel like you’ve indulged me in every whim today.”

“I had fun too,” Harry said. 

“You better have,” Tonks acted coy. “There haven’t been many boys who have been allowed to take me on a date.”

“I consider myself incredibly lucky,” Harry said. “It’s getting a bit late. Do you want us to cook in your room, or should we find a place to eat?” 

“Hmm,” Tonks tapped a finger on her chin. She looked adorable like that. 

“Both are tempting options,” she said after thinking for a while. “Still, we need to be quick about it. Either way, we still have to get to Slughorn’s evening party.” 

“Right,” Harry sighed. “I guess I can’t convince you to forget about that and just spend time with me?”

“Stop tempting me, you wicked man,” Tonks complained. “I know it’s important for you to get that memory. So, I will not allow you to run away.” 

“Fair enough,” Harry said. “Well, you still didn’t answer me if you wanted to eat at your place or out.”

“Let’s eat at mine,” Tonks said. “I don’t trust the Three Broomsticks to make anything nearly as delicious as you.”

“You mean as delicious as I will cook, right?”

“I know what I said, Potter,” she said, looking him over in frank appraisal, like a puma assessing her prey,

Harry almost stumbled in the road, much to her amusement. They quickly bought a few basics from a shop. One of the things wizards had adapted for themselves from the Muggle world was the village store, which Harry found hilarious. 

When they got back to the room, Harry quickly got to work on making dinner. It wasn’t easy as Tonks had somehow gotten into her head that the best place to be was hanging around Harry’s waist leaning against his back. 

“You know, I don’t really have all that much room to work here.” Harry smiled over his shoulder at her.

“Tough luck, handsome,” Tonks said as she stood on her toes and pecked his cheek.

“You don’t need to get ready?” 

“I can get ready after dinner,” Tonks said. “You also need a shower after walking around all day.”

“Are you saying I stink?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, but this scent of yours should only be something I get to have,” Tonks purred again. “It makes you smell manly.” 

Harry chuckled out loud and got on with his cooking. He grated some onion and potato and whipped together a basic Irish boxty, potato bread with a bit of cheddar and brown butter, and a fresh salmon filet split between them, light and delicious with a touch of dill. He wanted something filling, but not too heavy as he didn’t know what to expect from Slughorn’s table. The expression on Tonks’s face was worth any trouble cooking for her. 

She looked utterly content by the time the food was finished.

“You know, we could just stay here,” Tonks said slowly. 

“No, no,” Harry chuckled. “You were right. I can’t get out of this one, and it will definitely be fun having you there with me. I have a suspicion that Slughorn might even have invited someone famous to his gathering.”

“Like who?” Tonks asked. 

“I don’t know, honestly,” Harry said. “He seems to have taught and ‘collected’ a lot of different people during his time at Hogwarts.” 

“Well, this might be a little more interesting then,” Tonks said. “I was afraid I had to hang around one old man and a bunch of teenagers.”

“Oi,” Harry kissed her forehead. “Am I just some teenager to you?”

“No, you’re the old man. Seriously, you can kiss, you can cook, and you can duel. There’s not much else I might be looking for in a man,” Tonks teased. 

“Great,” Harry said. “If you had said dance, I’d have been sunk. Didn’t you have to get ready?”

“Right,” Tonks said. “You have your dress robes?” 

“Of course,” Harry said. 

“You planned to stay out until now then?” 

“Let’s just say I have never had a great affinity with Hogwarts on Halloween,” Harry said. “You didn’t see the paper this morning, I guess.” 

“No, what happened?” Tonks asked.

“Dementors left Azkaban like we have said for over a year, oh and the Death Eaters that were taken down in the Department of Mystery ‘escaped’ as well” 

“Shit.” Her face paled. “I bet the only reason we weren’t all called in was the Ministry figured we were needed even more here. I’ll have to keep an eye open, even during a social call.”

“I understand,” Harry said, all his previous teasing aside. “It’s always like this for me. First-year, Quirrell let a troll into Hogwarts. Second-year, there was the first attack by the basilisk. Third-year, Sirius attacked the Fat Lady looking for Pettigrew, not that we knew it at the time. Fourth-year, my name came out of the Goblet of fire. Fifth-year, what was last year? They all run together. Oh, Umbridge declared herself High Inquisitor and began trying to fire every teacher at the school. So yes, this year is pretty much par for the course.” Harry grinned darkly.

“Bugger, no wonder you don’t like to be at the school during Halloween,” Tonks said. “I know just the thing to cheer you up. Join me in the shower.” 

Harry’s eyes were like magnets as he looked at her. She could feel her heart beginning to race. 

“No funny business, mister,” Tonks said. “We can’t be late.” 

“As you wish,” Harry’s voice had taken on the same husky tone which had sent a shiver down her spine at the Shrieking Shack. 

Tonks almost fled into the small bathroom and undressed before she jumped into the shower. She heard Harry casting a few cleaning charms around the kitchen to clean up before his footsteps took him closer to her. She felt more daring than she had any business being. Tonks was supposed to be the more mature one, but somehow she was beginning to feel like a swooning schoolgirl whenever he was close to her. Half of her brazen bravado was false courage to avoid shrieking like a fangirl with a crush on a celebrity.

She heard the rustling of Harry’s clothes on the floor outside, and she gasped when she saw his naked body once more. This time she wasn’t hungover, neither of them was dying, and the world was so far as she could tell not on the verge of ending, so she had the total capacity to enjoy the look and feel of his body. 

“Is that a tattoo?” Harry asked in surprise. 

Tonks instantly clutched a hand over her heart. Her hair went straw-white as if paling to the final degree. She turned partway away, as much as she could in the tiny shower.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“No, it’s okay. I just never thought about you seeing it,” Tonks said. “You didn’t notice the last time we showered together.” 

“I didn’t notice a lot of things,” Harry said. “My noticing capacity was pretty much overloaded in about the first ten seconds, as I recall.”

Tonks felt practically electric as his gaze roamed her body. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. She enjoyed gathering his attention on herself. Harry never made her feel like an object—like her body was something to be manipulated for his pleasure. It was more as if her appearance was her own performance, like he was the eager audience for whatever she shared with him. It was confusing, and new, and somewhat scary while also being absolutely delightful in ways that made her toes curl.

“I can leave if you want or turn away a bit,” Harry said. “If you don’t want me to see it. I know something like that is personal.”

“It’s not like that,” Tonks said, wrapping her free arm around his waist. “It’s just a little embarrassing. I started doing it during your fourth year, just for myself, and now it’s always there, unless I concentrate on hiding it. So, please don’t freak out. It’s just…”

She removed her hand and revealed the small heart with a lightning bolt running through it.

Tonks looked down. “I might have had feelings for you a lot longer than you’ve known. It isn’t just a summer thing.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?” Harry lifted up her chin and kissed her under the steady stream of water. “If anyone should be embarrassed about it, it should be me for not noticing anything.”

“Well, I am an Auror who got top grades in disguises.” Tonks smiled. “You really aren’t bothered that I had feelings for you that long ago?” 

“No,” Harry said seriously. “You were perfect about it. You let me grow up on my own, you supported me even when it must have been so hard for you, and you held back until I shared my own feelings for you. You have done nothing wrong.”

The last barrier in Tonks’s heart fell as his words reached her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her nude body into his. She rested her head on his shoulder as the water splashed against his back, shielding her from everything.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that,” she whispered. “I have felt wonderful and horrible about this for a long time. Some of the people close to me could tell I was so busy trying to hide my feelings from you. I think I was practically shouting it everywhere I went to everyone else.” 

She felt Harry just holding her tighter, safe and happy in the circle of his arms. 

“I love you, Harry,” Tonks said. She felt his lips touch her head again.

“I care about you too,” Harry said slowly. “I want to say more, but I want to not rush this.” 

“I know,” Tonks smiled a little sadly. “I am more than content right now. Someday? We’ll see.”

“We’ll see together, I hope,” Harry kissed her forehead again. “Now, orange or cinnamon?” 

“What?” Tonks asked, trying to follow his thought. 

“Which shampoo do you want to use,” Harry smiled. “In my first potions lesson this year, Slughorn showed us Amortentia. Those two scents were part of my personalised experience.” 

Tonks couldn’t help feeling a little proud of that. 

“I only have the orange one with me here,” Tonks smiled at him. “But that should be more than good enough if Amortentia smells like that to you.”

“Indeed,” Harry smiled.

They soon got out of the shower after a little more snogging. Harry handed Tonks a towel as they dried themselves off. Tonks had become a little more forward and had begun rubbing her hands over his chest. 

“You really do have a nice body, handsome,” Tonks bit her lower lip suggestively. 

“Oi, silly,” Harry said with a tone of long-suffering. “We don’t have time for that.”

“Right,” Tonks tucked her towel around her body and shoved Harry out of the small bathroom. 

“Why would you do that?” Harry asked the closed door behind him.

“I want you to be completely awed by how I look when I get out of here. You can just put on your dress robes in there,” Tonks said. 

She looked at the black dress she had bought last Christmas. She had felt gorgeous in it.  If the man in front of her then had been Harry, it would have been a perfect evening. Nothing that night had gone as she had wanted, really—time to make some better memories.

She ran her fingers across the satin fabric. It would show her shoulders, and the slit in front would show her legs to the middle of her thigh when she moved. She knew from the way he had sometimes looked at her during training that Harry liked her legs, and she did too. She looked good in it. Still, it just didn’t feel entirely right anymore. It was a little too proper for her, somehow too held back. It was perfectly fine for a house cat, but not a puma.

What can I do with this to make it more… me? More… wild… 

She kept running her finger along the material where the dress would soon hide her sides.

She picked up her wand and cut two slits down the side from right under her chest to the top of her hips. She removed enough fabric to show the sides of her stomach in a more alluring fashion. It would still be a long dress, where the back would hang loosely to her ankles, but it would now show her thighs, her sides and her shoulders. It felt right. She made sure that her spell work hadn’t ruined or made the dress look weird. She could always repair it with magic if it didn’t work. 

She pulled it over her underwear which was scarlet for the evening. She had learned enough from her friend Angela that underwear helped with confidence. She looked at herself in the mirror. She turned around. The slits on the side were revealing but in a classy way. It was enough to draw attention but didn’t come across as cheap. She focused on her hair. 

Last time it had been a darker pink. This time, Tonk’s hair would match her underwear. The wine coloured shoulder-length hair was accentuated by a crimson eyeshadow with winged eyelashes, and a garnet lipstick completed her look for the evening. Her heart-shaped face and hazel eyes suited the mature look she had put on for the evening. 

She looked herself over once more before taking a deep breath and opened the door to her room. 

“You look,” Harry paused, stunned. “Breathtaking. I mean it, you actually took my breath away.”

The words she had wanted to hear the most. She had almost felt silly for doing so much, but those words made it all worth it.

“Thank you,” she blushed, only furthering the colour scheme she had chosen. 

“Do we really have to go to Slughorn’s thing?” Harry almost begged. 

“Yes,” Tonks said with a smile. “I have done so much it would be a waste to not show me off.”

“You just want to make me jealous by gathering the attention of everyone there,” Harry said. 

“Maybe.”

She took a good look at him, he had adorned a simple dress robe, which looked a lot like a Muggle dinner jacket, and he flicked his wand to change the butterfly at his lapel to compliment her hair colour. He looked stunning. His hair looked more tame than usual, and his green eyes were alight with desire. She had to admit it felt intoxicating to be desired by the man she loved. 

“Well, Little Cougar,” Harry said, putting her dragon skin coat over her shoulders. “Shall we?” 

She pecked him on his cheek, leaving a garnet set of lips there. She gently rubbed it away.

“The only problem with lipstick is that I leave marks on you,” she pouted. “I can’t kiss you all evening. It will be too obvious.” 

“Oh, heavens. Whatever shall I do?” Harry sighed theatrically. 

“You will have to wait until the evening is over,” Tonks winked at him before she grabbed his arm and let him lead her towards the castle. 

Harry felt proud when he spotted the surprised look on the two Aurors faces when they reached the gate. 

“Well, I am back safe and sound,” Harry said. 

“Right,” one of the Aurors managed to pull his gaze away from Tonks. 

“Tonks, is that really you?” the other asked.

“Yeah, C.,” Tonks grinned. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Not in the least,” Carmichael said laconically. “I knew you had it in you.” 

Harry could have been annoyed at the older Auror, but he realised that Tonks had received an honest compliment from a colleague. He should be proud and happy for her, so he clamped down hard on his jealous impulse and simply smiled. 

“C., it better be all business when I’m back on duty,” Tonks teased. “And be careful, my boyfriend here is the jealous type.” 

“Right, no worries,” Carmichael said, acknowledging Harry with a nod. 

Harry nodded briskly in return and led Tonks up the path towards the castle. 

“So, am I your boyfriend, then?” Harry asked, trying to sound more casual than he felt.

“I didn’t mean to presume,” Tonks said, suddenly self-conscious. “What should I call you?”

“Are you seeing anyone else?” Harry asked, opening the door for her and leading her down towards Slughorn’s quarters. 

“Of course not. I don’t want to. Do you?” Again, the tentative, careful voice.

“Not even slightly. So by the rules of dating, which I have just decided to invent, I would be happy to be called your boyfriend.”

The feast was already over, so they might have been a little late as they arrived at Slughorn’s door.

“And what do you call me?” Tonks asked.

“You’re my Little Cougar, of course,” Harry said with a smoothness he didn’t entirely feel in his excited and nervous heart. “But that’s only when we’re alone.”

Harry knocked on the door leading in and was met with a large gathering, who all looked at them as they entered. To Harry’s frustration, a lot of the males in the room were looking at Tonks. 

“Harry, dear boy,” Slughorn proclaimed loudly. “Who is this fetching young woman?”

“This, Professor, is my girlfriend, Auror Tonks,” Harry introduced Tonks, noticing the way her hand clamped down hard on his arm at the word “girlfriend.”

“My, my,” Slughorn had a newfound interest in Harry’s plus one this evening. “Professor Horace Slughorn, Potions Master.”

“Tonks,” she took his hand. 

“I was led to believe you had been spotted with a woman with pink hair,” Slughorn said off-handedly. “I hope you aren’t two-timing, encouraging scandal and rumour?”

He sounded almost eager, fishing for gossip or more helpful information, and Tonks decided to hook him and reel him in.

Tonks smiled cooly. 

“No, Professor, that would still be me.” She concentrated for a moment, and her hair flashed a neon pink before she allowed it to more gradually return to its darker wine colour. Somehow, the effect was even more dramatic when done slowly than when it happened between instants. “As you can no doubt see, I am a metamorphmagus as well as an Auror.” 

“How thoroughly wonderful,” Slughorn said, clasping his soft hands together gleefully. “I have never met a metamorphmagus before. It must be quite the skill to have as an Auror. Come, come, let me introduce you to Miss Jones. Gwenog, please, let me introduce you to Harry Potter and his date, Auror Tonks.” 

“A pleasure,” Gwenog Jones said. “I have heard a fair bit about you, Mr Potter.” 

“Call me Harry,” Harry said. 

“Then call me Gwenog as well.” 

“Harry here is the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team,” Slughorn said. “While I haven’t seen him play yet, he is supposedly rather good.”

“Good for a teenage boy, or for a House team? I wonder how good he really might be,” Gwenog laughed.

“Slightly worse than Viktor Krum, at least according to Viktor himself,” Ginny’s voice interrupted their conversation.

“Hi, Ginny,” Harry smiled. “You look lovely tonight.”

“What do you mean ‘Viktor Krum’?” Gwenog asked. 

“Well, Harry and Viktor held a friendly inter-school quidditch game two years ago during the Triwizard Tournament,” Ginny said. “It was fairly public. Even though Viktor caught the snitch, Harry wasn’t far behind. It was a split second drop that allowed Viktor to get it over Harry. Viktor was generous in his praise, as I recall.”

Harry embarrassedly ran a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know if I’m that good,” Harry smiled. 

“You outflew a dragon,” Tonks said. “I think you’re more than just a little good.” 

Gwenog looked like someone had forced her to eat a slice of lemon. 

“So you’re the one? I heard about the dragon. It was the talk of the league for a while. Never heard anything about Krum.” She nodded reluctantly. “Well done.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry chided Ginny and Tonks slightly. “Sorry about that Gwenog, they didn’t mean anything with that. My friends can be a little enthusiastic sometimes.” 

“No, no,” Gwenog waved her hand. “Happens to all of us. I might have been a little too used to people getting ahead of themselves when it comes to flying. If Viktor Krum vouches for your skills, I am indeed rather interested in seeing you play.” 

“Let’s just agree that my friends are being generous,” Harry smiled. “I am still just a student, after all. I have tremendous respect for anyone who can play at the professional level.”

This seemed to put Gwenog and Harry back on solid ground, at least as far as respect went, and she politely excused herself to go speak more with Slughorn.

“Harry, do you mind if I borrow Tonks for a second?” Ginny asked. 

Harry lifted an eyebrow and looked around until he spotted Susan and Hermione standing together. He turned to look at Tonks, who was starting to look a little nervous.

“It’s not anything bad,” Ginny said quickly. “We just have something we’d like to talk to her about.”

“And I can’t be part of it?” Harry asked.

“No,” Ginny said. “It’s nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Tonks said, somewhat as if trying to convince herself. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Harry nodded and grabbed a goblet from a nearby table before returning to Gwenog and Slughorn’s ongoing conversation.

Harry kept an eye on the group of girls talking in hushed voices, paying somewhat casual attention to whatever Slughorn and Gwenog were telling him. He managed to explain the exercise regimen he had instituted for the Gryffindor quidditch team to Gwenog, who was impressed by some of the exercises’ ingenuity. 

Harry felt a wave of relief when he saw Tonks once more heading towards him. She accepted a glass of something from a passing third-year who was apparently currying favour by acting as catering staff, and when she reached Harry, she deftly slipped her arm around his. 

“Miss me?” she asked.

“Very much,” Harry smiled. “What was that about?” 

“Oh, nothing, just girl talk,” Tonks smiled. “Nothing to worry about, we’ve reached an understanding.” 

Harry nodded briefly before he led Tonks to get another drink and some of the canapés Slughorn had arranged. Harry introduced Tonks to some of the people he was closer to. To get the often-hungry Tonks closer to some excellent faerie-cream puffs, Harry found the two of them standing too close to where Cormac McLaggen was expounding on how important his father was and what choice of careers no doubt awaited him in the Ministry, assuming he didn’t choose to pursue quidditch professionally. The fact that he had not even made the team this season following his unfortunate but predictably fool-hearty doxie-egg stunt seemed to have made no impression on him.

In fact, as he listened to the combination of excuses and unearned smug superiority, Harry was reminded of no one so much as Draco Malfoy. The fact that McLaggen was a Gryffindor was a total mystery to Harry, who was soon looking for another place to steer Tonks once the faerie-creams had been dispatched.

Harry was also thoroughly disgusted by the way McLaggen kept looking at Tonks. It was an undisguised leer. Harry had to cough loudly to make enough of McLaggen’s brain cells register just how much danger he was in at the moment. Harry reflected briefly that when he had been jealous in his previous relationship, it had been all about how Hermione was his girl, whereas, with Tonks, it was more equally about the idea that she deserved respect, whether she was dating Harry or not. Either way, McLaggen was a boor and an ass, and Harry was happy to be free of him, not soon enough.

The rest of the evening was pretty uninteresting. Gwenog left the party a little early. She had done this as a favour to Slughorn after all. She had been happy to have some like-minded company and even promised Harry and Tonks tickets to a Holyhead Harpies home game if they ever sent an owl. 

Slowly people began to leave, and even Harry and Tonks’s day had to come to an end. Harry thanked Slughorn for their invitation, and Slughorn promised that Tonks was more than welcome to any subsequent gathering of his if she so wished. 

Yeah, you would really like to ‘collect’ a metamorphmagus wouldn’t you? Harry thought.

They walked through the dark towards the gate.

“I had a completely amazing day,” Tonks sighed. “I am almost sad that I can’t drag you back to my room.”

“I’m sad about that too,” Harry smiled. “Still, this might just have been my very best Halloween ever. Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Tonks said. “Still, you were just my ideal companion today. I felt adored and appreciated the whole time.”

Harry pulled her into a kiss as they stood under the shadow of a tree.

“Wotcher, Harry!” She fanned herself dramatically. “You trying to take my breath away?”

“If that’s what you need,” Harry grinned slyly and kissed her again.

Harry commanded the kiss, responding to her desire but comfortably steering the kiss in passion, intensity, and heat. Firm lips, not crushing or bruising, but opening her mouth to him. A delicate series of touches with his tongue on hers. And the boy had said he couldn’t dance? He felt her relaxing, surrendering to his seductive pressure. His lips left hers and moved along her jaw towards her ear. He captured her earlobe between his lips, then his teeth, just enough pressure to hint at the pain of a bite, without the discomfort. 

His breath in her ear was warm but soft, almost drowned out by the pounding beat of her heart. Her arms, which had been around his neck, had fallen to his hips, pulling him into her body. Her voice, at first a soft moan, was rising into a high, keening wail. Her vision had narrowed to a bright tunnel with his mouth at its centre. Harry moved to kiss her lips once more and silence the cries in her throat. One of his hands slid down, from the small of her back just to the top of her bum, with the slightest suggestion of a firm caress before he finally broke the kiss and pulled reluctantly away. 

Bloody hell,” she panted. “I know I asked for it, but damn.” 

“I wish I could go with you,” Harry said quietly, his own breath a little ragged. 

“Me too,” Tonks smiled. “Still next time you visit, I promise you that we do not have to leave that room. Mmm.”

Harry blinked twice before the words registered. Tonks had already begun walking away. He wanted to chase her down, to pull her into another explosive kiss. But he knew that their night was over, and things were only getting harder with each moment she lingered here with him.

“Goodnight, Little Cougar,” Harry called tenderly after her.

“It’s a puma,” Tonks laughed, doing an impromptu twirl as she headed back to the village. She called back one last time as she left the grounds, “I already miss you!”

Harry stood, hands in pockets and head firmly among the stars as she walked off into the darkness. He turned at last and went inside, headed for his bed—or possibly a cold shower.

 

In Hogsmeade, Nymphadora Tonks, still in her party dress but barefoot, lay across her unmade bed. The room was spinning, and she imagined she could see the stars through the room overhead, turning as well in their nightly courses. 

What in the name of Isobel Gowdie’s Galloping Cauldron were you thinking, Nymphadora?  Tonks was so angry she reprimanded herself with her given name. 

Why on earth would you say that? That he doesn’t have to leave your room for a day? Did you go through all of this to fall too fast, too soon, and ruin it all?

She remembered one of the best things her father had told her as a girl. 

“No spell brings patience in love.”

Notes:

Witch Notes:
Isobel Gaudie was a 17th Century Scottish woman, burned as a witch, whose lurid written confessionals shaped the archetype for western witchcraft for centuries. From dalliances with the devil to animal familiars to casting spells with a coven, Isobel is credited with many modern witch tropes. The galloping qualities of her cauldron are lost to Muggle history, but apparently, Tonks is aquatinted with them (at least by reputation).

Chapter 31: Winds of Change

Summary:

How do you know when you're in love?

Quidditch! Harry vs. Cho, Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw. Luna and Neville calling the match (at first). Seamus (?) makes an impression on the Ravenclaw keeper. A kite.

Lavender Brown has an impact.

Harry and Hermione have a conversation.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 31. Winds of Change

 

It was a blustery mid-November Thursday evening, just two days before the much-anticipated match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor to kickoff the quidditch season. The practice, more of a final tuneup than a full workout, had gone pretty well, and the players were in good spirits. Harry and the others had gone inside to escape the increasingly biting wind, but Ginny was lagging behind a bit, walking with her brother.

"Good going tonight, Ron," she said to start the conversation. She really had no idea why he'd asked to speak to her, but it happened rarely enough that she wasn't fussed. In the last year, Ron had more or less left Ginny to her own life, especially since she had spent so much time at Carnaby Street with everyone there. Ron had been busy with Hermione and trying to fill in for Ginny's missing contributions to chores around the Burrow.

"It was alright," Ron agreed, still obviously thinking about something else. "Dean's come on, hasn't he?"

"Ron," Ginny said, stopping out of the wind in the archway, but not entering the castle proper, "are you okay? What did you want to talk to me about?"

He sighed.

"Well, it's hard, isn't it?" He couldn't hide his frustration. "I know—being the girl, the baby, all that—you’ve had to be pretty assertive about things you want. But everyone sort of accepts that they know what I want, even me. Do enough to get by at school, grab a few N.E.W.T.s, probably find a ministry job. Marry a suitable girl at some point, all that. Dad's job is a bit... You know how it is, but he's in the Ministry, established family, whatever that's supposed to mean. Mum's pretty respected as far as her circle goes. Bloody hell, both of them in the Order, with a bunch of prefects, head boys, the lot. Even the twins have a business up and running."

Ginny nodded. This was nothing new to her, but she didn't remember Ron ever being so frank about it. Out of the wind, it was actually not an unpleasant evening. Cool, but still clear. She leaned against the stone arch comfortably and let Ron talk.

"So, what's changed?"

"I've been thinking about a lot of things since the Department of Mysteries. We've never really talked about it, you and I."

"No."

"And then, about you and Susan Bones…"

"What about us?" The chip was back on Ginny's shoulder, not for any real reason but habit.

Ron looked at Ginny with honest doubt. 

"How do you know when you love someone? I mean, like with Susan, when did you know? Was it like a first sight thing, or did it grow from being friends over time? I never noticed anything, but then I had never thought to look for it."

Ginny thought for a moment.

"Both, maybe? When I first saw her, there was something I liked. I didn't really know what it was, to be honest. Besides a funny feeling in my stomach from the veela at the World Cup, I'd never had any feelings like that for anyone. But Susan is a little wicked and beautiful, with a great sense of humour. At Sirius and Amelia's wedding, she just put it out there that she fancied me, and I liked that."

She looked hard at Ron. "Why? You think you might have feelings for… someone?"

Ron shook his head, "No. Maybe? Anyway, I don't want to screw things up if the chance ever comes around. Just making do, just getting along, that's not good enough. Not anymore."

"Sounds to me like you already know how it feels when you love someone, Ron." She put a hand on his shoulder, something they seldom did. They were much more likely to punch each other on the arm or throw a joke or a jinx than to openly show affection. It was just their way. 

"Let me put it this way: the day I knew that I had real feelings for Susan, not just a bit of fun, or a crush, whatever, is the day I realised that her happiness is more important to me than my own. Joy shared with her is magnified. It grows and fills me up. Sorrow and fear shared with her are comforted. They diminish. That's what love is if you ask me."

He looked at her, almost fearfully.

"Bloody Hell! That was brilliant."

She blushed, always dramatic with her colouring. "Shut up. Git."

"Tosser," he replied. "Let's go in. Cold as a witch's tit out here now."

"And you would know this how?" She ran inside ahead of his swat on the arm.

 

Susan gave Ginny a discrete hug when they got to the Great Hall for dinner. Ginny surprised her with an enthusiastic embrace and a small kiss on the cheek. While their relationship was something of an open secret around the school, Ginny had still been pretty circumspect in public settings. Not tonight, apparently.

"Hello, Ronald," Hermione said, scooting over to make room for him next to her. "Your practice went well, I hear?"

"Seemed so, yes." Ron sat and looked at Hermione intently. "Um, Hermione?"

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

"I wanted, I mean, I was wondering…" He took a hasty sip of pumpkin juice.

"Go on, Ron," Ginny said from across the table. "Out with it."

"Could I see your notes for Herbology? I think I mixed up harvesting mistletoe and harvesting holly-berry in my last essay. If I did, I need to ask about it tomorrow."

"Certainly, Ronald," Hermione said with a small smile. "I'm always happy to help anyone if they're actually working. Can we go over it after we run tomorrow? There should be plenty of time before class."

Ginny sighed and took a fierce bite from a chicken leg. Ron just nodded and helped himself to a salmon cake and green beans amandine. Ginny chewed aggressively for a few minutes until Susan distracted her with a question about the reducto curse.

 

Saturday morning dawned windy but clear again. However, the wind was steady, pushing from one end of the pitch to the other. It was as if the Ravenclaw team would be flying downhill the entire time, as they had the home field for the first match.

Almost the whole school was packed into the stands. Harry saw Slughorn, hands folded over his belly and wrapped in enough scarves to swaddle a bull elephant seal, sitting just behind Professor McGonagall. Luna Lovegood had somehow been selected to take over providing commentary, while Neville kept score. Even the Ravenclaw supporters knew Neville was fair and could be trusted with marking Madam Hooch's scoring decisions in the official logbook.

Harry searched the stands for a sight of pink hair or a glimpse of a very dear heart-shaped face, but he could only spot Susan and Hermione, sitting together at the back of the Gryffindor section. He knew Tonks must be here somewhere, but if she was on duty, she would be disguised, he imagined. Just before the game began, Harry did see her partner, Carmichael, sitting in the middle of the Ravenclaw section, quietly observing all of the activity around them. He figured that meant Tonks was likely here somewhere.

Harry stood across from Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker. Her sleek hair was tied back, and she was gripping her broomstick so tightly it looked as if she'd squeeze the end off. It was good to see that Harry wasn't the only one nervous about the match.

"Brooms ready! Players Ready!" Hooch's whistle was nearly lost to the wind as the snitch was released and immediately darted upwind, directly over Cho's head. Had she not been clinging so tightly to her broomstick, she might have caught it there and ended the match in record time, but instead, she just missed, and it darted away.

The players leapt to the skies and began negotiating the heavy wind.

Luna's dreamy voice, amplified to ominous proportions, boomed out over the pitch. "And that's Bradley of Ravenclaw with the Quaffle. What lovely robes. I quite like our house colours when seen against the sky like this…"

"Miss Lovegood, a little focus if you please," McGonagall interjected crisply.

"Oh. Now Gryffindor has the Quaffle, but the wind is quite harsh. The advantage, of course, would be to Ravenclaw, with the wind at their backs. Seriously reduces the chance of nargles… Oh, Ginny. That must have hurt."

"What must have hurt? Please, Miss Lovegood!" McGonagall seemed torn between correcting Luna and following the action herself.

"Ravenclaw, ten points," Neville said quietly, his voice modest and deferential even over the magical amplification.

"Poor Ron. He made the catch, but the wind pushed him into his own hoop." Luna said, providing her first actual commentary. McGonagall had her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking silently.

"Chambers with the Quaffle, and look: Ginny Weasley has flown into him, I think probably on purpose. No, I take it back. Chambers was blown into her. I wish I had a kite. Wouldn't this be such fun if we all had kites? Chambers is being quite rude about Gryffindor, and Ginny doesn't pay any mind. There goes the Quaffle."

"Where? Where does it go?" Minerva McGonagall wailed.

"Goal, Gryffindor. Ten-ten," Neville said calmly.

Meanwhile, Cho and Harry were playing a strategic game. Rather than pacing Harry and trying to match his flying or his Firebolt, Cho had taken a position reasonably high and upwind, giving her the advantage in moving on the snitch should she locate it. Harry was cutting crosswise back and forth around midfield, resisting the urge to pay too much attention to Cho Chang when he would have an excellent chance to race in on the snitch if he spotted it sooner.

This had gone on for some time, and Harry didn't hear the whistle, but he saw his own players pull up short. He turned to see Dean, entangled with one of the Ravenclaw beaters.

"Penalty against Gryffindor!" Hooch had no trouble being heard above the wind, having flown in every imaginable kind of weather for a dozen decades.

Ron, despite the wind and the intense pressure, easily saved the penalty. Dean flashed by Harry, shouting, "Sorry, Captain! Bastard stalled me in the turn. Won't happen again!"

"So the score is… well, I'm sure it's exhilarating, whatever it is." Luna sighed. "Does no one have a kite? Oh, another goal. Well done, excellent play on both sides, really."

"80-10, Gryffindor."

"Thank Merlin for Neville Longbottom," sighed Professor McGonagall ironically.

"Pardon, love? Don't mind if I do." The thick Irish brogue was unmistakable. Seamus Finnegan had joined the commentary team. "Here you go, lass. Enjoy."

"Oh, thank you! Neville, everyone, if anyone needs me, I shall be outside on the grounds with my new kite. What a beautiful colour." Luna's voice trailed away as Seamus settled in.

“So, Jaleel hits a wicked bludger, cutting off Thomas from the Ravenclaw goal, and he's forced to pass to Ginny Weasley. Weasley with a feint, beautiful dodge there, but Bradley closes fast. No, she got the shot away, just saved by Carter. Carter was fingernails off the stick on that one, quidditch fans, but a great save, I must say…"

Professor McGonagall dared raise her head, staring in shock at Finnegan.

"Quick pass, Carter to Chambers, Chambers with the wind at his back to Bradley, paddle-shot, just like Ireland's McGirk, but Ron Weasley with another save. As the Muggles say, Weasley's playing standing on his head, really first-class play from the Gryffindor keeper. His sister with the Quaffle again. She can really fly! Fit, too, I don't mind admitting. Thomas takes her pass, and it's another dynamite save from Carter!"

The Ravenclaw fans roared their approval.

"We're seeing some pro-quality keeping today from both teams. The nod, I think, goes to Weasley as he's also battling the wind. Hey-oh! Cho has spotted the snitch! She moves… no! It was a feint, but Potter doesn't bite on it. Ravenclaw always fields a clever team, and they're showing it today. Will you look at that form from Carter! Not a difficult save that time, but amazing form, and her keeping as well. A huge loss to quidditch and the local scenery both when she leaves at year's end."

McGonagall leaned in to give him a warning look, but she went easy as he provided constructive commentary despite his amorous nature.

"Sorry, okay, the battle is wearing on, with Ravenclaw's experience falling to Gryffindor's conditioning at this point. Some of those Ravenclaw players are clearly winded—if you see what I did there. And my good man Neville with the scoring update?"

Professor McGonagall seemed to be trying to just get through the match at this point.

"What? Still, uh, still 80-10, Gryffindor.”

"And he's not the best scorekeeper in quidditch for nothing, ladies and gentlemen."

The wind let up for just a second, a slight lessening between two moments, but it was enough for Harry to spot the snitch, weaving among the spectators' feet of all places, in the Ravenclaw section of the stands. He banked into a roll, diving for a spot upwind of the snitch.

Just as Cho saw his action, Seamus called out from the commentator's booth.

"Potter's spotted something, doesn't look like a feint! Cho races downwind, she and Harry pull up just over the crowd's heads! Mind yer hats, everyone!"

Harry and Cho had both pulled up, but as Cho steadied her broom against the renewed breeze, Harry let his broom stall and fall, and he landed hard among the crowd, blown downwind just to where the snitch was popping up to eye level. 

He reached out and plucked it from the air like taking a book from a library shelf, simple as that. The whole stadium seemed to fall silent as if sharing a collected inhalation of shocked breath.

"230-10, Gryffindor." Neville's voice was clear.

The stadium erupted into chaos. Cheers, howls, Cho cursed loudly, and Harry was immediately jostled and congratulated with varying levels of grudgingness from the partisan crowd. 

"What a great start to the season, quidditch fans! Potter with the snitch, Gryffindor with the win, Ravenclaw with the tough loss, and me without a date next Hogsmeade weekend. I'm here all term. Good day, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you! Thank you!" Seamus bowed to the crowd on both sides of the pitch and then turned pale as a sheet when Carter, the Ravenclaw keeper, swooped low over the commentator's box. She swept the knit cap from his head with a wink before landing with her teammates to commiserate on the tough match.

Ginny Weasley was riding Dean Thomas's shoulders, looking over the crowd for Susan, who she spotted when she spotted Hermione swing up in the air not far away, Ron having caught the bushy-haired witch by the waist and hoisting her high before settling down to accept a quick hug from Susan. As if also retiring from the field, the fierce wind abated to a firm but pleasant breeze. The air felt less biting than it had during the match.

Harry searched for Tonks, accepting congratulations and comments from friends and strangers as he fought through the shrinking crowd. He ran into Neville, who had his eyes fixed on the air over the Ravenclaw hoops.

"Have you seen any sign of Tonks?" Harry shouted to his friend, hoping the taller boy had a better view.

"Sorry!" Neville said, suddenly bursting into a huge smile. "Good job, Harry! I have to go!"

Harry looked and saw a bright yellow kite swooping in energetic circles in the stiff breeze over the far end of the pitch.

"I understand!" Harry shouted back, laughing.

By the time Harry had searched for Tonks as best he could, the stadium was nearly empty. On his way out, he saw the Auror, Carmichael, who appeared to be waiting for him alone near the exit. Harry was confused as to why the older Auror would be waiting for him.

"Hey, Potter. Great match." Carmichael's voice was almost too friendly.

"Thanks, glad you had a good time. Hey, by any chance, do you know if Tonks came?"

"No, haven't seen her. Any chance of an autograph?"

Harry pulled up short. "Um, listen. Sorry, but—er—" 

He saw that the laconic fellow had a quill in one hand and had pulled his robe aside as if he expected Harry to sign his chest.

Harry wrinkled his nose and started to back away. "No, really, thanks!"

Carmichael stopped, hand still clutching at his open shirt, and grinned. It was a cheeky, self-entertaining grin Harry knew all too well.

"You traitorous witch," Harry breathed, advancing on the older Auror.

"Did you miss me?" The fake pout was unmistakable, as was the tattoo peeking out from the open shirt. While "Carmichael" laughed, Harry took the proffered pen and flamboyantly signed his name, just above the lightning-bolt heart.

"Now, will you change before someone has us both arrested?" Harry said, looking around to see if they were being watched.

"Sorry I can't. No, really, I should have left already, but I just couldn't resist."

"But I want to kiss you in the worst possible way," Harry complained.

"Well, if I don't change, it might be the worst possible way. Never fancied kissing Carmichael myself, but if that's your cup of tea. Really, I have to run right now. But write to me? And I'll see you as soon as I can. Promise."

"Bye, Little Cougar," Harry said sadly, with a wave.

"She's a puma, honestly." And like that, Tonks was gone. Harry was left with a long walk back to the dormitories and a cold and somewhat confusing shower.

 

That night, the Gryffindor common room was in fine and festive form. Ginny had disappeared during dinner, to return just at curfew with a few owl feathers on the back of her robes and a smug, satisfied look on her face. Seamus Finnegan had somewhere acquired a modicum of modesty but was clearly enjoying the reception his commentary had received.

Harry felt satisfaction, but more for this team and how they had worked together than his own accomplishments. He was thrilled to see Ron recognised for his outstanding play. Rather than the false modesty he had sometimes seen before when Ron had a taste of success, Ron seemed genuinely pleased with the whole team, especially singing the praises of his sister's play and leading a rousing catcall for her when she returned from her evening's "studying."

One definitely awkward moment came just after curfew, as Ron was talking to Harry and Hermione. He explained that he felt that the key to his improved play had been the conditioning training, making him more confident on his broom, so that he spent more time able to think and less time clinging on to avoid falling. Hermione had just said, "Ronald, I am very proud of you."

Ron had hugged Hermione, then quickly backed away, as they both glanced at Harry before trying to relax. Harry was surprised that he wasn't more uncomfortable, but it wasn't like Ron had taken Hermione out of his arms and snogged her in front of him or something. At this point, Lavender Brown inserted herself in the group, literally stepping in front of Hermione to get to Ron, and she threw her arms around him and snogged him vigorously.

A cheer went up from Dean and a few of Lavender's friends while Harry stood awkwardly. He noticed Hermione's hand twitching towards her wand while her face remained utterly passive. Lavender finally came up for air and then ran away giggling with some of her friends, who took the stairs up to their dormitory without any further comment.

Ron stood stupidly, a complex combination of wonder, distaste, and excitement writ large across his face.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

"Lavender." Hermione's voice was calm. "She's my roommate. She's delightful. Just ask her."

"Hey, Ron," called out Ginny, trying to break the weird tension that had descended on their gathering, "quidditch players get all the girls, eh?"

"You should know better than anyone," Ron shouted back, and for a moment, there was silence as everyone looked back and forth between them. 

Ginny suddenly guffawed, doubling over with laughter, "Okay, you got me there! Point to Ron, everyone, but I'm going to tell Susan you said that!"

At this point, the portrait opened, revealing a sheepish Neville Longbottom.

"Sorry," he said, looking at all the expectant faces regarding him. "Late back to the castle."

Several people laughed. He grinned and chuckled self-deprecatingly. He seemed almost excited. "Flitwick gave me a lecture. And I have detention!"

"You also have grass stains on your knees and leaves in your hair, lover boy, so you best be glad it was only Flitwick that caught you." Seamus laughed, and despite blushing scarlet, Neville laughed as well, and suddenly the room was celebratory again.

Ron leaned close to Hermione, and he said softly under the sound of jesting and gentle ribbing going on with Dean, Neville, and Seamus, "I'm sorry about before. I had no idea she was going to do that."

"You don't need to apologise to me, Ronald. It's fine," Hermione said sweetly. 

Ron seemed relieved, but Harry, who could not help but overhear as he was still standing right there with them, recognised that tone from Hermione, though he had not heard it in a long while. It was most assuredly not "fine", but there was no good way to tell Ron that, so Harry decided to try to give Ron a little safe distance.

"Hermione," Harry said, "Do you have a minute to talk privately about something? Nothing bad, I promise." 

She nodded.

"Back in just a bit, Ron, okay?" Harry was almost pleading in his mind for Ron to take the hint. 

"Sure. I'm going to get something to drink, and maybe some biscuits. One evening of sweets again won't kill me."

 

Harry and Hermione took advantage of one of the tables off to the side of the common room. It had been a cosy nook they had sometimes used in the past, but it also served for a somewhat less public conversation.

"Would you prefer privacy?" Hermione had her wand out and was looking at Harry expectantly

"Yes, if you don't mind." Before he'd even finished, she'd wordlessly wrapped them in a privacy charm. She sat back and looked at him, pensively.

"What's on your mind?" Her expression was guarded.

"I thought it was time we talked about the book."

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "There are a lot of books, Harry. Help me out?"

"You know the one I mean." He tried to keep his voice calm, but there was no way to say "The Half-Blood Prince" without being dramatic.

"I told you, that was an accident. I shouldn't have used a spell I didn't recognise from class or from Ronald, something I had not used before." She shook her head. "I feel terrible about what almost happened to you, but it won't happen again. I won't let it."

Harry actually chuckled, and she asked with irritation, "Is that funny to you?"

"I'm sorry," Harry told her. "It's just peculiar to be having this conversation from this side for a change. It's not that I don't trust you, and I know you want to protect me. I don't want you to feel responsible for what might happen. There's enough for you to worry about on your own."

She smiled too, ruefully. "Okay, I can see now why that conversation might sound familiar to you. So what are you proposing we do?"

"Destroy the book," he said immediately. "If not, store it somewhere secure, where it can't hurt anyone. Not until we know more about it."

She shook her head vigorously, leaning forward. "No good. You said yourself, Harry, we don't know what piece of information, what spell or potion or even way of thinking about a problem might wind up being the answer, the key to stopping Voldemort."

He was surprised. She had rarely said the name since the attack. Not like the other wizards, who did it from a sort of superstitious fear. Hermione had avoided the word out of loathing, out of an unwillingness to give his name even her breath. But right now, it helped show her resolve.

"That's not fair at all, you know?" He sighed. "Using my own words against me, and worse, my own logic. Let's say you keep the book. How do we keep you safe?"

She nodded. "First, admit that this is my process to get through, not yours. Learning to use magic again, and do it responsibly, with respect for the power and the forces at play, again? That's my life now. I deal with these questions every day."

"I have to respect that," Harry said grudgingly. "Is there any compromise you'd find reasonable? Maybe you could promise to not try anything, potion or spell, from the book you don't have either a clear memory of or explicit instructions, without asking Ron or me. Would you be willing to do that, at least?"

She thought, her mind clearly playing through different possibilities before she spoke. At last, she said, "I'll speak to you. I, um, I haven't really talked with Ronald about the book."

"May I ask why not? Or, is it, uh, personal?" Harry was getting really close to the edge of his comfort zone with this whole conversation.

"My relationship with Ronald is already complicated. He's been there for me, in some ways, since I was a child. In other ways, he's a friend and a mentor. A very good friend. From what he's told me, we're a lot closer than we were before, which makes sense." 

She was absently rubbing at her neck, a habit he thought he'd noticed a few times the last few weeks. She looked uncomfortable, but he saw no good way to offer her comfort, no way that he couldn't be misunderstood.

"At the same time, I've passed Ronald in some areas, mostly theory, calculations, things I can get from books. He's been my rock in the practical, in understanding the wizarding world, the people here. Ronald is conservative in his attitudes towards magic. He's told me himself he sees that as one of his weaknesses. I don't want to jeopardise our friendship by putting him as a gatekeeper on my knowledge that way."

She studied Harry's face and asked him directly, "Does my relationship with Ronald make you that uncomfortable? You look like you'd rather be anywhere else right now. I'm not trying to hurt you, you know."

He grinned weakly. "I appreciate that. No, I really do. I'll admit there's some jealousy still in my heart where you're concerned. Not just Ron. The world, it seems like. We weren't just close. You were my world, and I thought I was yours."

"You were. I mean, I understand that, too. I'm sorry."

"That's the thing," Harry said, fighting the urge to stand and pace, to work through the emotional challenges with a physical solution. Instead, he calmed his mind as best he could. He said again, "That's the thing. It's on both of us, this thing. I never would have thought about it from your side before, not like this. I'm starting to think maybe our relationship wasn't as ideal and mature as I remember it."

"Just now," she said curiously, "You did that thing, didn't you? The mind palace, um, Occlumency? You got this particular look on your face."

"Yeah, do you remember that?"

"Not exactly," she said. "You know, bits and pieces sometimes, things just seem familiar. Anyway, I think maybe you're right. I believe you when you tell me how you felt, and I believe that I felt the same way. I like you, I care about you, but most of all, I respect you now. I'm not sure how much of that was true before. Maybe I'm better off not knowing."

They sat together, just letting that soak in for a few minutes. They could see the common room was clearing out. Harry stood and offered her a hand up. Her hands were small, finely featured, and surprisingly cool compared to Tonks's hands, which he was wise enough not to comment upon.

"So, you have a lot to think about, I guess. Your recovery, whatever it is with you and Ron, the book. Good luck, Hermione."

"With which one?" She laughed dryly.

"I honestly have no idea. Goodnight." He leaned in, almost ready to kiss her cheek goodnight. Not romantic, but not suitable for them now, either. Instead, he sort of half-way hugged her, and before she could respond, he let her go.

"Goodnight, Harry."

Notes:

Oh, Seamus... employing a bit of Blarney to finally find his bliss, and possibly a date? Other than blowing his eyebrows off and being a dick to Harry, canon-Seamus never had enough to do. I've built up his camaraderie with Dean and this was his chapter to shine. I hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter 32: A Sluggish Memory

Summary:

Tonks and Harry receive an invitation.

Hermione and Ronald hit a rough patch.

Hermione ponders the poisonous nature of Felix Felicis.

Dumbledore and Harry explore a series of vital memories.

Notes:

Original Author's Note:

Henlo My Beautiful People <3

I am so proud of ALL of you. We have collectively managed to breach five-digit hits on Order of the Phoenix and I have been excited about that all day <3

It’s a big milestone for me, I know that I have collectively managed to get almost three times that amount of hits on the series, but there is something about getting 10k hits on a single work, which I vainly am proud of.

Still, even this show must go on.

Enjoy <3

Waske

xxx

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 32. A Sluggish Memory

 

So it was during this apparently unrelated conversation with Hermione that I realised something important that I wanted to share with you. After talking to her honestly, I’m not sure how perfect my relationship with her really was. I’ve come to see that there were things I took for granted, warning signs I missed and that my jealous nature isn’t just something to joke about. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m not as mature as I like to believe sometimes.

 

Harry’s quill danced over the paper. He knew that if he stopped to think, trying to make the letter perfect, that he would just write himself into circles. Best to press on.

 

Wow, so I’m not an expert, but spending half a page talking about your ex is NOT a terrific way to end a letter to your girlfriend. I would be totally unsurprised if you found yourself reading this and thinking, “Bugger! Time to dump this tosser!”

That was a joke. Please tell me you get that was a joke.

Writing to you lets me say things I get too excited or nervous to say when we’re together, but at the same time, it makes me crazy not being able to hold your hand or see you.

Please write back soon?

Yours,

Harry

 

Harry wasn’t sure if the content of his letter had been precisely what she had hoped for, but then again, it wasn’t the content Harry had expected either when she had first asked for it. He was happy that he’d been able to put his thoughts on paper without completely panicking or feeling like an idiot.

It had been so tempting to tell her that he loved her, the words had hovered on the tip of his quill, like an unspoken promise, but he hadn’t been able to actually write them. He was becoming more and more sure he loved Tonks, but he was afraid of falling into the same patterns he had with Hermione, the easy acceptance and uncritical way of thinking about his relationship that now shaded his memories of the past with some regrets unrelated to how it had ended.

Then there had been nothing. Two days. Four. The weekend. Nothing.

He had caught a glimpse a few times from a distance of Tonks crossing the grounds or at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but never at their tree in the morning. A week. No note. No answering post. Two weeks, and he had considered heading to the village, by force if necessary, to ask for a response. He’d also thought that maybe he had screwed up so terribly that she was putting off talking to him as long as she could. It would be like her to try to spare his feelings.

The reply was now in his hand. It had been the two most anxiety-inducing weeks, and now the answer was in his hands he was afraid of reading it. Not knowing might be so much better than the things she could–trying to be gentle–say to break his heart.

As if this wasn’t bad enough, there was another envelope. Decorated in a style Harry thought of as Holiday Hangover or perhaps Family Christmas Drunken Argument–a nightmare of red and green and gold and silver–it could only be one thing. 

It was for Slughorn’s famous Christmas party, a literally engraved invitation.

It had become the lowlight of every potions class—Slughorn asking about Tonks—since she couldn’t join them because of her work. Slughorn hadn’t even seemed all that disappointed. It had only fuelled his desire to collect her, but Harry had a feeling that the Christmas party was not on the table for negotiation. 

Still, as terrifying as a Christmas party organised with ‘the Grasping Walrus’ promised to be, it was in no way close to the fear Harry felt at the letter from Tonks. Harry, for one moment, had a vibrant vision that the letter would burst into life as a Howler, even though the envelope was a dull brown and not the violent scarlet of a real Howler. 

He decided that if this letter was going to confirm his fears, if it would coldly inform him that Tonks had no time for his insecure, teenaged brooding, it would be best to read it in privacy. He had found his way to the Astronomy Tower, which had for some time been his favourite place to think. He looked at the letter from Tonks. 

It looks so innocent. It could be nothing. It could be crushing… Why are my hands shaking? 

Harry carefully set down the letter and picked up the invitation from Slughorn instead. It might be easier to read this before the one from Tonks, he said, well aware he was rationalising his insecurity about opening Tonks’s letter. He opened the invitation, not really processing what he read.

It was just as expected. He had been sent the invitation in advance of everyone else with the explicit demand that Harry chose the date so that Tonks would attend. It made Harry think about the Christmas holidays. Last year had been the first year that he hadn’t stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas. It hadn’t been out of choice, but it had made him think of spending Christmas with family as an actual possibility. 

I could spend Christmas with Tonks. His heart raced. Christmas morning coffee by the fire, presents, just savouring each other and the holiday. Actually, Harry realised he didn’t have enough experience with family holidays to picture much more that these basics.

All assuming she hasn’t just dumped you... His own insecurities were loud and direct in his head today.

Harry picked up Tonks’s letter with stiff fingers. It might be the cold, being up on the Astronomy tower on a November morning in the Scottish Highlands, or it might be the dread of the unknown contents sweeping over him. 

He managed to open it and took a deep breath before pulling out the longish parchment. 

 

Harry

I’m sorry...

 

His eyes closed. This was it, a somewhat heartfelt apology, why it just would be a bad idea...

 

...but if you think that I am going to “dump this tosser” when I just managed to get with you, then you are stupid. Or an idiot. Or a stupid, stupid idiot.

I love you. I want to hear more about this new perspective your conversation with Hermione has given you, but if you think one somewhat insecure letter is enough to scare me away, you don’t understand what kind of scares I face for a living. The more significant scare is that we need to trust each other and trust what we’re trying to build between us. 

We have known each other for years. I know that you get into your own head way too often, not in a positive way. So whatever you may have been thinking, please relax.

 

A wet spot appeared on the letter. He looked up. It was overcast, but no rain was falling. Then he felt a biting cold on his cheek, which hadn’t been there before. I’m crying?

He felt a wave of relief flooding his body. He looked down again and continued reading.

 

Right, so, with that out of the way, I didn’t really know what to expect when I asked you to write. I think this would be something good for us to actually talk about in person.

Before your mind goes there, no, I am not going to break up with you! I just want to be with you when we talk about things that are so important. 

You are stuck with me, my wonderful lion. 

I don’t know if there’s going to be a Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas. I remember there being one when I went to Hogwarts. Usually, the older students would buy presents for their parents during that one. Let me know if a weekend does turn up so that I can plan my shifts around it. Not seeing you has been hell, and I need to fix that—soonest!

Your Little Cougar,

 Tonks

P.S. She’s still a puma!

 

Harry ran his finger over the name of his girlfriend. Girlfriend, that still had a lovely ring to it. She had somehow managed without even being there to drag him out of his self-imposed darkness. He couldn’t wait to give her a reply and ask what she thought about Christmas and if she could spend Christmas with him, alone.

Harry began laughing, and it wasn’t maniacal as it had been most of last year. It wasn’t hollow as it had been during the summer. No, this was a genuinely happy, almost silly laugh that warmed him to his core. He held the letter close to his chest. 

 

Harry couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he stepped back into the Gryffindor common room. He was stopped by Hermione, who was holding a letter in her hand. 

“You have a message from Professor Dumbledore,” she said. “What is this about?”

Harry felt a tiny hint of panic. It was impossible to hide from her that he had private lessons with the headmaster if he had explicitly asked her to pass it along.

“It’s probably the date for my next private lesson,” Harry admitted. 

“Private lessons?” Hermione asked. “Also, next?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged.

“Were you going to tell us about this?” Hermione frowned.

“Honestly, I wasn’t,” Harry sighed.

“Why not?” 

“Because I assumed you would want to be involved.”

“Why would I want that?” Hermione asked.

“Because these private lessons are a dive into his history, understanding him, so I can better predict and fight him,” Harry looked directly into her eyes. 

Hermione took a step back at the intense stare Harry was sending her. He was right, of course, but that didn’t mean she was ready to acknowledge it.

“Don’t you think I have a right to know?” she asked quietly.

“Why?” Harry asked. “I don’t plan on bringing you with me.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering the reaction he got from her. Her face cold, Hermione simply dropped the parchment, turned her back, and walked away. He wanted to call her back, but he also understood her point of view. He picked up the parchment and decided he could only hope that when she’d had time to think, she’d appreciate his perspective as well. At least she hadn’t thrown it at him.

He tucked the letter from Tonks along with the invitation from Slughorn under one arm and quickly unrolled the message from Dumbledore. 

 

Harry

 I would like for us to have another private lesson before Christmas.

 Please meet me in my office next Wednesday at eight.

Albus Dumbledore.

P.S. At Christmas, I am partial to Peppermint Pixies.

 

Harry rubbed his forehead and made a mental note that there were less than two weeks until the lesson. Well, that could be put on the back burner, he decided. He looked at the noticeboard to check that he still had one Hogsmeade weekend before the break to meet with Tonks. 

There was indeed one. The smile which had dimmed was now back on his face. He had good news to bring Tonks, even though he knew he was once again at odds with Hermione. When it came to Dumbledore, it was just too dangerous for anyone else to get involved. He would rather have her hate him and stay safe than have her get her way and run headlong into danger. 

He quickly found parchment and ink in his backpack and penned a quick letter, trying to avoid the doubt and rambling this time. A quick apology for the way the invitation sounded, the date of the Hogsmeade weekend, his idea that they suggest the party for the twenty-first, and his hope that she would be able to take the evening, if not the whole break, off. He signed it, “Your Lion,” with a bit of self-conscious optimism.

Harry rushed to the Owlery to send the letter with Hedwig. He even began humming a half-remembered bit of Christmas carol. This seemed to make Hedwig nervous. Harry Potter did not cheerfully hum. 

 

The Tonks’s reply came the next day, and it had been just as brief as Harry’s letter. She was looking forward to seeing him on the fourteenth and agreed with his thinking about the party. She was cautiously optimistic that she might be able to get time off Christmas break. 

Harry went straight to Slughorn’s office and told him that it would be possible for Tonks to attend if he planned it for the solstice. 

“Excellent idea! Capital suggestion,” Slughorn beamed. “It has been a long time since I held a Solstice party indeed. Would also leave people with enough time to get back to their families for Christmas if they wish.” 

Harry just smiled and nodded as Slughorn bubbled along happily.

“And you are sure your girlfriend will be able to make it?” Slughorn looked serious for the first time. Even the bristles of his moustache had gone still. 

“It is the best she can do,” Harry said. “But as she pointed out in her letter, it would be easier for her to get the evening off, as the school will already be on the break with most of the students gone home.”

“Indeed, indeed. Splendid.” 

Harry could already see the Potions Master planning his now-decided Solstice party. Harry gave a sort of quick bow, nodding his head, and walked out of the office. He didn’t want to be dragged into discussions of every little detail, so he made a hasty retreat. 

Slughorn began sending out invitations the next day. Harry got another one, just as nauseatingly terrible to look at. He was a little surprised to see Neville getting one as well, as was Neville himself.

Hermione got her own, of course. She had firmly established herself at the top spot of their year in the theoretical aspects of every single N.E.W.T she was taking, while Harry still reigned at the top of the practical elements of magic. Snape had even begun to take him out of his classes’ duelling competition, as no one in his year could outfight him. Harry would use the extra time to either write on the homework Snape had given them or read a book, which had briefly managed to raise the man’s brows in surprise before Snape quickly resumed his air of bored, indifferent superiority. 

Ginny was still popular with Slughorn as well. She had flown so well in the harsh conditions during their quidditch match, Slughorn was sure she might go professional. It also may have helped that she was now one of the very few openly out witches in the school, making Ginny and Susan a rarity even for Slughorn. 

Ron, however, was looking glum as he watched all of his friends get invitations for another one of Slughorn’s parties. He did not need to remind anyone that he had only allowed one wind-aided goal in the match, by far his best performance ever. While he was proud of himself for not bringing it up, he also failed to hide his disappointment.

Harry spotted it pretty quickly, and he could hardly blame him. It would be frustrating for anyone to get ignored like this. Harry could see plenty of reasons why Ron was worth ‘collecting,’ Ron was turning into a reliable, even exciting keeper. It would not be unreasonable if he continued to improve like this that he might also try playing professionally. With his slow but ongoing demolition of his former “make-do” work ethic, along with his willingness to ask for help from others (mostly Hermione), he also seemed on pace to get the necessary grades for the Auror Academy. 

The usual crowd, minus Luna and Neville, were at what they thought of as “their table” in the library. Ron had been grumbling slightly about the party but seemed to be getting it out of his system. Harry was trying to think of something consoling, which wouldn’t sound insincere before Ron spoke in evident frustration.

“What’s so great about precious parties, anyway?” He was clearly taking this too personally.

Hermione had actually approached him at their library table with her invitation in hand. Like the previous gathering, the invitations included a plus-one. 

“It’s actually quite fun,” Hermione said, clearly insensitive to Ron’s mood and trying to rebuild excitement for the event. “We get to network and make friends with people we normally wouldn’t talk to.”

“Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies was there as well once,” Ginny said, not looking up from her book. Susan jogged her with an elbow, with a slight shake of her head towards Ron, but it was clearly too late.

Like Ron, Ginny hadn’t managed to think things through before she opened her mouth. Sometimes they really were alike. Pointing out to Ron that he’d missed talking to–not just a quidditch pro–a celebrity player known around the league, was unlikely to improve his mood.

Harry winced, seeing the colour rising in Ron’s face. The train’s leaving the tracks. All it wants is a nudge. He tried to figure out something to say to pull the conversation back from disaster...

“I thought she was a bit of a snob, actually,” Hermione said. “Did you, Harry?”

Oh, well. That’s done it. 

“Someone has to be mental to want to go to one of those things!” Ron huffed, throwing down his quill in disgust, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. He had momentarily forgotten the fact that everyone else at the table had an invitation already except him, which of course was the problem. 

Boom, Harry thought, Train off the tracks. Carriages everywhere, engine in the river...

“I was going to ask you to go with me, Ronald, but then I hadn’t realised that only mental people would want to go,” Hermione snapped back waspishly before she got up and stormed out of the library. 

And there are no survivors, Harry finished sadly. 

Ron looked like someone had told him the Chudley Cannons had decided to close down and stop playing. 

“Ron,” Harry tried. 

“Don’t,” Ron said, his angry flush from earlier paling rapidly. “What have I… You’re supposed to be my mate, Harry. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because she was being insensitive, you were being emotional, and he’s not throwing himself onto that burning rubbish pile for anyone?” Susan was looking at the lot of them with open disappointment.

Harry spotted Lavender Brown angling their way. 

Yeah, I’m not going to stick around for this, Harry thought. 

He got eye contact with Ginny and Susan, who seemed to have the same idea. Ron looked at them with a mix of pleading and chagrin as Lavender slid into the seat across from Ron smoothly. The others made their timely exits, leaving him to her tender predations.

Harry found Hermione sitting in an empty classroom after looking at the Marauder’s Map. 

Harry had expected to find Hermione sad, but instead, she was orbiting chairs around her head, crashing them against each other, bringing destruction to school property.

“You—erm—doing okay?” Harry asked, stepping over some debris.

“Does it look like I’m doing okay?” 

“Look, he didn’t mean it,” Harry said. “He just didn’t…”

“Think? Like usual?” Hermione fumed. 

“He has gotten a lot better, you know,” Harry tried. “If you were to ask him, he would probably say yes.”

“Do you think?” The remaining chairs paused in their procession. She nodded, more to herself than to Harry.

Hermione set down the chairs on the floor and calmed down. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

“This might not be the best time.”

She pursed her lips and looked suspicious. “Out with it.” 

“Lavender thought he looked down,” Harry said awkwardly, gesturing with his hands like a seeker after the snitch. “Like a shot when we all were leaving.”

“Fine. Maybe I best stand on my own feet and not rely on anyone for a change,” Hermione said with that voice, meaning that nothing was okay and that she was incredibly frustrated. 

“Right… So?” 

“It’s fine. I said.”

It most certainly was not.

Harry stood there, feeling totally useless.

“I appreciate you trying to cheer me up,” Hermione said finally. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry said. “We have Arithmancy.”

“Right,” Hermione said. “Just give me a minute to clean up.”

“You need help?” 

“No, I can do this myself.” 

Harry watched as Hermione put the room back together with a couple of waves of her wand. He was reminded of Slughorn and Dumbledore rebuilding the Muggle house. It seemed like a year ago.

He waited until she hoisted her bag over her shoulder before they left the room together for their Arithmancy class. The rest of the day was relatively uneventful.

 

Harry had spotted Lavender and Ron together a lot more often since that morning in the library. Ron looked—not precisely happy. Content, at least. It was hard to judge, basing opinions only on the rare occasions that Ron came up for air. Harry and Ginny were trying not to watch them from the other end of the common room one evening as they discussed some quidditch ideas that Ginny had been thinking about.

“It’s like watching an octopus, being slowly sucked inside another octopus, both trying to outgrabble each other,” Ginny observed with horrified fascination. “Tell me I was never that bad.”

“I will not ask you or Susan to define ‘outgrabble,’ if you don’t mind,” Harry said dryly. “Your silencing charms were good enough, usually.” 

“Ugh…” Ginny blushed. “Okay, I set myself up for that one.” 

“I get what you mean though, watching them puts your own relationship into perspective,” Harry said. “I’ve been thinking about how Hermione and I were together. It must have been less mature than it felt at the time. We ended up getting lost in the relationship. It wasn’t as healthy as I thought it was.”

“Everything did seem to happen awfully fast for you, so I can see that,” Ginny nodded thoughtfully. “It’s not like Susan and I didn’t have our own hurdles, fast-moving among them.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “I couldn’t see that from the outside.”

“Oh, sure. I was terrified of everyone’s reaction to finding out about us— a lot more than I was willing to let on. Susan was great. She just patiently waited for me,” Ginny said. “I’m so lucky that she is my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend, it really has a nice ring to it,” Harry smiled, thinking of Tonks. 

“Wow, Potter,” Ginny teased, pretending to mishear him. “Thinking about buying a ring, already?”

“I’ll wait until you buy one for Bones first,” Harry returned. 

Harry enjoyed watching Ginny’s features dissolve into embarrassment. 

“I’m just kidding,” Harry said. “Although Tonks told me about a friend of hers, a witch married to another witch. Not sure how that works, legally or whatever, but I’m for it if it makes them happy. Still, it is a little too early for any of us to think about that just yet. We are still students, after all.”

“Right.” Ginny nodded. “Although my mum and dad married right out of school. Happened a lot during those days.”

Harry was sure that the slightly dreamy look Ginny had on her face meant that she was indeed thinking about a possible future with Susan.

 

Hermione sat wide awake on the edge of her bed, a small flame in a jar casting soft shadows around her, holding a small phial in her hands. Felix Felicis, Liquid Luck, the Little Helper. The potion brewed to provide unbeatable odds in any endeavour. She had won it from Professor Slughorn in her first potions class with him.

Now, the seemingly innocent bottle was keeping her up at night. What seemed an incredible boon was actually an insidious poison, she now understood. Not a poison of the body, but instead one of the will. It was slowly killing her ability to make choices, weigh options, and move forward with her own life.

At first, it had been tempting to use it for herself or a friend. Nothing unfair, just a little boost. It was strictly banned in academics, politics, and sports, of course, but there have always been ways around every type of prohibition.

Indeed, the draught could have allowed her to undeniably beat Harry in a class, taking him down just a peg and reminding the others that she was the best and brightest student. But that would have been cheating, and that was wrong.

With a bit of forethought, she could use it to help a friend be a better version of himself. So often plagued by his insecurities and doubts, Ronald might be made to finally believe in himself with just a dose. If he thought he was bold and successful, he would be, she thought. He might relax and be more open. But that would have been manipulating a friend, and that was wrong.

Careful planning with the potion would allow her a chance to engineer circumstances in her favour. She could supplant a rival, claim an honour, win a heart even. Not a love potion, but a brew to put her in the position to win love. She could have separated another from their free will, cutting the cord of destiny to fit her own plans, and had anyone she truly wanted. She both longed for and feared being in love, and it was tempting. But that would be selfish, and that was wrong.

Finally, she could save the potion. She could bank it away, proof against the day of her greatest need. An unbeatable trump to whatever challenge her foes might throw in her path, bringing certain victory in a righteous cause. That would be good and noble, and selfless, and that was right.

And therein lay the problem which kept her awake, staring into a small glass phial deep into the night, when her mind and body called out for sleep, and her heart cried out for peace. What would be her most significant need? If she saw an obstacle, would she overcome it? Or would she rely on the potion instead? What then of the next challenge? And the next? 

Only when her all foes were vanquished, her obstacles overcome, her fears and doubts laid to rest, only from the position of weary victory would she be able to look back, and to say, “This, this was my greatest need.” So she sat, paralysed, looking at every stumble, every setback, every want and hurt and desire, and wondered, “Is this it? Or have I missed my chance?” Felix Felicis is a poison.

Her greatest need would forever be her next one, and so Hermione sat wide awake on the edge of her bed, a small flame in a jar casting soft shadows around her, holding the small crystal container in her hands.

 

“Peppermint Pixies,” Harry said to the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office. 

It was Wednesday evening and Harry’s third private lesson with Dumbledore. He checked his breathing, slowing and calming himself before he knocked on the door in front of him.

Dumbledore’s hands held the Pensieve once more. The right one was more blackened and burnt-looking than ever. Harry wondered what could injure the headmaster so profoundly that it could not be cured. Dark magic, indeed, and possibly death magic at that.

Dumbledore greeted Harry with a severe expression and launched right into the business at hand. He informed Harry that they would be exploring two different memories tonight, both obtained at significant risk and toil. Among them was the most important the headmaster had gathered thus far. 

Harry said nothing to this; he knew from experience that asking any direct question would likely get him nowhere with the secretive man.

“So,” said Dumbledore, in a firm but clearly weary voice, “we will look tonight further into the life of Tom Riddle. He arrived at Hogwarts, a quiet boy in his threadbare robes, and lined up for sorting with the other first-years.”

“Scarcely had the Sorting Hat touched his head,” continued Dumbledore, “than young Tom was sorted into Slytherin House.”

“The lore of that house, of Salazar himself, who could also talk to snakes, who also craved power and influence, can only have fuelled his sense of self-importance. No hint of his Parseltongue abilities or any attempt to curry favour among his housemates reached the ears of the staff or prefects, however. He appeared, in fact, a somewhat quiet, even demure boy. An unusually talented and beautiful child, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. The teachers’ impressions were that he was eager to learn if maybe a bit lacking in assertiveness. You see how thoroughly he had learned already to disguise his intentions.” 

“Weren’t they warned about his behaviour at the orphanage? His bullying?” asked Harry. 

“Though Tom had shown no hint of remorse, I yet believed he might turn over a fresh leaf given a fresh chance.” 

Harry, again, second-guessed Dumbledore’s tendency to give everyone a second chance. It wasn’t that Harry had lost the ability to understand the notion. But the evening in the Department of Mysteries had taught him a harsh lesson. Sometimes giving second chances would hurt the people close to you. It could hurt your family. 

“How could you have trusted him, Professor? He told me—the Tom Riddle from that diary—told me, ‘Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.’ If you suspected anything—if you knew—how could you not at least warn the others?”

“I didn’t assume that he could be taken at face value, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “While I had formed some suspicions, I was careful not to show too much particular interest in the boy. In this fashion, he was able to conceal a good deal at first. He was always very circumspect with me. He must have realised that he had revealed a little too much in the moment of discovering his true identity. He was careful never to let slip so much again, but it was too late to take back what he had revealed at that moment or what Mrs Cole had intimated to me. He had the sense never to try to charm me as he had so many of my colleagues. 

“As he moved up in school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated associates; I call them that rather than friends as Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. The group had a kind of dark glamour about them. They were a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a strong leader who could teach them more refined forms of cruelty without the threat of retaliation. In all but name, they were the first of the Death Eaters. Indeed some of them were among the first Death Eaters after leaving the school. 

“They were never detected in open wrongdoing. Under Riddle’s tight control, they remained just on the right side of accusation and innuendo, although their years at Hogwarts were marked by several offences to which they were never indisputably linked, including the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, of course. As you helped reveal, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime, and the suspicion of that young girl’s death dogged him after that. 

“It has been nearly impossible to locate memories of Tom’s time here at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, drumming the fingers of his good hand on the rim of the Pensieve. “Students who knew him then are rarely willing to talk about him, or they are imprisoned in Azkaban or dead. Even those imprisoned will not speak; they are too intimidated even now. What little I have found out, I managed to acquire during the period when others presumed him dead, and even that required searching old records and questioning unlikely sources, both Muggle and magical.”

“I can tell you that Riddle seemed obsessed with his parentage and magical bloodlines in general. Of course, this is understandable for an orphan without any known relations. Over the years, he searched extensively for Tom Riddle, Senior, from plaques and trophies here at Hogwarts to old school records, even in dubious books of Wizarding history. At last, Tom accepted that his father had never attended Hogwarts. He almost immediately assumed the Lord Voldemort persona, distancing himself from any trace of the boy he had been. He began careful, quiet investigations into his mother’s family. This must have been distasteful, to say the least, as Tom had already dismissed his mother as no witch for succumbing to the human frailty of death.” 

“His only clue? ‘Marvolo,’ the unusual name given by his mother as a family name at the orphanage. After diligent, nearly obsessive research in the oldest books of Wizarding families, Tom discovered Salazar Slytherin’s surviving line— the Gaunts. In the summer before he came of age, he set off to find his relatives. And now, Harry, if you would stand?” 

Harry saw that Dumbledore again held one of the delicate crystal bottles containing a memory. 

“I was fortunate to collect this,” the headmaster said, pouring the viscous fluid into the Pensieve. “I think you will agree once we have shared it.” 

Harry felt the familiar sensation of falling after pushing his face through the shimmering surface and then landed in almost total darkness on what felt like a stone floor. By the time Dumbledore had landed beside him, he had placed the scene. The indescribably filthy house that he recognised from previous memories of the Gaunts was worse than any residence Harry had seen. It was thick with grime, dust, debris, and cobwebs; mouldy and rotting food lay upon and around the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The meagre light came from a single tallowy candle near the feet of a wild man, a man so overgrown with hair and whiskers that Harry could not make out eyes nor mouth. The filthy man was slumped in an armchair by the cold fire grate. Harry was not sure the main still lived until there came a knock on the door, and the man jerked. He came violently awake, clutching a wand in one hand and a short knife in the other. 

The door creaked, opened by a boy Harry recognised at once: tall, pale, imperious in his demeanour, and darkly handsome — the figure of Tom Riddle that Harry recognised from the Chamber of Secrets. Gaunt and Riddle locked eyes, and for a long moment, they looked at each other, then the older man staggered upright, sending empty bottles at his feet clattering. 

“You!” the man howled. “You!” 

He staggered in rage at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

Stop,” Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. 

The man skidded into the table, sending mouldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle while they contemplated each other silently. At last, Gaunt spoke, shrewd suspicion twisting at his words. 

“You? You can speak it?” 

Riddle stared him down coldly. “I can.”. 

With these words, Riddle moved into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. Harry grudgingly admired Voldemort’s complete lack of fear. His face expressed only disgust and, perhaps, contempt. 

“Marvolo?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Dead.” Gaunt looked at him sideways, unwilling to either look away or to meet his gaze. 

“Dead for some time, I would guess.” Riddle frowned. “So you are?” 

“Morfin, Marvolo was my dad.” Morfin pushed dirty hair away from his face to better see Riddle. Harry saw that he wore his father’s black-stoned ring on his grime-stained hand. 

“Figured you for that Muggle,” muttered Morfin. “You favour him.” 

“What Muggle?” said Riddle sharply, offended and curious both. 

“That Muggle boy my sister took a fancy to. Him what lives in that big house over the way,” said Morfin, and he spat violently upon the floor between them. “You favour him—Riddle—but he’s older now, ain’t he? Older’n you, I figure.” 

Morfin clutched the edge of the table for support, looking unsteady. 

“He’s come back, you see,” Morfin added dully. 

Voldemort regarded Morfin with obvious calculation. He moved a little closer and spoke with feigned camaraderie, “So, the Muggle came back?” 

“Aye, he done left Merope. Serves her right, mind, marrying filth,” grumbled Morfin, spitting on the floor again. “Robbed us before she ran off, though. Where’s the locket, eh, where’s Slytherin’s locket?” 

Voldemort did not answer. 

Morfin was working himself up again; he brandished his knife and shouted, “That little slut, dishonoured the family, dishonoured our blood! Who’re you, to come here asking questions about it all? It’s over, innit? It’s over.” 

Gaunt looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so, the room lunged into unnatural darkness.

Dumbledore closed his fingers tightly around Harry’s arm, and they soared back to the present once more. The soft golden light of Dumbledore’s office was dazzling after that impenetrable darkness. 

“Is that all?” asked Harry at once. “He obliviated his uncle too.” The last part was said with such venom that Dumbledore gave Harry an extra glance. 

“Correct, Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward,” said Dumbledore, gesturing Harry back into his seat. “When he awoke the following day, he was lying on the floor, entirely alone. Marvolo’s ring was gone. 

“Meanwhile, a maid was running along the village High Street, screaming that three bodies were lying in the drawing-room of the big house. The elder Tom Riddle and his parents were dead. The Muggle authorities were baffled. They do not know, even now, exactly how the Riddles died. The killing curse does not usually leave any external sign of damage.”

“This being the exception,” Harry noted wryly, indicating his scar.

“Exactly so.” Dumbledore collected his thoughts and continued. “The Ministry knew immediately that this was a magical murder, of course. They also knew that Morfin, convicted already for his acts of hatred against Muggles, lived across from the Riddle house. The Ministry had no need to question Morfin. There was no use Veritaserum or Legilimency. Gaunt admitted to the murder on the spot, boasting of details only the murderer could know. He said that he was proud to have killed the Muggles. The poor, wretched man had been waiting all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that disturbed him was the fact that his father’s ring had disappeared. ‘He’ll kill me for losing it,’ he told his captors over and over again. ‘He’ll kill me for losing his ring.’ And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo’s last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls.” 

“So Voldemort used Morfin’s stolen wand?” asked Harry, rubbing his hand through his unruly hair.

“We must assume,” agreed Dumbledore. “There are no memories to show us, but I think we can reasonably reconstruct what happened. Voldemort stupefied his uncle and proceeded across the valley to ‘the big house.’ There he murdered the Muggle who had abandoned his mother with his stolen wand. For good measure, he also slew his own Muggle grandparents. Thus ended the unworthy Riddle bloodline and the father who never wanted him. He then returned to the Gaunt house, performed the impressive dark magic to implant a false memory in his uncle’s mind, and laid Morfin’s wand beside him. Tom stole the ancestral ring as a trophy or perhaps as a totem of his connection to the line of Slytherin, and he departed.”

“And Morfin never realised what had happened?” 

“He gave,” said Dumbledore, “a full confession. He was proud, boastful even.” 

“Why confess to something he hadn’t done? When knew the truth the whole time?” 

“He had the memory, Harry, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to tease it out of his tortured mind,” said Dumbledore, “and what motivation was there to delve further into Morfin’s mind? He had already confessed. Eventually, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin shortly before his death, at a time when I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort’s past. It was with great difficulty that I extracted this memory, and when I saw what it concerned, I tried to have Morfin released from Azkaban. By the time the Ministry reached their decision, however, it was too late. As your godfather probably told you, the wheels of wizarding justice grind very slowly as they turn.” 

“But how come the Ministry didn’t realise that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?” Harry asked calmly. “He wasn’t of age yet, wasn’t he? I thought they could detect underage magic! Of course—the trace is inaccurate. I should know.” 

“You’re essentially correct — they can detect the location of the use of magic, but not the perpetrator.”

“And if you’re underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard’s house, the Ministry doesn’t even investigate. I’ve taken advantage of the same loophole myself.” 

“Indeed, they are often unable to tell who performed the magic, only its location,” said Dumbledore, frowning a little at the confession Harry had let slip out. “They rely heavily on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring’s obedience while within their homes.” 

“As usual, the way the Ministry works is completely rubbish,” Harry sighed. 

“I agree,” said Dumbledore. “Whatever we think of Morfin, I think no one deserves to die as he did, to be blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is getting late, and we have one more memory to explore before we are finished for the evening.” 

Dumbledore took another crystal phial from his pocket, and Harry fell silent at once. Dumbledore had said this was the most essential memory he had to share. The phial’s contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, dripping viscously as though they had congealed. Did memories go bad? Harry wondered.

“This should not take long,” said Dumbledore when he had finally poured the sluggish memory. “Once last journey tonight into the Pensieve, then…” 

Harry fell through the quicksilver surface, landing this time right in front of a man he recognised at once. Before him stood a much younger Horace Slughorn. Harry was so used to the professor being portly and bald that he found the sight of Slughorn with thick, shiny hair quite disconcerting. He was not nearly as heavyset as Harry recalled him from the present day, and his moustache less massive. 

Slughorn’s little feet rested upon a velvet pouffe. He was perched with surprising delicacy in a comfortable armchair. He held a glass of wine in one hand while he picked delicately among the bits in a box of crystallised pineapple. Harry realised that he and Dumbledore were in Slughorn’s office while half a dozen boys sat in a semicircle before Slughorn. All were on low seats, and all were in their mid-teens, perhaps fourth-years. 

Harry recognised Voldemort at once. He had the most handsome face, and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo’s gold-and-black ring; he had already killed his father. 

“Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?” he asked. 

“Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you. You should know that,” said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, ruining the effect slightly by winking. “I’d like to know where you get your information, boy. More knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.” Riddle smiled, and the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks. 

“What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, it is my favourite —” 

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, 

“You’ll go wrong, boy, mark my words.” 

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared, yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody appear as though anything unusual had just happened. Bewildered, Harry looked around as a small golden clock standing upon Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven o’clock. 

“Good gracious, is it that time already?” said Slughorn. “You’d better get going, boys, or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow, or it’s detention. The same goes for you, Avery.” 

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair began to tidy up as the boys filed out. Voldemort, Harry noticed, had dawdled deliberately to be last in the room with Slughorn. 

“Look sharp, Tom,” said Slughorn, turning around and finding him still present. “You don’t want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a perfect…” 

“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away…” 

“Professor, I wondered what you know about—” Voldemort paused, his eagerness barely hidden beneath his veneer of curiosity, “—about Horcruxes?” 

The dense fog filled the room again so that Harry could not see Slughorn or Voldemort, only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice boomed out again, slightly too strident, just as it had previously. 

“I don’t know anything about anything so wicked, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did! Now get out, and don’t let me catch you so much as mentioning that ever again!” 

“And that is all,” said Dumbledore sombrely beside Harry. “Time for us to go.” 

Seconds later, Harry found himself back in front of Dumbledore’s desk. 

“That’s it?” asked Harry disbelievingly. 

Dumbledore had told him that this was the most important memory of all, but Harry did not understand its importance. The fog—that nobody seemed to have noticed—was peculiar but not informative. Voldemort had asked a question, the significance of which Harry did not understand, and had failed to get an answer. 

Dumbledore returned behind his desk, saying, “As you might have noticed, that memory has been interfered with.” 

“Interfered with?” repeated Harry, sitting back down as well. “You mean tampered with somehow? But why?”

Dumbledore said, “Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections.” 

“He is ashamed, isn’t he?” 

“Very good,” said Dumbledore. “Horace has clearly tried to rework the memory to show himself more favourably, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see or which he would prefer not to recall. As you will have noticed, it is very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the accurate memory is still there beneath the alterations.” 

“I am giving you a task to complete on your own, Harry. It is your task to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory. I am convinced that it will be our most crucial piece of information of all.” 

Harry stared at him. 

“You want me to do the same as Voldemort and convince him to give up the information willingly,” he said, keeping his voice as respectful as possible. “This is why you have had me get close to him over the last half-year. It is also why you did it right before the Solstice party Professor Slughorn has planned. It would be the perfect opportunity, a little alcohol and a good mood. Are you sure you shouldn’t have been in Slytherin, sir?” 

“Yet the hat placed me in Gryffindor for a reason,” said Dumbledore. 

“And we are not attempting Legilimency or Veritaserum?” Harry asked. He knew the answer, but sometimes it was a small victory in itself getting Dumbledore to be honest about something. 

“Horace is much more accomplished with Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt. I also would not be shocked to discover that he has carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him since the day I coerced him into giving me this violated memory,” Dumbledore admitted.

“No, it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force. It could do much more harm than good. I do not wish for him to leave Hogwarts. However, as you said, he has his weaknesses like the rest of us. I believe that you might be able to penetrate his defences, secure access to the original memory, or whatever remains of it. We must secure the true memory, Harry. But that should be enough for this night, I think. So, good luck, and good night.” 

Surprised by the abrupt end of the lesson, Harry leaned back. 

“One last question, Professor, what is a Horcrux?” 

“You will, naturally, know when you have gathered the memory,” Dumbledore said in his most grandfatherly voice. 

Harry chuckled a little, “I see. Whatever it is, I won’t be able to find the information in any other way.”

He stood up from his chair. “Good night, Professor.” 

As he closed the headmaster’s office door behind him, Harry distinctly heard the portrait of Phineas Nigellus say, “I still don’t see why the boy should be involved, Dumbledore.” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” replied Dumbledore, and Fawkes gave another low, musical cry.

 

Notes:

One word of advice for managing your joy and/or sadness as this story continues to develop. One obstacle to enjoying fanfiction can be clinging to perceptions, both negative and positive, about characters based on your feelings from the canon. As much as we respect JK’s work in some areas, we are trying to breathe our own life into these characters, and ultimately they must stand or fall based on what they do in our stories, not hers.
A difficult task, surely, so I simply hope that we all try to proceed with open minds.

Except about McLaggen. What a prick.

Killjoy

Chapter 33: Solstice Celebration

Summary:

Tattoos and rendezvous.

McLaggen goes too far.

BAMF Luna Lovegood, while Neville Longbottom is an Absolute Unit.

Weird Sisters, a Vampire, and Ginny in a suit.

Sexual goings-on.

Notes:

In this chapter, there are some real differences between Waske's approach and my own. Waske liked to paint characters more broadly, making Ron fairly compromised, for example, and McLaggen an absolute trainwreck of a human being, while I pushed back constantly for more nuance. It's my influence that put Ronald mentoring and supporting Hermione, for example, and developing his gifts as a strategist and chess master.

I think this contributed in a large part to Waske leaving this franchise- I was too difficult to work with, pushing a slightly different agenda than he had in mind. Fortunately, we've largely put that behind us, and support each other's work enthusiastically.

Anyway... Both approaches have their pros and cons, but as this is my rewrite, I've leaned a little more heavily away from black and white characters. To each his own. Enjoy. -Killjoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 33. Solstice Celebration

 

Harry found himself waking up feeling nervous Saturday morning. He had spent the past two days trying to set up a plan for getting the memory out of Slughorn. Dumbledore was probably right that Slughorn was ashamed of the truth, which Harry resonated with. He wasn’t keen on telling people his weaknesses or faults either.

Telling your weakness seemed to be the theme of his life for the moment. He was going to be able to spend time with Tonks since his last unscheduled adventure into Hogsmeade. It had been a month and a half, and while they had sent a couple of letters and even had a few conversations since Halloween, this was only the second time they got to be together as a couple.

If that wasn’t enough to make Harry nervous, then the fact that he would have to talk about his thoughts about his past relationship with Hermione, his own insecurities, his feelings of inadequacy, with the woman he was increasingly sure he loved was about as enticing as eating or drinking a love potion. Which was a realistic option, as Hermione had warned him some of the girls were trying to give them to him. Romilda Vane had actually stopped him in the common room and tried to hand him a gillywater, a box of chocolates filled with firewhisky and some cream puff, likely extra spiced. He had taken the box of chocolates and just thrown it straight to the bottom of his trunk. He might not be Moody-levels of paranoid yet, but the more situations like this he found himself in, the more sane Moody seemed to be.

Harry had hardly been able to eat breakfast because of his nerves. He stood in front of the front gate leading down to Hogsmeade and felt his palms getting sweaty as Filch prodded him with the sensor. He wasn’t hiding anything, but maybe in part due to his countenance, Filch spent what seemed like an eternity hovering around him. 

For Harry, the minutes moved both agonisingly slowly and frightfully quickly, as he couldn’t decide whether the part of him which wanted to rush to Tonks or the part of him that wanted to avoid this specific conversation took priority. 

In the end, he stood in front of the door to Tonks’s room. 

This is it, your last chance to run away, a snide voice in his head commented.

Harry breathed in deeply and knocked on the door. He heard Tonks’s distressed voice shout to him, and he immediately rushed in.

What met him was a reminder of the pandemonium Tonks could wreak in a kitchen. There was a cloud of black smoke rising from a pan, which looked like it had once contained bacon. The eggs were about equal parts shell and looked undercooked, and the toast was burnt. Coffee looked alright, but then again, Tonks was only partly functional without coffee, so maybe that was just a survival behaviour she had learned.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast,” Tonks looked utterly distressed.

Harry felt himself relaxing, all the anxiety in his body left through his feet as they carried him towards her as he pulled her into a hug.

“You …” Harry tried to hold back his laughter. 

It wasn’t right to laugh at her when she looked just about to cry.

“You are amazing,” Harry chuckled. “I am so happy that you tried.”

“I wanted to succeed,” Tonks pouted in his embrace.

Harry couldn’t hold it back any longer, and a full-blown laugh from the depths of his diaphragm resounded in the room.

“Stop laughing,” Tonks huffed. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry wiped away a tear. “I was so nervous before coming here and seeing you being so … well, you just made me even happier I’m here.”

“Well, that’s something,” Tonks said as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“Mmm,” Harry purred. “One more.”

“No,” Tonks teased. “Can this be saved?” 

“No,” Harry said truthfully. “Maybe the eggs, but the bacon and toast have to be redone.”

“Ugh…” Tonks’s shoulders fell.

“You really are cute when you pout like that,” Harry smiled at her. 

“I do not want to hear that from you, mister,” Tonks tapped him with a wooden spoon. 

Harry just lifted up her chin and kissed her properly for the first time that morning.

He felt Tonks’s body relax in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly.

“A little,” Tonks admitted. “Still, it is frustrating that I wasn’t able to do this for you.”

“I don’t care if you can cook breakfast,” Harry smiled. “I can just cook for you for the rest of our lives.”

Tonks blushed and hid her face in his chest. Harry hadn’t quite realised what he had just said.

“You really mean that?” she asked in a whisper. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Harry questioned.

“You will cook for me for the rest of my life?” Tonks looked up at his face.

That was when it hit him, what he had just said. 

Wow, Potter, thinking about buying her a ring already?

“I think so– as long as you will have me,” Harry said. 

He felt Tonks’s arms almost crush him in a hug as the words left his lips. 

“Might as well start right now,” Harry said when he felt her release him. 

He got his wand out and vanished the burnt and unsalvageable stuff. He did the same with the eggshells in the scrambled egg, making them at least edible if Tonks hadn’t over-seasoned them. It didn’t take too long until he had a good-sized breakfast for both of them, and he was able to actually eat something this time.

“My hero,” Tonks purred as she bit into her toast. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry smiled. 

They ate while fooling around, and Harry was fully relaxed by the time Tonks had eaten her way through at least twice the amount Harry ate. 

Harry began cleaning up after them when Tonks decided to interrupt the silence.

“So, are you ready to tell me your thoughts?” she asked.

Harry stilled. His shoulders instantly grew tense. 

“Harry?”

Harry stared off into space.

“I love you,” Tonks wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his back. “Nothing you can say will change that today.”

Harry felt something warming inside him. I love you too. I’m just not ready to say it yet.

“I have bad habits… a lot of them.” Harry slowly began. “I have a hard time saying what I really think…”

Harry felt an affirmative tightening around his stomach.

“And sometimes, I end up shutting people out. I do it to protect them… it’s just I can see now that maybe it hurts people as much as it actually protects them, and I don’t want to do that to you,” Harry sighed. “I’m scared that at some point I’m going to hurt you, Tonks. That I will push you so far away that you decide it is easier to leave than stay with me. I’m afraid that at some point, I am going to mess this up between us. It scares me, so I’m overthinking things. I don’t want to.”

“I’ll tell you if you hurt me,” Tonks said. “I will scold you when you are an idiot. I will drag out your secrets and make you share your thoughts with me. But most importantly, let me take care of your heart. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry turned around and faced her. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Tonks’s smile was dazzling. 

He looked at her soft lips and leaned down to kiss her. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close against him. He tried to put everything he wasn’t able to tell her just yet into their kiss. 

He heard her soft moans, which sounded like music in his ears. His hands began caressing her back. One of his hands moved unto her neck and into her shortish hair and played with it. His other hand slowly moved down her back and rested on the small of her back. He didn’t want to take it too quickly, but then he felt her soft hand on top of his pulling it down to her bum.

He gently rubbed and caressed it, and he felt her panting against his lips. He broke the kiss only to trace his lips down the side of her neck as her breathing grew hoarser and deeper. He felt her fingers digging into his back as she made small cute sounds in his ear. He could feel a fire burning in his chest, which threatened to burn everything around him.

He continued, kissing down to her clavicle and gently ran his tongue over the sensitive skin there. Her hands were gently running into his hair, and she pulled his head to her neck. She guided him back up to her lips, and they kissed once more. She smelled like oranges and sunshine, Harry thought as he slowly navigated them both towards her bed. He knew that he was losing control, but he couldn’t stop himself. He fell backwards onto the bed and watched as Tonks straddled his waist. 

She was grinding her hips across his pelvis, and it sent shivers down his spine. He pulled her down into another kiss and felt her mouth opening to give access to his tongue. Their tongues twirled around each other, and Harry couldn’t help releasing a guttural groan from his lips.

He watched as she rose up again and stretched her body, revealing a tempting navel over the line of her jeans. 

“You are so beautiful,” Harry said in a husky voice. 

“You think so?” Tonks smiled. 

“In every form,” Harry said. 

Tonks blushed. She placed her hands on his chest and leaned down to kiss him once more. 

They found themselves kissing again, intensely, and then suddenly, they were kissing on the bed. And kissing on the bed without shoes. Or shirts. 

Briefly, things went further than either had planned or discussed, but they both slowed down. There was snogging and a bit of playful exploration, but mostly it was a chance for two new lovers to enjoy simply being close without any agenda. Things wound down after a time, with Harry still wearing his jeans and Tonks wearing a pair of daisy-yellow panties and a pleased and somewhat embarrassed smile. She burrowed her way under the blankets and sighed happily.

Tonks fell asleep, and Harry carefully eased away to let her nap for a while before they headed out into the cold. One more cup of tea, Harry decided, while she rested.

Harry was drinking his cup of tea, a somewhat silly grin on his face. Tonks made that soft purring sound that would be called gentle snoring if it wasn’t so damned adorable.

Harry knew that if they were going to get their shopping done as promised, he really needed to get Tonks up and moving again. There were options, of course. Gentle persuasion was one, though Tonks had a great deal of ability to resist that approach. Abandoning his tea, along with his trousers, to climb under the blankets and see just precisely at what point Tonks would wake was very tempting, but even if she woke quickly, Harry doubted they would be on their way to the shops any time soon. It was time for extreme but very well-tested methods.

As an excellent non-verbal casting practice, Harry managed to get the hot, but not boiling, water over the coffee in the filter, slowly pouring in an outward spiral. Harry had tried a stovetop maker, an electric coffee pot, and even a French press in his cooking enthusiasm. Tonks had liked the press coffee the best, but it wasn’t possible to quickly make the kind of quantity she desired with the press.

Instead, Harry used magic to facilitate a version of pour-over brewing, causing a gentle tumbling of the grounds to make sure the water evenly caught the coffee bloom in every cup. Not a massive fan of coffee himself, even Harry found the aroma coming from the pot across from him in the kitchenette enticing.

“Ohhhhhh,” the low, indulgent moan coming from the pile of blankets was more than familiar to Harry after their morning explorations. It was breathy, indulgent, aroused, and arousing.

“A lesser man would be jealous, hearing that sound from his girl in response to a cup of coffee,” he groused, loud enough for Tonks to hear under her blankets.

The blankets flew off to the side, and a long, delicious-looking leg stretched to the floor, followed by another. Following her body with his eyes up from the legs, he enjoyed the very shapely hip. So lovely, very scenic. The almost architecturally graceful convexity of her belly, the proud pink-nippled breasts, swaying gently as Tonks stood. The ribs, with the ticklish transition to her arms, which were rising up over her head, her wild hair a tangle, shaking from side to side as she yawned and stretched. Her fingertips reached for the ceiling, and with a final softly roaring yawn, Tonks raised onto her toes and balanced, trembling, muscles at play under her gorgeous flesh as she teetered for what seemed to Harry to be a long, glorious moment on her toe tips. She settled down onto her feet and turned, wiping one hand across her face and blinking at Harry.

He rose from his seat, tea and coffee forgotten.

“Well, fuck me,” he breathed in disbelief, standing amazed as she stood before him. “Have I told you that you are the most breathtaking woman I have ever seen in my life?”

She smiled but waved a hand dismissively. “You only say that because I’m naked.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Now wait a minute, you told me once it was nude, not naked. I was pretty hungover, but you made quite an impression when you said it.”

She closed with him and put her hands on his shoulders. She leaned forward, putting her lips to his ear.

“When you're feeling naughty, it’s naked,” she whispered, sending shivers to his toes.

Harry fell to his knees, his arms around her legs and under her bum. H nuzzled her around and just below her navel. He kissed rapidly from one hip to another.

“Oi, gerroff!” She swatted at him, giggling and covering herself with one hand while pushing him away. “You are the only man alive who could survive between me and that lovely-smelling coffee right now, but don’t push me, Potter.”

Harry laughed and grudgingly released her to let her get her coffee. She drank the whole cup, standing nude, or rather, naked, the steaming cup held in both hands, while Harry admired her pert bum. She finally turned after pouring a second cup and followed his eyes.

“There’s no stopping you, is there, my wonderful lion?” She took another sip and sighed happily.

“I hope not,” Harry said. “Now, I’m dressed, I’ve had tea, and I’ve made you coffee. I think getting to stand here watching you like you’re a tasty gazelle on the savanna is my proper reward if I’m really your lion.”

 

In more time than it should have taken them, but still less than they might have used, the two were ready to head out for shopping. Their hope was to briefly survey the shops, have a late lunch or early supper, finish their shopping, and still have some time together before they had to part.

Harry had wrapped a somewhat beaten scarf around his neck and was holding out a puffy fleece jacket. Their iconic dragonskin coats were becoming a little too well-known in the village, and the same properties that made them suitable for protection also made them hard to magically disguise. Harry was wearing several school jumpers and an old cloak, while Tonks had opted for a knit cap to cover her hair somewhat and a puffy red fleece coat. Not disguises, really, just not leaving a calling card everywhere they walked.

“Hang on,” Tonks said before accepting her coat. “I forgot earlier, what with one thing and the other. I have something for you.”

“You have a great deal for me, Little Cougar,” he said with only slightly exaggerated lechery. “And I thank you dearly.”

“She’s a puma… Be serious,” she said, handing Harry a small package. “I got this for you after our date, but I wanted to give it to you in person. It’s nothing much.”

“Tonks, we’re about to go Christmas shopping,” Harry chided gently, taking the small, flat parcel. “You can’t just make a head start. It’s not fair.” 

“It’s not a holiday gift.” Tonks looked nervous. “You could open it now if you like. It’s something for you to keep at school. I mean, if you want. I could take it back to Carnaby Street if you’d rather.”

Tearing open the paper before Tonks could entirely talk herself out of the gift, Harry found a framed photo about a Muggle paperback book's size. It was a black and white portrait, very artfully shot, of Tonks. She was sitting on the fence overlooking a hill in Hogsmeade, looking back over her shoulder at the camera with a coy smile. Being a wizard photo, it was moving, with Tonks occasionally tossing her hair or shading her eyes with one hand as she looked back at the viewer.

“That’s amazing!” Harry kissed her cheek, still watching the photo of Tonks kicking her feet gently as she perched on the fence. “Thank you so much. This is definitely staying with me.”

“Well, then I should show you the bonus feature,” she said, gesturing for Harry to watch as she raised her wand. She tapped the frame three times with her wand and whispered, “She’s a puma.”

Harry was shocked as the portrait Tonks leaned around, lifting her collar open and flashing a bit of cleavage. As his eyes widened, he looked carefully at the pale white skin revealed. In addition to the heart and lightning bolt tattoo, Harry's autograph from the quidditch match was also visible, along with an even smaller inscription. When he looked carefully at the combined effect, her tattoo now looked like this:

 tonks tatt

The portrait Tonks winked and turned back, once again a sweet but innocent photo such as any bloke might have of his sweetheart. She kicked her feet and looked back at him once more with her coy smile.

He looked from the photo to Tonks and back.

“But, your tattoo? How did you… I would have seen...?”

She smiled, clearly pleased by the excited but confused look on his face.

“The tattoo is always there unless I really think about making it disappear. The rest, I just have to concentrate, and it comes until I make it go again. I’d like to make it permanent, but the placement is a bit too public and specific. Especially if I have to do a long term disguise again sometime.” She grinned. “You really like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” Harry clutched the photo to his chest. “It’s perfect. Sweet, beautiful, thoughtful, and a bit naughty. It’s… it’s you.”

“Okay, now you have me embarrassed. Give me my coat so we can hit the shops.”

 

The shopping was enjoyable. Hogwarts students, mostly older, had left Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks—usual student haunts—and were poking about among the village's more unusual shops. Unferth and Wulfgar’s Wine Emporium offered bottles, casks, and even small kegs of wines from around the wizarding world. Cailleach’s Woolens offered cloaks, scarves, hats, and even mittens enchanted to repel wind and water. Madam Vertumnus oversaw the Fertile Furrow, generally known for farming and gardening supplies, but over the holidays transformed with vast displays of garlands, wreaths, Christmas trees, and seasonal flowers. The fertile Furrow was not alone among the shops in displaying a sign to the effect of, “Sorry! Absolutely No Pandora’s Poppies! Sold Out!”

“What are Pandora’s Poppies?” Harry asked after the third such sign, but Tonks shrugged as well.

Pankaj Patil, a distant relation of Harry’s classmates, had a small curio and timepiece shop graced by a striking gold idol of the god Kala with the time indicated by a flaming sun and an icy moon proceeding around his fearsome visage. Open just for the holidays were many market carts under a large awning, with everything from jars of mincemeat and spiced plum puddings to smoked hams and hung pheasants, and even a small cart selling children’s toy soldiers, hand-carved from wood and charmed into action, that would not have seemed out of place under the tree of a Victorian wizarding family.

As they wandered hand in hand from shop to shop and cart to cart, Tonks and Harry were overcome with childlike excitement, eager for the holidays, eager to put aside thoughts of dark times and more significant troubles for a few precious days. Tonks showed Harry some baby blankets and caps that were charmed not only against chills and rain but other everyday baby messes as well. They wondered about the colours before deciding that the natural fibres were a better choice than any dye to not start arguments over quidditch teams, family crests, or Hogwarts houses. Harry bought a set for one twin and Tonks for the other to avoid competing claims as to who was loved best by whom.

For Ron, who rarely found a good, challenging game of chess at Hogwarts any more, Harry found an interesting item in Mr Patil’s curio shop. An enchanted version of the ancient Chinese game of Go, which the shop-owner assured Harry had been challenging the minds of players, wizards, and scholars back to the earliest days of magical prehistory. When chess was being invented in India, Mr Patil conceded, wizards in China had been playing Go for over two thousand years. Harry bought the set and a book of what could be considered game strategy or philosophy, depending on your perspective.

Tonks found a fun-but-inexpensive pair of matching pendants charmed to change colour with the opposite partner’s mood. They decided these would make a fun gift for Susan and Ginny and the first joint present from Tonks and Harry together. Tonks worried a bit at this, and Harry had to ask her what was wrong.

“Well, what if something happens between you and me? Then, every time one of us is home around Susan, it could be weird.”

Harry laughed. “Tonks, remember where you, Susan, and I all live. Don’t you think that if something bad, however unlikely, were to happen between you and me, a pendant is not going to be what makes things ‘weird’ with Susan?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They separated briefly, ostensibly to cover more ground, but clearly to give them a chance to browse for presents for each other. Harry quickly doubled back to something he had seen in the wine shop, of all places. He purchased (and had carefully wrapped) an enchanted French press that could freshly grind your own roasted coffee beans, brew three large cups at a time and keep the brewed coffee warm between cups. It still required the wizard to press the coffee by hand rather than magic, which Harry found to be a plus. If he was supposed to make breakfast for Tonks for the rest of their lives, he best make sure some steps included his personal touch. Otherwise, he might as well go to Harrods and buy a coffee machine made by Muggles.

No, a present for Tonks had proved surprisingly easy. It was something else that he spotted that tripped him up. At the stand where they had purchased the mood pendants for Ginny and Susan, Harry was browsing idly, thinking of his Auntie, when he spotted a bracelet. It was white gold, very slender, and studded with a ring of periwinkle stones, some sort of costume jewellery, but the sight of it sent him crashing back into his memories. A beautiful young witch, with a necklace of periwinkle blue, a water drop, hanging, swaying against her skin as they made love…

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks said cheerfully, then she saw that Harry was hunched, his shoulders tight, clinging to a rubbish bin as though he was going to be violently ill.

“What is it? Are you alright?” Tonks had a hand on his shoulder, the other on her raised wand, and she tried to assess Harry’s condition while seeking out possible threats at the same time.

Harry shrugged her hand away and waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m okay, sorry.” He clenched his jaw, and his colour slowly returned to something more regular. “Just a bad turn for a moment.”

“Do we need to go back? Please, take a breath, and talk to me.” Tonks kept her wand ready and continued to sweep the area with her eyes while talking to him.

Harry knew this was a time where he could insist that he was fine and push through the moment. He also knew that chipping away at the trust he and Tonks relied on would be a horrible step, perhaps one he couldn’t take back. Harry took her hand and gently lowered her wand. He took a few deep breaths, puffing little clouds of steam into the cold air.

“I was just browsing. I saw something. It was stupid, just something that brought back some difficult memories from before. I really will be okay, but yeah, it was rough. I was surprised. I’m sorry.”

She held him, pulling him against her body. She was scared, relieved, and anxious all at once.

“It must have been a pretty horrible memory.”

Harry looked around, clearly miserable at what he needed to say. “That was the thing that hit me so hard. It wasn’t a bad memory, erm, it was a very… personal memory. I wasn’t trying to think about it, honest.”

Her face twisted, and Harry braced himself for something truly horrible. He was shocked by what she said.

“I’m sorry, too, Harry.” She took him tighter in her arms and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know you were in love before. I’m not exactly happy to be reminded of my other bloke, and you two were together longer and, um, more. You know.”

He held her and just enjoyed having her in his arms.

“I don’t want to hurt you, ever.” His voice was quiet but firm. “You’re the only person I want to be with, Tonks.”

“I know, Harry.” She kissed his cheek and moved back to retake his hand.

“Do you want to go back?” He still sounded regretful, as if he’d somehow let her down.

Fuck no,” she said with a determined tug on his hand, her choice of works causing some wide eyes from a group of fifth- and sixth-year Hufflepuffs. “We’re going to eat something, then we’re going to finish shopping. And we’re doing it together.”

Harry allowed himself to be pulled to the far end of the large awning, where several booths were selling drinks and snacks. He felt the warm hand in his give a reassuring squeeze.

Sitting at a small cafe table by a warm fire in a stone cauldron, Harry smiled as he watched Tonks drink a large coffee drink with whipped cream and sprinkles and who knows what else. He realised that he was very possibly the luckiest wizard in Britain.

 

They arrived back at Tonks’s room and could barely keep their hands off each other. Tonks had gotten even more aggressive than she had been through the morning and pressed Harry against the locked door before he could even put down their shopping. She stood on her toes as she pressed her lips hard against his. She loved the way his hands had begun exploring her body. It felt right. It felt safe, and if she was honest with herself, it felt amazing. 

Harry’s hands had snuck under her t-shirt, and his hands felt cold on her skin. She hissed at him and took revenge by putting her own hands under his. She loved the feeling of his body. His firm, warm muscles heated her up and drew her attention away from his cold touch on her skin. She found herself rubbing her body against his chest and kissing down the neck. She got annoyed at the cloak and t-shirt, which barred her from kissing his bare chest. She pulled away from him and wildly pulled at his clothes, pushing them to the floor. She practically pushed him into a chair and pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. 

He lifted his arms to help her remove it, and she couldn’t help gulping as she watched the muscles on his chest. Harry’s lean build could make you forget just how fit he was. She straddled him on the chair and felt his manhood pressing against her. She ground her hips back and forth while she explored his mouth with her tongue, seeking the sensation of his touch. She felt Harry pull off her own coat as she kissed him. Her hands started touching every inch of his chest, and she even found herself digging her nails into his skin. She loved the way it made him moan in pleasure. 

I could definitely get addicted to this. 

She felt him pulling on her t-shirt, and soon she was sitting in front of him in her bra. 

I might be able to make them a little bigger without him noticing.

“I want the natural you,” Harry’s hoarse voice reminded her. “The you that I know.”

He could practically read her mind, she thought, when she was like this. He was respectful but not afraid to tell her what he wanted.

It sent a shiver down her spine and made her want him even more. She couldn’t find any release other than pulling his head towards her and demanding his lips. She felt his fingers trailing circles on her hips and waist, and it sent electric shocks down towards her core. 

She felt one of his hands moving up her body, and she waited in anticipation for him to grab her chest. It was driving her crazy the way his touch would leave a sensitive trail across her skin.

Their lips parted, and she looked down. Harry was slowly running his finger across the text over her tattoo.

“If found, please return to Harry Potter,” Harry smirked as he bent down and kissed the skin. “I do like the sound of that.” 

She heard herself whimper as his lips lingered on her skin. She felt his hands roaming around her back and pulling her close before she let out a slight gasp when the tension from her bra released.

She hadn’t even noticed that Harry was opening it, and quickly she wriggled it off her arms and onto the floor. She leaned back to give him better access to her breasts, and by the sounds of his moans, he was enjoying what he saw a lot.

Her moans grew deeper as Harry’s lips moved over her chest and down to her nipple, where he gently applied pressure.

Tonks didn’t know if she was meant to see stars when she closed her eyes, but her body's feelings were sending her into space. She wanted more of him, to feel him even further. Her hands roamed down his body, and she found the waistband of his jeans. Tonks scooted a little further down his legs to give herself access to the button and slowly opened them for her to touch him. She somehow managed to pull down the zip enough for her to brush her fingers against his underpants, giving her the sweet satisfaction of hearing his moans deepening. She pulled on the edge of his boxers, freeing the length of him and taking it into her hand. It felt big, bigger than she—

She stood up in an awkward rush and covered her chest. Her expression of distress upset Harry far more than the end of their pleasantly eager groping had done.

“Everything alright?” Harry’s concerned voice was dull and muted in her ears.

She shook her head. Memories flooded her head. She had been so confident, her first time, so sure that it had been the right thing to do then, just as now. And then when it was over, guilt, regret, her shameful fleeing to work without a second thought...

She felt Harry’s cloak being wrapped around her shoulders. It was warm and smelled of him in a comforting way, but not overwhelming and intimate. It was the perfect thing.

She opened her eyes and saw the concerned look in Harry’s eyes.

“What's going on?” Harry asked softly. “You can tell me, I promise.”

He didn’t approach her further, but he didn’t run away either. He maintained the perfect distance for her. Available, but not insisting.

“I haven’t had as much experience with this as you might think,” Tonks looked, a little ashamed and a little embarrassed. “I was only with Reagan, I mean, intimate, whatever… It was only once, and even then, it was…”

Tonks sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Harry’s cloak around her more for comfort than defensively now. She nodded to a space next to her, and he slowly approached and sat.

“I never had anyone whom I felt comfortable with at Hogwarts. Not exactly helpful to the mood to have a boy asking if I could make my waist slimmer, or my tits bigger or my arse rounder. Animals… Harry, you two are the only ones I have ever trusted with my body before… and … and… I’m just worried we are moving too fast. It took me months to be this comfortable with him, and then when it happened, I ran off not even—Arthur had been attacked remember—not even giving him an apology and—”

She felt Harry’s arms wrapping around her shoulders and nudging her into a hug. 

“That’s okay,” Harry said. “I’m sorry for pushing you.” 

“You aren’t pushing me,” Tonks said fiercely. “It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever really processed how awful my experiences with boys have been, how I have this flirty bitchy shell to keep men off-balance, so no one gets too close.”

“I understand,” Harry kissed her on her forehead. “We can take as much time as you want.”

He wiped away the tears streaming down her face.

“You are not mad?” she asked quietly.

“Why would I ever be mad?” Harry asked with a small smile. “What is most important to me is that we feel safe with each other before anything happens. You are the most important person in my eyes.”

“Oh, Harry,” Tonks flung her arms around his neck and in the process dropped his cloak to the floor. “I finally find the guy I want to get close to me… and he’s perfect for me.”

“Erm --” Harry was enjoying the embrace, but he was still a young man and very aware of her body against his.

“Oh,” Tonks blushed, but she didn’t let go of him and just pressed her bare chest against his. 

They sat there for a minute, just enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies, until Tonks released the hug. She quickly covered herself and looked around for her t-shirt until she spotted it in Harry’s hand.

“I really am sorry,” she muttered as she grabbed it and turned around. 

“Don’t be,” Harry said tenderly. “I'll wait for you, just like you waited for me.” 

As soon as the t-shirt was pulled over her head, she turned around and kissed him once more.

“I really, really, really love you,” she said as she pulled away. “Is it weird that we’ve been nude and even naked, but now I feel so much more comfortable in my t-shirt? I don’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not a destination, Tonks, a place we are trying to get to. It’s a journey together. We can take steps forward when we’re ready, but we can also take steps back if needed. That’s something I hadn’t thought about before either, to be honest. So long as we're together."

Harry’s smile couldn’t have made her feel more reassured that this was the right man for her.

They decided that instead of feeling more tempted or awkward, or likely both, they would go out and eat dinner together at the Three Broomsticks rather than stay in the room. They spotted several other people from Hogwarts sitting around as well, but they didn’t care anymore as the knowledge of Harry dating Tonks had spread throughout the castle. Still, Harry spotted Romilda Vane and her crew sending angry glares towards his girlfriend.

“You weren’t kidding,” Tonks smirked. “They really are fierce fangirls.” 

“Don’t ever become like them,” Harry sighed. “If they try anything, just arrest them.”

Tonks laughed. The thought of arresting Harry’s fangirls because they attacked her was hilarious.

“You were planning to get rid of them that way, were you?” Tonks raised an eyebrow.

“You wound me, Little Cougar,” Harry whispered. “I want to be with you. The fact that you can arrest them for harassment is just a side-benefit.”

Tonks playfully swatted his arm but soon grabbed his hand and sent a victorious smile towards the group of angry girls. She felt rather smug when they decided they didn’t want to stay in the Three Broomsticks anymore and left. “And she’s a puma,” Tonks whispered fiercely.

“You’re a bad girl,” Harry mockingly chided her. “And I thank you.”

“Anytime,” Tonks smiled. “What would you like to eat and drink?”

“Just a butterbeer and whatever Rosmerta is cooking today,” Harry smiled. 

 

Harry found himself feeling lonely when he returned to the castle. He had gotten a perfect, passionate kiss from Tonks as she left him at the gate, but the slow trek through the snow reminded him painfully how alone he felt at the moment. 

One week until Slughorn’s Solstice Party, one week until you see her again.

Harry found Susan and Ginny sitting at the group’s usual table in the library.

“What sort of time do you think this is, Potter?” Susan scolded. 

“What have I done now?” Harry looked confused.

“Only managed to make a group of lovestruck girls cry,” Ginny teased. “Romilda Vane and her lot looked devastated when they returned to the castle a couple of hours ago.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Well, that wasn’t technically me.” 

“What do you mean?” Susan lifted an eyebrow. 

“Well, Tonks and I were grabbing dinner at the Three Broomsticks, and well, Vane and her group spotted us, so Tonks grabbed my hand and, well, smiled at them.” Harry ruffled his hair. 

“That should just about do it,” Susan nodded. “You heartbreaker.”

Harry was secretly thankful that Hermione and Ron were nowhere in sight at the table.

“Where is everyone?” Harry asked. 

“Well, Ron looks like he is trying to see just how far down a throat his tongue can go,” Ginny grimaced. “And Hermione was here until a little while ago. She said she was tired. You do realise just how late it is, right?” 

“No,” Harry shrugged.

“It’s almost ten,” Susan shook her head in exasperation. “We were starting to think that you were going to sleep at Tonks’s place again.”

“I would have said something to you if that had happened,” Harry said.

“Would you really?” 

“I would,” Harry said solemnly. “I have decided Susan at least should be informed of my whereabouts. Just considerate, not to mention safer.”

“Thank you,” Susan said.

“Though I will reserve the right to keep just what I have been doing with her secret,” Harry smiled satisfied.

Ew!” Susan said. “I don’t want to know what you two have been up to. My ice cream sister and my surrogate brother hooking up? Spare me the details.”

Ginny giggled at Susan’s reaction. She didn’t care all that much about Harry and Tonks’s relationship. Ginny just accepted that they were happy together. She hadn’t expected to end up with Susan, so she was more amiable to any sort of relationship. If you overthought it, you would only get a headache.

Harry sat down with them for a few moments before they all had to get back to their own common rooms. 

 

The last week before Christmas break, most teachers started giving up teaching the students at Hogwarts. The only exceptions to this in Harry’s classes were Snape and Professor McGonagall. Snape decided that two feet of essay about curses and how one was to go about making a counter-curse were the most fantastic Christmas present any single one of them could hope for. Professor McGonagall wasn’t any better, and the homework she gave them was just as tedious as Snape’s, though at least hers was clearly important material. 

By the time the semester ended, Professor Flitwick had helped decorate the school, and it was looking like a Christmas card. Professor Slughorn was in a festive mood as the castle slowly emptied. Harry noticed that a lot more students were going back home than he remembered from previous years. 

Voldemort’s terror is spreading. I bet some of them won’t even come back after the holidays. 

The Hogwarts Express would leave for King’s Cross the day before Slughorn’s party. Ron had decided he would take the train, and Lavender was going back as well. This was both a relief and a disappointment for the group. Ron was a good mate, an adequate brother, and increasingly a closer part of the group. He also clearly had no idea how to handle his first-ever relationship and was often steered about by Lavender in both annoying and cloying ways. Hermione, however, looked somewhat more chipper than usual. She had not told anyone whom she had asked to go to Slughorn’s party or even if she had decided to go with someone. 

She had acted suspiciously about it all week and didn’t tell anyone anything. Harry had decided that he would look out for her if she had decided to do something truly stupid, but he’d try to respect her decisions. 

 

 Harry stood down by the gate in his jade green dress robes, reminiscent of the robes he had worn during the Yule Ball in his fourth year. The colour was more vibrant than the darker colour he wore back then, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves as he waited for Tonks to arrive at the front gate. She had been able to get the night off, which had made Harry happier than he thought was possible. 

He spotted a figure walking through the darkness towards him. He stood still and watched as the woman who made him so happy walked up to him.

“You look amazing,” Harry admired Tonk’s outfit. 

She was still wearing her Dragon Skin Coat over top of her dress, but whether it was due to warming charms or otherwise, she had decided to keep it open, giving him a good look at the dress she had chosen to wear. It was a midnight purple strapless gown, which ran down her body. It revealed just enough cleavage for Harry to spot her tattoo, but she had wisely forgone the secret text and autograph. Her hair was gathered in a bun updo, and tonight, it had taken on an obsidian colour which matched the set of jewellery Harry had given her a year and a half ago, which were the same colour. 

“You remember these?” Tonks asked with a smile.

“Of course, I do,” Harry said. 

“Never had a chance to wear them before tonight. I’m glad I waited,” Tonks said as she grabbed Harry’s extended arm.

“I really don’t feel I measure up to you,” Harry said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. 

“You look very fetching,” Tonks said. 

“Thank you, Little Cougar. Shall we?”

“Yes,” Tonks nodded before she whispered, “Puma.”

“What was that?”

“You know what, never mind. It doesn’t even matter,” Tonks smiled. 

Harry looked at her a little curiously but decided to trust her that he didn’t need to know. He led her along the path he had cleared in the snow on his way down from the castle. 

“You did this for me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Harry said. “I didn’t want your dress to get dirty.”

Tonks felt her heart melt at the care and thoughtfulness of her boyfriend.

“You know, I am tremendously lucky to have you.” 

I am lucky to have you,” Harry said. 

Slughorn looked like he was waiting for them as they arrived. 

“Fashionably late as always, m’boy, Miss Tonks,” Slughorn beamed. “Welcome to my Solstice Party.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Professor,” Tonks said. “I am happy to be here.”

“Fantastic choice on your dress,” Slughorn said. “I haven’t seen a witch in such a style before, I believe.”

“It’s Muggle,” Tonks said. “I have found that their sense of fashion is a little more daring than whatever we have come up with for the last century.”

“Indeed,” Slughorn said. “It does not matter the origin, but the functionality and design.”

Harry fought to not groan at the man’s words. He could make even a simple compliment sound obsequious.

“I hope we are not too late,” Harry smiled. 

“Not at all, Harry,” Slughorn said. “We are still waiting for some of my old friends.” 

Harry nodded and moved into the hall. He quickly spotted Susan and Ginny standing in a corner. He raised his hand in greeting and led Tonks towards them.

“You look absolutely stunning, Tonks,” Susan smiled. “Suits you to be on Harry’s arm.”

Harry felt himself blush.

“I think it suits both Harry and me just beautifully,” Tonks said back.

“True,” Susan laughed. “Still, you look even happier than last time I saw you. What were you two up to on the fourteenth?” 

“Nothing,” Tonks said a little too quickly.

“We went around and bought a couple of presents, we ate breakfast at Tonks’s place and then lunch and dinner in Hogsmeade,” Harry said. 

“If you say so,” Susan teased.

Susan was wearing a rose-red dress, which brought out the highlights in her brown hair. Ginny had rather boldly opted for a tailored merlot suit, almost masculine in its cut, but with a cream lace camisole top that was very feminine and almost flirty. Taken together, the two witches looked terrific, one of the most striking couples in attendance. 

They were soon joined by Neville and Luna. Neville had chosen a more classic black dress robe with a pattern of gold and silver flowers in his waistcoat. Luna’s dress was the same yellow colour but was woven in with threads of silver that shimmered every time they caught the light. She had donned a pair of sparkling crystals hanging from her ears, echoing the effect of her dress. As far as Luna went, it seemed amazingly conventional until you noticed the garland of flowers woven into her hair that matched Neville’s waistcoat and that she was barefoot with brilliant silver rings upon several toes. 

The last to join them was Hermione, who was standing next to Cormac McLaggen. She was wearing a midnight blue evening gown and looked like she would rather be anywhere else. Harry spotted the periwinkle earrings he had given to her. He idly reached for his own wrist, where the last piece of the three-part set was hanging. He caught himself and just tugged at his sleeve as if adjusting his robes.

“Interesting earrings,” Ginny observed carefully. 

“Oh, these? I found them in my trunk, and I thought they would go well with my dress,” Hermione said. “They’re quite lovely.”

“Cleans up pretty well, doesn’t she?” McLaggen asked, giving Hermione an appreciative and somewhat possessive lookover.

“Thank you,” Hermione said a little stiffly. “So, how is everyone doing?”

“Fine,” Harry said with his best poker face. He felt Tonks’s hand tighten on his arm. He gently patted her hand with his left hand. “Neville, what’s that flower?”

“Oh, this,” Neville said modestly. “Actually, it’s a crossbreed I made for Luna. I know you guys don’t read The Quibbler, but I did write an article in there about its properties and how I made it. I suspect this is why Slughorn invited me.”

“You did what?” Ginny asked. “That’s amazing, Neville.”

“Our very own Gryffindor Herbology genius,” Harry smiled. “Great job Neville.”

“Thank you,” Neville blushed.

“But see when the moonlight hits them,” said Luna, raising a small stone just over her head, from which enchanted moonlight briefly shone. The flowers in her hair pulsed with a faint magical trace, releasing an earthy perfume and shimmering like her dress for just a moment.

Papaver Pandora,” Luna said, closing her eyes to better catch the last trace of the scent hanging in the air. “The most thoughtful gift ever.”

Hermione was gobsmacked, trying to take in the complex relationship between the flowers, the moonlight, the scent that lingered for a moment in the air like a warm memory. She shook her head.

Pandora’s poppy,” she said, translating in her head. “That’s incredible work, Neville.”

“Ooh. Neville made a flower,” McLaggen said dismissively. 

As usual, McLaggen could not read a room. If it had been allowed, Ginny, Susan, Hermione, or Tonks would have dragged him further into the dungeons, locked him up, and left him there over the Christmas break. Or perhaps longer.

McLaggen had spotted an opening in the buffet line. “Anyone hungry? Granger?” 

“You just go ahead,” Hermione said, watching as McLaggen moved towards the buffet at the other end of the room without waiting for a response. “Charming.”

“I’m so sorry, Neville,” Hermione apologised as soon as McLaggen was out of earshot.

“You made a mistake,” Luna said serenely.

“I know,” Hermione said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I regret it already, and I have barely been here for ten minutes.”

“Do you need help getting rid of him?” Ginny smiled ferociously. 

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I always keep some of Fred and George’s products in my bag. Never know when you might need to get out of class,” Ginny said. 

“Ginny!” Susan chided. 

“What?” Ginny said. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t want to skip a class once in a while last year?”

“Well, no,” Susan hesitated. 

“I imagine Professor Slughorn knows an awful lot about poisons,” Luna observed in that distracted, offhanded way she had that made you sometimes wonder if she was really listening.

“We could also just stun him?” Tonks suggested. “Put him to sleep?”

“Aren’t you debating rather drastic measures?” Harry asked. 

Neville nodded beside Harry. 

“You have no idea, do you?” Tonks was looking at both young men, sadly. The other witches seemed to understand just fine.

“What?” Harry asked.

Ginny and Susan looked at Tonks, who sighed.

“Harry, remember how I told you about the way the boys would treat me at Hogwarts?” Tonks said.

“Yeah?” Harry looked confused. What did that have to do with it?

“McLaggen? Was that his name? He is just the same as those boys,” Tonks grimaced.

Harry felt a different kind of anger filling him.

“Okay, how do we get rid of him?” Harry asked. “Without getting caught.”

Tonks nodded approvingly. Neville had paled and reached out to Luna, who was watching with an observer's dispassionate curiosity.

Hermione looked like she wanted any way out of this whole conversation, and Harry picked up on her discomfort.

“You don’t want us to do anything,” Harry said. 

“I appreciate it, but I can handle McLaggen,” Hermione said with conviction.

The girls voiced their support but reminded her that they would step in if she ever needed it.

The group joined McLaggen at the buffet. He was already bragging to some boys about how good his date was looking, which grated on Harry’s nerves. If it wasn’t for the fact that Hermione had explicitly asked them to let her handle him, Harry would have done something already.

Thankfully everything was interrupted when Slughorn decided to introduce his guests from outside of the school. 

It turned out to be the Weird Sisters, the famous band, which made both Ginny and Tonks squeal since they were huge fangirls of the group. Harry smiled at the way Tonks looked like Christmas had come early. 

Slughorn said that the evening would end with a small set played by a group of eight musicians. 

“It’s the Weird Sisters,” Tonks whispered excitedly in Harry’s ear.

“I can see that,” Harry laughed. “Do you think I'm famous enough to go talk to them?”

“Could you?” Tonks asked. “I mean, I know you don’t like to use your fame, but it's the Weird Sisters.”

“If I can use a bit of notoriety to get you a meet with your favourite band, then I will be more than happy to live through that,” Harry said. 

“You’re the best,” Tonks kissed him squarely on the mouth.

She wiped away the lipstick with her thumb.

“I’m glad you are happy, Little Cougar,” Harry whispered. “Shall we?” 

Puma. Should we ask Ginny as well? She is a fan too, she’s told me,” Tonks asked.

“I could go first and ask if they're cool with saying hello,” Harry offered. 

“Please, I don’t want to intrude on them,” Tonks fidgeted a little. 

“You are so cute right now,” Harry teased.

“Just go already,” Tonks pushed him from behind.

“Right, right.”

Harry walked over to Professor Slughorn, standing next to the band's lead singer, Myron Wagtail. 

“Professor,” Harry called out.

“Harry, dear boy, come here,” Slughorn looked enthusiastic. “Let me introduce you.”

Harry walked over. 

“Myron, this here is Harry Potter,” Slughorn said.

“Harry Potter? Really? You should meet Orsino, he's a big fan of yours. Found it wicked the way you stood up to the Ministry,” Myron said. “Yo, Orsino, come here. I have someone you want to meet.”

“Right,” said the drummer, strolling towards them. “Who is it?”

“Just come here already and stop eating the Dragon Tartar. Your breath will stink,” Myron laughed.

“Orsino, meet Harry Potter,” Myron smirked. 

“You aren’t pulling my leg?” Orsino said. “Blimey. Orsino Thruston.”

He extended his hand, and Harry grabbed it. “Nice to meet you. I heard you were in favour of my conduct towards the Ministry.”

“Yeah, man,” Orsino said. “After the whole Sirius Black case came out, it just stunk, you know.” 

“I know,” Harry said. “Sirius Black was my godfather. I’m actually godfather to his daughters.”

“For real?” Orsino asked. “Never heard he got married.”

“Married his Hogwarts sweetheart, Amelia Bones,” Harry said. “Her niece is here tonight. She’s the godmother.” 

“Wow,” Orsino said. “I must admit that I wasn’t too interested in coming, but Heathcote and Herman know Horace here, so we decided to accept the invitation. Glad I did now.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Harry smiled. “Thing is, my girlfriend is a huge fan. She’s the one over there having a hard time controlling the colour of her hair. She gets a little excited. I know how it is to be mobbed, so I guess I am something like the advance guard.”

“It's cool,” Myron said. “Sometimes it gets a bit much, but it was classy of her to send you first.” 

“I do anything I can do to make her happy. So, do me a favour and make her year? You cool with me bringing my friends over to say hello?” Harry asked. “They were all at the Ministry with me, too, you know.” 

“Wicked!” Orsino said. “Is the story true? You guys fought Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Hold on, let me introduce them before they explode, and we can talk about it as much as you like.”

Harry waved Tonks closer, and soon Harry’s group of friends joined him, Orsino and Myron. Slughorn had gone to chat with Heathcote Barbary and Herman Wintringham. 

Tonks fidgeted a little, and Ginny was halfway hiding behind Susan.

Harry began introducing them, starting with Tonks.

“Tonks here is my girlfriend. You do know that your hair is changing all sorts of colours?”

“Bit of a tatt you have there? Cheeky, love it.” Orsino flashed his own forearm, showing several wizard tattoos that moved and changed faster than the brief glimpse could really display. His words made Tonks look as if she was going to swoon.

“Next is Susan Bones, the one I told you about. Behind her is another great fan of yours, Ginny Weasley, her girlfriend.”

Orsino was nodding, reaching out to shake hands with each person as Harry introduced them. He gave Ginny and Susan a big smile. “Girlfriend? Progressive! Fantastic suit.” 

Ginny let out a sort of squeak.

“Neville Longbottom, an old friend of mine, also here because he’s created a new magical flower. Luna Lovegood, his girlfriend, daughter of the editor of the Quibbler and another veteran of the battle at the ministry, of course. Lastly, we have Hermione Granger, who might just be the brightest witch of our generation, a great friend.” Harry said. 

“Gideon would love to meet you,” Myron said to Hermione. “He always complains that all of us are thick, don’t understand anything. Oi, Gideon!”

Gideon walked over, and soon he and Hermione were talking deeply about some esoteric concept regarding magic which even Harry had a hard time following. Merton Graves and Monaghan Tremlett soon joined the group. Jonathan turned out to be a bit of a conspiracy theorist and quickly hit it off with Luna, discussing the Rotfang Plot. 

Merton, Orsino, and Myron were more interested in hearing the story about what happened in the Department of Mysteries, which Ginny and Tonks were more than happy to tell from their perspective. Harry and Neville would sometimes jump in with a detail or two. Everyone seemed to be really enjoying themselves.

Harry was pulled from the conversation when Slughorn came back around.

“Harry, there are a lot of other guests I would love to introduce you to,” Slughorn said. 

Slughorn was wearing a tasselled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. He resembled nothing so much as a highly distinguished velvet sofa, reminding Harry of their first meeting. Slughorn led him purposefully into the party, gripping Harry’s arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him.

“Harry, you must meet Eldred Worple! Eldred is an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires. And, of course, this is his notable friend, Sanguini.”

Worple, a small, barrel-shaped man who came up only to Harry's chin, grabbed Harry’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. Sanguini, who was tall and well-dressed but emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. The vampire appeared utterly bored. A gaggle of girls stood nearby, hiding excitement behind nervous laughter and fluttering lashes. 

“Mr Potter, I am simply delighted!” said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry’s face through thick spectacles. “Only the other day, I asked Horace, ‘Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?’ Did I not, Professor?“ 

“Oh,” said Harry, “were you?”

“It's true then! You're as modest as Horace described!” said Worple. “But honestly”— his manner changed and became cooly businesslike — “I would write it myself — people are yearning to know more about you, son, simply yearning! If you are prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, we could have the book turned out within a few months. Minimal effort on your part, I assure you. You can ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite — Sanguini, stay here!” barked Worple, suddenly stern. The vampire had been sidling toward the nearby girls, a lean and hungry look in his eyes. 

“Here, have a pasty,” said Worple, seizing a meat pastry from a passing elf's tray and stuffing it into Sanguini’s hands. He returned his attention to Harry. 

“My dear boy, the galleons you could make, you have no idea —” 

“Enjoying your fame, Potter?” Snape’s drawling voice sounded out behind him.

“Severus, there is no need to be like that. It’s Christmas— cheer up,” Slughorn said. “I have to tell you, Harry has been performing fantastically in my Potions Class.”

“Really?” Snape raised an eyebrow. “I always felt he had rather mixed results in my lessons.”

“Things happened during the summer which focused my efforts,” Harry smiled coolly. “And I had the fortune of getting mentored by an active Auror and the former head of the DMLE. If I was still hopeless after three months of intensive studying with those two, then you would be right to call me a dunderhead, sir.” 

Harry was sure that he spotted an imperceptible smile, but Snape doesn’t smile. Does he?

“That would explain your duelling prowess. Flaunting the rules,” Snape sneered, “as usual.”

“Guilty as charged,” Harry shrugged. “It seemed more important to prepare for Voldemort than adhering to a flawed system.”

“Uncharacteristically wise of you, Potter,” Snape nodded. 

Their conversation was only interrupted when the door to the hall crashed open and Filch walked in, pulling Malfoy by his arm. 

“Professor, sir,” wheezed Filch, the maniacal light of mischief-detection shining in his watery eyes, “I found this boy lurking about in the corridors. He's claiming to have been invited to your party. Says he's late in arriving. Did you issue him with an invitation?” 

Draco Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch’s grip, looking furious. “All right, I wasn’t invited!” he snarled. “I was trying to gate crash. Are you satisfied?” 

“No, I’m not!” said Filch, at complete odds with his gleeful countenance. “You’re in trouble, now, boy! The headmaster said nighttime prowlings are out unless you’ve got permission, didn’t he, eh?” 

“All right, Argus, it's all right,” said Slughorn, waving a hand dismissively, clearly not wishing to ruin his party. “It’s the solstice, and no crime to want to come to a party as well-attended and fabulous as this. Just this once, we’ll forgive any transgressing. You may stay, Draco.”

Filch’s expression of disappointment and outrage was entirely predictable. But why, Harry wondered, did Malfoy look almost equally upset? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though not just angry but—was it possible—a little fearful? 

While Harry was processing all of this, Filch turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath. Malfoy composed his face into his sly, ingratiating grin and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity. Snape’s face was smoothly inscrutable once more. 

“It’s nothing, nothing,” said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy’s thanks. “I did know your grandfather, after all…” 

“Thank you, Professor. Grandfather always spoke highly of you, sir,” said Malfoy quickly. “Said you were the best potion master he’d ever known.” 

Harry stared at Malfoy, amazed. It was not the flattery that surprised Harry; he had seen Malfoy do that with Snape for years. It was the fact that Malfoy looked ill. Harry had not seen Malfoy close up for some time, and the Slytherin had dark shadows under his eyes, briefly putting Harry in mind of the pallor of Sanguini. 

“I’d like a word with you, Draco,” barked Snape. 

“Now, Severus,” said Slughorn, hiccuping softly, “it is Christmas, don’t be too hard —” 

“I am the head of Malfoy's house, and I shall decide how to deal with him,” said Snape curtly. “Come, Draco.” 

Snape lead the way, Malfoy following resentfully. Harry debated what he was supposed to do. He looked towards his group of friends still talking to the Weird Sisters. They wouldn’t miss him for the next few minutes.

Once in the corridor, it was easy for Harry to pull his throw on the invisibility cloak from his pocket, as the passage was totally deserted. The more complicated part was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry ran down the hall, the noise of his feet hopefully masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn’s party behind him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons…or maybe he was escorting him back to the Slytherin common room…Harry pressed his ear against door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the gallery. He heard their voices. 

“…cannot afford mistakes, Draco! If you were to be expelled —” 

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, all right?” 

“You best not lie. It was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected.” 

“By who?” said Malfoy angrily. “For the last time, it wasn't me. The Bell girl must have an enemy no one knows about — don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work — now I can stop you, so get out of my head!” 

There was a pause, and then Snape said quietly, “I see. Bellatrix has been teaching you. What are you trying to conceal from your master? Occlumency will not save you, Draco.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything from him. It's you who I want to butt out!” 

Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole.

“So this is why you have been avoiding me? You fear interference? Had anyone else repeatedly failed to report to my office, Draco—”

“So? Put me in detention. Why not just report me to the old fool Dumbledore!” jeered Malfoy. 

There was a slap, followed by a gasp of breath. There was another pause. Then Snape said, “Never underestimate the Headmaster, you fool. You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things. I am trying to protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, I swore to your mother.” 

“Looks like you’ll have to break it because I don’t need you. Not your protection, not your meddling. This is my job. He gave it to me, not you, and I’m doing it. I’ve got a plan that's going to work. It’s just taking a bit longer than I thought.” 

“What is your plan?” 

“It’s none of your business!” 

“If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you…” 

“I have all the assistance I need, thanks. I’m not alone!” 

“You were certainly alone tonight, foolishly wandering the corridors without lookout or backup. These are rudimentary mistakes —”

“I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle if they weren't in your bloody detention!” 

“Keep your voice down!” spat Snape as Malfoy’s voice rose excitedly. “If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s this time around, they will need to work much harder than they are doing at pres—” 

“What does any of it matter?” said Malfoy. “Defence Against the Dark Arts — a joke? An act? Like any of us need protection from the Dark Arts —” 

“It is an act, an act that is crucial to success, boy!” said Snape. “Where do you think I would have been all these years if I had not known how to act? Now listen! You were foolhardy, blundering around at night, getting discovered, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle —”

“It's not just them. I’ve got other people on my side, better people!” 

“Then why not confide in me, and I can —” 

“I know what you’re up to! You want to steal my glory!” 

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, “You want to be treated as a man, then you speak like a child.”

Harry had barely a second’s warning; he heard Malfoy’s footsteps and flung himself out of the way just as the door burst open. Malfoy was striding away down the corridor, past the open door of Slughorn's office, around the distant corner, and out of sight. 

Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched down as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, he returned to the party. Harry remained on the floor, hidden beneath the cloak, his mind racing. 

 

Harry waited a little longer before returning to the party, his head filled with so many questions this conversation between Malfoy and Snape had raised. It still didn’t take away from the fact that the most critical part of this evening was trying to get Slughorn in a good enough mood to get him to willingly give the memory.

Harry found Tonks standing in a corner with a goblet in her hand.

“Where have you been?” Tonks asked. She sounded disappointed but not accusing. It was nice to be trusted, Harry thought briefly.

Harry quickly gave her the short version of what he had just overheard.

“That is concerning,” Tonks said. “Still, Snape is supposed to be on our side. Maybe Dumbledore sent Snape after him like my cousin said?”

“Maybe, but if it is related to what happened to Katie, then Dumbledore has gone too far. What if she’d been killed?” Harry considered. “Still, I still need to get a memory from Slughorn. That is most important tonight.”

“Right,” Tonks nodded. “Good to see you're not distracted.” 

“Like you, when the Weird Sisters appeared?” Harry teased.

“Oi, shut it,” Tonks said. “They are really cool guys.” 

“I know. I’m happy you got to talk with them,” Harry smiled. 

“You are the best, you know that,” Tonks leaned her head on his shoulder. 

Harry looked around the room to find Slughorn. He really wanted to have a private conversation with the Professor before the night was over. He spotted him talking to Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick in one corner of the room. 

“I’m going to go for it now,” Harry said. “Wish me luck.”

“I’ll go find Susan and Ginny,” Tonks smiled. “You can find me there later.”

“I will,” Harry said. “Probably check wherever Orsino has got to.”

Harry walked over to the three professors, accepting a drink from a nearby house-elf before he reached them.

“Professor Slughorn, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick,” Harry greeted all of them.

“Harry, m’boy, I was just telling Minerva and Filius how well you were doing in my classes,” Slughorn said.

“As he is in mine,” Professor McGonagall smiled. 

“And mine,” Flitwick said. 

“I have had good teachers,” Harry said humbly. 

“What a charmer,” Slughorn beamed.

“Professor, there is something I would like to discuss with you in private,” Harry said seriously. “If it’s not taking you away from your colleagues?”

“Alright, dear boy,” Slughorn agreed. “Students must come first, of course, eh, Filius?”

Perfect, he might not be drunk, but he is at least tipsy, Harry thought.

They found a more secluded corner to stand in.

“I don’t know how to make this sound better, Professor, so I am just going to say it,” Harry began. “Professor Dumbledore has shared your memory with me, and I really need—”

He was interrupted by the sound of a crack like a large group apparating at once into a small space, which of course was impossible here, followed by shouting. He heard McLaggen, and what sounded like half of his friends with their voices raised.

 

While Harry had been trying to corner Slughorn, Tonks had been looking to find her friends and had arrived to see Cormac McLaggen, one arm too tightly around Hermione’s shoulders, the other waving what appeared to be a flask of some kind in wide arcs as he pontificated to the assembled group about something or another. Hermione was clearly finished with his antics, while Neville and Luna seemed to be more interested in their own hushed side conversation. Susan and Ginny were clearly just waiting for the word to put whatever the latest version of their plan was into action.

“Everyone okay?” Tonks said, looking at Hermione.

Hermione managed to shrug her way out of McLaggen’s grasp and said bitterly, “Cormac, you should go. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

He glared at her, went to take a drink from his flask, and finding it empty, he threw it away, nearly hitting some across the room who barked an angry warning. He focused on Hermione, eyes narrow, before turning on Tonks.

“Glad to see you've come back, metamorphagous… metamagus…” He shook his head. “Made a mistake tonight, didn’t I, going for the pretty one? Potter had the right idea, trading up to you. He can always just have you put on her face, can’t he? But with a decent arse that he can hang on to while he’s—”

CRACK!

Everyone stood frozen for a moment in shock. Luna Lovegood, all five foot of her in her bare feet, had slapped McLaggen so hard across the face he had spun on his feet. She was looking up at him, her face eerie calm but her eyes deadly cold and her hair starting to crackle and float up like an angry veela's.

“You will not speak like that!” She said, loudly and firmly as if scolding a dog or an unruly child. “People do not exist for you to treat them this way!”

Tonks and Hermione each had their wands out. Ginny and Susan each had one of Luna’s arms and seemed to be holding her back with difficulty that would be comical under other circumstances. Neville was carefully setting down Luna’s plate and cup on a nearby table.

McLaggen rubbed his face, already sporting a crimson handprint that fairly glowed.

“Flower Boy! Looks like you best control your bitch before—”

Thump!

This time, it was a much more muffled sound, as Neville’s fist connected with the point of McLaggen’s square jaw, neatly folding the boy over to collapse into a heap at the girls’ feet. Hermione stepped forward to catch Neville as he stumbled on his follow-through and grimaced as she saw that he had clearly broken something in his hand on her former date’s face. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care that in stepping over to Neville, she had planted one foot neatly into McLaggen’s gut, making a wheezing sound come out from his slack mouth. Neville was shaking his hand, wincing through a satisfied smile.

Several people crowded forward, including a few teachers, but they were intercepted by a pair of members from the Weird Sisters, who thoughtfully steered them away from the scene of the disturbance. Tonks was still trying to process everything happening when Susan took charge.

She caught Harry’s eye across the room and gave a quick shake of her head that he should stay back. Hermione, Susan set to escorting Neville and Ginny to find help for his hand. Quickly looking to Tonks, she got the older witch’s help in lying McLaggen out flat.

Petrificus totalus!

Levicorpus!

Handing Tonks her wand and her clutch purse, Susan neatly whipped the cloth off of a nearby table, leaving a punchbowl and numerous cups and plates in place in the process. She flipped the fabric over McLaggen, and after retrieving her wand, she made a few quick transformations. There now appeared to be an extra table—albeit one with no legs touching the floor, if one were to check carefully—amid all the others. Tonks completed the effect by gathering several empty cups and discarded plates from nearby tables and stacking them on McLaggen.

She turned to Susan, who was dusting off her hands and checking around to see if anyone seemed inclined to criticise her work. McLaggen appeared to have few fans in the assembled crowd. Everyone nearby simply turned their backs and resumed their conversations. 

Tonks moved forward and grabbed Susan in an embrace. She clung to her tightly for just a minute, then Susan patted her shoulder reassuringly, and they parted.

“Ever have that dream, where you're somewhere in a crowd, like a huge party, and everyone is looking at you while someone taunts you with your greatest fear?” Tonks was still shaking a bit.

“No,” Susan said with a straight face. “I am completely at ease and never worry about anything.”

She and Tonks began to laugh, and arm in arm, they went looking for the others. A passing house-elf saw one table a bit apart from the others, loaded with dirty dishes behind them. Shrugging, she added another armload of her own to the piles before heading off to fetch more drinks for the Professor’s guests.

 

Harry didn’t get a chance to get hold of Slughorn again. He was definitely avoiding being alone with Harry or just being close to him at all. Soon the Weird Sisters started playing, and Harry had to accept that he had missed his chance to get the memory from Slughorn. It was just bad luck that McLaggen had inadvertently ruined Harry’s plans.

Harry decided that it would be better to just enjoy the rest of the evening with his friends, who looked closer than ever after the incident and just enjoy the concert when Myron called out to the party that they would begin their set with their hit track, “Do the Hippogriff.”

Harry spotted the crazy dancing of Tonks. Her dress was fluttering everywhere as she moved to the music. He moved next to her and started dancing as well. It didn’t matter how he looked. He just wanted to have fun with her.

“I thought you couldn’t dance!” He heard Tonks shout.

“I just said it wasn’t my best feature,” Harry shouted back. 

They went wild together as the Weird Sisters played one number after another. 

By the time they played “Magic Works”, Harry was slow-dancing with Tonks in the middle of the dancefloor.

“Full of surprises,” Tonks rested her head on his shoulder. “Did you get the memory?”

“No,” Harry sighed. “McLaggen managed to screw that up. It was just bad luck. I’m pretty sure Slughorn is avoiding me now.”

“You still have time to ask him after New Years,” Tonks comforted him. 

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “Let’s not think about that right now. I just want to enjoy this moment being with you.”

“I want you to enjoy being with me, too,” Tonks joked as she placed a kiss on his neck.

“I know you’re good company, but even for you, that is a little narcissistic,” Harry teased. 

That comment only managed to earn him a slap on the bum from Tonks. They slowly moved to the music in the dimly lit room. 

“You okay?” Harry asked. “About what happened?”

He felt Tonks’s body tense up. 

“I would be lying if I said I was alright,” Tonks said.

“I should have been there,” Harry muttered angrily to himself. 

“No,” Tonks said. “I know you’re not an Auror, but you need to learn to trust your partner, me, to be able to handle myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Harry complained.

“I know it’s not, my lion,” Tonks put a finger over his lips. “Hear me out. I can handle myself. Was it pleasant? No. Did it bring up bad memories? Yes. Did I need you to protect me? No. Trust me, okay?”

“I trust you,” Harry hugged her a little tighter when she let him speak. “Still, I wanted to be there by your side.”

“And just the fact that you wanted to makes me feel safe,” Tonks smiled and rested her head under his chin. “It’s because I know you will quite literally fight Death Eaters on just the rumour that I am in danger that I love you. You don’t have to prove anything to me here and especially not because of some little prick who has barely left the womb.”

“Oi, he is older than me,” Harry chuckled. 

“What does that make me then?” Tonks blinked her eyes at him in mock confusion. 

“The most beautiful woman here tonight, I think,” Harry kissed her forehead as if to wipe away her bad memories. 

“Tsk. Glib tongue,” Tonks pouted before she smiled, looking satisfied and rested her head once more under his chin.

By the time the song was over, Myron had thanked everyone for a fantastic evening. Harry applauded with Tonks and the others. 

“I am so bringing you with me,” Tonks said as she slowly left his embrace.

“One second,” Harry said. “I have to tell Susan, or we are both going to get scolded by Amelia.”

“Right,” Tonks said. 

Harry quickly found Susan and Ginny snogging in a corner.

“Ahem,” Harry coughed. 

They broke their kiss.

“What?” Susan sounded a little angry.

“I was just going to say that I am going with Tonks,” Harry scratched his head. “Communication and all that, we will be back to Carnaby Street tomorrow sometime.”

“Okay,” Susan said. “I’ll tell Auntie, she was going to pick up both of us at the Burrow.” 

“I know, but…”

“Go on,” Susan waved her hand. “Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem,” Harry said before he turned around and walked back to Tonks.

“Still, this is not going to save him from Auntie’s wrath,” Susan smirked. 

“Hey, we were in the middle of something,” Ginny pointed out. 

“Come on, good girl, let’s spend the night in the Room,” Susan whispered in Ginny’s ear.

 

Harry found himself kissing Tonks as soon as they walked through the door to her room. Their coats were thrown randomly aside. Tonks was a bad influence but in the best possible way.

“I want you right now,” Tonks gasped as she got up for air.

“You aren't pushing yourself?” Harry asked. 

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Tonks pulled his head down towards her. Harry reached around and unzipped her dress which fell to the floor. Tonks wasn’t wearing a bra under it. She pulled on his dress robes, and soon they joined her dress. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned Harry's shirt and ripped it from his torso. Harry grabbed Tonks under her thighs and lifted her up against the door. 

He trailed a path down her neck to her chest with his lips and tongue. Her sweet moans filled the room as Harry’s tongue teased her nipples. 

“Fuck, you are good,” Tonks moaned, her fingers pulling on Harry’s hair. She lowered her head and began kissing the crown of his head. She growled, “I want your lips.”

Harry lowered her slightly, lifted his head, and their lips met once more in fiery passion. He felt her resting on top of his hardening length. Her legs wrapped around him. 

“I want you inside of me right now,” Tonks whispered in his ear. 

“You absolutely sure?” Harry asked once more.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Tonks exclaimed. “In the bed, come on. And don’t worry, I am on The Potion now.”

Harry carried her towards the bed and lowered her onto it. He kissed a trail down her stomach … 

Notes:

While Waske plotted much of this chapter, he gave me a free hand with the McLaggen scene, with us agreeing on three stipulations:

McLaggen had to be a total dick, yet not really evil.
Harry needed to have someone else handle it.
I was free to use any character(s) I needed to make it happen.

I hope the teamwork of Luna, Neville, and Susan on cleanup made you smile.

xxxooo Killjoy

Chapter 34: Christmas Chaos

Summary:

Susan and Ginny share a tender moment after a night of passion.

The Boneses, Grangers, and Weasleys share a moment of peace.

Amelia gives Ginny some advice, and Ginny makes a difficult choice.

Ginny and Molly have a heart to heart, and each is surprised.

Harry and Tonks have a bit of a lie-in [explicit] and take the Knights Bus home, where Amelia has some pointed words for them.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 34. Christmas Chaos

 

Susan and Ginny woke up in a tangle. The Room of Requirement had provided them with a festive bedroom, where they had spent the night. 

“Morning, gorgeous,” Susan muttered as she slowly rose from underneath Ginny. 

“Five more minutes,” Ginny groaned as her body pillow moved under her.

Susan smiled indulgently at her girlfriend and laid back down. She began playing with the messy red hair sprawled over her chest. She couldn’t help herself from pinching a tuft of hair and tickling Ginny under the nose.

Ginny sneezed and pouted.

“Bless you,” Susan teased. 

“Why did you do that?” Ginny asked. 

“We do have to get up,” Susan caressed the redhead’s hair. “It’s already getting late. You packed yet?” 

“Yeah,” Ginny said. “I was done yesterday.”

“Good,” Susan smiled. “So, is there any chance I am going to see you during the break?” 

“Mum will probably want to invite Harry over for Boxing day, and I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to come as well. I wish you could stay with me all Christmas, though.” 

“Me too,” Susan sighed. “Not to pressure you, but do you know when you're going to tell your parents?”

Ginny tensed up, she had tried not to think about it, but she was getting tired of hiding their relationship from her parents, well, mostly her mother.

“Maybe I should tell them,” Ginny said nervously.

“Do you want me to be there with you?” Susan asked. 

“Can I talk to your aunt first? If everything goes badly, then I would like to hide at your place,” Ginny asked.

“Of course,” Susan smiled. “Anything to help you.” 

Ginny looked more relaxed, but there was still a tense edge in her body language as they got up and got dressed.

 

They soon found themselves together with Hermione, Neville, and Luna in Professor McGonagall’s office.

“So the three of you are going to the Burrow,” Professor McGonagall said to them,

“Yes,” Susan said. “My aunt should be waiting for me there.”

“Dad and I live close by, so it is easier for me to go from there,” Luna smiled.

“Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom, you are going to the Leaky Cauldron, correct?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes, Professor,” Neville said. 

Hermione nodded.

“And where is Mr Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“He is finding his way home with Tonks,” Susan said. 

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “Well, Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom, I will wait with you at the Leaky Cauldron for your parents.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said. 

“Well, then the floo network is open,” Professor McGonagall gestured for them. 

She had helped all of them by shrinking their trunks. 

Soon Ginny, Luna, and Susan found themselves in the Burrow’s living room.

Mrs Weasley pulled Ginny into a crushing hug

“Mum, you are hurting me,” Ginny complained. 

“I haven’t seen you since the summer,” Mrs Weasley chided. “Let me hug you for a little longer.”

“Is Dad here yet?” Luna asked.

“He is outside with Arthur,” Mrs Weasley said. “They are looking at some of Arthur’s junk.” 

“Okay,” Luna smiled and skipped out into the garden.

“Susan, are you there?” Amelia’s voice came from the kitchen.

“I’m here, Auntie,” Susan called back. 

She moved into the kitchen to find the twins sleeping in a small cot on the kitchen table.

“They have gotten big,” Susan exclaimed. “Still cute, though.”

“Where’s Harry?” Amelia asked.

“He left Slughorn’s party with Tonks,” Susan shrugged. 

Amelia muttered something under her breath.

“Something wrong?” Susan frowned.

“Did they say when they would be back?” Amelia asked.

“Sometime later today,” Susan shrugged. “Harry said they would make their way to Carnaby Street themselves.”

Amelia had a contemplative look on her face. “I understand, well then we should probably get going ourselves.” 

“No, no,” Mrs Weasley came into the kitchen. “I insist you stay for lunch.”

“Can we please?” Susan asked.

“Of course,” Amelia said. “Thank you, Molly.”

“Where’s Harry?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“He's with Tonks,” Amelia said. “I am not all that worried about them. Still, I would have liked to be informed before Susan told me just now. I assume they just wanted a little time alone before they had to be with the rest of us. They’ve been so welcoming in their home, and I think we forget that Susan, the twins, and I just invaded their space and never left.” 

“I suppose you are right.” Mrs Weasley nodded. 

“Also, Tonks misses Harry’s cooking a lot when he's at Hogwarts,” Amelia smiled. “She was quite distressed when Harry left for Hogwarts during his third year. She was complaining about the food in the commissary and how it was practically tasteless compared to what Harry cooked.”

“I do have to admit that he is quite good in a kitchen,” Mrs Weasley said. “I wish some of mine were as interested in how food's made, not just how much they can have.”

“He’s excellent, I agree,” Amelia said. “If he manages to survive the war, he might be able to pursue a culinary vocation.” 

“Now, wouldn’t that be a headline in the Prophet?” Mrs Weasley laughed. “The Chosen One Chooses Your Food.” 

Susan snorted loudly. 

“Uhm -- Mrs Black,” Ginny said nervously. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” 

“What is it, dear?” Amelia smiled.

“Privately?” Ginny asked. “I just want to ask something.”

“Alright,” Amelia nodded. “You don’t mind, do you, Molly?”

“No, no,” Mrs Weasley smiled. “Leave the twins with Susan and me. I’ll get started on lunch.”

 

 Amelia followed Ginny to her room. Ginny looked nervous and uncharacteristically timid. 

“So, Ginny, what is it that you want to talk about?” Amelia said in her most motherly voice.

“I don’t know how to tell my parents about Susan and me,” Ginny slumped down on her bed. “I’m scared it’s going to be a big fight. I’m worried what might happen.”

“Why would you think that?” Amelia sat down next to Ginny.

“Mum is awfully conservative, and she would disapprove of me dating another witch. She wants me to give her grandchildren later,” Ginny sighed. “I really want to tell her about Susan and me, because Susan makes me happy. I don’t want to ruin Christmas, but we have been together for a year and a half. I can’t keep hiding it either—I don’t know what to do…”

“Why are you asking me?” Amelia said softly.

“I was hoping that maybe I could hide at your place if…”

“If everything goes wrong?” Amelia smiled. “Of course, dear. I tell you what, after lunch, why don’t Susan and I clean up, and you can take your mum aside for a chat. I imagine everything will be fine, but if you feel you need to talk to me after, I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks. Susan is lucky, you know. So is Harry, with the two of you as his friends. I think they know that.”

 

“So, Mum, there’s something I feel like I need to tell you. It’s been bothering me for a while. Not telling, I mean.”

“You’re seeing someone? It’s true love, love such as no one has ever known before?” Molly was sitting on a bench next to Ginny, overlooking the garden and darning socks with a needle and a length of emerald thread. The assorted Weasleys went through a lot of socks, and mending was more thrifty than buying. Despite the cool weather, the bench was outof the wind and felt warm in the sun.

“What? How did you—did Ron say something?” Ginny was cross at the idea of Ron talking but almost hopeful that her mother knew and seemed so calm.

“Oh, your brothers never tell me your secrets, Ginny.” Molly smiled, eyes still on her needlework. “Sure, they threaten and bluff you, but they all love you madly, you know. Not one of them wouldn’t break on the rack before letting you be hurt if they could help it. And I’m sure, when you think about it, you’d do the same for them.”

“I guess so,” Ginny said thoughtfully.

“So, it’s love then? At first, it was new and scary, and now it’s such a part of your life you daren’t imagine life without it, I imagine?”

“You do understand,” Ginny said with relief. “I was so sure you’d be upset.”

“Now, Ginevra, you will always be my baby girl and the apple of your father’s eye, but you are a Weasley. And deep down, like me, you’re a Prewett, what’s more. We’ve never been shy about falling in love, us Prewett girls. Did you think the idea had never crossed our minds?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what to think, to be honest.” Ginny chewed on her thumbnail in a way that would have infuriated her mother in the past, but Molly was trying to project a calm, accepting aura to get the most honest details from her daughter. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while, over a year. It’s been wonderful.”

Molly nodded and moved on to the next sock. “And I take it this is exclusive, the two of you? Hogsmeade weekends and holding hands around the grounds, that sort of thing? Maybe the odd secluded corridor when you can steal a chance?”

“Mother!” Ginny blushed. “This is not how I imagined this going at all.”

“So, put me out of my suspense, my love. Who’s the lucky boy, and why hasn’t he been ‘round yet to at least meet us?”

Ginny froze, her face pale.

“But, I thought… You mean, you don’t know?” Her voice was trembling.

“Well, I had my hopes when you were younger, the old matchmaker’s eye like my mum had, I suppose, but no one stood out. So, don’t make me play guesses– who is he?”

“Well, Susan…” Ginny’s voice trailed off very noticeably.

Molly pulled a long stitch tight and started another, her eyes briefly lifting to see Ginny looking openly distraught. “Yes, what about Susan?” 

“It’s Susan Bones. I’m in love with Susan.” Ginny’s voice was louder than she had meant it to be, and it seemed to ring out and echo across the garden like the voice of doom in her mind.

Molly looked down at the needle sticking out of her thumb, and carefully pulled it out, and laid aside her mending. She sucked at her thumb a moment and then spoke with careful calm.

“Susan. Amelia’s Susan, Susan Bones.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Molly sat a moment, silently. Ginny’s heart raced. “The Susan Bones we sent you to stay with for weeks last summer?”

“Yes?”

Molly took a deep breath. “And you’re quite sure? I mean, that this is serious, it’s not just a school crush, or, or a passing thing?”

“Mother,” Ginny said, trying to keep her voice calm as well but failing as her voice rose with each sentence, “Susan and I are in love, and we’ve been dating, and I plan on going on dating her. I wanted you and dad to know, but I’m not asking your permission—”

Molly wheeled suddenly and wagged a finger under Ginny’s nose. “Now, just a moment! You do not—do not!—spring news like this on me after over a year—a year!—and talk to me that way. No, young lady, you do not!”

“Well, I’m not going to stop seeing her, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t love her so that you and dad will be happy or to satisfy barmy old Aunt Muriel! If you think you can tell me who to love, you’ve got another thing coming, Mother!” Both of them were standing now, jaws clenched, their faces flushed. Never in their lives had they so resembled one another had either been able to step back and observe it.

“Aunt Muriel? Is that what you think I care about? Is that what you think makes my heart freeze in my chest when I think of the worst things that could happen? Have you thought at all, Ginny, about what this might do for the two of you? I know the world is changing, but not everyone is so accepting and modern, are they?”

Molly leaned in, pressing her point. “Why do you think Remus Lupin had to leave, eh? He was doing his best to be a good man and teach you all you needed to survive! And poor Hagrid, always one step away from a crowd wanting to throw him out of the school! Do you think that our society is ready just to welcome you? I’m not worried that you’re in love, Ginevra!” 

Tears were welling in Molly’s eyes, and her voice was getting ragged.

“I’m not worried about who you love! I’m worried about my little girl and the stupid, hateful, ignorant, arrogant people who will use this as an excuse to hurt you, to exclude you, to make you feel like you’re not good enough when your father and I have struggled our whole lives to make you all feel loved and accepted and safe.”

The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she fell to her knees in front of Ginny, sobbing and fighting to get her words out.

“Never enough money, never enough time, no respect for your father’s work, me giving up my Charms work to make sure you all had a home and enough attention and enough love…”

Ginny stood, trembling, terrified by the raw emotion her mother had unleashed from wherever she buried it every day. She sank to her knees as well and threw her arms around her mother.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, the inadequate words seeming so pathetic, so useless in the face of her mother’s outpouring. “I love you, Mum. I love you, you and Dad, so much.”

After a few minutes of holding each other, Ginny was surprised to find Amelia there, offering her mother a hand to help her up.

“Ginny,” Amelia said softly, “I think Susan could use some help packing up all of the twins’ things. Why do you go lend her a hand, and I’ll sit with your mother for a while.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Ginny said, meekly heading inside, rubbing her nose on her sleeve.

“Oh, Molly,” Amelia said, helping her friend back to the bench where the conversation had started. “I take it that’s been brewing a long time?”

Molly sniffled, dabbing at her tears with a tea towel she’d had tucked in her apron strings.

“Ginny and Susan,” Molly muttered, “for over a year? And you couldn’t say one word in warning to keep me from looking a total fool in front of my daughter?”

Amelia realised after just a second that Molly was trying at least to tease her, and she grinned while putting her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

“And rob you of this moment, are you mad?”

Molly chuckled to herself, ruefully.

“Are you, though? Upset, I mean?” Amelia asked carefully. She liked Molly, had come to rely on her friendship and support since Sirius’s death and the twins' arrival, but at the same time, she was responsible for Susan and had made promises of her own to Ginny.

“Oh, not really,” Molly sighed. She looked around and said quietly, “Had a bit of a crush on a girl in Herbology, my fourth year. Then at a Christmas party, I spun a butterbeer bottle in the common room and wound up kissing Arthur. I knew right away, knew he was the only one for me.”

Amelia wasn’t sure what to do with this information. “Well, maybe your Ginny is the same way. One kiss, and she just knew? Besides, it’s dating, it’s school, it’s not a solemn vow and a shared vault at Gringotts, is it?”

Molly dabbed one last time at her eyes with the tea towel.

“Suppose I best warn Arthur before Ginny tries to tell him as well. I don’t think she could survive two of these mixups today.” She patted Amelia on the leg. “Thank you, dear. Really. Once everyone is over for Boxing Day, you must sit with me for a nice cuppa with the babes, like when they were first born, eh?”

“I’d like that very much, Molly.”

 

Harry woke to feel the sunshine on his face. The warm weight of Tonks was making him feel content. They hadn’t slept until the early mornings. She had been nervous when they were first intimate, but by the time she fell asleep, Harry had found out why she had a wild cat as a Patronus. 

He looked down at the fluffy pink hair resting on his chest. Tonks was releasing cute snores as she slept peacefully. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. The world seemed a little brighter than it had been just a few days ago. 

He couldn’t stop himself from playing with her short hair. It was tangled and messy, but it suited her perfectly as he felt her breathing against him. He must have woken her up by running his fingers through her hair because soon after, she stirred from her sleep.

Her head turned around to face him, and as soon as they got eye contact, she blushed before hiding her face in his neck.

“Morning,” Harry softly whispered as he wrapped an arm around her body.

“Good morning,” Tonks muttered, still too embarrassed to look at him.

“You okay there?” Harry asked with concern in his voice.

“Mmm hmm,” Tonks nodded. “Just… I’ve never woken up next to a boyfriend before.”

“You’ve woken up next to me plenty of times,” Harry teased.

“It’s not the same, okay?” Tonks kissed his chin. “It’s different, especially after last night…”

Harry felt himself getting a little nervous. 

“Don’t worry,” Tonks rubbed his chest. “It was what I wanted, and you were amazing. I don’t regret anything.”

“Good,” Harry exhaled. “I was worried for a second.”

“Silly,” Tonks said. “Still, I could use a cup of coffee.”

“I’m right here, and you still think about coffee,” Harry chided jokingly.

“Even if you are my boyfriend, I am not your girlfriend before I have had my coffee,” Tonks stretched. 

“Fine,” Harry leaned down and kissed her. “Let me make some coffee for you.” 

He tried to lift the blanket and get out of bed, but Tonks didn’t seem to want to let him. 

“Just a little longer,” she complained. 

“I thought you said you needed coffee?” Harry asked. 

“I do, but this feels nice as well,” Tonks yawned. “Just stay with me for another minute.”

Harry chuckled but did as he had been asked. His fingers rubbed a small circle on her hips.

“That tickles,” Tonks pouted. “Okay, that’s it, mister, Go and make me coffee.”

“Alright,” Harry laughed. 

He lifted the blankets and tugged them around Tonks as he left the bed. He kissed her before walking towards the kitchenette.

Tonks whistled as she watched him put on his glasses. 

“Like what you see?” Harry stretched out his arms and did a little spin.

“Very much,” Tonks purred. “Now, I regret letting you leave the bed.”

“There really is no satisfying you,” Harry said as he began to make a pot of coffee for her before he found his underpants and put them on.

“Awe, that is no fun,” Tonks said from the bed.

Harry decided to ignore her and begin cooking breakfast instead.

“I could get used to this,” Tonks said. “Waking up next to you and then watching you make breakfast for me. It’s nice.”

“I think we are closer to lunch,” Harry said, peering out the window.

“Really?” Tonks looked shocked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I wanted not to get back too late,” Tonks said. “You did tell Susan that we would be getting back ourselves, right?”

“I did,” Harry said. “Still, you are right. We probably should get going soonish. Coffee and food, then a quick shower before we get going, sound good?”

“But that leaves us no time for more…” Tonks couldn’t finish her sentence before the blankets hid her head.

“More what?” Harry looked over his shoulder and found a slight desire to tease Tonks more rising in his chest.

“Don’t make me say it,” Tonks’s muffled voice came from under the blankets.

“I don’t have any idea what you are thinking about,” Harry teased. 

“More sex… you meanie,” Tonks looked on the verge of tears.

Harry quickly moved to her side and caressed her cheek.

“You are melting my heart right now,” Harry leaned down and kissed her pink lips.

Tonks sent him a content smile before she frowned, “Why are you teasing me?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “It makes me want you even more when you are shy and embarrassed.”

“Wha - what?” Tonks blushed. “That makes no sense.”

“Does it have to?” Harry thought for a second. “However, I think that anything that makes me want you more is a good thing.”

“You really are mean, talking about what I can’t have.”

Harry turned around and poured a mug of coffee for her, bringing it to her.

“Here you go,” Harry handed her the mug. “Something you can have.”

“Thanks,” Tonks yawned. 

Harry sat back in a chair and watched her as she nursed the mug in her hands.

“Why are you staring at me?” Tonks asked.

“I just think that you are adorable,” Harry said.

Tonks was starting to get a little angry at the way Harry would continuously embarrass her. It was vexing that this young boy could toy with her heart like this. 

Hmpf, I’ll show him, she thought. 

She silently put down her barely touched coffee mug on the nightstand and slipped out of the covers. She was still feeling a little sore from the long night when her hips moved just so. She did her best to suppress the moan coming from her lips. She stealthily tiptoed right behind Harry, who was cooking brunch for them. 

She pressed her naked body against his back, and her hands went straight down his underpants. She was surprised to find him already rock hard against her hands. She pulled them away as if burned.

“Don’t stop,” Harry’s teasing voice reached her ears. “It felt nice.”

Tsk, he is still teasing me, Tonks muttered angrily inside her mind. I’ll show him.

Emboldened by her anger, she pulled down his underpants enough for his length to be in full view. She bit into his shoulder like she had discovered he liked during the night and grabbed him with both her soft hands.

The groan Harry released from his lips was more satisfying to listen to than anything she had heard before.

I’m making him sound like this, Tonks thought proudly to herself. This is because of me.

She was still inexperienced, but what she lacked in experience she made up for in enthusiasm.

She rubbed her chest against his back, and her hands caressed his cock. She noticed that Harry had dropped his wooden spoon and was grabbing the counter tightly.

“Feeling good?” Tonks asked more confidently than she felt.

“You feel amazing,” Harry’s raspy voice replied.

She felt him beginning to pulsate in her hands, and she quickly released him—more in shock than anything.

“Don’t stop,” Harry begged.

“We can finish after you’ve cooked me brunch,” Tonks said mischievously as she stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his neck. 

“Wild cat,” Harry muttered as he turned his head back and captured her lips.

“You deserved that for teasing me,” Tonks smiled proudly.

“Maybe I should keep teasing you then.”

She felt her breath getting caught in her throat as she stared into his green eyes. They looked like they were trying to burn her up, and she flushed pink in both face and hair before she escaped back under her covers. She looked at him warily as she grabbed her coffee mug once more. 

“I’m not going to eat you,” Harry said softly.

“Sure, like I am going to believe that when you look at me that way,” Tonks said.

“Okay, fair,” Harry laughed. “I would never try to hurt you, and I can stop teasing you if you’d prefer.”

It would have been easy for Tonks to tell him to stop it, but when she opened her mouth, it was like the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t mind the teasing. It was affectionate, and it did make her excited. She was supposed to be the grownup one, not Harry, so she was supposed to be in control. 

“Brunch is ready,” Harry said, breaking her uncertainty.

He placed several plates of food on the table and invited Tonks to join him. She wrapped one of the blankets around her body and sat down to eat. 

“I didn’t manage to buy all the Christmas presents I wanted,” Harry said. “You think we could hit up Diagon Alley or something when we get back to London?”

“I don’t see why not,” Tonks said.

There was a tapping on the window. Harry spotted the owl carrying his Daily Prophet. He found a couple of knuts in his coat and got his paper. He sat down to read the front page.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“What?” Tonks asked.

“Voldemort has attacked,” Harry looked grimly at the front page. “Solstice sacrifice, they call it. Destroyed a Muggle walking bridge, many people dead or missing— Ministry has taken action— Here it is: Scrimgeour is heightening his efforts in chasing down Death Eaters. An arrest— WHAT?!”

Tonks spluttered her coffee. “Why are you shouting? What is it?”

“Stan Shunpike, arrested and sent to Azkaban. Apparently, he was overheard talking about the attack at the Leaky Cauldron yesterday. They initially thought he was just bragging, but then the attack happened.”

“I’ve heard that name before,” Tonks tried to remember.

“The conductor on the Knight Bus,” Harry pointed out.

“Him?” Tonks looked very confused.

“Yeah, that makes no sense. I swear I heard him brag about becoming the youngest Minister of Magic in front of a Veela once. The article makes it seem like he was thrown in Azkaban without a trial,” Harry muttered darkly.

“We are at war,” Tonks defended.

“And does that give the Ministry the right to just throw whomever they want in prison?” Harry asked testily. 

“No, he should at least have been given a trial, even if it was rushed,” Tonks conceded. “This feels like the old days, like what happened to Sirius.”

“It does,” Harry put down the newspaper in disgust. “I knew it was going to happen, but this—”

“I know,” Tonks shuddered. “The good news is that I haven’t been called in yet, but I don’t expect I’ll get all that much time off. You may have to shop for both of us.”

“We’ll find out,” Harry agreed. “Shit, I really wanted to spend the break with you.”

“You will,” Tonks smiled. “Just not during the workday.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “And what about the nights?” 

“We can hope,” Tonks blushed. “If we’re lucky.”

“If there is something I am, it is lucky,” Harry smiled. “Or else I would have died a long time ago.”

“Touché.”

Harry tried to push the disturbing images on The Daily Prophet's front page out of his mind. He should have been prepared for things like this to happen, but he was shaking by the time he had cleaned up the plates and Tonks had finished her last mug of coffee.

“So, that shower you promised?” Tonks asked.

“You can go ahead,” Harry said absentmindedly.

“Harry, talk to me,” Tonks looked at him intently. 

“What?” Harry finally awoke from his stupor. 

“You’re tense, and you’re a million miles away,” Tonks said. “Talk to me.”

Harry sighed loudly. “I’m just worried about your safety. You’re on the front lines while I have to play at being the good student… What if something happens to you? To Auntie and the twins?” 

Tonks got up from her chair, the blanket about to come loose, but she didn’t bother tightening it. She walked next to him and placed a hand on his cheek. 

“I know,” she whispered. “It must be terrifying, and if it were the other way around, I would be scared out of my mind for you, even more than I have been already.”

“I know it is no consolation,” she told him more firmly, “but you’ve seen me fight, you’ve trained with me. You know I won’t be an easy target for any Death Eater if it came to it. Also, I won’t be alone. Carmichael, Dawlish, Kingsley, and the others are there with me. I won’t be alone, I promise.” 

“I know,” Harry said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s just…”

“I understand,” Tonks said. “And hey, I have a reasonably safe posting here in Hogsmeade, looking after a bunch of kids. So, I won’t be on the frontlines any more than you will. It’s not like they are going to leave Hogwarts undefended. Too many powerful families have their children there. It would be political suicide if the Aurors got pulled out.”

Harry relaxed slightly. He kept remembering the last time he came head to head with Voldemort and his followers. Too much had been lost for him that night. He would still sometimes wake up after a nightmare, feeling guilty about it all.

Tonks raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, during which the blanket around her body came undone and fell to the floor. 

Harry felt the warm skin on his chest, and a new feeling was born in his body. He separated from her lips.

“Tonks,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Oops,” Tonks said with a wink as she walked to the small bathroom. “Are you coming?”

“Phrasing,” he muttered as his girlfriend playfully shook her hips at him before disappearing into the shower.

He took a second more to sort his thoughts as he heard the sound of the shower. He’d need to restart his more aggressive training. He’d relaxed too much at school, and it was time to get back in top form if the war was escalating.

“Where are you?” Tonks said from the shower. “I’m getting all wet in here.”

Harry laughed and told himself that right now, it would be better not to worry Tonks. He could always talk to Amelia about further training during the break. She might be able to take a more hands-on approach while Tonks worked. 

Harry walked into the bathroom and dropped his underpants. 

“I’m coming in,” Harry said before pulling the curtain aside to find Tonks waiting with closed eyes fidgeting a little. 

He just stood there gazing at his girlfriend's naked body. 

“What are you waiting for?” Tonks asked as she opened one eye.

“Just taking in the view,” Harry smirked. 

Tonks grabbed his arm and pulled him in under the stream of water. It felt soothing the way the water would drum against his back,

“Better?” Tonks asked.

“Definitely.” 

It looked like it wasn’t only him who the news had shaken. Tonks was a lot more forward and aggressive in her intimacy, as she grasped for every last touch before their world spun out of their control. The grasping didn’t stop as they left the shower and ended up on the bed, with Tonks straddling Harry as she rode him as if it was their last day on earth. 

By the time they stopped, both of them were panting and sweaty again. 

“We really should get going,” Harry said as he lazily traced a finger down Tonks’s back.

“I suppose. I think I need another shower,” she muttered.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I needed this,” she said. “This night, this day? They’ve been more than we have a right to dream of.”

She kissed him tenderly as she rose from his chest and stumbled her way to the shower once again, and left him there. Harry stayed put as if they had come to an unspoken agreement. He decided to find a good disguise for their trip to Carnaby Street. They didn’t want to take the floo as it might be monitored, so they had decided to take the Knight Bus back. 

After Harry had dressed and put in his spare contacts, Tonks came out of the shower wrapped in a towel. They shared a quick kiss before Harry once more quickly cleaned himself off.

A middle-aged couple raised their wands, and the purple triple-decker bus appeared in front of them. A new conductor was taking tickets. 

“Where to?” she asked, grumbling.

“London, Soho,” Harry said. 

“Two galleons,” the conductor said. 

“Last time, it was eleven sickles from London,” Tonks complained. 

“Different times, different prices, you going or not?” 

Harry handed her two galleons for them and pulled Tonks up the stairs to find a secluded seat. He had barely managed to sit down before the infernal machine blasted them along the countryside. The only perk was that Tonks had lost her balance and was now sprawling across his lap. 

“Hello there,” Harry teased. 

“Help me up, will you?” 

Harry helped her sit up next to him.

“We are so late,” Tonks muttered. “The shops will be closing soon.”

“Well, we can always have a day tomorrow,” Harry pointed out. 

“Maybe,” Tonks said. “I hope so, at least. I hate leaving shopping for the last minute.”

Harry leaned back and tried to find as stable and comfortable a position as he could. Thankfully their stop wasn’t the last one on the list, as apparently, an older wizard was going to Portsmouth.

Harry stumbled off the Knight Bus and gathered in his surroundings. The bus dropped them off close to Oxford Circus underground. Tonks was looking a little worse for wear and almost looked as if she was about to be sick. Harry was not entirely sound on his feet either.

Harry idly rubbed her back until she gathered herself.

“I know where we are. We aren’t far from home,” Harry said.

“Good,” Tonks nodded. “I don’t want to stay out in the open for too long.”

The Muggles around them were looking stressed, and there was a darker mood around them. They heard whispers about the “Bridge Tragedy” as they walked along the roads. Harry wasn’t surprised—it wouldn’t be something Magical Britain could contain. He wasn’t surprised to find out that it was being reported as a failure due to excess strain on the cables holding up the bridge. 

Even Carnaby Street, which was usually the epitome of Christmas cheer, was a little more subdued than usual. People were still out on the street, but there was a pronounced lack of joy in the air. 

“It almost feels like a Dementor has come through here,” Harry whispered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case,” Tonks said. “From what I’ve heard, Dementors have randomly attacked Muggles since Halloween.”

“Why hasn't it been reported?” Harry asked. 

“Probably kept under wraps by the Ministry. It wouldn’t look good if they lost all control,” Tonks said.

“That instils confidence in the Ministry once again,” Harry mocked. 

“It would be a full-blown panic otherwise,” Tonks said.

“Maybe,” Harry acknowledged. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if Fudge had just accepted reality.”

“I know, it would also have been better if Amelia had taken over instead of Scrimgeour, but Voldemort wouldn’t have left her alive if she had,” Tonks said. “It’s been kept quiet, but earlier in the summer, Bones manor was burned down before she could sell it.” 

“Really, why didn’t she say anything?” Harry asked, aghast.

“It would have frightened both you and Susan. Also, you were in no state of mind to think about such things.”

“I guess not,” Harry said. “But still, I want to be informed.”

“You just were,” Tonks said as they walked up the stairs to the flat. “There is a difference between being informed and being blasted with every detail as they’re happening. The fact that a building was burned was not important. Amelia and the girls were completely safe here.”

“I know,” Harry said. “And I see your point. It would have just worried me when there wasn’t anything I could do.”

Harry opened the door and walked into the flat. He instantly spotted a rather cross Amelia standing in the living room, her wand pointed towards them.

“Lose the disguises,” Amelia said sternly.

Harry and Tonks did as she told them.

“Question for Harry Potter, what was the last thing Sirius Black told me before he went to the Department of Mysteries?”

“I have to go get back my idiot son,” Harry said sourly.

“And you, what was the first assignment of Nymphadora Tonks?” 

“Kingsley Shacklebolt took me to check for stragglers around King’s Cross four and a half years ago,” Tonks said. “And don’t call me Nymphadora.”

Harry was just about to hug Amelia thinking it was ridiculous.

Tonks pulled Harry back.

“Question: What was Amelia’s first reaction to meeting Sirius Black after he escaped Azkaban?”

“I slapped him in the face,” Amelia said.

“What is this all about?” Harry asked.

“I had to make sure you were who you said you were,” Amelia sighed.

“But this place is under a Fidelius Charm.”

“And who is the Secret Keeper?” Amelia asked.

“Tonks,” Harry said.

“So if she had were caught, they could have tortured the location out of her mind,” Amelia said.

“As if I would ever,” Tonks grumbled, heading towards the stairs.

“Oh, I am not done with you two yet,” Amelia looked positively stormy.

Harry exchanged glances with Tonks. He was thoroughly confused about why Amelia would be so angry.

Tonks winced as she looked at the angry face of Amelia.

“Uhm -- hi Boss.”

“Not your boss anymore, Tonks,” Amelia said. “Now, would you mind explaining to me just what exactly is going on? Why Harry decided to come back with you, and why I had to find out from Susan in front of half of the Weasleys?”

Tonks looked like someone had just punched her in the stomach.

Harry took half a step in front of her and intercepted Amelia’s gaze.

“What does she need to explain herself to you?” Harry asked defensively. “She’s still my guardian, and she can pick me up when she likes.”

“You don’t see it at all, do you? While relationships between guardians and wards have happened in the past, there are formalities, and usually, it’s the man who’s older, so the precedents aren’t clear legally.”

Amelia shook her head and jabbed her wand accusingly at both of them as she went on. “But more importantly, if she were found to be in an intimate relationship while you were under her protection at the school, Tonks could lose her job, possibly be stripped of her wand for a year of probation, at the most dangerous time in either of your lives! What were you thinking?”

Harry looked angry. “But why?! I am above the age of consent.”

“Because you have enemies, Harry! Not just You-Know-Who, but Death Eaters, sympathisers, and people who just don’t like your fame or your ability. You can’t afford to give anyone leverage over you.”

Tonks looked defeated entirely. 

“It’s not her fault. It’s mine,” Harry defended Tonks.

“Not to the DMLE, not to the press,” Amelia poured cold water over his head with the hard truths. “I don’t have a problem with your relationship as far as that goes. I’ve assumed it would happen for quite some time. She’s loved you as long as I’ve known you, and I didn’t miss the way you were sniffing around this last summer. It’s just I had expected better of you, Tonks. I need you to be smarter than this.”

“I’m sorry.” Tonks had her chin back up, determined to set things right as best she could.

“So, how many know?” Amelia asked.

“Too many,” Tonks admitted. “We’ve gone to a couple of Slughorn’s parties together.”

Merlin save me from fools and lovers,” Amelia groused. “Well, let’s hope someone malicious doesn’t make a big deal out of it, or the least that will happen is you losing your job. Get your stories straight. You were posing as lovers to keep close in case of a threat, and they’ll buy that. Once this is all over, we’ll straighten out the truth if we have to. After what’s happened, I can’t be certain anymore what ‘all over’ might even look like before we’re done.”

Harry winced at the new information. 

“It’s that bad?” he asked.

“Yes,” Amelia said. “Of course, it could have been a lot worse if we didn’t have another war on our hands. Aurors and protectees in relationships of a sexual nature must be quite low on the list of priorities right now. Unless the Ministry is completely idiotic.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Harry muttered. 

They were interrupted knocking on the window, which started Harry and Tonks to the point of drawing their wands. It was a regal-looking owl pecking on the window, and Amelia swung her wand to open the window for it.

“That’s Shacklebolt’s owl. He’s sent him to me before,” Amelia said.

It flew directly to Tonks and dropped a Ministry letter in her hands.

Harry couldn’t breathe. It was as if learning of their danger had made it suddenly real, and he feared the worst.

Tonks looked it over and released a sigh of relief.

“What does it say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing about us or me losing my job… New orders. I’m supposed to report to the Ministry tomorrow,” Tonks said.

“Sounds like you’re lucky, so far,” Amelia said with relief. “Don’t count on it lasting forever.”

Notes:

Molly Weasley. There is so much hate for Molly in the fandom, which seems to stem from the idea that she thinks Ginny and Harry belong together, and many fans don't.

I agreed with Waske that she needed to be somewhat harsh in this series, but I took some risks making her more nuanced. Her role in delivering the twins, the idea that she had sacrificed her own magical and professional interests in order to raise her family.

I have one child who is non-binary, and another who is bisexual. I hope that I did justice to the "coming out" story, the portion that Waske trusted me to handle on my own.

Molly's breakdown, her depth, her heartache, and her total devotion to her family, as a parent and a writer this is the hardest thing I ever wrote.

What did you think? Did Molly and Ginny seem true to the characters (or our versions of the character)s? Ultimately, did you care, or was all of this just a distraction from the Harry story? I welcome your thoughts, details, observations, or even complaints.

Chapter 35: Christmas Morning

Summary:

Harry and Tonks have an important talk.

Harry gets his arse handed to him in a duel. Harry and Tonks get their arses handed to them in a duel.

Coffee and books for Christmas.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 35. Christmas Morning

 

Harry and Tonks had gotten permission to finish their Christmas shopping after Amelia was done scolding them for reckless behaviour. By the time they had eaten dinner and were back home, they found Susan ecstatic in the kitchen.

“What’s gotten you so happy?” Harry asked.

“Ginny told her parents,” Susan smiled.

“Told her what?” Harry looked confused.

“Told them we’re together,” Susan said. “It was a bit of a row, but they seemed welcoming by the time I left.” 

“I thought you were here with Auntie?” Harry said. 

“No, no,” Susan said. “I just came back after dinner. Auntie said she had something to talk to you two about.” 

Harry winced. 

“What’s wrong?” Susan asked.

“Aside from the fact that right now it might technically be illegal for us to be together,” Tonks said. “Nothing much.”

“Why would it be illegal?” 

“Because I am an Auror placed for the protection of the students at Hogwarts, Harry included.”

“It’s a breach of professionalism, which could cost Tonks her job and maybe even get her wand confiscated for a time,” Amelia explained. “And that is not counting the countless people who want to hurt Harry.”

“I got a message from Kingsley earlier. I have new orders,” Tonks sighed. “I suppose it could have been worse.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“I could not have gotten to be with you at all,” Tonks smiled sadly. “That would be worse.”

Susan and Amelia shared an exasperated look.

“Let’s go work on our ‘cover story,” Tonks said.

“Don’t forget privacy charms,” Amelia said archly. “I might not mind your relationship, but I don’t want to listen in either.”

Harry and Tonks ducked their heads until they realised Amelia had just been teasing them. They blushed and rushed up the stairs into Harry’s room.

“Why here?” Harry asked.

“I don’t want to do our love-making in a light show,” Tonks said, throwing her coat in the corner. “My hair, and therefore my lovely walls, tend to get a bit out of control where you’re concerned.”

She pulled on his hand towards the bed but found that he wasn’t following her.

“Tonks, we need to talk,” Harry said seriously.

Every worst-case scenario fluttered through Tonks’s mind as the words left his lips.

Is it something I have done? Am I too inexperienced for him? Doesn’t he feel good?

“It has nothing to do with our love life,” Harry smiled at her, alleviating her worst fears. “It’s about what Amelia said. You could lose your job, maybe even your wand. This is serious.”

Tonks gulped when she realised what was happening.

“Harry, I don’t regret anything,” she said softly.

“That’s not it. It’s dangerous being with me. I thought you would still be safe, but if something like that happens, it’s just dangerous in a different way.”

Tonks watched him with a pained expression.

“I have lost too many people in my life already, and I am not going to lose you too,” Harry’s eyes started watering. “You are too important to me.”

“You are not going to lose me,” Tonks said as she cupped his cheek in her hand. “If they pressure me, I’ll just resign. If I need a new job, then I might just become the DADA teacher at Hogwarts. The position is open every year after all.”

Harry involuntarily chuckled at that. Tonks pulled down her shirt to show him the tattoo. Her face went into a sort of blank little smile while she concentrated, and Harry saw the writing appearing on her chest.

“I’m yours. I am where I belong,” she said softly. “Trust me, remember?” 

Harry nodded as she wiped away the silent tears on his face. She gently pulled on his hands as she moved them towards the bed. She spotted the confusion in his eyes.

“I just want to hold you while we sleep,” Tonks said. “Nothing more.”

Harry moved towards the bed, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind him. He didn’t take off his jeans, which made Tonks frown, and when she moved to remove them, he stopped her hands.

“Just leave these on,” Harry whispered. 

“You are going to hate yourself in the morning,” Tonks shrugged as she dropped her jeans and t-shirt and picked up his discarded shirt.

“Why?” Harry looked confused.

“I like your scent. It calms me down,” Tonks said, pulling it over her head. 

While Harry wasn’t in the mood for anything, he appreciated her slender legs as she dropped unceremoniously down on his bed and spread out her arms for him to rest upon.

Harry laid down beside her and snuggled closer to her warmth.

“Thank you,” Harry sighed deeply as his body began to relax. 

“Any time,” Tonks said. “How many times haven’t you fallen asleep in my arms already?”

“Usually, I have to have the nightmare before falling asleep in your arms,” Harry smiled.

“Well, maybe that’s what we did wrong,” Tonks pondered. “If you had just fallen asleep in my arms first, then maybe you wouldn’t have the nightmare at all.”

“Maybe.”

Tonks kissed his forehead; she had gotten used to how it would calm her down when he did it, and she wanted to help him get the same peace of mind. 

“Goodnight, Tonks,” Harry muttered from her chest.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Tonks said, trying to find a more comfortable position. She enjoyed the weight, but at some point, Harry had gotten incredibly heavy. 

“Stay still,” Harry chided. 

“You are squishing me,” Tonks complained. 

“Are you saying I am heavy?” Harry lifted an eyebrow.

“Like full-grown hippogriff,” Tonks teased.

“That does it,” Harry said. He rolled out of her embrace and pulled her on top of his chest.

“Now you are not sleeping in my arms,” Tonks pouted. 

“I’m still in your embrace,” Harry said, taking his glasses off and putting them on his nearby nightstand. 

Tonks idly circled a finger over his bare chest. 

She watched as Harry closed his eyes and rested his head on his pillow. 

“I would have been a bigger mess if you weren’t here,” he breathed out. “Thank you... I— you—”

Tonks was surprised at the ease with which Harry had fallen asleep. He hadn’t looked that tired before, but when she watched his body release its tension, she noticed the stressed expression on his face.

“I love you,” she whispered more to herself than the man under her body. She found a comfortable spot on his chest before sleep took hold of her as well.

Tonks was woken in the middle of the night by Harry thrashing in his sleep.

“Harry!” she called out. 

She grabbed his face and kissed him to stop him from hyperventilating. 

She waited until Harry was gasping for air before she released his lips. She looked at his opened eyes.

“Nightmare?” she asked.

Harry nodded and wiped away his tears from his eyes.

“Want to talk about it?”

Harry’s eyes flickered before he narrated what he remembered from his nightmare. Harry had dreamt about Carnaby Street up in smoke, her body along with Amelia’s, the twins and Susan broke and bent in impossible angles. 

“It’s just a dream,” Tonks said. “I am right here, and I'm not hurt.”

Harry breathed in deeply, trying to relax.

“I know,” he said. “It just looked so real.”

Tonks felt her heart clench at the distressed expression on his face. 

“I’m okay,” he said after a second. “It was just a nightmare.”

She moved closer to him and kissed his chin. 

“I’m right here. Nothing is going to hurt either you or me,” she said. 

“What would I do without you?” Harry muttered sleepily.

“Probably blow up a room or two,” Tonks quipped. 

Harry snorted. 

“Will you be okay to sleep again?” Tonks asked.

“I think so,” Harry said. “I don’t usually have more than one nightmare a night. Also, I am completely…” 

He didn’t manage to finish his sentence before he yawned.

“Sleep well,” Tonks said and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She felt Harry’s arm tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer and his nose ruffling her hair.

“I feel safe with you,” he said sleepily before he relaxed back into his pillow.

She smiled contently as she kissed his chest before trying to fall back asleep. 

 

Tonks woke up early the following day when Harry left her side.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Training,” Harry replied before he kissed her forehead. 

“Come back here, you…” she tried to sound angry, but her sleepy voice made her sound cute instead.

“I’ll wake you up when I’m finished,” Harry said softly to her before he tugged her in under the blankets.

She opened one eye and watched him leave the room. The bed felt a lot emptier without him in it. She hugged the pillow, which still smelled like Harry and fell back asleep.

Harry had gone upstairs into the training room and began running along the perimeter of the space. He didn’t want to alarm anyone by leaving the flat. Also, it was a lot colder outside now that they were in December. It was still dark, but that didn’t mean much this near the solstice. He began working up a sweat before he turned to more muscle-intensive exercises. His equipment was still there where he left it, and soon Harry felt a familiar burning sensation in his muscles. He pushed himself to his current limits, but he was still far off from his peak during the summer. He grumbled a little as he put down a barbell. It wouldn’t do to begin by breaking his body just from a sense of urgency. He would have to pace himself. 

Harry silently opened the door to his room and found Tonks peacefully sleeping in his bed. He decided that instead of waking her up, his time would be better spent taking a shower and making breakfast for the rest of the flat. 

By the time he had showered and gone to the kitchen, Amelia had woken up as well. 

“I must say I did miss hearing you train,” she smiled as she held a mug of coffee in her hands. “So, how are you coping?”

“Poorly,” Harry admitted. “It was a bit of a shock. I didn’t think about any sort of consequences.”

“I suspected you didn’t,” Amelia sighed. “Well, you better take care of her properly still.”

“Of course I will,” Harry said. “It’s just maybe I was not supposed to find love. Everything around me seems to tell me that I am meant to be alone.”

“Nonsense,” Sirius said from his painting. “Still, my little cousin finally got her wish.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Not my place to say,” Sirius smirked annoyingly. 

“Alright, keep your secrets then,” Harry said. “I guess I should start on breakfast.” 

“It’s still early,” Amelia said. “The twins have just fallen asleep again.”

“I was thinking,” Harry said slowly. 

“That would be a first,” Amelia teased.

“Ha. Ha,” Harry laughed dryly. “No, I thought that maybe you could help me train while Tonks is at work?” 

“Why?” Amelia’s face didn’t reveal anything.

“I was thinking of cranking it up a notch,” Harry said. “I don’t want her to get worried.”

“And it is fine if you worry me?” Amelia asked.

“It’s not the same,” Harry defended himself. 

“Maybe not,” Amelia said. “Why do you ask?”

“I have been slacking on my training while at Hogwarts,” Harry said. “I have lost a lot of muscle strength. I think my endurance should still be the same, but I haven’t been able to fight properly while at Hogwarts. The best duel I had was with Snape during my first week back. I think he was just trying to take me down a notch, but there was no clear winner. Still, he wasn’t going full strength either, and if I know him, he would have more Dark magic than I could counter.”

“That is a good analysis of him,” Amelia nodded. “Severus Snape is indeed a formidable duellist, do not underestimate him.”

“I’m not,” Harry said. “Underestimating anyone could get me killed.”

“A lion using its full strength to hunt down a rabbit,” Amelia said.

Harry took in her words for a second. It sounded like overkill.

“Even a rabbit bites back if it's cornered,” Harry said.

“I guess it does,” Amelia smiled. “Alright, I will train you when Tonks is at work. I’ll also help keep it confidential. Susan will stay at the Burrow from Boxing Day until New Years Day so that we will have plenty of time alone, just the four of us. You, me and the twins.”

“I’m here too!” Sirius barked from his painting.

“Dear, you don’t count.”

“Hmpf.”

Harry chuckled a little at their interaction before walking to the kitchen and grabbing the pot of coffee Amelia had made.

“You don’t mind if I bring some to Tonks, do you?” 

“Of course not.”

 

Harry fell into his thoughts when he walked back up the stairs to his room. He didn’t know how early it was, but since Amelia had stopped him from making breakfast, it must have been early. It might even be too early to wake up Tonks now that he thought about it.

He silently opened the door to avoid waking the sleeping woman, put down the cup next to the bed and cast a silent tempus charm; it was just past five in the morning. That was definitely too early to wake up Tonks, even with coffee. Harry didn't understand her obsession with coffee, and he gave it a small sip. 

He instantly regretted it. It was bitter and tasted weird. He couldn’t understand why Tonks couldn’t start her day without it. Maybe it was an acquired taste. He sipped it again, still bitter. He slowly sat down in the bed next to Tonks and watched her sleeping, trying not to wake her up. He was still hugging his pillow tight to her chest. He reached out for her hair and ran his fingers gently through her soft bubblegum locks. 

She deserves better than me, but I don’t know if I can continue without her.

He was careful not to wake her as he continued sipping the coffee he had brought. It never tasted better, but this one was only harsh in flavour as far as self-inflicted punishment.

By the time he finished the cup, it had turned cold in his hands. He didn’t care all that much. It didn’t taste better to him warm. Tonks was still fast asleep next to him, but at some point, she had gotten a silly grin on her face as she laid there. Harry ran his hand down her arm, and he idly drew a pattern on the back of her hand with his finger.

It must have at least woken her slightly because somehow she moved the pillow down between them, and her arms reached around Harry’s waist before she came to rest with her head on his thigh.

Harry smiled indulgently at her while shaking his head. If she realised where her face was positioned, she would wake up redder than she might have been in her entire life. Still, it wasn’t all that bad for him. He rechecked the time and saw it had just passed six. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He could probably let her sleep like that for half an hour more before he had to wake her up. He didn’t realise just when he had fallen asleep, but he woke abruptly by the sound of a slight squeal and the fast movement of Tonks pulling away from him.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her face. Yup, she was embarrassed.

“Ha-Ha-Harry?” Tonks stammered.

“Good morning,” Harry said softly. “Sleep well?”

Tonks nodded vigorously, and there was no sign of her usual sleepiness when waking up.

“Sorry for surprising you, but you moved there in your sleep,” Harry teased. 

“When did you come back to bed?” Tonks asked, hiding her face behind the pillow she pulled in front of her face.

“I don’t know, around five?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“And risk getting shredded to death?” 

Tonks made a sound between a groan and a pout. 

“You looked so peaceful that I just couldn’t,” Harry said as he caressed her head. “I even brought you coffee, but I ended up drinking it myself.”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“No, I can’t say I understand why you drink it either now. It’s so bitter.” 

Tonks lowered the pillow and showed him a dazzling smile. 

“Acquired taste,” she said. 

“I figured as much,” Harry sighed. 

“Speaking of coffee, I could drink some right now,” Tonks yawned. Her initial embarrassment seemed gone already.

“I thought you were fully awake already?”

“This is this, and that is that,” Tonks said wisely. 

“I see,” Harry nodded. “Enjoyed the sensation of my thigh then?”

Tonks regained the blush which had faded, but she looked calmer about it than her initial reaction.

“Embarrassed?” Harry teased.

“Why would I be embarrassed?” Tonks pouted. “I am in my full right as your girlfriend to use you as a pillow.”

“Indeed,” Harry rubbed the place, which only moments ago had served its duty.

“Stop rubbing it!” 

“Or what?” 

He never got an answer before Tonks had pulled on his t-shirt and pulled his face down so she could kiss him.

“Or else I’m going to kiss you until you stop.”

Harry playfully rubbed his thigh again, and indeed, she kissed him silly until he was panting for breath. 

“I genuinely do like it when you get embarrassed,” Harry said. 

“I just can’t win,” Tonks looked crestfallen. 

“It’s not about winning,” Harry kissed her forehead. “I couldn’t think of a better way to start my day than getting a kiss from you.”

Tonks blushed again, but this time she lifted the corners of her lips in a small smile as she rested her head on his chest. 

“What time is it?” she asked. 

Harry cast the tempus charm for the third time that morning, and it was almost seven. 

“I should go down and prepare breakfast,” Harry muttered. “Amelia told me that five was not a good time to start cooking.” 

“So, you won’t stay with me a little longer?” Tonks asked. 

“You still have to get to work soon,” Harry said. “It wouldn’t be good if you were late.”

“I have plenty of time.” 

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be a good idea with our situation if we took that risk,” Harry said softly, kissing the top of her head. “You can go shower first, and then I will have a full pot of that nasty drink ready for you.”

“Or you could join me?” Tonks looked up at him expectantly. 

“Sure, that would be nice,” Harry said.

Her hand rubbed his thigh, her eyes not leaving his.

“I wasn’t thinking nice.” 

“Oh!” Harry’s smile got wider. “Now I feel like I’ve seen everything — Tonks wanting something else more than coffee in the morning.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tonks said. “It’s a one-time offer.”

“Well then, I would be a fool not to take it,” Harry said. “Shall we?”

Tonks gave him a quick nod before they both got up quickly and left for the bathroom. 

 

After Harry’s second shower that morning, which was longer than his first, he and Tonks walked into the kitchen to find Amelia and Susan eating breakfast.

“I decided to make it myself when you didn’t come back,” Amelia said. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologised.

“Don’t be,” Amelia said. “If I’m honest, I think I am happy that you two decided to take some time together. You look happier now than you did a couple of hours ago.”

“I am,” Harry smiled. 

“The bathroom is safe to use?” Susan asked.

“Of course,” Harry said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know what you two have been up to in there,” Susan said before she moved upstairs. 

Tonks didn’t know where to look, so she just focused on the floor.

“They are just teasing you,” Harry whispered in her ear. “Come on, sit down. I’ll grab you some coffee.”

Harry led her to a chair, and soon Tonks was back to her usual morning self when she had her first mug of coffee in her hands. She talked about her summons' possible outcomes with Amelia, who told her not to worry too much. It would be foolish for Scrimgeour to lose a capable Auror in these times, and that was not counting the fact that Kingsley had taken over as Head Auror since Scrimgeour had been made Minister. 

Breakfast ended, and with that came the time for Tonks to leave for the Ministry. Harry kissed Tonks in front of the fireplace.

“Take care,” he said. “And be careful.”

“I will,” she said. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Harry confirmed. “Remember the story, as much as I hate it. It makes sense to protect you.”

She kissed him briefly before throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and left for work.

Harry watched as she disappeared into the green flames.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you kiss,” Susan said from behind him. 

“Well, you were going to see it at some point,” Harry shrugged.

“I guess,” Susan said. “No offence, but it is a little weird seeing you together with her.”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned.

“It’s just…” Susan hesitated. “I don’t know. I just never actually expected it to happen. I think I always thought that maybe Hermione would be the same after some time, and you two would get together again.”

“I did, too. I don’t think so, anymore,” Harry said sadly, the first time he had admitted it even to himself. “Even if she did remember everything and somehow recovered that girl I loved, I’ve changed from the experience, too.”

“I guess so,” Susan said. “Still, you two looked happy together. I’m sorry.”

“We were happy, I think.” Harry smiled. “But right now, I am happy with Tonks, so all these what-ifs don’t matter anymore either.” 

Harry was a little surprised when Susan ran forward and hugged him. 

“What’s all this about?” Harry asked. 

“Just shut up,” Susan said as she released him. “I know, you have changed. It's just hard to accept sometimes.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. 

“This is where you are supposed to say that everything is going to be alright and everything is going to go back to normal, you know?” Susan said. 

“But it is likely not,” Harry said. “You must have seen The Daily Prophet from yesterday, outside. It’s not going to be the same even if he decided to retire and drop dead today.”

“I know,” Susan sighed. “You couldn’t let me have this one moment?”

“Everything is going to be alright, and everything is going to go back to normal,” Harry said with deadpan sincerity.

Her fist hitting his arm conveyed her opinion of that comment. “Tosser.”

“It is always hard growing up,” Amelia said. “The first time around wasn’t any different. Times like these have a way of forcing children to become adults faster than they should have to. I never expected I would have to raise you either. I was too young for that back then. I was barely twenty, much too young for the responsibility.”

“You did a good job raising me,” Susan said.

“Never said I didn’t,” Amelia smiled. “I just said I was too young for the responsibility.”

They were interrupted by the sound of crying coming from Amelia’s room.

“I supposed it was time for them to wake up again,” Amelia sighed. “Just because it is the second time around doesn’t make it any easier. A little help?”

“Of course,” Harry and Susan said in unison. They each grabbed a baby and helped with whatever Amelia needed.

 

After settling the two girls, Harry and Amelia walked to the third floor. He had never duelled the woman before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. But he hadn’t in his wildest dreams expected her to wipe the floor with him. He could barely resist her at all. 

Harry was panting on the floor by the time she decided she was done with him.

“Hah… hah… I never expected you to be this strong,” Harry complained from the floor. “I thought you would be out of practice.”

“I have way too much time on my hands,” Amelia brushed off her sleeves. “I can’t keep intruding on Molly, and I can’t go outside all that much. So I have been training for the war as well.”

“I see,” Harry rose from the floor. “I have gotten out of shape.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to take me even during the summer if I hadn’t been pregnant. I am a witch in my prime, and I have more experience fighting on the front line than you have. It shouldn’t surprise you this much.”

“I do have a long way to go,” Harry muttered. 

“We all have. Only if we are strong enough do we have a chance to survive,” Amelia said. “Get up. I know you aren’t tired enough to stop now. You need to focus on…”

Harry spent the rest of the day with Amelia, learning different battle tactics. She was proficient enough to sufficiently change up her fighting style for Harry to feel like he was fighting multiple other people, making him always at a disadvantage. It was like he was an open book, and no matter what he did, there was only one outcome, and it was him on the floor.

“I think that should do it,” Amelia said. “Or else Tonks is going to get worried about new bruises on your body.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. He didn’t even have the energy to get up anymore.

“You’re welcome,” Amelia said. “Go take a shower before Tonks get back.”

Harry groaned as he raised himself from the floor and walked downstairs. 

“You are back to your insane training,” Susan said as he walked down the stairs. 

“Don’t tell Tonks,” Harry said.

“Why not?” Susan lifted an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to make her worry about me,” Harry said as he pushed open the door to the bathroom.

“You are going to worry her more if you don’t tell her,” Susan said behind him as he closed the door.

Harry felt reborn by the time he walked out of the shower. The only breaks he had gotten today was when Cassiopeia and Castoria had been hungry. 

 

Harry had dinner ready when Tonks walked out of the fireplace. 

“How was your day?” Harry asked.

“It could have been better,” Tonks admitted. “I’ve been reassigned. They are putting me as a guard for the Muggle Prime Minister. They expect me to take over for Williamson.” 

“That doesn’t sound all that bad,” Harry said. “It shouldn’t be that dangerous, right?”

“He is a high-profile target,” Amelia said. “For either the Imperius Curse or replacement.”

Harry paled, he looked at Tonks. 

“I’ll be alright,” Tonks said. “He knows about magic, so my orders are to Apparate us away if attacked. However, my working times will be odd.”

“When do you start?” Harry asked.

“After New Years,” Tonks smiled brightly, genuinely looking happy. “I also don’t have to go back to Hogsmeade during the Christmas break anymore. I guess it’s a reward for taking on a more dangerous position.”

“I would rather you had to spend the whole break guarding Hogwarts than have you in any sort of danger.”

“We are all in danger,” Tonks said. “It hasn’t been released to the press yet, but we have reports of giants in the west country. They are going to spin it as if it was tornados. The damage is severe.”

Harry shuddered and hugged her tightly. 

“Don’t worry,” Tonks said. “I will be fine. Also, we need to find a way for us to communicate during the next half a year. I will go insane from having guard duty. I have to wear a suit!”

Harry chuckled at the defeated look on Tonks’s face. 

“Come on,” Harry said. “I think you could look sexy in a suit.”

“I haven’t gotten it yet,” Tonks bit her lower lip. 

“Ahem,” Amelia coughed. “If you don’t mind not flirting in public, we could get to eating.”

Harry and Tonks released each other like they were caught doing something naughty. Susan looked like she was fighting hard to contain her laughter.

Harry and Tonks both blushed as they rushed towards the dinner table. 

As Harry and Tonks laid in bed later that night, Harry debated whether he should tell her that he started serious training again. He wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret if Tonks didn’t need to go to work. It would probably be better to clue her in.

“What’s on your mind?” Tonks asked as she idly drew a figure on his chest. 

“I’ve started training again, summer training,” Harry said slowly, gauging her reaction.

Tonks frowned slightly but didn’t say anything. 

“It’s just… with everything going on, Death Eater attacks, giants, I want to be prepared,” Harry tried to explain.

“You don’t have to explain to me,” Tonks turned her head to look at his face. “I’m just worried that you don’t know when to stop and hurt yourself.”

“Amelia is helping me,” Harry said. “I can’t even reach her ankles, she's so far above me.”

“She is strong, that’s for sure,” Tonks said. “I’ll help you out too.” 

“You sure?” Harry asked. 

“It’s the best way for me to keep an eye on you,” Tonks said. “I just don’t know how I am going to react to seeing you attacked.”

“I don’t know how I would react to seeing you attacked either,” Harry said seriously. “Maybe it is better if you don’t join?”

“No,” Tonks said. “I think it’ll help us learn to trust that the other one is going to be alright even if we are not there. I should train with you.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed. 

“Now, if you are done being all secretive,” Tonks said. “I would like for us to enjoy my break and the time we have together before I can’t get to see you for too long periods.”

“And what do you have in mind?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s your fault,” Tonks bit his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have taught me how wonderful sex is.”

Harry didn’t get to sleep until the early hours of the morning. 

Harry and Tonks soon found out that watching the other one getting owned by Amelia was more challenging to accept than getting stunned by Amelia herself. It took a long time for them to accept that the other one would be alright, and the first couple of times it happened, Amelia deliberately used it against them to get easy victories.

“I am fairly disappointed in you two,” Amelia said. “I expected better, and you together are actually weaker together than when fighting alone.”

Harry had a hard time swallowing the truth. Tonks didn’t look like she was doing much better.

“I think you realise why couples are frowned upon in the Auror department, and why if they happen, they don’t get assigned together after the relationship has been reported. You need to be able to keep your calm in any situation. If you lose your head because your partner has been hurt, there is a high chance they will die in situations where they could have easily survived.”

Harry ground his teeth but understood what Amelia was trying to say. If Tonks got hit by a curse and he didn’t keep his cool, it might do more damage than it did good. It didn’t mean he had to like what he saw.

They were interrupted by Susan, who walked up the stairs.

“Do you need anything, dear?” Amelia asked.

“I thought that maybe I could get some practice too,” Susan said. “I don’t want to sit around not being able to fight.”

Harry looked at her questioningly.

“I’ll help her,” Tonks said quickly. “You two can continue whatever you are doing.”

Amelia nodded, and Harry shrugged. He was, however, surprised when Susan was much deadlier than she had been during their previous training session when Hermione had been hurt. 

 

Harry loved spending the nights under Tonks’s newfound interest in his body, it was like the past few days she had found a new toy, and she was trying to explore every possible avenue of enjoying it. She would continuously leave him exhausted by the time she was satisfied and would cuddle close to him with a content smile on her face as they slept. Harry hadn’t realised until these past few days just how much he had missed the intimacy a girlfriend brought to his life. The warm comfort of Tonks was slowly healing his heart, and he couldn’t be happier that she was the one to do it. 

Harry woke up Christmas morning, finding Tonks sitting across his stomach.

“Wake up! It’s Christmas!” 

“Someone is excited,” Harry muttered sleepily.

“Of course, I am excited,” Tonks said. “It’s the first time I’ve had a boyfriend during Christmas!” 

Her energy was infectious, and Harry quickly rose to kiss her tenderly. 

“You are beautiful,” he whispered as their lips parted. 

“Shush,” Tonks blushed before a naughty smile crept up on her face. “Seems like someone already has a present for me.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her lame comment but didn’t do anything to stop her when she began running her hands across his morning wood. He quickly lost his patience, and soon she was under him and his face between her legs. He left her shivering under his touch and tongue.

“Well, I think that counts as a Christmas present,” Harry said smugly as he moved back up to kiss her. 

“Mmhmm,” Tonks nodded sweetly. 

“We should get going,” Harry smiled. 

“Do we have to?” Tonks stretched.

“Where did all your excitement go?” Harry asked.

“It’s poking my stomach right now,” Tonks smirked.

Harry just shook his head before kissing her once more. 

Harry and Tonks moved down to the living room to find Susan and Amelia waiting with the twins. 

“What took you so long?” Susan moaned. “I want to open my presents.”

“Sorry,” Harry ruffled his hair. “It’s hard getting Tonks out of bed.”

“Something was hard about it indeed,” Tonks whispered, so only he would hear it.

Harry kept an impassive face, but he had difficulty hiding the blush creeping up his face. 

Susan was a little confused with her gift until she heard that Ginny was getting the other part of the pair of matching pendants, though they kept the fact that they would be able to show the other wearer's mood. Harry had found some stuffed animals for the baby girls and the blankets they had found in Hogsmeade. They each got a big black dog that showed its likeness to Padfoot. Amelia got a couple of romance novels, which Harry had seen in a Muggle bookstore, which added to her already substantial Muggle fiction collection. 

Harry was slightly nervous before he handed his present to Tonks. He was sure the magical french press was going to be a hit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be nervous about it either. He watched as she tore off the paper and looked a little confused.

“It’s a French press,” Harry explained. “It helps make coffee, a lot of it.”

Harry got tackled as Tonks hugged him. “It’s perfect!” 

“I’m glad you like it.”

Tonks reached behind her and handed him a square present. Harry had his suspicions about the content. It might be a more obscure defence book, or it might be advanced charms. He always enjoyed reading through more advanced magic to better prepare himself. 

What he hadn’t expected was to read the title: Wizards of the West Country, the lore of families such as the Dumbledores, the Potters, the Bagshots, the Ropers, and the Fawleys.

Harry opened up the index and ran his finger over the chapter title until it rested on a chapter called The History of the Potters. He felt a single tear leaving his eye, and he looked up at Tonks.

“I just thought that because you focused so much on family,” Tonks panicked. “Maybe… do you like it?”

“It’s fantastic.”

Notes:

I'm actually writing an AU featuring the Roper family, neighbours of the Potters back in the day. It's on hiatus currently, but I still have the outlines.

Chapter 36: Boxing Day

Summary:

Percy and the Minister

Tonks and the Beck-Hill family.

Is Tonks reunited with her previous lover?

Is Harry reunited with his previous lover?

Is Lavender Brown reunited with her Won Won?

The day after Christmas dawns with a new threat that changes the nature of Harry Potter's world, the extent to which he is just barely able to grasp.

Notes:

Hello, our lovelies.

This chapter was a brute. With several threads needing attention, and a major rewrite to introduce some elements we felt were neglected, it threatened to get away from us. I'm certain we threw away much more of this chapter than we’re publishing before we got it managed. I hope you find it worthwhile.

Killjoy

Chapter Text

Chapter 36. Boxing Day

 

Susan had never been so excited. She had gotten permission to stay at the Burrow for the week until New Year's, at which time the whole Weasley family would come to Carnaby Street to celebrate the passing of the year. She would get to spend an entire week openly with her girlfriend, and it would start today. 

She had gotten up earlier than usual since she couldn't contain her excitement. What she hadn't expected was Tonks sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Good morning," Susan said. "I didn't expect you to be up this early."

"Good morning," Tonks smiled back at her, sipping on her coffee.

"Where is Harry?" Susan asked, rummaging through the fridge to find something easy to eat.

"Out for a run," Tonks said softly. 

"In the snow?" Susan looked surprised.

"Yeah, apparently that isn't going to stop him from training," Tonks said. "I made sure he was wearing enough warm clothes and warming charms."

"That's good," Susan said. "Ready to go to the Burrow?" 

"I guess so," Tonks said. "I hate that we're expected to hide our relationship, though, even from the Weasleys."

"I understand," Susan frowned. "It's never nice having to hide who you love."

"No, it isn't," Tonks sighed, looking a little more down than usual. 

There was a peck on the window, and a smallish owl was standing on the outside. Tonks looked at the owl curiously. It wasn't that she didn't know it. It was just she hadn't expected to see it.

She opened the window, and the owl dropped off a Christmas card on the kitchen table, flew to the owl perch next to Hedwig and Xerxes, where the three all hooted amiably to one another.

"Who is it from?" Susan asked.

"It's from my friends Sally and Angela," Tonks smiled, her face brightening as she read the enclosed note. "Haven't heard from them in forever. I wasn't sure things were still good between us."

"Oh?" Susan was curious but was trying not to pry. She and Tonks lived under the same roof, but their lives had not intersected all that much in some ways.

"I dated Sally's brother. He was our combat trainer."

Sally nodded. "What do they say?"

"Just a general Christmas greeting… oh, and an invitation to come to see them and their son."

"Their son?" 

"Right," Tonks smiled. "Harry must have told you about them before. Sally and Angela are partners, married? They refer to themselves as married, anyway. I don't believe it's legal under Muggle law—or magical law, to be honest—but they had a ceremony, and they live as a couple. They have a little boy and run a business here in the city." 

"Wow," Susan said. "That sounds wonderful."

Tonks shrugged. "They were together when I met them, so it never seemed odd to me."

Susan didn't hear what Tonks said, as she had begun daydreaming about Ginny in a silky white wedding dress. Amelia, Harry, and Tonks standing on her side of the aisle with Cassiopeia and Castoria being small flower girls throwing red petals the same shade as Ginny's hair behind her as she walked down the aisle. 

"Earth to Susan," Tonks teased. "Where did you go?"

"Um… it's nothing," Susan blushed. 

"Someone was fantasising about a little redhead, maybe?" Tonks teased.

"I don't want to hear that, not from you, who hasn't left Harry's bedroom since you arrived here," Susan stuck out her tongue. 

Susan didn't notice Tonks's smile fade a little before it was back in full force.

"Not like you and Ginny were much better during the summer," Tonks said mischievously.

"If Harry has been spouting lies," Susan mock-fumed. "We were just as much on the terrace as we were in my room."

"As if we don't know what you two were up to out there," Tonks said. "Remember, I was there when we bought Ginny's bikini."

"It seriously was a good look on her," Susan nodded fondly. 

They both looked at each other before they started laughing.

"So, what are you going to do about the invitation?" Susan asked.

"I don't know," Tonks said. "I guess it would be easier for me to visit them than having to behave in front of the Weasleys. Does Harry expect me to be there?" 

"Don't know?" Susan shrugged. "Why don't you ask him when he gets back?" 

"I guess," Tonks said, re-reading the Christmas card. "I think I should go to see them. I can always go to the Burrow, and they are all supposed to come here during New Year's, no?"

"They are," Susan said. "That's the plan, at least."

"What plan?" Amelia asked as she walked into the kitchen. 

"The Weasleys are coming here for New Year's," Susan parroted. "Tonks got an invitation today to go visit her friends instead of going to the Burrow."

Amelia nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. 

"What do you think?" Tonks asked, sliding the Christmas card towards Amelia, who ran her eyes over it.

"If you want to go then, you should go," Amelia shrugged. "It's not like you aren't old enough to make your own decisions." 

"I guess not," Tonks said. "I should wait and ask Harry."

"If you think that is the right thing to do," Amelia said. "Or you can make your decision and just let him know. He's a big boy. He can deal with not being a part of every decision in your life, I'd hope."

Harry arrived back at Carnaby Street and saw the five girls in the kitchen. The twins were both bright-eyed and curious, taking in the world.

"I got an invitation to go see Sally and Angela," Tonks said as Harry walked in, undoing his disguise.

"Sally and Angela?" Harry asked, trying to place the names.

"Reagan's sister and her wife," Tonks said. 

"Oh," Harry said. "Didn't know you were still in contact with them."

"I wasn't," Tonks said. "Just got an invitation with their Christmas card this morning."

"I guess I shouldn't come with," Harry said, "since we're supposed to be playing it cool."

"I thought I'd go while you all are at the Burrow," Tonks said.

"You should do what makes you happy," Harry said. "It's not like I don't want you to be with me, but this sounds like it would be more fun for you." 

"I think I'll go see them then," Tonks said as she hugged him. "I'm glad you don't mind. I didn't want to be rude, to change the plans all of a sudden."

"I'm glad you told me," Harry said. "I think it's good for us to have other friends, you know."

Tonks sent a reply with their owl, who had been waiting patiently for her response. A few minutes later, she was dressed and ready to go, and she kissed him on the cheek before apparating away.

Harry slumped down into a chair with a yawn. 

"Tough run?" Amelia asked.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Never thought it would be that much harder to run through the snow. They hadn't cleared the trails in the park."

"It's good for you to run in all sorts of weather," Amelia nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said. "I think I'll go take a shower. Layers are warm, but now I stink."

After breakfast, Harry and Susan helped Amelia and the twins get ready to leave for the Burrow. Susan could barely contain her excitement when she walked towards the fireplace. She was obviously looking forward to being with Ginny for the rest of the week. 

Harry was carrying the cot and playing with the two girls happily swaddled in their travelling blankets within. Neither of them liked not having his full attention. 

Amelia looked over his shoulder with a fond smile. Sirius was complaining about how unfair it was for Harry to be able to play with his girls, which had gotten him a glare from Amelia for more than one reason. 

They soon arrived in the familiar living room of the Burrow. Harry hadn't been there since just after his first school year, but it didn't look like much had changed. 

Susan spotted Ginny impatiently waiting for her and ran headlong into her embrace, much to the amusement of everyone present. Harry put down the cot next to the somewhat battered sofa. He looked around at the gathered Weasley family. Bill and Fleur had come, and Charlie was evidently still in Romania. Percy was doing Merlin knows what for the Ministry, and the Twins were talking animatedly with their father about potential extensions to their defensive line of products. Harry heard the sound of Mrs Weasley from the kitchen, where Amelia was headed.

Susan and Ginny joined him and the twins. Harry helped lift the cot, so they could each pick up one of the small girls.

"Where's Tonks?" Ginny asked.

"Visiting friends," Harry said. 

"They are like us," Susan said excitedly. "Her friends– They've gotten married and everything. They even have a little son."

Ginny looked positively gleeful at the confirmation that another couple like them existed out there. 

"I would like to meet," Ginny said. "They must be so cool."

"Me too," Susan nodded. "I want to hear their story."

Harry just leaned back and listened to their conversation. He would give a lot to find someone in a similar situation to himself, a person being toyed with by older men thinking they knew better than him. It was tiring, always being the one who had lost the most out of everyone. The petty side of him sometimes wished someone else would feel just a fraction of the pain he had to fight through. It wasn't a happy thought, and he tried to push it away and enjoy the company.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked.

"Ehm…" Ginny hesitated. "He is occupied."

"By what?" Harry tried to think of something which could occupy him more than his family.

"She came visiting," Ginny grimaced.

"Hermione?" Harry felt a slight pang in his heart.

"Of course not," Ginny said. 

She didn't have to continue explaining when Ron and Lavender walked into the living room. 

"Hiya Harry," Ron said, his face brightening. 

"Hello, Ron. I wasn't sure I recognised your face, not without it being attached to—Oh. Hello, Lavender." 

Ron shot him a sour look. 

"Oh my! Are those—?" Lavender's eyes locked onto the twins.

Harry quickly got out of the way and let her take his seat beside Ginny and Susan. He went to hug Ron by way of a holiday greeting and an apology for the earlier tease. 

"So, when did she arrive?" Harry asked.

"Yesterday afternoon," Ron said quietly. "I don't think Ginny is all that excited about it, though. She has to share a room with her."

"I see," Harry nodded. "As long as you are happy, mate."

"I am," Ron said. "I guess. It was a little bit of a surprise when she showed up, but apparently, she and mum had already been talking. Is that how this works? They just start taking over?"

Harry shrugged, not knowing what to advise his friend to do.

"Won-won, come look at these girls. They are so cute," Lavender said from the sofa. 

There was a collective grimace from Harry, Ginny, and Susan. Harry and Susan kept looking between Lavender and Ron. Won-won, Harry shuddered, solemnly vowing not to casually give anyone another nickname and certainly never say it out loud to anyone else. 

Harry thought about Tonks. He missed her, of course, but he realised something looking at Ron and Lavender. They had gotten lost in their own world, and they didn't seem able to see anything around them. It screamed danger to Harry.

Have I become the same? He asked himself. Have I gotten so comfortable with Tonks that I have lost sight of what's happening?

 

Tonks apparated into an alley, not far from Sally and Angela's flat. Of course, after a moment, she realised that it was the same alley she had apparated to and from with Reagan previously, which poked at some memories she had firmly planned on keeping buried today.

She collected herself and soon reached the walkup to the Beck-Hills' flat. She rapped on the door and immediately heard a commotion within.

The door opened, and Tonks was confronted with Sally, wearing an apron over her casual clothes, and Douglas, who was trying to push past her.

"Hi! Hi! Hi!" he called out eagerly. His mother grabbed him by the collar and slowed him down enough for Tonks to come inside.

"Hello, love!" Sally leaned in to give Tonks a one-armed hug carefully. "Mind the apron, just putting some treats in the oven for later. Don't want flour on your nice coat."

Tonks brushed that aside and gave her a big hug. "If flour can hurt dragonskin, you've just made the most important discovery since St. George."

"Hi!" Douglas was waving his arms, clearly hoping to be picked up.

"May I?" Tonks asked hopefully.

"Here we go," Angela called as she came in from the bedroom. "Now he walks so well, he wants to be carried always. Happy Christmas, Mädchen.”

"Hi, Angela," Tonks said, scooping Douglas up into her arms. "He's so big! What have you been feeding him?"

Sally excused herself to run back to the kitchen while Angela invited Tonks to shed her coat and sit. Douglas interfered with this process enthusiastically, but immediately the tough leather coat was off, he nestled himself into Tonks and started nodding off.

"He is just turned two," Angela said softly. "I'm sure he doesn't remember you, but when he heard that company was coming, he has been the busy little man. I was hoping he would nap this morning before you arrived, but no."

Sally came back, with a cup of tea which she set down near Tonks, and tried to take Douglas.

"Oh, let him sleep," Tonks told her. "He seems happy."

Truthfully, there was something very comforting about a tiny person relaxed and vulnerable, taking all they needed just by being close to you. She patted his warm back affectionately.

Tonks found herself quickly relaxing into conversation with Sally and Angela and found that it was actually enjoyable having a conversation that wasn't about work, Harry, Voldemort's return, or Ministry politics. Instead, they discussed all of Douglas's new words, the slowly rising success of the women's financial services business, and even restaurants that had opened in the area. Tonks found herself chuckling.

"What, does something about a new Indian takeaway strike you as funny, Tonks?" Sally had been popping in and out of the kitchen, with little bits of finger food on small plates, allowing Tonks to indulge her high metabolism for a change without feeling like she was wolfing down food.

"Well, I don't mean to offend, I promise, but what does it say about my life that sitting here, having tea and cake with the only married witches I know, has been the most normal part of my holidays?" Tonks felt the soft breathing of Douglas against her chest. "And this guy, he's so big."

"Ja, he is sprouting like the weeds." Angela smiled and reached over to take Sally's hand. "And we are thrilled to see you. We weren't sure what you would say after…"

Sally squeezed Angela's hand. "You promised. We aren't going to bug her about what happened."

Tonks sighed. "With Reagan? Yeah, it's okay. I knew he'd come up."

"Whatever happened with my brother and you is your business, Tonks." Sally's voice was firm, but Tonks could feel the curiosity there.

"It was my fault, I think. I'd never really dated before, and things sort of moved too fast," Tonks said. "It's hard for someone like me to get close to anyone, to ever really trust that they want to be with you for who you are, not just what you can do."

"He did something," Sally said sternly. "He said something? Tell me, and I'll hex the hair off his head, I swear."

"Whoa, Tiger!" Tonks smiled despite herself. "No, looking back, he was the perfect guy, maybe just at the worst time. And then, before I could try—again—to patch things up, I got caught up in something else, and life got away from me for a while."

Angela regarded her shrewdly, then smiled. "Something else? I think someone else, you mean."

Tonks blushed, and her hair went from pink to scarlet.

"You have a new man?" Sally's voice was so excited she almost woke Douglas, who fidgeted a moment before lolling over asleep once more. "You do! Is it someone we know? Someone from work? A tall, dark stranger?"

"A witch you met in a restaurant ladies' room?" Angela joked, making it Sally's turn to blush. "Please, we are old married couple who work all the time and raise the beautiful little man, share with us your romantic story."

"There's no way to say this without sounding like a bad novel," Tonks said, "but I can't talk about it. It's, erm, classified. Partially for his protection."

"Someone you met as an Auror?" Sally was very excited now. "A dangerous criminal, on the run from the Ministry, but he fell for the beautiful Auror who was the only one who could track him down, and now he secretly betrays his criminal partners. Only she can know he truly has a heart of gold." 

Tonks laughed, and Douglas opened his eyes and said, "Hi, Tonss! Hair pretty!"

He climbed down and went to his mothers, looking for hugs and food. Sally gave him a biscuit while Angela went to get him his unspillable juice cup.

"I'm afraid your version is more romantic than the truth, but little pieces of it are too close for me to say more." Tonks got up and stretched. Douglas was solid, heavier than he looked.

As soon as Douglas was established in his highchair, with little morsels of food to feed himself and a large cloth draped around his chair for the inevitable casualties, the three women continued their conversation.

"Okay, Tonks," Angela said, moving to sit next to her. "The big question, this man, is he making you happy?"

"Yes…" Tonks said. "He does make me happy."

"You sound hesitant," Angela frowned.

"It's complicated."

"It always is," Angela nodded. "Nothing is simple."

Tonks laughed a little at that.

"I just wonder sometimes if he's completely mine, not after how he broke up with his ex," Tonks sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"She was obliviated," Tonks said. "She forgot him, so they aren't together anymore."

"And then you guys got together," Sally said from her spot next to Douglas. "Terrible thing, obliviation."

"And men have not been so good for you," Angela shook her head. "You should have been like us. A witch's witch."

Tonks laughed again.

"As I said, it's complicated," Tonks said. 

"Nein," Angela said. "Do you love him?"

"For longer than I'd like to admit," Tonks said.

"And does he love you?"

"I think so," Tonks said. "He hasn't said the words."

Schwacher Mann,” Angela cursed.

"He's careful, I think," Tonks defended. "He's been hurt. I can relate. It's not even like we can be together officially. It's a big mess."

Sally nodded. "This calls for cocktails. You wait right there."

 

At the Burrow, Mrs Weasley had lined up for a big holiday lunch. The amount of food would be able to feed more than twenty, but as per usual, the food was slowly getting devoured by the people around the table. Harry spotted Lavender continuously putting more food on Ron's plate, more even than the always-hungry young man could eat. Susan and Ginny were off in their own world. Harry had luckily managed to end up in between Fred and George across from Bill and Fleur.

"We are getting married," Bill informed him. "Don't think you'd heard." 

"Congratulations," Harry smiled. "When?"

"In ze summer," Fleur smiled happily. "We are planning it right now."

"Mum's not all too happy, though," George whispered into Harry's ear. 

"Because she's part veela?" Harry whispered, surprised at that kind of view from Mrs Weasley.

"Worse," the twins whispered back together. "French."

Harry chuckled a little at the things Mrs Weasley took offence to. He couldn't for the life of him understand what it was Mrs Weasley didn't like about Fleur. The French witch was obviously in love with Bill. 

"That sounds amazing," Harry said. "I really am happy for you."

"You are—of course—invited," Bill smiled. "We are bringing over Fleur's family from France. Gabrielle and Ginny are going to be bride's maids."

"Charlie iz going to be Bill's best man," Fleur added. “It iz going to be magnifique.”

Harry just nodded along happily at their enthusiasm. 

"Came as a bit of a shock when Ginny told us she was dating Susan," Bill said. 

Harry lifted an eyebrow.

"Not in that way," Bill said quickly. "I don't care who she's seeing. I just never heard of her being interested in anyone aside from you. She could never stop talking about you when she was growing up."

"I think her interests have clearly moved in another direction," Harry joked. "I remember at the World Cup, Ginny was as 'captivated' by the Bulgarian veela as any of us." 

The three Weasley brothers sunk into their seats under Harry's teasing, though Bill might have been sinking more because of Fleur's direct, unflinching stare. 

"You are the only one for me, love," Bill reassured her immediately. 

"Zat is correct," Fleur said, a bit smugly. 

Harry chuckled at their dynamic. It was easy to predict that Fleur would be taking charge of their marriage and home life when they married. Not that Bill seemed to mind in the least.

"How about you two?" Harry asked the twins. "Seeing anyone?"

"No," George said. "Who has the time?"

"The orders keep coming, and we can hardly keep up with the production anymore," Fred sighed. "We're still young. There will be loads of time. Not like Bill here."

"Are you calling me old?" Bill asked. 

"Always," George teased.

"Practically ancient at this point," Fred said.

Harry laughed loudly at their show of brotherly affection.

There was a collective gasp from the other side of the table, gathering their attention. Harry looked out the window and spotted two men walking up the path to the front door. 

Rufus Scrimgeour and Percy Weasley had decided to drop by during the Weasleys' Christmas lunch. Two Aurors were standing watch at the end of the walk, and Percy was leading the Minister to the door. Amelia stood, and with her face set, instructed Susan and Ginny.

"Girls, I want you to take my twins upstairs."

"But Auntie," Susan said, drawing her wand, "What do they want?"

Arthur nodded to Ginny, and she took Susan's arm. They gathered up the babies and moved upstairs. Susan leaned towards Harry as they passed. 

"Full report, later?"

Harry nodded, unsure himself what was happening or why.

There was a knock at the door, and Bill opened it to reveal Percy, and behind him, the leonine Minister of Magic, his face serious. They stepped in as Bill looked on.

"Percy," Molly said bitterly. "Since when does any child of mine knock on our door? Is this not your home any longer?"

"Molly," Arthur said, his voice low, with a hand on her shoulder. "Welcome, Minister. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Arthur." Scrimgeour nodded to the assembled group. "Molly. Amelia, a surprise to see you. Children."

Bill, Fred, and George realised that they were included in that latter greeting and bristled visibly. Fleur wore a look of disinterested contempt that might well have served as her proof of French citizenship.

"To what do we owe the honour, Minister? I assume you're not here to deliver a holiday bonus face to face?" Arthur's attempt at lightening the mood fell flat.

"I thought that Percy might enjoy visiting, as we were in the neighbourhood." This transparent lie simply made everyone even more uncomfortable, and Percy couldn't find anywhere to look in the room that didn't include an upset relative. He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Oh. Harry." Scrimgeour didn't even bother to pretend surprise. "What a lucky chance to find you here. Perhaps we might speak for a moment?"

"Harry's guardian isn't present, Minister," Amelia said cooly. "Perhaps I should sit on this conversation, just to be sure that his rights are considered?"

"No, Auntie," Harry said, his mouth a tight line. "I'll hear the man out since they came all this way. Perhaps we could step out back?"

Harry and the Minister made their way outside, while Molly, her maternal nature overcoming her anger, said to Percy, "Can't I at least fix you a plate? You're skin and bones in that robe, honestly."

Percy seemed shocked when his brothers moved aside to offer him a seat at the table.

"Thank you, Mother," he said reluctantly, "but I best wait. I don't think the Minister plans on staying long."

 

Harry stood, one hand on his hip, one on his wand holster, as his eyes scanned the borders of the Weasleys' property. Despite the assembled wizards and witches inside, Harry had grown unused to being outside undisguised and without Tonks or his friends close at hand.

Scrimgeour regarded him curiously. When he spoke, it was without any dissembling preliminaries. 

"I need you to cooperate with the Ministry, Harry. These are dangerous times, and the people need symbols of hope."

"Ha," Harry snorted. "That's a critical difference between the Ministry and me. I think that people need real hope, not symbols. My experiences with the Ministry have not inspired confidence."

"The Ministry has been reformed. We have reliable people rebuilding the Department of Mysteries. Dolores Umbridge has been demoted—"

"Umbridge?" Harry shook his head like a dog coming out of water. "Seriously, reformed? And yet there's still room for Umbridge? What a fucking joke."

"Watch your mouth, Harry. I am the Minister of Magic and you, Chosen One, or whatever they call you, are still a student. Underaged, unlicensed, and subject to many laws and regulations—as is your guardian, Nymphadora Tonks. As I recall, she works for me, currently."

"Is that a threat?" Harry was in danger of losing his temper completely. "If you can't get to me, you'll get to people I– people I care about? Is that your play?"

"You're so like your mentor, Albus Dumbledore," Scrimgeour said bitterly, revealing just how little he truly understood Harry. "Always think that you know best. The Ministry needs—I need—a source of accurate information inside Hogwarts, independent from the Headmaster's reports. For a proper perspective, you see."

"Fair? The Ministry is corrupt. I can't tell if you're more corrupt than Fudge or just more efficient in executing your terrible ideas. Putting Stan Shunpike in Azkaban without a trial? Sounds very fair to me."

"I don't even know who that is," Scrimgeour scowled. "But if he's been sent to Azkaban, it was for good reason. And I don't recall you ever being overly concerned with rules and due process. So save your outrage, Potter."

Harry took a breath and tried to calm his mind. "What would Leo do?" he actually thought for a moment before the realisation of precisely what Leo's problem solving had led him to dawned on him.

"So, once I tell you no, it's Potter and not Harry anymore? And here I thought we were friends, all one big happy Ministry, Rufus."

The Minister's eyelid fluttered, but he maintained his calm tone.

"At least tell me what Dumbledore's endgame is for all of this. What is the old man thinking? Where does he go when he leaves the school? Telling me could save your Auror friend from a lot of unpleasant duties. Dangerous duties."

"Listen to yourself, Rufus. You're supposed to be the most powerful wizard in Britain, the head of government, and you're here threatening a, what did you call me? An underaged, unlicensed child? All to tell you something I don't know."

"I thought you were smarter, Mr Potter."

"And I hoped that you were, Minister. I really, really did. I can't give you what you want, because I don't know. I won't risk my friends or me finding out for you. Are we done here?"

A few minutes later, Percy and Scrimgeour were gone. Harry continued to sit on the bench outside. Amelia checked on him and let him know they were ready to go back to Carnaby street whenever he was ready. Everyone seemed to respect his privacy about what had happened, though Susan was clearly begging to ask.

Giving Susan a hug and a whispered promise to talk soon, Harry said his goodbyes. He helped Amelia and the twins return through the floo, leaving Susan to enjoy what she could of her stay at the Burrow. When Harry got back to the flat, Amelia told him that she would bathe the twins, get them down, and perhaps enjoy a bath herself. If he wanted to talk, he just needed to ask.

"Thanks, Auntie. I think I may actually get some rest myself. It's been a very long afternoon." When he went upstairs, he remembered that he wanted to check in Tonks's room for one of his missing shirts. She had been hoarding them, and he was running low. 

He could feel that she wasn't home but still knocked twice before opening her door, just to be sure. He poked his head in and immediately saw one of his shirts hanging off the end of her bed. Ignoring the walls' strobing colours, he grabbed the shirt and was almost out the door before he processed what he was seeing. He looked at her room from the doorway. The walls were a kaleidoscope of colours, flashing and changing from red to blue to orange to pink, alight in a crazy display.

He thought about the times he had seen Tonks's hair so out of control and what he and she had been doing at those times. He felt a tightness across his chest and a sour, acrid taste in his mouth. He recognised the adrenaline response and tried to imagine that it meant something other than what his jealous heart was telling him it meant. He slammed the door and stomped to his room. He was tempted to slam his door as well, but he realised that Amelia would have to either leave the twins or shout up the stairs to ask him what was wrong, so slamming and stomping would have to wait. He threw a privacy charm on his door and fell on his bed.

His blankets, his pillows, his shirt all smelled of Tonks.

He finally managed to calm his racing mind and slow his racing heart.

You trust Tonks. She loves you and would never hurt you like that.

Wouldn't she?

Stop. Think. Talk to her. Let her explain if you have to have an explanation. But if you really love her, you know that she doesn't owe you anything. Love isn't about what you owe each other.

And you do. You do love her.

 

Tonks was surprised to find everyone asleep when she came back from the Beck-Hills. She'd had a bit to drink, just a few cocktails, and then after Reagan had unexpectedly dropped by to say hello to his sister, she had allowed herself a few more.

She was not drunk, by any means, but she had perhaps indulged a little more than she might otherwise have done, and she needed a good hot bath and a nap before dinner, if possible. She went to go into Harry's room, but she could feel the privacy charms, the tiny hairs on her arm standing up as she touched the doorknob, the slight shimmer of light reflecting off the wood. Even tipsy, her Auror training let her know when she was about to open a warded door.

Maybe he had a bad visit to the Burrow? She leaned against the doorjamb for a moment and then went to her own room instead. It had been a while since she'd even tried to sleep in her own bed. She threw off her clothes, looking for her favourite nightshirt, but it was nowhere to be seen. Must have left it in Harry's room. She stripped off everything but her tee-shirt and panties and slipped into bed.

Reagan had looked good, she thought, though she missed his beard. It was weird. She had been able to identify every single thing she had found attractive in him before, and none of them had changed. Yet, she felt no attraction to him now. Her only regrets were in taking things too far and treating him so poorly at the end.

When it was time for her to be on her way, he had offered to walk her out. She had gently declined, and he'd accepted it well, she thought. He obviously had hoped for more, but when he inferred from Angela and Sally's comments that Tonks was no longer available, he'd managed a smile for her and wished her well. He gave her the same cheek kiss that Sally and Angela had without making more of it.

So it was with a slightly muddled head but a clear heart that Tonks had returned to Carnaby Street, hoping for a chance to talk with Harry. She felt like it was vital for him to know that she realised that trusting each other, not just in love but with their lives, was difficult for both of them. She'd hoped to tell him that she had been thinking about him and that she was committed to having a mature, responsible relationship without being so insecure about him.

She'd hoped, but he was apparently in no mood to talk.

Had he talked to Hermione? Had she been at the Burrow?

The thoughts barged into her head just as she was falling asleep. Mature, responsible, and not insecure, she told herself again, and she drifted off to sleep.

 

Harry woke up several hours later, unaware at first that he had fallen asleep. Only the fact that he was hungry again made him realise how much time had passed since lunch. He decided to see if Amelia and the girls were up and if they wanted dinner. Maybe Tonks was home. He had uncertain feelings about that. He felt stupid for doubting her earlier, angry at himself for being jealous, but also concerned about what she'd been doing, visiting her ex's family. 

He was just about to open his door when he heard a tentative knocking. He opened the door, dispelling the privacy ward he had almost forgotten about. Tonks stood there, her face serious and her hair, ever the reliable barometer, a pale, ashy blonde.

"I was hoping you were up," she said. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Harry said, not sure what he wanted or needed to say. "You had a good time?"

"I did, actually." She smiled a little. "I forgot how much fun those women are. I don't have any witch friends my age, really, or close to it. It was nice."

You'll understand when you're older, Harry thought bitterly.

"So, how was the Burrow?"

"You didn't hear? We had an unexpected guest. There was an awkward talk. We probably should discuss it, but I thought maybe Amelia wanted some dinner."

Hermione did show up, Tonks thought, trying not to think about what Harry wanted to discuss with her.

"If it's that important, maybe we should make time now," she said. Maybe it's best to pull the bandage off in one quick go if it was anything bad. She didn't believe, if she was honest with herself, that anything terrible was coming. She trusted Harry that much. Yet, she couldn't help but feel insecure, based on too many prior experiences with dashed expectations.

"I do have a question, well, if you want to talk about it, I was wondering—"

"Kids! Come down here!" Amelia's voice was urgent and distressed. Tonks reached the ground floor faster than Harry only because she ignored the stairs and jumped down the last five feet, skidding to a stop next to Amelia. Harry barreled down, wand drawn, right behind her. Arthur Weasley's head was visible in the floo grate.

"You need to hear this. Go ahead, Arthur." Amelia was agitated and casting anxious glances where the twins were lying on the floor, playing on a blanket.

Arthur looked grim, as grim as he had in St. Mungo's following his attack. He nodded quickly to them.

"The news is still coming in. We've had a Ministry owl and a Patronus from Lupin. It's bad."

He looked each of them in the eye, in turn, delivering the fearful news.

"There's been a large number of coordinated attacks, all across London. Muggleborn witches and wizards have had their homes and businesses attacked. There are fires in Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley and Perpendicular Alley have smashed windows and broken-in doors. A squib was thrown, physically, from the Tower Bridge into the Thames. All of the victims appear to be what the manifesto received by the Ministry calls "Unseemly." Mixed families and Muggleborns. An elf rights activist. Lupin's people say that a young boy being treated for lycanthropy in St. Mungo's was attacked in his ward. The boy will live, but we're concerned it must have been an insider. The security there is too tight otherwise."

"Death Eater bastards," Harry breathed harshly, his knuckles white on his wand.

"That's the worst part," Arthur said.

"How could it be worse?" Tonks wondered and wished she hadn't.

"Only a few attacks correspond with known Death Eaters, and there's been no sign of the Dark Mark. It appears these are coordinated attacks by sympathisers, previously unknown witches and wizards supporting You Know Who. Hold on."

Someone was talking to him, but they could not hear through the fire.

"They've set fire to a synagogue in Surbiton. Several wizards worship there, it seems. There have been at least two deaths."

"What do we do, Arthur?" Amelia was impatient, clearly feeling vulnerable sitting still.

"There's a general call-up of the Order. We meet here in—oh, my—ten more minutes. I must go. I haven't been able to reach Mundungus yet."

"We'll see you there," Tonks said grimly.

"No!" Arthur looked pained. "Kingsley needs you at the Ministry—we can't risk anything being swept under the rug, which is likely to happen without our people there. Report at once. Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Susan and Ginny and the boys are fine. They wanted me to tell you. Ginny is pretty shaken up. It seems gay and lesbian wizards and their businesses were targeted, too. No time, no time, we need you to guard your flat and the twins. Amelia is needed here."

"But I can help!" Harry shouted as Arthur turned to go.

"Harry," Amelia said, putting her hands on his shoulders so that he faced her. "Harry, listen to me. This place is still unplottable. There is nowhere more safe for my children, but I need you to do this."

"You know I can fight," Harry said fiercely. "We can take the twins to the Weasleys—"

"Harry! You're not listening to me." Her face was grave. "If this is just the beginning, if the Order falls, the Burrow won't be safe. I need to know—I have to know—that you and the girls are safe."

Tonks had managed to summon her boots and coat and was ready to floo directly to the Ministry. She looked, clearly torn, at each of them, and the twins still happily playing.

"Take care. I'll be careful. You be, too!"

"Tonks, listen, I—"

"The Ministry of Magic!"

But it was too late. She'd vanished into the floo with a great gout of green flame.

"Harry," Amelia embraced him, "I know how impossibly hard this is. I'll let you know what I can find out, and I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm counting on you. Our whole family, all we have left, we're counting on you."

"I love you, Auntie," he said.

"Goodbye for just a little while, my loves!" Amelia looked at her children, then tore herself away and entered the floo.

"The Burrow!"

Reluctantly, Harry holstered his wand and turned to the two girls playing on their blanket.

"So, it looks like it's just you and me," he said, trying to keep the worry from his voice and body language—no point in upsetting the poor girls.

Chapter 37: Unseemly Aftermath

Summary:

The wizarding world, and Harry’s corner of it, respond to the effects of the Boxing Day Incidents. Harry learns more, though not as much or as quickly as he would like. Updates do arrive, though, to share the fate of Harry’s friends and loved ones.

Notes:

This was about as far as I felt I could veer away from canon without specific instructions from Waske for arc-related reasons. If you love it, enjoy it! If you hate it, lie to me? I need validation. I’m a fragile, fragile man. Stay safe, do good, be well. -Killjoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 37. Unseemly Aftermath

 

Harry tried his best to keep negative thoughts at bay by playing with Cassiopeia and Castoria. They were happy to have some playtime with one of their favourite people. Harry was surprised that they actually remembered him and were comfortable being with him alone since they had been so small during the summer. He had arranged them on a blanket on the floor and hadn’t expected them to be able to roll around or sit up by themselves already.

He felt that if he looked away, one of them would go exploring. He decided that he needed something to keep them away from the staircase, even if they hadn’t started crawling yet. He had a sneaking suspicion that Cassiopeia was eyeing him in a challenging way to see just how far she could push him.

He made them food when they cried, and he changed their diapers when they cried again, and soon he was sitting on the couch with two small girls sleeping on his chest. He gently put them down in their little bed, which he had levitated to the living room to keep an eye on them.

That turned out to be a mistake. As soon as the girls fell asleep and weren’t physically making him stay put, Harry began to pace. He wanted to know more, but he firmly remembered the look in Amelia’s eyes. She needed to know he was protecting them.

Harry suddenly realised how impossible it must have been when he told Hermione and their friends not to follow him to the Department of Mysteries. He’d never really felt so sidelined, so powerless in what he viewed as his own life story, to take any action. No wonder they had been so adamant.

He made himself something quick, two slices of bread and whatever was leftover from their Christmas dinner. He needed the energy, so he would be ready if someone came back. He grabbed his portable potion-brewing station and began making general-use combat-related medical brews. He needed something to keep himself busy. 

He didn’t even notice the time until the girls started crying again in the early hours of the morning. Harry was looking haggard, but he was still energetic. His entire body was running on stress and adrenaline. He got up from his brewing and made another batch of baby formula for the girls and fed them as he calmed down a little. He debated whether it was safe to check in on the Burrow but decided against it. 

He didn’t know how many times he replayed the horrific mental images of Tonks and Amelia getting killed during the night, only fuelling his determination to be prepared if either of them returned home wounded. 

He changed the babies, and they soon were smiling and looking expectantly at him for some more playing. Harry smiled indulgently at them and focused on taking care of the two. They were his only source of sanity– if indeed he could call himself sane this night. They ended up sleeping on his chest once more as he laid down on the couch. Harry fought hard against the two girls’ comforting warmth, which was slowly lulling him to sleep. 

He woke up instantly when he heard the sound of the hearth flaring up. He grabbed his wand and sat up, making the girls tumble down his body and land in his lap. He heard their cries from being woken up, but all of his senses were on the fireplace. 

He still held his wand ready when Amelia stepped out of the fireplace. 

“What was the first question Amelia Black asked at my hearing at courtroom ten?”

“I asked if Harry Potter could perform a corporeal Patronus,” Amelia said back.

Harry lowered his wand and made sure the twins were alright.

They soon calmed down. Thankfully they hadn’t been hurt but were just surprised at the sudden movement. 

“Any news?” Harry asked.

“We’re still putting out the fires. Literally,” Amelia said. “It seems to be mostly London, so at least we can concentrate our efforts. If they managed this nationwide, I don’t know what we could have done.”

Harry noticed that her clothes were looking slightly singed. 

“The Order is operating from Grimmauld Place. I just came to check up on the girls before heading back,” Amelia said, looking at them over the back of the couch.

“We’re fine,” Harry said. “Tonks?” 

“Still running around with Kingsley and the Aurors from what I last heard,” Amelia said. “They haven’t checked in at Grimmauld. Everyone has been on their feet since yesterday.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “Over there, Blood Replenishers and Wound Cauterising Brews, take them.”

“Good thinking,” Amelia said. “We’ve had injured, but thankfully no one killed yet.”

Harry felt his stomach tied into a knot. Yet, he thought. So this is how it feels.

“Thank you for protecting my girls,” Amelia said. “I have to go.”

“Stay safe,” Harry said. 

He rose from the couch with a girl on each arm, so Amelia could kiss them before she grabbed the vials and returned to the fireplace.

“Grimmauld Place, number 12,” Amelia said as she stepped into the fire. 

Harry watched for a second until the flames returned to their embers. 

“Well, it’s good that your mother is still alright,” Harry said to the two girls.

They replied by making small sounds, which could almost be mistaken for speech.

Harry put them into high chairs in the kitchen and began making food for them all. He was feeling hungry, and the girls were likely feeling hungry too. He realised that it must be worse for those doing the hard and dangerous work if he forgot to eat. He started on sandwiches and some hot soup that he could send to Grimmauld via the floo the next time they contacted him. The Order might appreciate them, and it kept him busy.

Then it was back to waiting until Amelia found time to check in once more. Harry ended up carrying the girls as he paced through the flat. He tried to make a game of it, but the smile on his face was starting to hurt and become stiff. 

It wasn’t until the evening that there was a development. There was a knocking on the front door.

Harry focused quickly. He carried the girls into Amelia’s room and put them under a sleeping charm, making sure they would be quiet. He looked through the peephole of the front door. 

He was surprised to find four people standing at the door. Two women—one carrying a child—and a man who was harder to see through the tiny glass were waiting outside. It shouldn’t be possible. This place was under a Fidelius charm. 

Has Tonks been captured? Is she alright, or has she been tortured to speak? Is she still alive?

Harry didn’t recognise any of them, but he was hopeful that a small child wouldn’t be a ruse for Death Eaters to come after him. 

Harry growled through the door. “Wands where I can see them.”

He watched as the two women raised their wands, so they were visible. The man showed his empty hands.

Harry backed away from the door and flicked his wand for the door to open. He kept his wand raised should any of them move quickly.

The man walked in front. Seeing him face-to-face and seeing how he moved, positioning himself between Harry’s wand and the women without hesitation, Harry immediately placed him.

“Reagan?” he asked.

“Yes,” Reagan said. “Wait? James?”

Harry recognised his old alias, but the fact that the man was here was still confusing.

“What’s the coffee shop we went to after our last lesson?” 

Reagan looked confused but answered him. “Cuppa Joe’s?”

Harry turned to the others. “And you are?” 

“Sally, Angela, Douglas. This is Tonks’s place, right?” 

“I know this is hard, but can I please have your wands at least for the moment?” Harry asked.

Sally reluctantly handed her wand over. Angela was more resistant, and only after a nod from Reagan did she place her wand on the floor and scoot it with her foot towards Harry. 

Constant vigilance, Harry thought. I like her.

“Yes, this is Tonks’s place. I live here, too. Sorry, Reagan, but James is a cover. My name is Harry. Harry Potter.”

The Harry Potter?” Sally asked doubtfully.

He pushed away the hair covering his scar.

Harry said. “What are you doing here, and how were you able to find this place?”

“I’m Reagan’s sister. This is my wife Angela and our son Douglas,” Sally said. “Our shop was attacked. We went to hide at Reagan’s place, but he convinced us we’re in over our heads. We couldn’t reach our parents and decided it was too risky to head out in the city without knowing where we were going. We knew this place is under a Fidelius charm, but Reagan had been here before. It was all we could think of.”

Harry nodded before he returned their wands. 

“Close the door,” Harry said.

“Why do I feel like I should know who you are?” Reagan asked.

“He’s the Boy-Who-Lived,” Sally said quickly.

“Oh, blimey. The defence lessons make more sense, at least.”

Harry grimaced. 

“Sorry,” Sally said. “It’s just you are famous. You defeated You-Know-Who.”

“Did a bang-up job at that,” Harry said. 

He flicked his wand, and soon a kettle was boiling in the kitchen. 

“Where is Tonks?” Reagan asked. 

“Out, working,” Harry said. “Auror, remember?”

“Right,” Sally said. 

Harry summoned tea and mugs from the cupboard, and Angela began making tea.

“How bad is it out there?” Harry asked.

“You don’t know?” 

“No,” Harry said. “I have been here protecting my goddaughters.”

“Where are they? Are they okay” 

Harry pointed towards one bedroom.

“This place looks different,” Reagan said. “It wasn’t this big last time I was here.”

“I extended it to three floors,” Harry said casually. “We have more people living here now.”

“Is there anyone else here?” Sally was looking around, anxiously holding her sleepy toddler to her side.

“My Aunt and her niece, both away. Amelia’s two daughters. Tonks, of course.” 

“Who are you?” Sirius woke within his painting and was glaring out from his frame.

“Sirius, calm down,” Harry said. “Reagan is Tonks’s ex, and those two are his sister and his sister-in-law. I checked for any magical altering.”

“Where are the girls?” Sirius was eyeing the guests suspiciously.

“In your room under a sleeping charm. I already shielded it.”

Sirius nodded grimly. “Any news?” 

“Amelia was here earlier, and it isn’t looking good. Gave her potions to help.”

“Any casualties?” 

“Not yet,” Harry said. “I don’t know anything else.”

Reagan, Sally, and Angela looked between the two confusedly.

“My godfather, Sirius Black, Amelia’s late husband.”

“I read about you in the paper,” Angela said. 

“Did it say how dashing and charismatic I am?” Sirius tried to lighten the mood.

“You are barking up the wrong tree,” Sally said. 

“Well, I was famously well known for my bark,” Sirius admitted, much to her confusion.

The room settled into silence once more. Harry decided that they looked like they hadn’t eaten yet, so he offered them food.

“You are welcome to stay here,” Harry said. “At least until we know more, we have a guest room on the second floor. I might be able to extend it a little more to fit four people.” 

“You transfigure spaces?” Sally asked. “That’s some advanced magic.” 

“I’ve had practice,” Harry said. “Most of the work on this flat is mine.”

“How old are you? Seventeen?” Sally was trying to remember how old Harry Potter must be.

“Sixteen,” Harry shrugged. “I’m going to make a quick call to another safehouse.”

“Do you need us to leave?” Sally asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “Under another Fidelius, and I am not secret-keeper.”

Harry went to the hearth and bent down to update Grimmauld Place on the development. He found a tired-looking Lupin sitting in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Harry said from the fire.

“Harry? What are you doing?”

“We have visitors here,” Harry said. “Don’t worry. They’re okay. One is, erm, a friend of Tonks. The others are his sister and her family. They were hit as well. They didn’t feel safe at their place, so they came here looking for Tonks. Tell Amelia and Tonks if you see them, so there’s no confusion if they come home to unexpected visitors.”

“Good idea,” Lupin said.

“Any news?” 

“Not much, all pretty much the same. The attacks have mostly stopped, and we are running around trying to catch the perpetrators and aid the survivors. Mostly property damage and fear, so far.” 

“I’ve made some sandwiches and things if that’s any help,” Harry said. Lupin’s tired eyes brightened.

“You always were clever, Harry. Please!”

Harry passed along some plates of sandwiches and a large crock of soup before he removed his head from the fire.

“That should make sure you aren’t attacked if either Tonks or Amelia decides to check-in here,” Harry said. 

He went into Amelia’s room, lowering the wards and put the two girls in the moveable cot before he levitated it behind him.

“I’m going to extend your room now, follow me,” Harry said as he walked upstairs. 

The four of them walked behind him, and he opened the door to the room.

“Sorry about the dust. It doesn’t see much use,” Harry said, putting the cot down in front of him. 

He extended the room to just barely fit two beds after transfiguring the chair into a second queen-sized bed. It was the best he could do on the already extended space, and he hoped it would not have to be permanent. He wasn’t sure he could entirely trust it not to degrade over time.

“The loo is over there,” Harry pointed to the closed door across the hall. “Upstairs is a training area.” 

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but despite growing up around it, I never stop being impressed when I see magic actually in use,” Reagan said. 

“How much exactly do you know about all this?” Harry asked. “I thought you were a Muggle.”

“Depends on who you ask,” Reagan nodded. “Our family’s mixed. Some call me a squib, but I’m fine with Muggle. Not an ounce of magic in me. Not the only one in the family, though.”

Harry nodded. 

“I’d like to do shifts,” Harry said. “One person awake at all times, sound good?”

Reagan nodded, while Angela and Sally looked apprehensive.

“It makes sense,” Reagan said. “We did the same in the military.”

“Good,” Harry said. “I haven’t slept much, and this charm should help the girls sleep until the morning. Fair warning, I am going to put up strong wards around my room. I’ll be able to hear you through them, but if you touch the door without my permission, it won’t kill you, but it won’t be pleasant either.”

“You’re serious?” Reagan asked.

“Deadly,” Harry said. “I don’t know all of you, and if it is to protect these girls, I will hurt you. I’d kill you if it came to that.”

Reagan nodded and took a hard look into the eyes of the boy in front of him.

“You’ve seen combat of some kind since I saw you last,” he said. “I recognise the look. We’ll be careful, and you should know that I feel the same way about my family as you do about yours.”

Harry said, “You’re on watch until 6:00 AM. You can split it in any way you want. The fridge has food. Oh, and, um, I’m sorry about your shop.”

Harry levitated the cot once more into his bedroom, and he turned around to raise the wards. When he made sure they were all up and secure, he crashed on his bed.

Sally walked towards the door and cast a few spells.

“He wasn’t kidding. This could kill someone, really nasty stuff,” she said grimly. “We need to keep Douglas well away, Angela.”

 

Harry woke up to the two babies crying next to him. He assumed they were hungry. He strapped on his wrist holder to his right arm and put his wand in it for easy access. He grabbed the two crying girls and calmed them down before touching a rune he had set up to lower the wards.

He found a tired-looking Angela sitting in the living room.

“Anything?” Harry asked as he spotted her.

Nein,” she said. 

“You can go sleep if you want,” Harry said.

“They are so cute,” Angela said. “What are their names?” 

“This is Castoria, and this one is Cassiopeia,” Harry said. “They’re both hungry, so I’m going to get them their bottles and probably start on some breakfast. Dinner? Whatever meal it is now. You need anything?” 

“Coffee, if it is possible.”

Harry nodded and put water on for Tonks’s French press before putting the two girls in their high chairs and making them their bottles. They happily spluttered and made a mess.

“You are good with children,” Angela said as she sat down at the table. 

“I guess,” Harry said. “Just trying to do my best. Cream, sugar?”

Nein, Danke. Thank you for taking us in,” Angela said as Harry handed her a mug filled with coffee.

“Sorry for my attitude last night,” Harry said. “I was tired and on edge.” 

“It’s understandable,” Angela said. “We are strangers to you.”

Harry nodded but didn’t say anything more as he began preparing breakfast for the two of them.

“How did you and Sally meet?” Harry asked.

“This is good story,” Angela smiled. “I was angry and had been drinking too much, I think.

She sipped her coffee before telling Harry all about how a single meeting in a ladies loo changed both of their lives.

By the time Angela was about to finish her story, Sally and Douglas joined them in the kitchen.

“Reagan?” Harry asked.

“Still sleeping,” Sally said. “He was up in the middle.” 

Harry nodded again and pushed two plates of food towards the newcomers.

Sally gratefully accepted the plate while Douglas was interested in the two other children at the table.

“Let me properly introduce my goddaughters,” Harry said. “Castoria and Cassiopeia. I’m charged with protecting them until their mother comes home.”

“Aren’t you two the cutest?” Sally said. 

“Hi, hi,” Douglas said to the girls.

“I guess it would be best for you all to lie low here until the situation is under control,” Harry said. “I don’t know when that would be, though. Sorry if I was too on edge last night to say so, but you’re welcome here.”

Harry showed them around the flat after breakfast, and Sally was soon enamoured with the small study filled with all sorts of books.

“Where did you get all these?” she asked.

“Most of them I bought, some I inherited,” Harry shrugged. “My godfather left me his collection. The Black family has gathered all sorts of books over the centuries, though the cursed collection is still in my house.” 

“I haven’t even seen most of these titles before,” Sally said.

“You really got her going,” Angela sighed. “She gets all excited when she finds new books.” 

“I have a friend who is the same,” Harry said. “She can’t help herself.”

“How many of these have you read?” Sally asked.

“All of them,” Harry shrugged. 

Sally nodded approvingly. 

 

Reagan woke up around lunch looking more refreshed. 

“I think it might be dangerous for you to leave the next few days,” Harry said. “You can probably keep yourself occupied on the top floor if you feel like moving around. I know it can be frustrating being stuck, but it does the trick most of the time.”

“Alright,” Reagan said. 

Harry wasn’t surprised to see the man move upstairs after lunch and disappear on the third floor. He would probably have done the same if he didn’t have to keep an eye on the girls. 

He had just come back from washing up after changing both girls when Sally waved him over.

“You just missed Tonks,” she said, quickly gesturing to the fire grate when Harry startled to attention. “Literally popped her head in to say she was okay. She seemed worried about you.”

“Damn,” Harry muttered, moving to fix himself a cup of tea. “It would have been nice just to see her, even for a second.”

“You,” Angela said, suddenly realising. “The boy she is telling us about, ja?”

Harry ducked her glance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sally was settling in with Douglas and a children’s book on the sofa. “Well, that explains a lot. No wonder she couldn’t talk about it.”

Harry just sat uncomfortably, drinking his tea. He watched as Douglas snuggled into his mother, listening to a story about the Hogwarts Express and its brave journey through the fog. It made him wonder if there were lengths a parent wouldn’t go to for their children. Maybe that was a weakness, but perhaps it was a strength. He couldn’t tell.

It was nearly noon when Molly Weasley arrived, wand in hand, startling everyone. She stepped from the floo, and Harry was shocked to see that even Mrs Weasley, earth-mother figure and professional worrier, showed signs of recent action.

“Hello, Harry. I heard you had collected some refugees.” She was tired but still the same warm person. “Molly, a friend of the family.”

She and Harry quickly exchanged recognition questions and then relaxed only slightly.

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley.” Harry pulled out a chair for her at the table. “Can you stay long, is there news? Can I get you something?”

“Hold on, dear, hold on,” she said, gratefully sinking into the offered chair. “Spot of tea, please. Extra sugars?”

After brief introductions, during which Reagan came down, having heard the commotion, Molly gave a quick update of the situation.

There had been over thirty different attacks in Britain, with only two being outside London. Fred and George had lost some windows, but no one had been hurt, and they expected to reopen. Quality quidditch Supplies, however, was a total loss. The proprietor and his Muggle-born wife had been injured, but not seriously, thanks to prompt action by a neighbour. They took the wife to St. Mungo’s, but as the hospital was currently swamped, she would be sent to relatives for treatment by a visiting Medi-witch later in the week.

The squib who had been thrown in the Thames had been found, dead, downriver on the bank. The poor man must have been knocked unconscious by the impact and had drowned. More concerning were new reports that London was not the only city hit.

“When we didn’t hear from other British cities, we assumed it was local.” Molly’s face was drawn, her expression distant. 

Calais and Paris had a small number of attacks. The scariest development was that the main lobby of Barkus, Gurkle, and Stein, the Austrian goblin bank, had been hexed. No Wizard had been able to cross their threshold. Though the goblins had rescued those inside the bank through other exits, this was an unthinkably risky escalation, putting the Goblin Nation on alert. There was a rumour of an attack in America, but no details or confirmation had been available. A similar story out of China had proved to be just a false alarm, thankfully.

“The Ministry may have more information, but they aren’t telling. The Prophet didn’t publish today. No one knows what they will say.” Molly put her head in her hands, then sat up with a smile. “So, before I have to go, let me see the babies if I could, and who is this charming young man?” Douglas had walked up to her and was solemnly offering her his toy locomotive.

“Barkus, Gurkle, and Stein,” Angela said softly. “I have worked with them. To attack the goblins? And risk another war? Wahnsinn, es ist Wahnsinn.

Sally nodded. “You’re right. It’s all madness. And our shop? Who would want to hurt our shop? Or us?”

Molly came back from briefly visiting the twins. “Unseemly. That’s what they’re calling you. Muggleborns and mixed-bloods, anyone too friendly with house-elves or goblins. Anyone, er, queer, anyone political, anyone different. They tried to set the Forbidden Forest near Hogsmeade alight, but it refused to burn stubborn old thing. We think they were after the centaurs there.”

“My father,” Sally said, sitting up. “All of his business with Muggles, what should I do?”

“What’s his name, love? Is he here in the city?” Molly looked ready to run and check on him herself.

“Peter Hill, he runs Harrington’s Imports, and Hill & Murray, the restaurant supplier?”

Molly nodded, “I remember that one, dear. Arthur, my husband, is a fan of their seat cushions, of all things. He said they hadn’t been touched.”

“Would you like to lie down for a while? Do you need a rest?” Harry offered.

“No, dear, I’ve tarried too long. I’ll send your love along, and if I have a chance, I’ll try to pass the word on to your father, Sally, that you all are safe.” She embraced Harry briefly and stepped into the floo. 

The rest of the day passed with a crawling, dreadful pace. While understanding that at this point, no further news was probably good news, there was an emotional craving on everyone’s part to feel progress, to be connected to their world, and not stuck in their little fortress.

It was nearly dinner time when Amelia returned. She had her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and there were fresh scorch marks on her robes that might have come from stunners, but she insisted that she was okay.

“Things seem to be wrapping up, for now. The youngsters will patrol tonight, and we’ll meet again tomorrow to plan the next steps. You and the girls will stay here, as will your new guests, I expect, until we’re certain that they have somewhere safe to go.”

Harry tried to be casual, but he couldn’t help it.

“So, you think I’ll see Tonks tomorrow? After she’s patrolled tonight, she’ll need rest.”

“I don’t think so.” Amelia put her hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed it. “All Aurors are staying at the ministry until further notice. They think their homes may be targets. And yes, I know this place is unplottable, but we don’t want to shout it about that Tonks and I have an unplottable hideaway, do we? It’s safer this way for everyone, including her.”

Amelia wound up falling asleep on the sofa, one of her babies tucked away on either side. Harry and Reagan sat at the table, sipping strong tea and quietly talking about nothing, just passing the time. Neither of them mentioned Tonks or how exactly Reagan had learned the flat’s location. Early in the morning, when Angela came down to check on them, Amelia, both twins, and Harry were all asleep, and Reagan was staring, almost hypnotised, into the fire’s flames. He startled when he realised Angela had come up.

“How are Sally and Douglas?” Reagan asked softly.

She nodded silently and moved a chair to sit by him. She looked at him carefully.

“I’m sorry you are dragged into this. Wizards and thugs, this violence. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Bugger off with that talk, love,” he said at once. “You’re my family now. I was there when Flitwick said your vows. What was it? ‘Love is an act of courage’? Yeah. I fought for Queen and Country, I fought for Douglas, and for you and Sally, and I’ll do it again.”

“You’re a good man, bruder.” Angela nodded again, musing on events as she, too, stared into the fire.

“Who knows, maybe there’s still a witch out there for me, eh?” Reagan watched the flames and waited for the dawn.

 

The following day brought better news. As Harry mentally ticked off worries from his list, he heard from Ron that all of the Weasleys were safe and well. All the Aurors were rotating duty, but at least one member of the Order had seen both Tonks and Kingsley during the night and were able to report that they were unhurt. Lavender had returned home to be with her family, which didn’t seem to bother Ron much. Hermione, Neville, and Luna had all checked in. Some owls carrying copies of the Quibbler to subscribers might have been interfered with, Luna reported, or they may simply have gone to ground to avoid the troubles. Their return was hoped for.

The news from abroad was largely positive. It appeared that France and Austria’s attacks had been spontaneous local actions spurred on by reports from London. The American report was still unconfirmed. While Harry had been relieved at this, Angela had pointed out to the gathered crowd listening to Ron’s report that this was actually a bad sign, as it showed that even without Voldemort and his minions, there were elements of the wizarding world angry and frustrated enough to rise and lash out. This brought home the importance of defeating Voldemort and the ideas he stood for.

After lunchtime, Amelia returned from the meeting, without much more to report than Ron had told them. She did inform Reagan and Sally that their parents were okay and that they were welcome to stay at Hill House, their estate, for “the duration.” This was a phrase Harry hadn’t heard in his lifetime, but Amelia seemed confident they would be alright.

As they prepared to depart, Sally thanked Harry, and Douglas cried, apparently wanting to stay with “the babies.” She took him firmly in hand and entered the floo, bound for Hill House. Reagan took a moment to take Harry aside while Angela waited for him. 

“Look, I know this is awkward, all this craziness. I won’t pretend I understand everything going on in your life after just a short while.” Reagan scratched at the stubble growing on his chin. “But I do know a few things. You’re a fighter, you have the instinct, and if the training you did with me is any indication, you treat it seriously and keep your head. You should come out of this alright.”

“Thank you.” Harry scratched his own chin, more from the power of suggestion than from any real beard coming in. His whiskers, such as they were, were still soft, not scruffy. “I hope things work out for you all, as well.”

“One more thing,” Reagan said, shaking Harry’s hand with the grip of a trained combat instructor. “If I hear you’ve hurt Tonks in any way, wand or no wand, I’m putting your arse onto the floorboards.”

Harry smirked, breaking into a grin. “Fair enough. Take care, old man.”

“Old man?” Reagan chuckled, taking Angela’s hand. Muggles could travel by floo, but it was best to have a witch or wizard hold them tightly, just in case. “That hurts, that hurts.”

Auf wiedersehen, Harry. Hill House!”

And with a double spout of flame, they were gone.

That evening, Harry made a quiet dinner for himself and Amelia. The twins were fussy, having somehow grown used to additional attention over just the last few days. Before they sat down to eat, Amelia took a candle from a cupboard, placed it in the centre of the table, and took a small bottle of wine from the back of the fridge. She poured herself a glass and a few sips in a glass for Harry.

“What’s this for?” Harry sat when Amelia did, and she touched her wand’s tip to the candle, coaxing it into flame.

“Raise your glass, Harry,” Amelia said solemnly. She raised hers. “Scott Miller, thrown from a bridge. Alice Harvey, caught in a fire. Martin Harvey, saving their children. Rowan Spiggot, felled by debris. Absent friends, not forgotten.”

“Absent friends,” Harry repeated, and he took a sip of the wine when Amelia did. “Not forgotten.”

Amelia stared at the candle flame for a moment, and then she shook her head. “Go ahead, Harry, eat up. It smells delicious.” She took another sip of wine and began dispatching her shepherd’s pie, eating mechanically, refuelling her body more than satisfying her hunger.

Harry thought about his friends and wizards across the city, across Britain, all around the world. He thought about the Harveys, who he had never met, and whose names he had not even known. Harry thought about Scott Miller and the terror the man must have felt. He wondered if Rowan Spiggot had been young or old, married or single. All he knew was that it was too soon, too soon.

“Did you say that for my parents, Amelia?” He tried to keep his voice from breaking. “Was there even time, during the last war?”

She looked at him, and her expression was answer enough, but she said, “We made time, Harry. I’m just glad the list was so short, at least for today. Let the candle burn until we’ve finished, then put it out.”

“Absent friends,” Harry repeated softly to himself. They might need that candle again, he realised. He found he had lost his appetite.

He was clearing away after dinner when the floo flared once more. Grabbing his wand, he turned to see a shock of black hair and an unfamiliar face in a very familiar dragonskin coat.

“Oh, thank—Wait! What gift did you give me before we went shopping at Christmas?”

Her features relaxed into the beloved features he knew, and her hair went pink, though somewhat faded and not so exuberant as usual. “I could show you if you like?”

“Please, just tell me it’s really you.” His voice was wavering, but his wand tip stayed steady, straight at her heart.

“I’ve been found, so I’m being returned to Harry Potter, just like it says on the tin.”

Amelia came out just in time to see the two rush into each other’s arms. They did not even kiss, but instead, they just crushed together as though trying to eliminate any space which might dare come between them.

“Welcome home, Tonks,” Amelia said loudly. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Tonks waved one hand to her but then pushed her face away enough to see Harry clearly.

“I can’t stay. I told them I was fetching some clothes. I had to see you.”

“The last time we saw each other, I was upset,” he said, taking a moment to kiss her cheeks and her forehead rapidly. “It was stupid. I’ve felt so bloody useless here.”

She kissed him once, soundly, on the lips, and then pulled away. She began summoning clothes from her room without even a glance, then turned back to him as shirts and jeans began to fly down the stairway and stack themselves in an untidy heap on the table.

“I was worried,” she said. “I knew you’d be safe, I had to trust you, but I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Don’t,” Harry said, suddenly, as if her words had the power of a spell. “Say you’ll see me soon, that you’ll be careful, that you’ll miss me. I never want to hear you say goodbye again, Tonks.”

She scooped her clothes up under one arm and wrapped the other around him.

“I have to go, love,” she said sadly. “Kiss me good-… kiss me, and see you again soon?”

He kissed her, holding her face in his hands and pressing his forehead to hers, trying to cherish every second.

“I’ll be okay, now. You be careful, promise me.” He let her go before she was forced to pull away. He didn’t want to make it harder for her, as terribly difficult as it already was for him.

“I promise.” She stepped back into the floo. “Ministry of Magic!”

“I love—” And she was gone. 

“Damn,” Harry said softly to the unhearing flames. “I love you, Tonks.”

What kind of alchemy is love, he wondered, that makes me so eager to give up all the independence I am fighting so hard for? Am I only going to be happy when I’m partnered up? Or have I just been fortunate to have two close relationships in a row?

He felt like an idiot for distrusting her before. Just because he didn’t know the explanation for what he’d seen in her room didn’t mean she owed him one. How would he feel, being asked to explain every odd coincidence or apparent weird event in his life? He was starting to see that while he liked things in neat, simple terms, good and bad, loyal and treacherous, honest and lying, his own experiences were shouting at him that life was more complicated. He thought of himself as a fundamentally good person, but he’d lied, he’d been unfair, he’d held grudges, he’d rushed into judgments.

He’d had complicated, intense feelings for one woman while dating another. The fact that circumstances beyond his control had allowed them to be together didn’t absolve him of the fact that he’d been attracted to Tonks, emotionally and physically, longer than he cared to admit. She appeared to have the same problem, having told him that she knew she loved him even while she’d been dating someone else. And Reagan was no melodrama villain. He was a good man, honourable, strong, honest. Harry, undercover as James, had liked him, and in other circumstances, they could have been friends, or at least friendly.

Harry left the rest of the washing up. He went upstairs, and before going to bed, he peeked into Tonks’s room. The walls were a soft, calm green, a warm, reassuring colour. He hoped she was sleeping, wherever she was.

He went to bed, and when he slept, his only dreams were of being on his broomstick. For some reason, he was with Hedwig, as she was soaring alongside on her silent wings. Without care or fear for one night, Harry dreamed of flight.

Notes:

Revision Update Note:
This is where my evolving vision of what makes a true AU story really took hold. It always bothered me that in canon, everything going on in Britain seemed to be cut off from the rest of the world except a few minor lines with little story impact. I wanted society to shake, to reel from the battle between Voldemort and Harry and his allies.

Chapter 38: The New Year

Summary:

New Year's Eve at the flat.

Emotional and literal fireworks.

Declarations of love.

Partings are such sweet sorrow.

A letter from a surprising source.

Ronald lets his irritation show on the train.

Chapter Text

Chapter 38. The New Year

 

Two days later, the last day of the year, Hermione Granger packed a bag. She made sure that her trunk contained everything she needed for school and that Crookshanks was in a travelling carrier, despite his loud protests. The squash-faced orange beast made his disgust audible as Hermione stood in her front hall, once more talking with her parents.

“We’ve been over this, Mum,” she said patiently. “There haven’t been any signs of further attacks in the city. Acting on my own, I’d not be much help to you here if something were to happen. We’re both safer if experienced, trained wizards surround me. Besides, they’ll arrange to get me to the train safely. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Her mother didn’t say anything else but hugged her tightly. “Give our love to Ronald and his family. Please send word when you can that you’ve arrived, and everything is okay there.”

“Could be worse, I suppose.” Her father was glumly accepting that Hermione was no longer of an age where he could just tell her what to do. He’d known that for some time, but her attack (he refused to call it an accident, as his wife did like she’d just tripped and lost five years of her life), her attack had given him a brief chance to be her protector again.

“Yes, I could be going to stay with a boyfriend,” Hermione said, putting a little extra disgust on the word for her father’s benefit. It was a small price to see him smile and then try to hide it. “I’ll be seeing Ginny and Susan Bones. Ronald and some of his brothers are there as well, and you like him well enough, right?”

“Only by comparison,” her father said, clearly playing his part rather than bearing Ronald Weasley any actual malice. He seemed a decent enough lad.

“Okay, I’m not sure how long the bus will take to Ottery St. Catchpole,” Hermione said, triple-checking that she had galleons for the bus and Muggle coins in case she needed a phone box. “Be careful yourselves, and try not to worry. I promise you, no assaults on the Ministry of Magic, no battles against Dark Wizards, just a few days with my friends’ family, and back to school to study. I have loads of revising to do, and I need the library time.”

“You go on, and I’ll bring your trunk.” Her mother kissed her goodbye in the house, but her father walked her to the end of the cul-de-sac. Set down her trunk at the corner for the Knight Bus.

“Hermione,” he said, and she sighed.

“Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I know you’re trying not to worry us and are downplaying the attacks that happened on Boxing Day. But I spoke to Mr Weasley before I agreed to let you go. Things are serious, dangerous.”

“You can’t make me stay home!” She tried to sound resolved and not desperate. If her father insisted, she thought she’d still insist upon going, but she didn’t want to put it to the test. She worried not only for herself but for her parents.

“You have to go,” John Granger said seriously. She looked at him in surprise, and he went on. “All this that’s happening, it’s terrorism, plain and simple. What kind of world will we live in if good, smart people like you give in to terror? You can’t–”

He wiped a tear from his face with the back of his sleeve and hugged her tightly.

“You can’t let them beat us, Hermione.” He spoke into her shoulder, and she held onto him for a long minute.

“I won’t, dad.” Now she was tearing up, and the cold wind stung the tears on her cheek. Crookshanks renewed his yowling protest.

“See you soon, Hermione,” her father said and briskly turned away, leaving her to summon the bus.

A few minutes later, the Knight Bus arrived. A very dedicated, serious young witch paid her fare and boarded, setting off on the leaping, jerking, dizzying ride into the countryside to Ottery St. Catchpole. Crookshanks purred with a loud, ragged buzzsaw noise with every yank and lurch. He really was a perverse little animal, and she loved him dearly.

 

It was after lunchtime New Year’s Eve, and Harry was asleep. His schedule of sleeping and waking had drifted all out of relation to the twenty-four-hour day, and he had finally accepted Amelia’s instruction that he should lie down regardless of the hour. Harry was lying on Tonks’s bed to comfort his somewhat melancholy heart, fully dressed except for his shoes. His glasses were on her bedside table, but only because he’d nearly broken them, falling asleep on them a few times over the last few days.

Constant vigilance was a fine watchword but a poor regimen for healthy sleep. Harry had lain down in her darkened room, watching as the walls occasionally changed from honey-blonde to black or brown and at last to pink. He assumed this meant she was back at the Ministry, off duty and safe, and he’d fallen asleep at once.

He woke up to the warm sensation of someone else next to him. He thought for a second Amelia had put the twins with him while she did something else when he heard a familiar purring in his ear. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was exactly who had joined him in bed. He looked at the blurry walls to find a calming pink all around him. He shuffled his body back into the soft sensation of his girlfriend’s body. He sighed heavily in relief at the fact that she felt very much alive. He reached backwards to run a hand through the hair of the sleeping witch behind him. He hadn’t seen her at all for the past two days. He only got second-hand reports that she was alright from others, and his frayed nerves had been stretched taut until now. His body melted into her arms as he closed his eyes once more, listening to her snores and feeling her chest expand as she breathed into his back. 

I love her so much, he thought to himself. I have to tell her today before we don’t see each other for another long time.

He didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t resist trying to turn slowly around to look at her sleeping face. He tried to memorise every feature of the woman beside him, to sear them into his mind forever, kept and cherished. He managed to turn around, and his arms even reached around her waist and held her tight, afraid that if he let her go, she would disappear the next second. He spotted a lock of hair falling into her sleeping face and reached up to tuck it behind her ear. She was beautiful, and she was here with him right now. 

His touch on her face startled her, and soon her hazel eyes met his green ones. 

“Hi,” Harry whispered.

“Hello,” Tonks whispered back.

At that, Harry pulled her close to his chest and kissed the crown of her head. He instinctively took in a deep breath, imprinting her scent on him. 

“I’m alright,” he heard her muffled voice from his chest. 

“I know,” Harry said, relaxing his arm. “Welcome home, Tonks.”

“I’m home,” she said with a smile, looking at his face. “Miss me?”

“More than you can imagine,” Harry kissed her forehead. 

“Mmmm, I missed you too,” Tonks said. “What are you doing in my room?” 

“The pillow still had your scent,” Harry said softly. “And I liked watching you change your hair.”

Tonks must have been embarrassed because she hid her face in his shirt. 

“Were you safe?” Harry asked. 

“As safe as I could be,” Tonks snuggled in under his chin.

“That’s great to hear,” Harry felt his heart beating faster.

“What were Sally and Angela doing here?” Tonks asked.

“Their shop was attacked, burned, and they came looking for you,” Harry said. “Reagan was here too.”

“Oh.”

“I’m yours,” Harry said. “I can’t say it wasn’t uncomfortable, but I trust that you love me and have chosen to be with me. Forgive me when I become jealous, but I trust you—”

Harry didn’t get to say anything more than that before he felt a pair of soft lips against his own. It hadn’t been more than a couple of days since he kissed her last, but it had felt like an eternity since they were alone together. He relaxed into the feeling of her and let the sense of safety wash over him. Too soon, a burning in his chest replaced it. 

His hands began to roam her back, and the small moans released from her lips told him that he wasn’t the only one who had been missing the other’s touch. He felt her fingers on his shirt curl up, pulling him towards her before she pushed him to his back and straddled his waist.

“I have something for you,” Harry said, stopping her. 

“What?” Tonks looked confused and maybe a little put off. “I thought --”

“No, no,” Harry raised himself and hugged her waist before kissing her. “I very much want to do that. I just think you should see this first.”

Harry grabbed his wand from the nightstand and flicked it in the air. There was a soft thud as something hit the other side of the door, so Harry flicked his wand once more to open it. The envelope flew under the door and landed in his hand with a flick of his wand.

He looked at his handwriting, which said: For Tonks

He hesitated for a moment before he handed it to her. He laid back on the bed and reached for his glasses. 

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Open it and see,” Harry said.

He closed his eyes as he heard the sound of her opening the envelope. He heard her gasp at times, swallow at others. He might have even heard a slight sniffle. He felt the pieces of paper set down on his chest, and he opened his eyes to find a crying Tonks looking at him.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t put it into words sooner, but when I’m with you, I’m a bit overwhelmed sometimes,” Harry said. “I love you.”

He watched as she wiped away her happy tears as a dazzling smile spread across her lips. She carefully picked up the pieces of paper, folded them and put them back into the envelope before putting it on her nightstand.

“I love you too,” she said as she dove towards his face.

The kiss which followed was tender and caring until gradually it was eager and urgent, and soon they were rolling on the bed trying to rip each other’s clothes off. Harry was halfway stripped naked when they heard the sound of knocking on the door.

“Harry, Tonks,” Amelia’s voice came from the other side. “We will have guests soon, so I need you to be ready to help me downstairs.”

Tonks looked like someone had just told her she could have her favourite candy before ripping it out of her hand as she went to take a bite.

“We’ll be there in a second,” Harry said. 

He looked at Tonks, who was fighting hard not to pounce him once more.

“Tonks, we have all night,” he said. “And we can’t let Amelia handle two girls and the full preparation for a whole party.” 

Tonks nodded somewhat reluctantly as she pulled him into one last searing kiss.

“You are sleeping in my bed tonight,” Tonks said as she released him.

“Wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere else,” Harry said as he kissed her cheek. “Now, while we can’t continue this here, she did say we should go prepare ourselves, shower or bath?” 

Tonks lit up like fireworks in more ways than one before they arrived in the kitchen, where Harry helped take over the cooking, and Tonks began helping set up and decorate the living room, so their guests could arrive. 

A little before six, the fireplace lit up with a green flame, and Mrs Weasley’s voice rang out.

“We are all ready here. Can we come through?” 

“Sure thing, Molly,” Amelia said.

Susan and Ginny came through first, looking happy.

“I’m home,” Susan said.

“Welcome home, dear,” Amelia smiled.

Mrs Weasley came through after.

“I’m sorry, Bill and Fleur don’t know the secret yet,” Mrs Weasley said.

“Right,” Tonks nodded. “I’ll go and pick them up then.”

She left through the fireplace as Arthur Weasley, Fred and George, and Ron came through the fireplace. Soon after, Bill and Fleur had joined them. The fireplace lit up once more, and Hermione arrived, followed by Tonks. 

Tonks’s gaze lingered on the young brunette for a moment before her eyes sought out Harry, still bustling in the kitchen. 

“This is an impressive flat,” Bill said, looking around, eyeing the extension work with a professional’s curiosity. Curse-breakers dealt a lot with transfigured spaces.

“Thanks,” Harry called out from the kitchen. “I did a lot of it, with the help of a Goblin called Thordrum. Good fellow, too. If you see him at Gringotts, please tell him I said hello.”

Harry dried off his hands and turned around to welcome their guests properly. He moved towards the group in the living room and hugged Susan tightly.

“I was worried about you,” he said softly.

“Likewise,” Susan said. Ginny joined them, throwing her arms around both of them.

Harry hugged each of their guests in turn, just thankful they all were alive and well. He didn’t pause for a moment when he reached Hermione and pulled her into a hug. 

When he reached Tonks, he leaned in and whispered, “Follow me.”

“Excuse us just a moment,” he called back as he led her up the stairs. “We’ll be right down!”

He took the staircase in a couple of leaps. He didn’t stop until he was on the third floor. He waved his wand, and several lights turned on. He turned around to have a proper look at Tonks, who was fidgeting a little.

“Something on your mind?” Harry asked softly.

“It’s just…” Tonks looked down at the floor, not spotting that Harry had begun unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest.

“Look up,” Harry’s caring voice reached her.

She did as he said and was flustered to see Harry’s half-naked chest in front of her.

“We can’t—the guests are here,” Tonks managed to say quickly. Her eyes were wide but also bright and full of mischief. Was she excited that there was a risk of being caught doing something they shouldn’t? Harry filed that information away for later.

“Silly, look closer,” Harry chuckled.

She walked towards him and spotted something half-hidden on the left side of his chest. She pulled on his shirt and found a feline paw print where his heart was. Two words were framing it.

“Puma’s Property,” Tonks whispered as she ran a finger over it.

“It isn’t permanent,” Harry said. “I can get it done permanently later if we want, but I’m yours. You needn’t be worried about anyone else.”

Tonks looked into his eyes to spot even the tiniest sign of regret or hesitation but only found endless care and love for her.

“You are totally copying me,” she said. 

“Absolutely,” Harry smiled. “I know a great idea when I see it. You okay now?”

“How did you know?” she asked with relief.

“I spent a few days with Reagan. I had the same kind of thoughts, I’m sure. I’m not positive what you see in me, but you told me to trust you, so I am doing just that,” Harry said seriously. “Can you trust me too?”

“Yes,” Tonks breathed out. “I trust you.”

Harry lifted her chin and stole a kiss from her lips. 

“I love you, Little Cougar,” Harry whispered in her ear.

She felt a shiver down her spine as the warm breath tickled her ear. 

“She’s a puma,” Tonks replied. “It says so on your heart.”

“So it does,” Harry chuckled. “Shall we go enjoy the rest of the evening?” 

Tonks nodded slowly, “Only if you promise those lips when the bell strikes twelve.”

“If you didn’t want them, then no one was going to get them,” Harry reassured her.

“Good,” Tonks smiled as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

“Wait for a second,” Harry laughed. “I need to button my shirt, or else people are going to ask questions.”

“Oh, right,” Tonks blushed.

When they got back downstairs, Lupin and Kingsley had joined the long table, and the food was levitating to the waiting guests in the living room. 

Soon there was a merry mood as people relaxed after an exhausting week. It was almost desperately happy at first, as though they felt obligated to celebrate, but that passed, and soon their friendships and shared camaraderie broke down the tension. Harry heard more stories about what had happened. His hand barely left Tonks’s leg under the table. He enjoyed teasing her as he moved it further up her thigh and under her dress, drawing small patterns as they sat and ate. He earned a few glares from her, but he just engaged in small talk with the others.

After the meal, the people who had barely been in the flat were shown around. Bill was fascinated by the rune work done to stabilise the extended space. 

“This is part goblin work, but it isn’t like the usual stuff I’ve seen,” Bill commented as Harry showed him the core runes for the extension. 

“I did most of these,” Harry said. “Thordrum helped make sure it would work. He is a fascinating fellow.”

Bill looked at the boy in shock.

“What?” Harry asked. “I needed a full training space, and it wasn’t like I could go out during the summer.”

“It’s just impressive, that’s all,” Bill said.

“I guess,” Harry shrugged. “I had a good teacher.”

Hermione was captivated by the small study, where she ended up perusing the bookshelves for every book she found interesting, which were any of those she hadn’t yet read. 

Harry had told her she could borrow anything she fancied as long as she could fit them in her trunk. 

He hadn’t thought he would need to stretch the rooftop terrace, but Harry ended up spending the last hour before midnight making sure that everyone was comfortable to stand there and watch the London night sky. 

Fred and George had made sure that they brought a lot of their Weasley Wet-start Fireworks, which they were going to use to make a show as they stepped into the new year. 

“Just remember, we are in a Muggle area,” Harry pointed out when he spotted a rocket that looked unmistakably like the one which had turned into a giant fiery dragon during the twins’ last year at Hogwarts. They had used that rocket to chase Umbridge from the main hall.

Molly and Amelia had relinquished the twins to the five fascinated younger witches, and the baby girls finally fell asleep a little before midnight. 

“Bill, zis! Zis is what I want,” Fleur said as she held Castoria in her arms. 

Bill spluttered his beer all over the table as he heard her.

“Isn’t that a little soon?” Bill said. “We haven’t gotten married yet.”

Harry did, however, spot the subtle nod from Mrs Weasley as she heard what Fleur said. He nudged him with an unsubtle elbow. Harry leaned in and whispered to Bill. “I would be careful. It looks like your fiancée and Mum agree on something.”

Harry couldn’t help laugh at the defeated expression on Bill’s face. He spotted Lupin with a wry smile on his own face. Harry thought that only he and Bill would have heard, but when he sent a questioning look towards his old professor, he just got a slight nod in return. 

The clock was slowly turning towards midnight, and the whole group gathered on top of the roof terrace. Harry and Tonks stood with an arm around each other, next to Ginny and Susan. Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing next to Fred and George to make sure that they weren’t going to go overboard, and the rest of the party was standing around. Fleur had her arms around Bill’s waist as the enlarged tempus charm mimicking Big Ben was illuminated in the air in front of them.

“Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one…”

“Happy New Year!” 

Harry pulled Tonks into his embrace and kissed her in front of everybody. The twins lit their fireworks in a series of different patterns, which they assured everybody were charmed to look like Muggle fireworks to any Muggle. Unicorns and shamrocks intermingled with patterns of giant dragons and darting golden snitches. All sorts of colours lit up in the sky as they welcomed the new year. 

Harry and Tonks separated from their kiss but were still in a tight embrace.

“I’m so going to miss you this coming term,” Harry said. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” Tonks said. “I’ll try to visit you on Hogsmeade weekends, and the next one should be Valentine’s.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked.

“It’s always Valentine’s,” Tonks said with a small smile. 

“Right,” Harry ruffled his hair. “We’ll have to be discrete, but any visit is worth it.”

They all stood in silence as the fireworks lit up the sky over them. 

They had decided that the people going to Hogwarts later that same day would stay at Carnaby Street, as it was closer to King’s Cross Station. 

Ginny got the guest room, while Hermione and Susan stayed together in Susan’s room, an arrangement which would most likely last only as long as it took for Mr and Mrs Weasley to return home, but no one felt obligated to comment. Ron got Harry’s room and protested putting him out until he realised that Harry had already planned to sleep in Tonks’s room. 

Mr Weasley helped bring all their trunks to Carnaby Street before everyone said goodnight. After peeking at the sleeping twin girls and whispering some unknown words of inspiration, the Weasley twins left through the front door before they apparated back to their shop in Diagon Alley. Bill and Fleur went together to the Burrow, while Kingsley and Lupin left for Grimmauld Place. 

Before Mrs Weasley left, she pulled Harry into a tight hug.

“I hope you two know what you’re doing,” she said. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“You and Nymphadora,” she said knowingly. 

“I love Tonks, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said firmly. “She takes care of me, and I take care of her.”

“Alright,” Mrs Weasley sighed. “I’ve stopped trying to make decisions for you all. I just wished you didn’t have to grow up so fast.”

“Me too,” Harry said with a sad smile. “We didn’t have a chance to be children for long.”

“Happy New Year, Harry.”

“Happy New Year, Mrs Weasley.”

 

Harry found himself exhausted just from being around people by the time he closed the door behind him. He was surprised to see a crimson red colouring the walls. He looked towards the bed and spotted Tonks, who had deemed that long red hair was her flavour for the moment. Her hair was reaching down her body and covering her chest. She had only covered her lower body with a blanket, revealing two creamy white legs for Harry’s eyes.

“Like what you see?” she asked in a sultry tone.

“Very much,” Harry said. “Why the red?” 

“I thought it would be romantic,” Tonks licked her lips.

“You are always romantic, but I think this colour is more sexy than romantic.”

Tonks’s face turned the same colour as the walls, but her smile was no less dazzling as Harry walked towards the bed, removing his clothes. He remembered to throw out some privacy charms, mostly to spare the rest of the flat from what was about to happen. 

 

Harry woke up the following day with the comfortable weight of Tonks on his chest. He kissed the top of her head as he reached for his glasses. He still felt tired, but he was sure that they would soon need to get ready to get to the Hogwarts Express. 

“Wake up, love,” he whispered as he ran his fingers down her back. 

“Five more minutes,” Tonks moaned as she stirred.

“I have to leave for Hogwarts soon,” Harry said softly. “I don’t want to leave you here without saying goodbye.”

“Not goodbye,” Tonks mumbled from his chest. 

“Right,” Harry chuckled. “See you later then?”

He felt Tonks arms tightening around his waist as she pulled herself into his side. He had a hard time not getting turned on by the soft peaks pressed against his chest. 

“Tonks,” Harry growled a little. 

That affected her as she looked up at his face.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to leave either, but I have to, and if I am going to leave, I would prefer to leave after having eaten breakfast with you,” Harry said. 

“Fine,” Tonks stretched her body. “I want to shower with you one last time before you go.”

 

They found themselves in a somewhat full kitchen. The large table was still in the living room, and the rest of the residents were up and ready to leave for Hogwarts. 

“What took you so long?” Susan asked. “It’s not like you aren’t going to see each other soon.”

Harry grimaced but didn’t say anything.

“I’m not going back to Hogsmeade,” Tonks said. “I’ve been reassigned.”

“Oh, sorry,” Susan apologised.

“Don’t worry,” Tonks said. “It’s okay. It’s part of the job. I am just happy that I got to guard Hogwarts for the first term.”

They ate their food in silence. Harry spotted the girls at the table having a silent conversation with their eyes, but he didn’t care. He spent the time looking at Tonks, once more trying to memorise every feature as if his life depended on it. 

Amelia clapped her hands to gather their attention. 

“Remus and Molly will soon be here with Fleur. They will help us on our way to King’s Cross,” she informed them. 

Harry spent a little time disguising himself. He decided to go for his mid-twenties look.

“How did you do that?” Hermione asked. “Self-transfiguration is super-advanced.”

“It’s useful,” Harry said with a chuckle. “It’s a necessary skill for me to have. I can’t always depend on an invisibility cloak to be unseen.”

“I guess not,” she nodded. “You’ve got to teach me.”

“I think one of the books you picked yesterday teaches it well enough,” Harry said.

“I will learn it faster if you help me,” Hermione said. 

They were interrupted by the arrival of their guards. Harry made a random excuse that he forgot something upstairs and signalled for Tonks to follow him.

They were just on the edge of the staircase when Harry pulled her in and fiercely kissed her.

“I love you. I am going to keep the photo of you on my nightstand,” Harry whispered in her ear. 

“I love you too,” Tonks said. “I’m going to miss you.”

The trip to King’s cross was uneventful, and Harry quickly removed his disguise after he walked through the barrier to the platform so that nobody would ask him any questions about it.

They quickly found a compartment after saying their farewells. Harry settled for a more prolonged hug with the disguised Tonks, but otherwise, there wasn’t anything noticeable about the goodbye.

After they sat down, Hermione spoke up.

“I meant to send this to you earlier, but with everything that happened, I didn’t have time,” she handed Harry a roll of parchment. 

“What’s this?”

“Just read it,” Hermione shrugged.

 

Dear Harry and Miss Tonks,

I’ve been trying to reach you since the morning after the party, but it’s like you dropped off the earth. I finally convinced Granger, or rather I should say, Miss Hermione, to forward this to you. You can imagine that it took considerable persuading, and only the fact that she’s a fundamentally decent person explains why you’re reading this now.

First, obviously, I must apologise to Miss Tonks for my unpardonable breach of etiquette at the Solstice party. I won’t bore you with the tedious details of my rude awakening to my weakness for drink and other problems now brought into stark notice. I can only say that I do not deserve your forgiveness, but do I want you to know how sorry I am. I was crude, hurtful, and worst of all, a poor reflection on Hermione for inviting me—and on Hogwarts for having me in Gryffindor house. Please know that if there is anything I can do to make up for what I have said and done, give the word. Unless I hear otherwise, I will do my best to keep out of your way and try not to remind you of this mortifying incident.

Second, Harry. There’s no easy way to say this. Still, as my father and I were having a screaming row upon my return home—largely concerning my realisation that being like him had me well on my way to ruining my life and character—the details of what happened at the party came out. Unfortunately, my father is the sort to constantly be looking for an advantage, something to lord over someone else to make him seem more important. I have just found out that he promptly started spreading rumours about you and your guardian with his friends at the Ministry. I don’t know if this information could be hurtful in the wrong hands or not, but as I know my father, if it can, it will.

Please be careful, warn Miss Tonks, and keep your eyes open. I have put this target on your back, I’m afraid, and all I can do is try to keep my eye on my father and his business pals. I will try to send a warning if I hear anything.

I wish I’d never heard of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor must be turning in his crypt. I’m so sorry.

Watch your back,

Cormac

 

“Huh,” was all that Harry could manage, reading through the late warning message.

“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction as well,” Hermione said. “It sounds sincere, but he always did when he wanted to.”

“Why is McLaggen writing to you?” Ron asked.

“I went to Slughorn’s Solstice Party with him,” Hermione said. “Not a good time, but thankfully Luna, Susan and Tonks helped me teach him a lesson.”

“Oh,” Ron said. “I think he’s always been a right prat. Good for you.”

He didn’t get to continue saying whatever he thought before Lavender arrived and pulled him towards her compartment. As they were heading down the corridor, Harry was a bit surprised to hear Ron saying, “You could at least ask. I was talking to them.”

Harry folded the parchment and put it in his pocket.

He looked out the window as the train moved through London. He was already missing Tonks but also knew that he would see her again, hopefully in Hogsmeade.

“It’s such a shame Tonks isn’t around to train us anymore,” Susan sighed. “It was great getting those private lessons.”

“I know,” Ginny said. “Still, we can always practice on our own. It was nice having a teacher, though.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Tonks has been training all three of us, plus Neville, Luna, and Ron, whenever she was around since Halloween,” Ginny said. She shrugged. “We figured if we didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t argue with us about it.”

“Harry,” Hermione looked directly at him. “I am going to ask you once more. After what happened on Boxing Day, I will be in danger for my blood status and others for equally stupid reasons, no matter what. I need you to train us.”

Harry might have argued with Hermione, as there was so much complicated history there. He might have argued with Neville or Luna. He might possibly have rowed with Ginny, although she had a habit of getting her way. But then Harry looked at Susan. Susan, who had dealt so well with Harry being thrust into her life, who had supported him without demanding anything in return. He looked at Susan, with her hand holding on to Ginny’s, sitting next to Hermione, and realised all three were in danger. If he could help them and he didn’t, he was just as responsible for what happened as he’d blamed himself for being after the battle at the Department of Mysteries.

He sighed and nodded.

Chapter 39: Interlude- Love Letter

Summary:

Tonks comforts herself with a letter from Harry.

Notes:

100% Waske on this one.
I have only cleaned up the text a bit here and there in light of other revisions.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39. Interlude: Love Letter

Tonks felt itchy, and it was definitely the clothes. Whoever thought suits were cool could go tickle charm themselves. They were stuffy, and no matter what Harry said, she didn’t feel like she looked “fabulous” in them. 

She hated her new gig, and half of the reason was the lack of freedom. She had to keep standing guard for hours on end for the Muggle Prime Minister. They had gotten introduced by Kingsley, so he knew what she was, but that was about it. She still got treated just like everybody else. She had enhanced her musculature a bit, so she was more sinewy, and her hair was now a short buzz cut. She had never felt less attractive.

The other half of the reason she hated this gig was that she was stuck in Number 10 Downing Street, far away from her boyfriend. She hated the fact that she was reassigned more than she allowed herself to say out loud. She didn’t want to give whoever got her here the satisfaction. The only thing which in any way lifted her mood was the small envelope tucked into her left breast pocket. She had told herself to leave it at Carnaby Street, but in the end, she had ended up bringing it with her. She had already read it more times than she would ever admit to Harry. She would probably reread it while she ate lunch. 

She sighed quietly to herself when she was relieved by another guard to get her lunch. She still had to be in the building, but it gave her a small piece of peace in the otherwise hectic building. 

She slowly fished the envelope out of her pocket after taking the first bite from her sandwich. She was careful not to spill anything on the paper as she unfolded the three-piece letter from Harry. It still warmed her heart as her eyes once more fell on the writing.

 

Hey Tonks,

It’s me, well, you know that. Argh -- I don’t even know how to start this. By the time you have gotten this, it will already be days since I started, and this isn’t even the first draft, but if I don’t force myself to write it, I just know that I am going to say something stupid or not say anything at all.

So, where do I start?

I think I need to start with the beginning as far as I can remember, at least. It all leads up to this point for me. So you know, and I know what my childhood was really like. The only ones if you don’t count the Dursleys. It was horrible. Well, you know that. I can still remember how you hugged me so fiercely for the first time after seeing my memories. I think that was the first time I noticed you weren’t like other girls physically speaking. Sorry, that isn’t exactly romantic, but you made quite the impression. I hadn’t expected you to take me into your home. I was prepared to just end up with anyone who would have me or maybe just resign myself to getting a room at the Leaky Cauldron. At least for the summer or something, I could stay there until I went back to Hogwarts. I was resigned; nobody had seemed to care for me before, so I wasn’t expecting anything to be different that time around. 

You have no idea how surprised and happy I was when you asked if I wanted to stay with you. You were the only adult figure I was comfortable with. Hagrid was friendly and all, but he was never really comforting as much as he tried. It didn’t take long for me to find out that maybe you were less of an adult than I had imagined. Seriously, Tonks. How hard is it to pick up your clothes and not leave them on the floor? And before you ask, yes, I do enjoy cleaning up after you. You end up so happy when I cook or clean that it makes it all worth it. 

I found my home with you for the first time. I know that I have talked about this before with you. Hogwarts was lovely, but with the things that happened during the first and second year, it stopped feeling like home quickly and more like a place I had to survive as well. I don’t mind it, and it certainly helped me get stronger and wiser. Funny, how that works, right?

Still, Carnaby Street is my first and only home. My home with you. 

 

Tonks picked up the second page of the letter. She didn’t overly like this one much, but it was vital in its own right.

I hate to talk about this, I hate it even more when I am talking about this with you, but I think it is essential. Hermione was—is—an integral part of my life. I don’t know how long you have had feelings for me. It doesn’t matter, but it couldn’t have been nice for you to talk with me about her. I certainly didn’t handle being next to Reagan well, now. I don’t mind him, but I can’t say I like him either. 

Hermione became my whole world far too much, but even then, you were by my side, and I can never tell you how thankful I am for that. How much it meant to me that you, of all people, have never abandoned me. 

I read somewhere that the definition of a god is the one thing you put your faith in never to hurt you, the one constant which will never betray you. I guess that’s why religions exist. I could even see some people thinking that Money or Glory would be their type of god. Certainly, Lockhart thought that fame was his, the way he worshipped it. 

Why am I saying that?

Well, I might have made Hermione—or my feelings for her—my god… or goddess? I was so confident that whatever happened, I could trust that it would never change. That it would always be her and me. It wasn’t. It changed, and I was powerless to stop it. I lost her as I lost so much before.

I was completely broken. I couldn’t even correctly function as a living being. I didn’t have any inclination to survive. As much as I blamed Leo for it, Leo is me, and I am Leo. 

 

Tonks put down the second page and picked up the last one. She hated the way it ended, but she knew it made the final page all about her.

 

You saved me again, though. Thank you. I mean it. Sorry for being such a tit about it, but I do mean it.

Maybe that was when I noticed that you weren’t just ‘family’ or a sister or even an adult anymore. You were something different. Not that I didn’t try my best to muck it up for myself once more, but as always, you have been more than patient with me. Sometimes more than I deserve. I saw you, and I didn’t know what to do about it. It did feel wrong, but at the same time, it also felt like the most fitting thing for me to do. Falling in love with you, that is. 

There. I said it. I have fallen completely and utterly in love with you, Tonks. The way you make me laugh, the way coffee seems to be just as necessary for your survival as the blood in your veins. The way your smile makes me smile and feel happy. It took me months and a bit of firewhisky to finally kiss you. I’m sorry for the way I behaved. I just felt guilty towards you. I felt like I had taken advantage of you. If I am sincere, I still wonder about the chance I was willing to take, the possibility of making you pregnant that night. I have a family, but maybe someday I can build something for the future, something with you. 

What am I even saying? Forget that. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. 

These past few months since that weekend in October have been fantastic. I should have told you a lot sooner that I loved you. I already knew I did. I just got scared. I didn’t want you to freak out, and then I ended up holding it in. I also wanted it to mean something more than a casual greeting or how we would end a conversation because you mean something so much more to me. It is incredible. 

This letter has become rambling and weird and not very cool or impressive, but it’s all from my heart, and you deserve nothing but the best, unfiltered version of myself. You are the bubbliest, happiest, most caring, and loveable messy clutz (even if you rarely fall over your own feet now), and I am so glad to be your boyfriend. I am happy because I’m your boyfriend.

 

I love you, Tonks.

Harry

 

Tonks looked at the small drawing of a heart with a lightning bolt in it with a feline paw print halfway over it under Harry’s name. She folded the letter and put it back in its envelope before she gently kissed the front of it like she always did.

“Who is that letter from?” asked one of her new Muggle colleagues.

“My boyfriend,” Tonks said with a dazzling smile.

Chapter 40: Destination, Determination, Deliberation!

Summary:

Apparation lessons.

Progress in Potions.

Love in the owlry.

Training scheduled.

A meeting with Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40Destination, Determination, Deliberation!

 

Returning to Hogwarts left Harry feeling empty. Something about knowing that Tonks was far away in London left him feeling more alone in the castle than he had all year. He dreaded the fact that the girls had managed to convince him to take up training them again. Harry didn't want to do it after the disastrous first attempt earlier that year, but he had given his word, so he had to have at least one session before the year ended. It might be cowardly, but he would try and extend the time until their second attempt.

Harry decided on a more vigorous training schedule than he had had the previous semester. Losing to Amelia and the following horrors on Boxing day only made him more confident that he would continue working on his physical abilities to prepare for whatever might happen.

The new term started the following day with a pleasant surprise for the sixth years: a large sign was pinned to the common room notice boards overnight.  

 

APPARITION LESSONS

Are you seventeen years of age, or will you turn seventeen on or before the 31st of August next? Please sign below to participate in a twelve-week course in Apparition from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor.

 

Harry and Ron joined the crowd jostling around the notice. Students were taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. Hermione had just signed, and Ron was readying his quill to sign when hands over his eyes and a voice trilled, "Guess who, Won-Won?" 

Harry turned to see Hermione briskly stalking off; he caught up with her, having no wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender. To their surprise, though, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait hole. His ears were bright red, and his expression was disgruntled. Without comment, Hermione sped up to walk with Neville.

"So —Apparition," said Ron, ignoring what had just happened. "Should be a lark, you reckon?" 

"I hope," said Harry. "Maybe apparating's better when you do it yourself. I never enjoy it much when Tonks or someone else takes me side-along."

"I forgot you've already done it. Tell you what, though: I'd better pass my first time," said Ron, looking anxious. "Fred and George did."

"Charlie failed, though, didn't he?" 

"Yeah, but Charlie's bigger than me"— Ron held his arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla — "so Fred and George didn't take the piss, not to his face anyhow." 

"When do we take the test itself?" 

"Soon as we're seventeen. Only March for me!" 

"Yeah, but you still couldn't Apparate in here in the castle."

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could if I wanted."  

Ron wasn't the only one excited at the prospect of apparating. All day, there was much talk about future lessons; the students a great deal of importance on travelling with the most instantaneous of magics.

"How cool will it be to just —" Seamus clicked his fingers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus, he does it just to annoy me, and you wait until I can do it back. He'll never have another peaceful moment."

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically. Instead of producing a fountain of pure water—the object of today's Charms lesson—he let loose a jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face. 

Harry decided not to comment further on it and even glared at Ron when he looked like he was about to say something about Harry's experiences with Apparition. Especially not after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus to write the line: "I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick."

Potions had turned into something dreadful for Harry. It was evident that Slughorn was avoiding eye contact with him, and he had turned from "Harry, m'boy" to "Potter", while not the same sneering way as Snape had perfected over probably a lifetime, it still made the point clear that Harry was not in Slughorn's good graces.

They were working on creating Antidotes, which Harry had had ample practice with during the summer. As insane as it was, Amelia had sometimes drugged him with slow-acting poisons during the summer and forced him to use the principles in Golpalott's Third Law combined with Scarpin's Revelaspell, so when Slughorn asked, "Golpalott's Third Law… Who can tell me—?"

Harry raised his hand instantly and was even a smidgen faster than Hermione for once. Harry had hoped Slughorn would pick him, but seeing as he wasn't even looking at him, it was all too predictable when Slughorn said.

"But Miss Granger, can of course!"

Hermione recited at top speed: "Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components."

"Precisely!" beamed Slughorn. "Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott's Third Law as true…"

Harry sighed inwardly. There were multiple instances where Golpalott's Third Law was faulty. The addition of a binding ingredient blending the antidote to work as a counter to the blended poison was, in theory, solid. Still, it was easier to work out a remedy that would counteract the blended poisons' effect rather than making a direct antidote. For example, if the blended poison thinned your blood, it was easier and more practical to make a blood thickening antidote and take Blood Replenishers until the wanted effect took place. 

"…which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion's ingredients by Scarpin's Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in and of themselves, but to find that added component which will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements —" 

Ron was sitting beside Harry, doodling chess problems absently in the margins of his new copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Ron had forgotten that Hermione would no longer help him out of trouble when he failed to grasp what was going on as a matter of course.

"…and so," finished Slughorn, "Each of you must come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Careful now! Gloves on!"

Hermione and Harry were the first to leave their stool and were halfway towards Slughorn's desk as the rest of the class realised it was time to move. They each grabbed a vial and returned to their cauldrons. Susan and Ron soon followed. Harry hated the way Ron and Hermione seemed unable to be at the same table. He was the one supposed to have a strained relationship with her, not Ron.

Harry uncorked the poison and poured it into his cauldron. He cast the revealing spell and at once spotted the intended purpose of the poison. It was an amusing draught to cause uncontrolled flatulence. He hadn't expected it to be lethal as it was still a Hogwarts class, but it was so blended that following Golpalott's Third Law would only leave him with half an antidote by the time class was over.

Harry raised his hand, which Slughorn thoroughly ignored.

Harry worked with one hand, writing down the counter-components following the principles, but otherwise kept his hand up. He knew from experience that nothing was more interfering in a class than when a student had their arm up. Hermione had proved that on more than one occasion.

It turned out to be true. Soon, most of the class, including Hermione, was looking at him.

"Potter— out with it," Slughorn said a little more briskly than Harry would have liked.

"Sir," Harry said in his most charming voice. "I have a question about Golpalott's Third Law and its practicality. The blended poison I picked would cause uncontrolled flatulence if ingested, and I have written out the different antidotes to the various poisons in it. Wouldn't it be more practical to make an antidote or potion with the intended purpose of normalising or controlling bowels? Rather than brewing what looks to me like at least thirty different antidotes before finding the binding ingredient?"

Slughorn looked at him in shock. 

"Perceptible, boy," Slughorn nodded. 

That was an improvement, Harry thought.

"You are correct in the case of these blended poisons," Slughorn nodded. "As it is only a classroom experience, the blended poisons are not lethal, and as such, it would be practical to follow Potter's suggestion. However, considering Golpalott's Third Law becomes necessary when the blended poison has more than one intended purpose. Still, the fact that you managed to deduce your poison's intended purpose and found a more practical countermeasure is indeed admirable. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, I still want you to follow Golpalott's Third Law for practice."

Harry nodded and got down to work. He didn't care for the glances Ron, Susan, and the rest of the class sent his way. Hermione, however, looked at him with a different sort of expression than he was used to.

"What?" Harry whispered.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked equally as quietly.

"I mean, how did you know that was another answer?" Hermione asked.

"It was obvious, no?" Harry asked. "If Golpalott's Third Law were the only way of making antidotes to blended poisons, then people would die before anyone could make antidotes. The brewing process of just the blended antidote to this poison would take longer than our class. Taking it would affect me before I could have the antidote ready."

Hermione didn't answer, so Harry got back to work. He brewed the antidotes according to the ingredients' interactions, and as Harry expected, he would not be able to finish it before the class was over. Something was missing to impress Slughorn. He tried to remember anything from his time with Snape. There had to be something.

"... it could counteract most poisons in the world." 

Somewhere deep in Harry's conscience, Snape's drawling voice resounded. 

He looked at his half-finished antidote, and it was already over seventy ingredients long. He could have brewed three different potions to control his bowels, which would have worked just as well in the time he had. 

What was it Snape had said? 

"Bezoar," Harry muttered to himself. "That's it."

He quickly got up to many people's surprise and rummaged through the cabinet to look for one particular thing. Snape had told him in their first class. A bezoar was the stone taken from the stomach of a goat. It would counteract most poisons, and even the ones it couldn't remove, it would inhibit. Harry vowed to keep a bezoar or two on hand in the future. It could be life-saving.

He finally found an old dusty box with the name "Bezoar" carved into it. He quickly pulled it out and returned to his seat. He was keeping it as his trump card for later.

Five minutes before class ended, Slughorn clapped his hands again and made them stand back from their cauldrons. He walked around and looked frankly disappointed in most of the concoctions. He paused at Hermione's and cast a spell revealing the composition of ingredients.

"Good work, Miss Granger, admirable application of Golpalott's Third Law, given more time, it would counteract your poison," Slughorn smiled. 

Harry tensed up when Slughorn reached his cauldron.

"Exemplary work as always, Potter," Slughorn said. "A little behind Miss Granger."

"Sir, would this have served as an answer to the problem as well?" Harry pushed forward the bezoar on the table. 

"You definitely have your father's cheek, Potter," Slughorn laughed. "Yes, a bezoar would certainly counteract every poison in this room. How did you think of that?"

"Professor Snape told us in our first class," Harry admitted.

"Severus is indeed a masterful potioneer," Slughorn nodded. "Five more points for producing the most successful antidotes, and five more for the sheer cheek of using a bezoar as a second answer."

Harry nodded.

"We will continue next time, where I think Potter and Miss Granger will finalise their work," Slughorn said. "The rest of you will write an essay on the understanding and usage of Golpalott's Third Law."

Harry began gathering his notes and pouring his half-finished antidote into a vial. When he was finished clearing up, he looked for Slughorn. The man had disappeared faster than his heft should have allowed.

The next potion class ran much the same. Hermione and Harry did indeed finish their blended antidotes earning more points from Slughorn. Slughorn was back to treating Harry with his usual affectionate treatment and appeared to have put the matter of the memory out of his mind. Harry awaited an invitation to another dinner or party, determined to once again use it as an opportunity to ask Slughorn the questions he had about the memory. Unfortunately, no opportunities arrived. Harry checked with Hermione and Ginny. Neither of them had received an invitation, nor had anybody else they had heard about. Harry could not help wondering if Slughorn was not quite as forgetful as he appeared. He was giving Harry no additional opportunities to question him.

February arrived, cold, dreary, and wet. The lawns became slippery with mud, soaked by rains from the low-hanging clouds. This resulted in the sixth-years' first Apparition lesson, on a Saturday morning so they would miss no regular classes, taking place in the Great Hall instead of on the grounds. 

Ron had come down with Lavender earlier, and Hermione and Harry joined them in the Great Hall. They found that the tables had been cleared. 

Rain lashed against the high windows as the students assembled in front of the four Heads of House and a small wizard they took to be the Ministry's apparition instructor. The man was was oddly colourless, with a translucent and insubstantial air. Harry wondered whether constant disappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or perhaps this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish repeatedly. 

"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived, and the Heads of House had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross, and I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition test in that time —" 

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall. 

Everybody looked round. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he appeared to have been having a whispered argument. Harry glanced at Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry strongly suspected that this was less because of Malfoy's rudeness than the fact that McGonagall had reprimanded one of his house. 

"— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your test," Twycross continued, as though there had been no interruption.

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour to enable you to practice. I must ask you to be mindful that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall. It would be most unwise of you to try. I would now like each of you to place yourselves so that you have five feet of clear space in front of you." 

The students scrambled, jostling one another as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of House moved among the students, marshalling them into position and breaking up arguments. 

"Where are you going?" demanded Hermione. 

But Harry did not answer. He was moving quickly through the crowd. Past Professor Flitwick, who was making squeaky attempts to position a few Ravenclaws, all of whom wanted to be near the front. Past Professor Sprout, who was chivvying the Hufflepuffs into line. At last, by dodging around Ernie Macmillan, Harry managed to position himself right at the back of the crowd, directly behind Malfoy. The Slytherins had taken advantage of the general upheaval to continue their argument, standing five feet apart and both looking sullen. 

"I don't know how much longer, all right?" Malfoy shot at Crabbe, oblivious to Harry standing right behind them. "This is taking longer than I expected."

Crabbe opened his mouth, but Malfoy appeared to guess what he was going to say.  

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing. You and Goyle do as you're told and keep a lookout!" 

Harry kept quiet and out of sight. He wasn't about to stop Malfoy from revealing more information.

Somehow Malfoy must have felt Harry's gaze on him because he spun around on the spot, his hand flying to his wand, but at that precise moment, the four Heads of House shouted, "Quiet!" and silence fell again. Malfoy and Harry both turned to face the front. 

"Thank you," said Twycross. "Now then…"

He waved his wand, and old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor before each student. 

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation! 

"Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination," said Twycross. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

Everybody looked around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told. Harry gazed at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by his hoop and tried hard to think of nothing else. This proved impossible, as he couldn't stop puzzling over what Malfoy was doing that needed lookouts. 

"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your determination to occupy the visualised space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!" 

Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to his left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze to his own hoop. 

"Step three," called Twycross, "only when I give the command…turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation. On my command, now, one—" 

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself, shoving Malfoy out of his mind and finally single-mindedly focusing on his hoop. 

"—two—"

He yearned to go towards the hoop, filling his entire body with the desire to move towards it.

"—three!"

Harry was just about to turn and twist on the spot when a sense of panic hit him. He buckled over and landed on his knees. Harry heard the sound of people staggering and stumbling around him, but he didn't care. He had felt the impending sensation of being pulled towards the familiar rubber tube, which was the telltale sign of apparition, but he had feared it. Like he was about to cease to exist, his body would turn into nothingness if he did this.

"Never mind, never mind," said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions…"

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible screech of pain, and everybody looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away, where she had started. 

The Heads of House converged on her; there were a terrific bang and puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan, sobbing but reunited with her leg, looking horrified. 

"Splinching, the separation of random body parts," said Twycross dispassionately, "occurs when the apparator is insufficiently determined. You must focus continually upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation—thus." 

But an hour later, Susan's splinching was still the most exciting thing that had happened. Twycross did not seem discouraged. Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said, "Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation." 

With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving towards the Entrance Hall. 

"How did you do?" asked Ron, hurrying towards Harry. "I think I felt something the last time I tried — a kind of tingling in my feet." 

"I expect your trainers are too small, Won-Won," a voice behind them said, and Hermione stalked past, smirking. 

Harry didn't tell Ron what he had been feeling. The dread had not left him in the slightest. Every time he was about to spin on the spot and let the sensation take him, he had unconsciously recoiled and had most certainly either failed at Determination or Deliberation. 

Another horrible surprise awaited him as he looked at the noticeboard. The next Hogsmeade weekend, which was supposed to be two weeks later around Valentine's, was cancelled. 

"I didn't think this day could get worse," Harry mumbled to himself. 

He decided that writing to Tonks to tell her the bad news was his best course of action. It didn't take long for Harry to ditch Ron as Lavender provided if not a good distraction, then a good wall for him to leave Ron alone. Hermione was nowhere in sight whenever Ron and Lavender were together. It was frankly starting to annoy Harry. He felt like he didn't know either of them anymore. 

He walked determinedly and deliberately towards the owlery. Harry found that the tower wasn't as empty as he would have liked. Susan and Ginny were snogging when he opened the door from the corridor.

They separated quickly before both of them let out a sigh of relief.

"Don't let me stop you two from what you are doing," Harry said dryly. 

"Why are you so bitter?" Susan asked.

"Apparition and Hogsmeade," Harry said. "Speaking of, how's, erm, how's the leg."

"Firmly attached, thus far," Susan said. "What's this about Hogsmeade?"

"The next weekend to Hogsmeade has been cancelled," Harry said. "I'm writing Tonks to tell her."

"Oh," Susan nodded. 

"As I said, don't mind me," Harry turned around to look for Hedwig and spotted her sleeping on a perch.

"Hey girl," Harry called out softly. 

He noticed her wings ruffling slightly, but she didn't seem to care for the fact that Harry was there.

"Hey Susan, do you mind if I borrow Xerxes?" Harry asked suspiciously loudly. 

"Wh--?" Susan didn't even manage to ask her question before something white was attacking Harry's head.

"So you were awake," Harry chided. "Since when have you started to ignore me?" 

Hedwig looked bashful at the accusation. 

"I see," Harry lifted his eyebrow. "Is there a reason why you don't want to leave the tower?"

Hedwig looked away from Harry's face.

"Is it a man?" Harry asked.

Hedwig looked offended for a second before she hid her head under a wing.

"What's with my luck and running into couples today?" Harry sighed. 

Susan and Ginny hadn't really had a chance to see Harry talking to Hedwig like she was a person before. 

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Harry asked. "If he is no good, then I won't allow it."

Hedwig sent Harry a reproachful look before flying up next to an all too familiar owl.

"Really, girl?" Harry muttered as Hedwig came back with Xerxes, both of them landing on his shoulders.

Susan's mouth opened comically.

"So, sister of mine, it looks like our owls have entered into a relationship," Harry chuckled. "You think Xerxes is a good enough bird for my Hedwig?" 

Xerxes flew from Harry's shoulder, lightly scratching him before he landed on Susan's arm. 

"Well, I think the question is whether Hedwig is a good enough bird for my Xerxes?" Susan instantly understood where Harry was going with this.

"Ai, you are right," Harry sighed. "I can't with good conscience let my Hedwig, who is lazy and ignoring me, corrupt such a proud owl as your Xerxes." 

That earned Harry a harder peck to his scalp than usual. 

"I'm just teasing you, girl," Harry laughed. "There is no need to be so embarrassed. I don't mind if you two are seeing each other. Just, Xerxes, take good care of Hedwig, will you?" 

Harry had never seen an owl look so proud before. The feathers on Xerxes's chest expanded, and he looked like he was saying, 'leave it to me.'

"Well, there you have it, girl," Harry affectionately ran his hand over Hedwig's head. "He seems like he is up to the task."

Hedwig must have been embarrassed again since she hid her head under her wing once more.

"Well, I still have that letter for you," Harry said. "Give me a second to write it."

*Hoot*

Harry found the parchment he had gathered and the envelope. He found an open window sill and began writing.

 

Hey Tonks

Long time, no hear. I miss you. I hope you are doing well in your new job. I have some sad news. They've cancelled the Hogsmeade weekend.

So, short of me running out of the castle again, I don't see how I can get to see you. I'm still nowhere closer to my goal. The Club hasn't met up, and the walrus isn't to be found about otherwise.

I wish you were here with me. Even Hedwig and Xerxes have started dating—it's like they are rubbing it in my face.

Also, Apparition classes started. Had my first one today. I can't do it. I'm scared. As soon as I feel the pull, my body reacts. It doesn't want to go into nothingness. Is that normal? I don't know. I'm having a hard time talking to people about it. I wish you were here to help me. I have a feeling that I could do it if you were here.

I love you

Harry

 

Harry blew on the ink to dry it, put the parchment in the envelope, scribbled "Tonks" on the front, and drew a rough paw print next to it.

He handed the envelope to Hedwig.

"You know where to find her," Harry said. "I'd love a reply, but if she tells you she's busy, you can come right back. Also, I would love to see you at breakfast sometime."

He got an affectionate nibble on his finger. Hedwig flew over to Xerxes and rubbed her head against his before flying out the window. Harry petted Xerxes, mumbling an apology for sending his owl friend to London. 

Xerxes seemed to accept as he flew back up to the perch he and Hedwig had occupied together earlier. 

"Well, thanks for that," Harry smiled sadly at Susan. "I wasn't sure how to convince her." 

"She would have done it anyway, even without the theatrics," Susan laughed. "Glad to be of help, though."

Harry had packed his things to go when he felt two hands land firmly on his shoulders.

"So," Susan said with a stern, almost Ameliaesque voice. "When are you going to train us?" 

Harry shuddered and turned. The two girls behind him were smiling, but their eyes were serious.

"It's been a month, Harry," Ginny said sweetly, even though her eyes did nothing to convey that sweetness.

"Erm…" Harry tried to delay the inevitable. 

"I think we should meet tomorrow afternoon," Susan said. "I'll tell the others."

Harry didn't even get a chance to refute them before the two girls had left him all alone in the owlery.

"Xerxes, what is with my luck?" Harry asked into the air.

*Hoot, hoot*

"Yeah, you're right. I did agree to it," Harry sighed. "Still, they don't take my feelings into consideration, do they?"

 

Harry found himself sitting in the middle of Susan, Ginny, Neville and Hermione during dinner in the Great Hall. Harry felt the burning gazes of the people around him.

"I already agreed," Harry sighed. "Don't look at me, like I am trying to escape." 

That did little to satisfy the group, but the staring subsided a little.

"If you had told us we would have to drag you to train us, we would have done so sooner," Hermione said. 

Harry gave a weak smile but didn't comment further on the accusation. It was true, after all. Harry sighed and wished something would serve itself as a distraction. Somehow Merlin or Morgana must have heard his prayers as Dean Thomas came over to the group.

"For you," he said as he handed Harry a scroll of parchment.

"Thanks, Dean," Harry said with a smile.

He unrolled the parchment.

 

Meet me in my office tonight at nine.

Dumbledore

 

"Another private lesson?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

"Private lesson?" Susan asked. "With who?"

"Dumbledore," Harry said quietly. "Sorry, it seems like I got to go."

He didn't; there was still an hour until nine. However, he felt weary after realising that apparition wasn't going to come as quickly to him as other branches of magic. He felt tired that he didn't know when he was going to see Tonks again. He felt exhausted that he was no closer to getting the memory he was supposed to get from Slughorn. 

He found himself sitting in his bed with the photo of Tonks in his hand. He loved the way her figure was kicking lazily from her position on the fence. Watching even a poor imitation of the one person he wanted to see right now calmed him. 

"She's a puma," Harry whispered as he ran his hand over the frame. 

He was surprised when the picture turned around and showed the tattoo while blowing him a kiss.

"Weren't you only supposed to work when I tapped my wand on you?" Harry asked. 

He didn't get a response, and soon the tiny figurine of Tonks was back to kicking her feet lazily in the air.

Harry sighed loudly and leaned back in his bed. He needed to get going. Harry didn't want anyone to see him, and he honestly didn't want to see Dumbledore either right now. So he compromised and pulled the invisibility cloak over his head. 

Harry looked at the gargoyle from under his invisibility cloak a little before nine, realising he didn't know the password. 

"Peppermint Pixies?" Harry asked from under the cloak, but there was no reaction. 

He pulled off the cloak and was ready to find himself a quiet place to be when the gargoyle moved to the side with a stone-grinding noise. 

"I guess Dumbledore told it to let me in," Harry mumbled to himself.

Harry walked upstairs, ready for the grandfatherly disappointment at his failure at getting the memory. He knocked on the door and waited for Dumbledore to let him in. 

"Come in."

Harry walked into the room. He noticed that the Pensieve wasn't out. 

Guess this isn't a private lesson then, Harry thought.

"I heard Minister Scrimgeour met you during the holidays," Dumbledore said.

"He did," Harry nodded.

"What did he want?" Dumbledore asked.

"Use me as a figurehead and spy," Harry said, still standing at the door. 

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly.

"I turned him down," Harry shrugged. "Even if I were allowed to show myself at the Ministry, it would put me in danger. Also, I cannot stand behind a place which still employs Dolores Umbridge in any position."

Dumbledore nodded. Harry noticed there was a tiny bit of a twinkle in his eyes.

"He also asked me where you went when you left Hogwarts," Harry said.

"What did you tell him?" Dumbledore asked. 

"What could I tell him?" Harry said. "I don't know for sure even if I have some theories." 

"What are those theories?" Dumbledore asked. 

"What are Horcruxes?" Harry questioned back.

"You honestly don't trust me," Dumbledore sagged a little in the chair.

"I was reminded during the holidays that trust is a two-way street," Harry said. "You probably mean well doing it your way, but asking me to trust you would be impossible."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Have you managed to get the memory from Slughorn?"

"Unfortunately not," Harry said. "I tried at the Solstice Party, but we were interrupted after I told him you showed it to me."

"Why would you do that?" Dumbledore frowned.

"Because the truth would have shown more goodwill than trying to trick it out of him using his weakness," Harry said solemnly. "If we don't work from the perspective of respect, then how are we supposed to be different from the ones we are fighting?" 

"It is of paramount importance," Dumbledore said slowly.

"And I will keep trying to get it," Harry nodded. "However, as you said, using force or authority would not get us anywhere. He has to give the memory willingly. Was there anything else, Professor?"

"No," Dumbledore said.

"Goodnight then, sir," Harry turned around and opened the door.

"Goodnight, Harry," Dumbledore said from his chair.

Chapter 41: Training Takes a Toll

Summary:

An exciting battle unfolds, during which Susan makes a fateful choice...

The sad ending of "Nev-a Love-Bottom," or whatever the Neville-Luna shippers call their relationship.

Death makes the rounds, and Tonks must use a Muggle firearm.

Hermione is upping her game.

Potions and Poisons and Plots, Oh My!

Notes:

Original Author's Note:

I hope all is well. Thank you to those who sent well-wishes following my accident. I am feeling mostly improved. More importantly, my last graduate school paper for the term (Challenges to Study Abroad Programs in a Post-COVID19 World) has been turned in. I only have a zoom meeting tomorrow on Offshore Wind Energy with the British consulate in Boston, for which I am expected to wear a tie and look smugly informed while others do the presenting for a change, and I am done for the term.

I have missed you all and offer my portion of this chapter as recompense for my absence.

Stay safe, do good, be well.

Killjoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 41. Training Takes a Toll

 

Susan paused just long enough to push the sweat out of her eyes, then dashed two columns. She was almost too slow, as a disarming spell tickled her elbow as she rolled behind cover, forcing her to cling to her wand with both hands. She was pinned down properly now, and there was no way out but through. The Department of Mysteries’ complex and confusing layout had her briefly disoriented, so she took a moment to assess where everyone was and how they were faring.

She took a quick peek to her right and confirmed her previous fear. Luna had been hit with a body-bind and was entirely out of commission. Neville was near her, but he was too tall to fit through the narrow gap Susan had just used. He also seemed to have a decent-sized cut on his forehead, dripping blood into his eyes which he wiped at ineffectively with his sleeve.

Harry had disappeared, whether using his cloak or just taking advantage of the available cover she didn’t know. She had not seen him since the attack began, but clearly, he had been busy as well.

Ron, who had hastily drawn up their current plan, was too far behind her to help Susan now, having taken several incompletely blocked stunners to his legs. Hermione, who had been his partner for the attack, was nowhere to be seen either, but then, Susan couldn’t remember seeing her over the last ten minutes, which seemed now like ten weeks. The only person she was sure was still fighting was Ginny, who was currently drawing fire somewhere over to her left. This flanking move had been a part of the plan, but Ron had expected Susan to see Ginny and coordinate with her. Now the terrain had changed so much that all she saw were flashes and sparks.

Susan decided to use all of the tools at her disposal and quickly looked at the little stone she wore around her neck on a silver chain. The stone, enchanted to show Ginny’s mood as a playful keepsake, was dark, and it was turning darker. Ginny did not expect that she could hold off the enemy for much longer.

Doing the sums rapidly in her head, Susan decided that there was only one way she could achieve their objective with the time and forces remaining to her. She gathered herself, shaking off the slight numbing in her wand arm.

“Ginny!” Her voice carried across the crumbling hallway of the Department of Mysteries, echoing off of the shattered and warped marble and the broken wood of sundered doors and cutting through the grey falling ashes of burnt parchment still hanging in the air from their initial assault. “Ginny! Come to your right on three!”

“Three!”

The stone flickered with a tiny bit of pale blue, the colour of hope. Susan set herself, standing tall, back to the column, and held the image of her target clearly in her mind.

“Two!”

Despite the chaotic way things were falling to pieces, the group’s target remained clear, just barely visible when she’d last looked. Susan tried to calm herself, tried to prepare for what she had to do next.

“One!” 

Susan almost hurt her voice, shouting as loudly and clearly as she could, for Ginny’s sake. She flinched, knowing that Ginny was moving now and that she was in no way able to provide her with any covering fire.

She heard the moment when Ginny realised that she was the diversion in this endgame, a hastily snarled, “Oh,  BUGGER—

Even as Ginny’s voice cut off, Susan’s determination did not fail her. With a turn and twist, she apparated the last fifteen feet to their objective, ignoring the audible thump of a body hitting the ground behind her. Disoriented but not splinched, Susan reached her hand out for their target.

The small bell rang with a thin, tinny sound when her hand slapped down on it. Susan collapsed, and she heard a tired, ragged cheer from Ron somewhere in the distance.

Quickly, the Department of Mysteries faded, the walls and floors resuming their normal appearance as the Room of Requirement yielded to Harry’s transfiguration. Susan heard Hermione muttering darkly off near Ron, but she dragged herself to her feet to check on Ginny.

She ran into something solid, and before she could react, Harry appeared, whipping off his cloak, his eyes cold and hard.

“What are you playing at, Susan? Ginny took a full-strength stunner because of that trick!” Though his face was furious, his voice was low, almost hissing, his jaw clenched. It was frankly scarier to Susan than if he had been shouting at her.

“But it worked,” Susan said with some tired pride. “Even with your cloak, we beat you.”

Ron and the others made their way over, and Susan saw that he and Hermione each had an arm around Ginny, who was pale and unsteady.

“Let me talk to her,” Susan said to Harry. “You can finish chewing me out after.”

Harry reached out and grabbed Susan by the arm. Though training had undoubtedly ramped up, he had seldom laid hands on her, certainly not outside of an exercise. She shrugged him off, angrily raising her voice.

“It’s just training! She understands.” Susan replaced Ron under Ginny’s arm and pulled the slender redhead to her side. “You are okay, right?”

Ginny regarded her with a touch of perhaps-too-glib bravado. “Never been better. Did we win? Great.”

“You see?” Susan appealed to Harry and her friends, some of whom were visibly not thrilled at how the exercise had ended. “She’s fine. Fine. Also,  hello?  Who apparated five yards? For the win?”

Harry’s lip curled for just a moment in a sneer before he calmly said, “Nicely done. Just a quick question, though. Does anyone here know the spells to help you if you’d splinched yourself? Or if you maybe arrived without that leg again? Or your bloody head? That’s right, no one.” 

Harry sat down heavily, not bothering to summon a chair but just folding down to the floor. His friends had put up a vicious fight, and cloak or no cloak, they had pushed him to his limit and had technically beaten him at the objective he had set for them.

What followed rapidly devolved into a tired—and tiring—debate over the ethical decision to sacrifice a friend to achieve their goal. Though the discussion was freeform and often backed and filled over previous points as they made their positions known, they could best be summed up in Susan’s mind as follows.

Susan found herself, somewhat surprisingly, backing the thinking of Ron. He argued, using chess as his metaphor, that victory required sacrifices, and the key to achieving your goals often meant recognising which sacrifices were worthwhile and when. Committing to a policy of “no sacrifices” was ensuring defeat before the battle had begun.

Hermione, who still had a vaguely haunted, exhausted expression, agreed in principle with this philosophy, but she argued that sacrifice was a matter of free will. Each person ultimately must decide which positions were worthy of paying the highest price for herself.

Neville, who spoke carefully and thoughtfully, argued that Susan should not have acted as she had without previously discussing the possibility with them, especially with Ginny. “When you commit to choosing to sacrifice others,” he said patiently, “you’re getting towards the dark, aren’t you? Deciding you know what’s best for someone else? That’s what we’re fighting against, aren’t we?”

Harry, shaking his head, seemed to have cooled down during the discussion and found himself reluctantly arguing with Ron’s statement that Harry would have made the same choice as Susan if he felt he had to. “If we can’t win without sacrificing our friends, our family, the people we love? Maybe we don’t deserve to win. Maybe there are worse things than dying.”

It was Luna, who had been silent throughout this whole discussion, who had finally wrapped up the arguments. While idly pulling small splinters out of her robes, she said softly, “In the end, it’s just life, isn’t it? Everyone has to make, and live with, their own choices.”

There was a long silence as that sunk in for everyone. Harry finally broke the quiet moment by pulling himself to his feet.

“Well, I can tell you this,” he said with a resigned tone. “If anyone feels they need to make life or death choices for someone else, tell me now. Because promise or no promise, I am not training anyone under those conditions.”

He held Susan and Ron specifically by eye. They agreed, and the group began to reluctantly split up, heading away from the room of requirement in ones and twos.

Susan reached out to take Ginny’s hand, as it had become her habit to walk Ginny to the Gryffindor common room with her housemates before going on her own towards the kitchens and Hufflepuff’s quarters. Ginny’s hand was cool and lifeless in hers. She stopped.

“You didn’t say very much back there,” Susan realised aloud. “We are okay, aren’t we?”

Ginny smiled and squeezed her hand tightly.

“Of course, my love. It was just a tiring exercise. I’m for the showers and bed.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” Susan leaned in to give Ginny a quick kiss on her cheek. “Are you running in the morning? Or will I see you at breakfast?”

“I’m running, I expect. See you then? Okay, night, love.” Ginny disappeared behind the portrait of the Fat Lady, who eyed Susan thoughtfully while tapping a fan on her palm.

“And good night to you as well,” Susan muttered, heading to her room. As she prepared to turn out her lights, she looked at her pendant, as she always did just before falling asleep. It was dark grey, drab even, with only a hint of warmth at its edges. She sighed and tried to sleep.

 

Neville stood, holding Luna’s hands in his, at the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower. He knew he would be late, but some things take time to do correctly, and this was one of them.

“I love you, Luna,” he said softly. “I hope that you know that.”

“I do,” she said. There was no trace of distraction or dreaminess, just her calm voice.

“And I hope that you love me, as well,” he continued, having trouble meeting her eyes.

“Of course, yes.” She raised one of his hands and kissed the back of it briefly, warmly. A shiver went through him. The small, pale witch and the tall, dark wizard stood in the dim torchlight for a moment.

“So,” he said, at last, the word pulled from him like a stubborn tooth, “will we still be friends?”

“Oh, Neville,” she sighed, hugging him impulsively. “Always.”

She felt the tears now, dropping into her hair from up above her, as his arms wrapped her tight.

“It’s just your O.W.L.s, and me studying for N.E.W.T.s, and…” His voice trailed off miserably.

Her voice was muffled against his chest, but he heard every word. “And the terrifying fear of constant death? Hanging over us and all of the people we care about?” 

There was the dreamy voice, the distracted but matter-of-fact Luna he knew and loved so dearly.

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “That’s most of it, really.”

She squeezed him one more time, and reluctantly they parted. She beckoned him to bring his face down to hers, and he obliged.

“You can still come to me to talk,” she said, looking soulfully at him with her striking, pale eyes, the colour of the morning sky after a storm. “Or for kissing, if you need.”

He smiled and kissed her briefly but tenderly. “Likewise.”

“Goodnight, Neville Longbottom. You were the best boyfriend I could have ever hoped for.”

And that was it. Before Neville could think of what to say in reply, she was climbing the stairs, and he watched her with regret, desire, and satisfaction. She turned just before the stairs took her out of his sight, and gave a slight shake to her hips and a smile that had him blushing all the way back to the Gryffindor common room. Of course, being Neville Longbottom, he was caught out of his quarters after curfew. It was worth the ten points from his house, staying to see that hopeful little shake. 

 

Tonks was unhappy. This was not in itself unusual, as she had not really been happy since she and Harry had been together before the Boxing Day incidents. No, today, she was unhappy for one general principle and also for one specific reason.

She was generally unhappy because not only was she assigned guard duty, she was not even guarding the Muggle PM. Instead, she was walking through a crowded social function with his wife. Security was starting to relax on the government’s Muggle side, as there had been no systemic, organised follow-up to Boxing Day. So instead of sensibly sitting at home and writing her book, as she had been doing for much of the last month, Mrs Norma was shaking hands, taking photos, and generally being far too exposed. She welcomed members of the fundraising board of her favourite charity, which was something to do with learning disabilities, as far as Tonks could make out while trying to watch four exits and a bank of windows on her own.

She could say on her own, though there were, of course, the regular Muggle security personnel assigned to her detail. And this was where the specific unhappiness arose, as one of the staff included Geoffrey. Geoffrey was a thin, wiry-haired and wiry-bodied Welshman with a strange sense of humour and a fondness for Tonks. He’d reacted fine after she deflected his first casual pass with professional courtesy. He was even polite when a firmer brushoff later had included an offhand reference to her boyfriend. But since he could not know the real reason Tonks had been added to the detail, he assumed that she must be an armed response agent or similar specialist. He had moved on from asking her out to asking her how she had managed such a high-profile assignment while still being so young and lovely.

In other circumstances, she might have found the man to be oddly charming, as his self-deprecating sense of humour and evident enthusiasm for life could be infectious. Today, however, Tonks was feeling tired, exposed, personally and professionally frustrated, and unhappy.

Tonks was half-listening to Mrs Norma as she introduced a supporter to a potential donor when a name caught her attention.

“And Peter? Surely you all know Peter Hill?” Mrs Nora had one hand on the man’s back and was waving inclusively to a small group of her associates. “Peter is in business. Something to do with imports, as I understand.”

Tonks focused on the man, moving slightly to take in his profile. From the side, the resemblance was unmistakable. Peter Hill had his son Reagan’s nose and jaw, but his colouring was much more like his daughter, Sally. She wondered for a moment why he would be here until she recalled that his businesses dealt extensively with Muggle partners both in Britain and abroad.

Having moved to satisfy her curiosity about Mr Hill, she was now somewhat out of position to cover the kitchen entrance, and she started to angle around, trying to move in that direction discreetly. Clearly, she was not as careful as she could have been since she saw Geoffrey moving from his post, shading in that direction as well to help her cover. Not only had she been out of position, but she’d also been noticed and covered for by the ingratiating Welshman. She sighed, wondering how much this was going to cost her in bemused comments before the assignment was over.

Geoffrey saw her approaching and turned to give her a little razzing grin. Over his shoulder, she could see the doors to the kitchens swinging open, as it had a dozen or more times. Something wasn’t right. She started moving quickly on instinct before she had rationally processed what she was seeing.

Geoffrey caught a look at her face and began to turn towards the doors.

Doors. The door swinging open was the ‘in’ door, not the ‘out’ door. No trained staff would make that error, Tonks realised, as she connected the details of what she saw with the ice in her gut that was already driving her forward. She wanted to draw her wand, but unlike the PM, his wife did not warrant any risk to the Statutes of Secrecy, so Tonks would need to be subtle.

Before she could take in the figure she saw in any detail, she saw the hand rising, a pale ash wood wand in its fingers. She cursed and reached for her own wand.

Geoffrey had turned and was too slowly reacting to what he was seeing, trying to sort the images into a pattern his brain could process. As Kingsley had trained her, Tonks shouted a word guaranteed to inspire action from her Muggle counterparts.

“Gun!” 

Geoffrey took a long step, not towards the assailant, but towards the line connecting the tip of the wand with the heart of the PM’s wife.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Stupify!”

The two spells fired off almost simultaneously, but not quite. The lance of green, the sickly colour of death magic, struck Geoffrey in his throat, and he fell as though his strings had all been cut. The red jet of the stunner knocked the assassin back through the doors faster than anyone could react.

People screamed. Another member of her detail took Mrs Norma out the side door with a coat over her head, and into a bullet-resistant limousine, in less than a minute. Tonks conjured her Patronus, and sent the silver puma streaking to the Ministry to report.

She found that Peter Hill, of all people, had moved towards the kitchen, and he carefully slipped Tonks the assailant’s wand. The man she had stunned was unconscious, bleeding from his ears from the force of her stunner and the blow to his head when he fell. He was a cook, about twenty, with a handsome, almost beautiful boyish face. His bare arms did not show the Dark Mark.

Aurors arrived, and soon they were modifying memories and cleaning up the scene. A special detachment, charged with carefully adjusting the PM’s wife’s memories of the event, and those of her detail, were on their way to Number 10. Kingsley himself was standing over the fallen form of Geoffrey Moffat. The fallen bodyguard looked calm, peaceful. He didn’t have the look of fear or terrible surprise, so common in the suddenly dead. He looked as though he had simply chosen an awkward and uncomfortable spot to lie down.

“Another sympathiser, it seems. No history of violence or association with You-Know-Who that we’ve found,” Kingsley’s rich baritone rolled softly over Tonks. “Did you know this man well?”

She shook her head, and addressed her boss, though her eyes were drawn to the face of Geoffrey, to his little bit of stubble, to his eyes, unseeing now but still kind, playful. Those eyes and that playfulness turned in her stomach like a screw of ice.

“I didn’t know him very much, really. He seemed nice. I liked him.”

Kingsley nodded and summoned another Auror, who handed him something and stepped back.

“You can go back to the Ministry for tonight, Tonks. You don’t have to stay for this.”

She looked and saw what was in his hand. She remembered the lessons and the details of the lengths they must go through to preserve their secrecy. It was something no Auror cared to speak of. There was one more thing they still needed to do to support the modified memories currently being established in dozens of guests, the security detail, and even the PM’s wife. It was better this way.

“No, I’ll do it,” she said, reaching towards Kingsley. She waved away his half-voiced protest. “He was on my watch, and he was—he could have been—a friend. It shouldn’t come from a stranger.”

Kingsley nodded, and his aide’s voice warned the others.

Firing two !”

Two bullets from the small gun in Tonks’s hand struck Geoffrey. One hit him straight through his heart, the other hit higher, on his shoulder. Blood splashed, marking his pale face. The fact that his eyes remained open, and kind, would haunt Tonks for a long time.

 

Harry,

First, please don’t worry- I’m fine. 

So, I don’t know if you’ve heard about the attack on the PM’s wife. I was there, but I’m fine. 

I wasn’t in any danger, and she was not hurt. The attacker— I’m not supposed to say, even to you. Not with an owl, at least. But don’t worry. I’m fine.

I miss you.

Tonks

 

Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, staring at Tonks’s most recent letter, as if he could force it to yield answers to all of his questions by the power of observation alone.

Hermione was sitting across from him, studying quietly. It was peaceful, a callback to what Harry now realised may have been simpler times, though they had seemed anything but simple back then.

“Do you ever miss it?” Hermione’s voice snapped Harry’s attention back to the present moment.

“I’m sorry, Hermione.” Harry blinked a few times and shook his head. “I was miles away. Do I miss what?”

“You and I… you know, before?” Hermione quickly went on. “I understand if it’s none of my business or if you don’t want to talk about it. I know everything is different now, for good reasons.”

“No, no,” Harry said, thinking about it. His answer surprised him. “I do, but at the same time...? It’s hard to put into words. I don’t miss our lives back then, I mean, together. I’m happier now with who I am, and I’m happy about who I’m with. I wouldn’t want to change that. But I love—loved—you very much. I imagine I always will.”

They were both quiet for some time before Harry spoke again. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could call them back.

“Do you miss it?”

Hermione lowered her book and just looked at him, not judging.

He nodded. “Okay, sorry. Stupid question.”

“I am glad that you care for me,” she said after another pause. “While I won’t pretend I understand what we had, I find that I am very pleased that you still care. I’d like to think that something so central to my life was worthwhile.”

Harry thought about that. It might be the best possible outcome, considering.

“Thank you, Hermione. I’ll never regret caring for you, I promise.”

She waved her hand, already deep into whatever she was reading. Harry looked again, not recognising the book.

Game Theory: A Critical Introduction, ” he read aloud. “Looking for ways to defeat Ron at wizards’ chess?”

“I’m not looking to defeat Ronald, actually,” she said, eyes flicking back and forth as she devoured the book in her typical fashion. “It’s not that kind of book.”

“Who do you want to beat? Harry asked, curious now.

Her face was grave, her jaw set, but she didn’t look up from her reading as she answered.

“Voldemort.”

 

February moved towards March with little change except that it became windy as well as wet. Harry kept training the people who wanted, but he had stopped the full-scale battlefield training and introduced duelling under restriction. The duellists would only be able to dodge by moving their upper body, or they would be duelling with lousy footing. He did not want another incident. He noticed that Ginny and Luna had stopped coming but wrote it off as they were busy with their O.W.L.s. Soon after, Ron stopped coming as often as well as Neville, and lastly, Susan stopped as well, telling Harry that the training she had gotten was enough for her to continue on her own. 

Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as challenging as ever, though only a few more people had splinched themselves. Frustration had started to run high, and there was a certain amount of animosity building towards Twycross and the three D’s, which had inspired several nicknames for him, the politest of which were Dog-breath and Dung-head. Harry had gotten a reply to his letter. Tonks gave her best advice about Apparition, but Harry felt she wasn’t really into it. He had asked if everything was really alright, but no other letter had come. 

“Happy birthday, Ron,” Harry said when they were woken on the first of March by Seamus and Dean leaving noisily for breakfast. “Have a present.” 

He threw the package across to Ron, where it joined a small pile of gifts that Harry assumed that house-elves had delivered during the night.

Ron yawned and blinked owlishly. “Cheers.” 

Harry got up and began rummaging in his trunk for the Marauder’s Map, which he had put there last night. He turned out half the contents of his trunk before he found it hiding beneath the rolled-up socks in which he had been keeping his two-way mirror since last year. 

“Right,” Harry murmured, taking the map back to bed with him, tapping it quietly and muttering, “ I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”  

“Nice, Harry!” said Ron enthusiastically, examining the new pair of quidditch keeper’s gloves Harry had given him.

“No problem,” said Harry absently as he searched for Malfoy in and around the Slytherin dormitory. Something he had started doing since their first Apparition lesson.  I don’t think he’s in his bed.

Harry didn’t bother Ron as he was too busy unwrapping presents, now and then letting out an exclamation of pleasure.

“Outstanding!” Ron proclaimed, holding up a heavy gold wizarding watch with arcane symbols around the edge and tiny stars moving across the face instead of hands. “Did you see what I got from Mum and Dad? Bloody hell, I should come of age every year.” 

“Nice,” muttered Harry, forcing a glance at Ron’s new watch before returning his focus to the map. Where had Malfoy gone? He wasn’t at the Slytherin table eating breakfast, not near Snape in his study. He wasn’t in any of the bathrooms nor the hospital wing.

“Chocolate Cauldron?” said Ron, holding out an open box of sweets.

“No thanks,” said Harry, looking up. “Malfoy’s gone!”  

“Rubbish,” said Ron, deciding to indulge in a second chocolate as he slid out of bed. “Got to be about somewhere. Best hurry, unless you fancy trying to Apparate on an empty stomach.” 

Ron looked regretfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then tucked them away for later. He’d reward himself after training, he thought. 

Harry put away the map with a grunt of frustration. Malfoy’s periodic disappearances had to have an explanation, but Harry could not imagine what it could be. The best way to find out would be to tail him, but this was an impractical idea even with the invisibility cloak. Harry had classes, quidditch, revisions and Apparition lessons. Following Malfoy around school all day without his absence being remarked upon seemed unlikely. 

“You coming?” he said to Ron. 

Ron was staring at nothing, with the unfocused, distracted concentration he sometimes had over the chessboard. 

“Breakfast? You coming, mate?” 

“Not eating.” 

Harry stared, puzzled. 

“But you were just—” 

“How can I eat?” Ron asked with a sigh. 

“How many of those Chocolate Cauldrons have you had?” 

“It’s not that,” Ron sighed again. “You…you wouldn’t understand.” 

“Fair enough,” said Harry, resolved albeit puzzled, as he turned to open the door. 

“Harry!” exclaimed Ron. 

“What is it?”

“I can’t stand it! How can I go on?” Ron’s voice seemed legitimately full of despair. 

“Stand  what ?” asked Harry, alarmed. Ron looked about to be ill, and his colour was somewhat sickly.

“She’s all I can think about!” said Ron feverishly.  

“This is about your girlfriend, then? What’s that to do with breakfast?” Harry asked with exasperation. 

“She doesn’t even know I’m alive!” Ron’s voice was heartbreaking, but Harry was more bewildered than moved.

“Of course she does,” said Harry. “She keeps snogging you, doesn’t she?”  

Ron blinked. 

“Who are you talking about?”

“Lavender. Who are  you  talking about?” 

“Romilda Vane,” said Ron reverently, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it as if lit by some mysterious inner light. 

The two young men stared at each other for almost a whole minute before Harry spoke.

“You’re not joking?” asked Harry, almost hopefully.

“I think— I think I love her, Harry!” gasped Ron.

Harry decided this must be some sort of prank, maybe a Weasley tradition he’d missed out on over the years of some kind. He turned to leave and had taken two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit him across the back of the head. Staggering, he looked around. Ron’s fist was drawn back, and his face was contorted with rage. He was about to strike again. 

Harry reacted instinctively: his wand leapt to his hand, and the enchantment sprang to mind without conscious thought:  Levicorpus!  

Ron yelled as the spell wrenched his heel upwards; he dangled helplessly, upside down, his robes hanging off him. 

What the hell was that for ?” Harry bellowed. 

“You insulted her, you twat! You said my love was a joke!” shouted Ron, whose face was slowly darkening as all the blood rushed to his head. “My love is no joke, Harry!”

“This is insane!” said Harry. “What’s got into —?” 

He then saw the Chocolate Cauldron wrapper, mixed in with the wrapping paper on Ron’s bed. 

Shit… ” Harry muttered under his breath. “Where did you get those sweets? The Chocolate Cauldrons?”

“I offered you one, didn’t I?” shouted Ron, revolving slowly in midair as he struggled to get free. “They were a birthday present!”

“You picked them up off the floor, didn’t you?”

“They’d fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!”

“They didn’t fall off your bed, you prat, don’t you understand? She meant those for me. I chucked them out of my trunk when I was searching for the map. These are the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before Christmas, and she’s spiked them with a love potion!”

Ron seemed to seize upon one word. 

“Romilda?” he repeated. “You know her? You could introduce me, right?” 

Harry stared at Ron, tremendously hopeful and ridiculous as he dangled overhead, and Harry fought a strong desire to laugh. He briefly considered letting Ron declare undying love for Romilda Vane. 

Harry thought about just making the antidote himself. It would probably work with a sobering potion, maybe blended with a cleansing brew. It would remove the effects of intoxication while discharging the rest of the love potion from his system. The side-effect of letting Ron sit on the toilet for up to an hour seemed like a fitting punishment for eating whatever was on the floor and punching Harry.

Still, this could be my first real chance to speak with Slughorn in ages,  Harry thought.

“Yeah, I’ll introduce you,” Harry said. “I’m going to let you down now, shall I?”

He let Ron fall crashing back to the floor, but the boy simply bounced to his feet, grinning.

“She’ll be in Slughorn’s office,” said Harry confidently. 

“Why would she be there?” asked Ron, anxiously hurrying after Harry. 

“She, erm, she has extra Potions lesson,” Harry improvised. 

“She’s smart as she is beautiful,” Ron said dreamily. “You think I could have them with her?” 

“You should ask about that,” said Harry. 

Lavender stood beside the portrait hole, pouting. 

“You’re late, Won-Won!” she fawned. “You’ll have to make it up to—” 

“Out of the way,” said Ron brusquely, “Harry’s introducing me to Romilda Vane.” 

Without another word, he pushed past her. Harry shrugged apologetically to Lavender, but she looked more offended than ever. The Fat Lady swung shut behind them. 

Harry was worried that Slughorn might be at breakfast, but he answered his office door at the first knock, still wearing a green velvet dressing-gown and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed. 

“Harry,” he mumbled. “This is very early for a call. I generally sleep late on a Saturday.” 

“Professor, I’m so sorry to disturb you,” said Harry as quietly as possible, while Ron loomed over Harry’s shoulder, attempting to see past Slughorn into the room, “but my friend Ron’s swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn’t prepare an antidote, could you? Normally I’d take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we’re not supposed to have anything from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and, you know—awkward questions—” 

“I’d have thought an expert potioneer like you could have whipped up a remedy yourself, Harry,” mused Slughorn. 

“Erm,” said Harry, distracted by Ron elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to force his way into the room, “I’ve never mixed an antidote for a love potion, you see? By the time I got it right, Ron might’ve done something regrettable.” 

Helpfully, Ron interrupted with a pitiful moan, “I don’t see her. Harry — why is he hiding her?”

“This potion, was it within date?” asked Slughorn, eyeing Ron with professional curiosity. “They often strengthen the longer they’re kept.”  

“That would explain it,” panted Harry, now positively wrestling with Ron to keep him from knocking Slughorn over. “Please, Professor: it’s his birthday,” he added imploringly. 

“Very well, come along, then, come in,” relented Slughorn. “I have the necessary materials in my bag. It’s not a terribly difficult antidote.” 

Ron burst through the door into the overheated, crowded little room, tripping over a tasselled footstool and regaining his balance by seizing Harry around the neck. He whis[ered loudly to Harry, “She didn’t see me do that, did she?” 

“She’s not here yet,” said Harry, watching Slughorn opening his potion kit and deftly adding a pinch of this and a few dashes of that to a small crystal bottle. 

“That’s good,” said Ron fervently. “How do I look?” 

“Very handsome,” said Slughorn smoothly, handing Ron a glass of clear liquid. “Now drink that up; it’s a tonic for the nerves to keep you calm, just until the young lady in question arrives, you know,” 

“Smashing,” said Ron eagerly, and he tossed the antidote back smoothly. 

Harry and Slughorn watched him closely. Ron beamed at them briefly. Very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished. Horror spread from his eyes to his whole face.

“Back to normal, mate?” asked a grinning Harry. Slughorn chuckled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Not at all, m’boy, not at all,” said Slughorn, as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated. 

I am back to ‘m’boy.’ This was the right call.

“Pick-me-up, that’s what you need,” Slughorn continued, now bustling over to a table loaded with drinks. “I’ve got butterbeer, elderberry wine. Oh, here we go, an oak-matured mead. Hmm, I meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas. Ah, well,” Slughorn shrugged. “He can’t miss what he’s never had, as they say! Why not celebrate Mr—erm—Weasley’s birthday with a little toast? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love.” 

He chuckled again, and Harry joined in. This was the first time he had found himself nearly alone with Slughorn since his disastrous first attempt to extract the accurate memory from him. Perhaps, if he could only keep Slughorn in a good mood, maybe if they got through enough of the oak matured mead—

“—There you are, then,” said Slughorn, interrupting Harry’s train of thought while handing each of the boys a glass of mead before raising his own. “Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph—” 

“—Ron,” whispered Harry.

But Ron did not appear to be listening to the toast. He had already thrown back the mead and swallowed. 

There was one moment, barely more than a heartbeat, in which Harry knew there was something terribly wrong. Slughorn, it seemed, did not. 

“— and may you have many more —”

“Ron!”  

Ron had risen halfway from his chair. His glass dropped, shattering on the floor, and he followed it down, his extremities jerking uncontrollably as he landed beside the tasselled footstool. A putrid, pale foam was dribbling from his mouth, and his eyes were bulging in their sockets. 

Everything froze around Harry; adrenaline was pouring into his blood, his vision tunnelling to focus on the task ahead. He sent a glance towards Slughorn.

“Professor!” Harry cried out. “Quickly, do something!”

Slughorn, however, seemed paralysed by shock. Ron twitched and spasmed: his skin was turning pale, and the foam at his mouth had darkened to a bluish charcoal colour. 

“What — how —,” spluttered Slughorn. 

Harry dashed towards Slughorn’s open potion kit, spilling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron’s gargling breath filled the room. Then he found it - the wrinkled, kidney-shaped stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions—the bezoar. 

Harry vaulted back to Ron’s side and, wrenching open his jaw, thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a final, heroic shudder, then a rattling gasp before his body became limp and still. 

Notes:

Yes. Geoffrey, the odd Welshman, is a tribute to the brilliant work of Richard Coyle as Jeff Murdock on "Coupling."

The Sock Gap.
The Giggle Loop.
Unflushables.
"Steve, shadayim!"

Chapter 42: Forgiven, Not Forgotten

Summary:

• Ron's convalescence and his family's reaction to Harry's actions
• Hagrid shares the tea about Snape and Dumbledore
• Cormac and Lavender. Oy veh.
• What is Draco up to?
• Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff
• We have your usual bed ready, Mr Potter...
• Missing Tonks
• Voldemort vs. Potter

Notes:

This took forever, and I apologise. I have literally been working on this series throughout the entire pandemic...

Another chapter that required a combination of paraphrasing, radical editing, and surgical restructuring. I hope it still works, but it seems choppy to me.

Of course, much of JK's work is choppy too, when she's pushing through plot points to get to one of her set pieces.

*shrug*

Several people have recently asked about the original 5 volumes, and they are once again available in unreacted, unimproved PDF form, "warts and all." Email me for details.

ReverendKilljoy

Chapter Text

Chapter 42. Forgiven, Not Forgotten

 

“Our family has to stop meeting like this,” said Fred. 

“Not one of the all-time great birthdays, true,” Added George.

It was evening, and the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron’s was the only bed occupied. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny gathered around Ron’s still form. The three had spent all day outside the doors, trying to peer inside whenever somebody came or went. Madam Pomfrey had kept everyone out until nearly eight o’clock. Fred and George had arrived not long after. 

“This isn’t how we imagined handing over our present,” said George grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron’s bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny. 

“Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious,” said Fred. 

“There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him —” said George. 

“Why were you in the village?” asked Ginny, looking up. 

“We were looking at Zonko’s,” said Fred. “For a new branch for us in Hogsmeade. It’ll do us a fat lot of good if you lot aren’t allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore. But never mind that now.” 

The twins drew up chairs on either side of Harry and looked at Ron’s pale face. 

“How exactly did it happen, Harry?” 

Harry retold the story for what felt like the one-hundredth time, initially to Dumbledore, McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and Hermione, and now for Ginny and the twins. 

“—and when I got the bezoar down his throat, his breathing eased up a bit. Slughorn sent for help, and McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up. They brought Ron here; Madam Pomfrey says he’ll be all right, but he’ll have to stay here a week or so and keep taking restoratives.” 

“Blimey, it was quick of you to think of a bezoar,” mused George in a low voice. 

“Lucky there was one in the room, more like,” said Harry. He was distracted by the thought of what would have happened if he had not been able to lay hands on the tiny stone. Slughorn had been almost paralysed by dithering indecision, and Harry knew an antidote to this poison would have been beyond his abilities in the time Ron had.

Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been reticent all day since she had hurtled, tight-lipped and pale, up to Harry outside the hospital wing. She had demanded to know what happened, hanging on his every word. She had largely ignored Harry and Ginny’s obsessive discussion about how Ron was poisoned. She merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last Pomfrey had relented and allowed them inside to see their friend for themselves. 

“Do Mum and Dad know?” Fred asked Ginny suddenly as if only now thinking of it. 

“They’ve already seen him. They arrived an hour ago — they’re in Dumbledore’s office now, but they’ll be back soon.” 

There was a pause while they all watched Ron mumble a little in his sleep. 

“So the poison was in the drink?” Fred confirmed quietly. 

“Yes,” said Harry at once; he could think of nothing else and was glad for the opportunity to start discussing it again. “Slughorn poured it out —” 

“He could have been able to slip something into Ron’s glass without you seeing, couldn’t he?” 

“Possibly,” admitted Harry, “but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?” 

“No idea,” admitted Fred, frowning. “You don’t reckon he could have mixed up the glasses, maybe trying to get you?”

“Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry, either?” asked Ginny. 

“I dunno,” said Fred with exasperation, “but aren’t we used to people wanting Harry dead? Just a habit now, isn’t it?” 

“Do you think Slughorn’s a Death Eater?” said Ginny. 

“He’s a Slytherin. You have to admit the possibility,” said Fred darkly. 

“He could be under the Imperius Curse. Anything’s possible,” added George. 

“If the poison was in the bottle, it was probably meant for Slughorn himself,” Ginny said. “That would make him another possible target, not the poisoner.” 

“Who’d want to poison any professor, especially Slughorn?” 

“Well, I know that Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side,” said Harry. “He must be valuable. Slughorn was in hiding for nearly a year before he came to Hogwarts.” Harry thought of the memory Dumbledore had tasked him with recovering from Slughorn. “Or maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way. Maybe he thinks he could be useful to Dumbledore somehow.” 

“Also, Slughorn told you he was planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore,” Ginny reminded him. “So we come back again to Dumbledore.” 

“Then the poisoner didn’t know Slughorn very well,” said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours. “Anyone who knows Slughorn would know there was a good chance he’d keep something special like that for himself.”

“Her-my-nee,” croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them.

“Ronald?”

They fell silent, watching him anxiously, and Hermione pushed closer to take his hand in hers. After a few rasping breaths, Ron fell back into a visibly peaceful sleep. 

With a startling bang, the doors to the hospital wing banged open, only to be filled with the overwhelming presence of Rubeus Hagrid. He barrelled in, raindrops still dripping from his great bushy beard and his horrible hide coat. He was tracking mud from his rowboat-sized shoes, and his face was fixed in a guileless display of concern and agitation.

“I just heard,” he panted. “I bin in the forest all day—Aragog’s worse. I was readin’ to him — didn’t get up ter dinner till just now an’ then Professor Sprout told me about Ron! How is he?” 

“They say he’ll be okay,” said Harry. “I guess that’s the good news.”

Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office. “No more than six visitors at a time!”

“Hagrid makes six,” George pointed out. 

“Oh, yes,” Madam Pomfrey, set off no doubt by the force of Hagrid’s entrance, seemed nonplussed as she realised that he was, in fact, just one person, albeit a ridiculously large one. Still muttering, she began to scourgify his muddy footprints with her wand. 

“I don’t believe it,” said Hagrid hoarsely, tears spilling into his great bushy beard as he stared down at Ron. “Look at him lyin’ there! Who’d want him hurt, eh?”  

“That’s what we have been discussing,” said Harry. 

“Couldn’t be a grudge against the Gryffindor quidditch team, could it?” said Hagrid anxiously. “Katie Bell, and now Ron?” 

“Can you see anyone trying to bump off a whole quidditch team?” asked George.

“Wood might’ve done the Slytherins if he could’ve got away with it,” Fred conceded reasonably.  

“I don’t think it’s quidditch, but there’s a connection between the attacks,” said Hermione with quiet seriousness.

“How do you figure?” asked Fred. 

“Well, for one thing, both attacks ought to have been fatal and weren’t, although that was pure chance. And for another thing, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the intended victim. Of course,” she added broodingly, “that makes the person behind this even more dangerous. They don’t seem to care how many people they finish might kill before they reach their victim.” 

The doors opened again, and Mr and Mrs Weasley bustled in before anybody could respond to this ominous pronouncement. They had only had time to assure themselves that Ron should fully recover earlier; now, Harry found himself wrapped in Mrs Weasley’s tight embrace. 

“Dumbledore’s told us how you saved Ron with the bezoar,” she sobbed. “Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny, and you saved Arthur. Now you’ve saved Ron.”

“Don’t be—I didn’t—” muttered Harry awkwardly. 

“Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, Harry,” Mr Weasley said with a weary voice. “It was a lucky day for this family when you and Ron became friends, Harry.”

Harry, thinking how far he and Ron had strayed from friendship before finally finding their way back to something like friends again over the last few months, could not think of any reply to this. He was almost relieved when Madam Pomfrey reminded them that there were only supposed to be six visitors for Ron. Harry and Hermione took their leave from the Weasleys, and Hagrid followed them out. 

“Terrible,” muttered Hagrid into his beard as the three of them walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase. “All this new security and kids still gettin’ hurt. Dumbledore’s sick about it. He don’t say much, but I can tell it eats at him, it does.” 

“Hasn’t he any ideas, Hagrid?” asked Hermione. 

“Hundreds of ideas, I’d expect, brain like his,” said Hagrid. “But who sent that necklace or put poison in that wine? Sure he’d have said. What worries me,” he continued, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder, “is how long we can keep the school open if kids are bein’ attacked. Chamber o’ Secrets all over again, isn’t it? Panic, parents takin’ kids out of school, an next thing yeh know the board o’ governors—” 

Hagrid quieted respectfully as the ghost of a long-haired woman drifted serenely past, then resumed in a hoarse whisper, “—the board o’ governors will be talking about closing fer good.” 

“Surely not?” said Hermione, looking shocked. 

“Gotta see it like an adult, ‘Ermione,” said Hagrid heavily. “Never exactly safe, was it, sendin’ yer witches and wizards to Hogwarts. Hundreds of underage wizards all budged up tergether? But attempted murder? Even Dumbledore’s on edge, arguing with Sn —” 

Hagrid literally stopped in his tracks, a familiar, guilty expression on what was visible of his face above his tangled black beard. 

“What?” said Harry quickly. “Dumbledore’s angry with Snape?” 

“I never said that,” said Hagrid, though his look of panic could not have been a greater giveaway. “Look at the time! I ought to be—” 

“Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?” Harry asked loudly. 

“Shhhh!” said Hagrid, looking both nervous and angry. “Don’t shout stuff like that, Harry, do yeh wan’ me ter lose my job? Mind, I don’t suppose yeh’d care, would yeh, not now yeh’ve given up Care of Mag —” 

“Don’t even try to make me feel guilty. It won’t work!” said Harry forcefully. “What’s Snape done?” 

“I dunno, Harry, and I shouldn’t have heard them at all! I was comin’ out from visiting Aragog in the Forbidden Forrest the other night, and I overheard them talking — well, arguin’. Didn’t want to draw attention, so I sorta skulked by and tried not ter listen, but it was a — well, a pretty heated discussion, and it wasn’t easy ter block it out.” 

“Well?” Harry urged him as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily. 

“Well— I just heard Snape sayin’ Dumbledore took too much for granted, and maybe he—Snape—didn’t wan’ ter do it anymore—”

“Do what?”  

“I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin’ a bit overworked, that’s all — anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he’d agreed ter do it an’ that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An’ then he said summat about Snape makin’ investigations in his House, in Slytherin. Well, there’s nothin’ strange about that!” Hagrid added hastily, as Harry and Hermione exchanged looks full of meaning. “All the Heads o’ Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business —”

“Yeah, but Dumbledore’s not having rows with the rest of them, is he?” said Harry. 

“Look,” Hagrid twisted his crossbow uncomfortably in his hands; there was a loud splintering sound, and it snapped in two. “I know what yeh’re like about Snape, Harry, an’ I don’ want yeh ter go readin’ more inter this than there is.”

“Filch,” exclaimed Hermione softly. 

They turned to see the shadow of the Hogwarts caretaker stretching up the wall before them, even before the man himself turned the corner, his rheumy eyes gleeful.

“Oho!” he wheezed. “Out of bed so late, that’s detention!” 

“No, it won’t, Filch,” said Hagrid shortly. “They’re with me, aren’t they?” 

“So? Why does that concern me?” asked Filch obnoxiously. 

“I’m a teacher, aren’t I, yeh ruddy squib!” Hagrid’s face grew red as he huffed up, looming somehow even larger. 

Hermione and Harry were reminded of a teakettle on the boil as Filch hissed with indignation; Mrs Norris had arrived, and she added a rumbling growl to underscore Filch as she wove her way between his skinny ankles. 

“Get along,” muttered Hagrid to the two young students. 

They did not wait to be told again; Harry and Hermione left Hagrid’s and Filch’s raised voices behind them as quickly as they could.

The Fat Lady was napping in her portrait, and she swung forward grumpily to allow them into the Gryffindor common room. Harry was relieved. He had been interrogated enough that day. Hermione bade him a d that his housemates did not seem to have heard the news about Ron yet. He was weary of retelling his account of the morning’s events. He bid Hermione good night when she set off for the girls’ dormitory. Harry remained behind, taking a seat beside the fire and looking down into the dying embers. 

So Dumbledore had argued with Snape. Despite all he had told Harry, despite his insistence that he trusted Snape completely, the headmaster was at last losing his temper with the Dark Arts instructor. Dumbledore did not think that Snape had tried hard enough to— what? 

The necklace was supposed to curse someone at Hogwarts. It could have been me as ‘the Chosen One’, but it could have been everyone else too; the bottle of mead was supposed to go to Dumbledore— 

“There you are, Harry!” 

Harry startled, his wand springing to hand. He had not expected a hulking figure to rise suddenly into the light from out of a shadowed chair. A closer look showed him that it was Cormac McLaggen.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” said McLaggen, disregarding Harry’s drawn wand. “Must’ve fallen asleep. Look, I saw them taking Weasley up to the hospital wing earlier. Didn’t look like he’ll be fit for next week’s match.”

It took Harry a few moments to realise what McLaggen was talking about. 

“Oh, right. Quidditch,” he said, putting his wand back into the holster on his arm and running a hand wearily through his hair. “Yeah, he might not make it in time for the match.” 

“So it’s me for keeper, then,” said McLaggen. 

“Oh,” said Harry. “I suppose.” 

He couldn’t think of a reason not. McLaggen had undoubtedly performed well enough in the trials. 

“Excellent,” said McLaggen in a satisfied voice. “So when’s practice?” 

“What? Oh, there’s one tomorrow evening.” 

“Good. Listen, Harry. I’ve got loads of ideas on strategy.”

“Great,” said Harry dispassionately. “Tomorrow, right? I’m knackered, mate. Night.” 

 

In the morning, the story of Ron’s poisoning was the talk of the common room. Harry was surprised at the casual nature of the discussion, with little of the sensation that Katie’s attack had aroused. People were quick to write it off as an accident, with no serious harm done. The Gryffindors were vocal about the upcoming quidditch match with Hufflepuff. 

Harry, however, could not recall ever having been less interested in quidditch. Draco Malfoy was his current preoccupation. He checked the Marauder’s Map whenever he got a chance and sometimes made detours to observe the Slytherin discreetly. He wished for the hundredth time that he could talk openly with Tonks. Not only did he miss her desperately, but her experience as an auror must have included all sorts of techniques for surveillance. Most troubling of all to Harry were those times when Malfoy inexplicably vanished from the map. Maybe Tonks would have had an explanation that calmed his nerves.

 

As much as he would have liked time to consider the problem, it was not to be. With quidditch practice, revision, and the fact that he was now dogged wherever he went by Cormac McLaggen and Lavender Brown, Harry found his days more than full.

He could not decide which of his two pursuers was more annoying. McLaggen badgered him with kept up a constant stream of sly innuendos and open suggestions that he would make a better permanent keeper than Ron. Also, now that Harry was seeing him play regularly, he would surely come around to this way of thinking. He was also quick to criticise the other players and provide Harry with detailed training schemes so that more than once, Harry was forced to remind him who was Captain. 

Meanwhile, Lavender kept sidling up to Harry to discuss Ron, which Harry found almost more wearing than McLaggen’s quidditch lectures. At first, Lavender had been very annoyed that nobody had thought to tell her that Ron was in the hospital wing — “I mean, I am his girlfriend!”— but unfortunately, she had now decided to forgive Harry this lapse of memory. She was instead keen to have lots of in-depth chats with him about Ron’s feelings, a most uncomfortable experience that Harry would have happily forgone. 

“Look, why don’t you talk to Ron about all this?” Harry asked, after a particularly lengthy interrogation from Lavender that took in everything from precisely what Ron had said about her new dress robes to whether or not Harry thought that Ron considered his relationship with Lavender to be “serious.” 

“Well, I would, but he’s always asleep when I go and see him!” said Lavender fretfully. 

“Is he?” said Harry, surprised, for he had found Ron perfectly alert every time he had been up to the hospital wing, both highly interested in the news of Dumbledore and Snape’s row and keen to abuse McLaggen as much as possible. To Harry, Ron seemed anxious to return to most aspects of his life.

“Is Granger still visiting him?” Lavender inquired shrewdly. 

Harry uncomfortably avoided her eyes, much to her irritation, as he mumbled, “Well, she’s his friend, isn’t she?”

“His friend? Please,” snorted Lavender. “They barely spoke for weeks after he and I started dating! But I guess she wants to make up with him, now that he’s all interesting.”

Harry looked her in the eye for sure at that, incredulous. “You call getting poisoned being interesting, do you?” 

He cut her off with that and dashed down the shortcut that would take him to Potions where, thankfully, neither Lavender nor McLaggen would follow. 

 

The day of the match against Hufflepuff arrived at last. Harry dropped in on Ron after breakfast before heading to the pitch. Madam Pomfrey had refused to let Ron even go down to watch the match, feeling it would overexcite him.

“So how’s McLaggen shaping up?” Ron asked for the third time, anxiously twisting the bedsheet in his hands like a garrotte. 

“Like six foot of prat,” said Harry, “but like I said, he could be All-England, and I wouldn’t want him. He gives orders, thinks he could play every position, and forgets his job. He can’t get gone fast enough. Oh, and speaking of getting gone,” Harry added curtly as he stood and picked up his Firebolt, “you have to stop dodging Lavender. She’s driving me mad.” 

“It’s not as easy as that,” said Ron, looking vexed. “I’ve never had to break up with someone before, you know.” 

“Me neither. Just tell Lavender the truth, I guess. It’s what happened to me,” said Harry. 

“Right. Sorry about that,” said Ron. He paused. “Is, erm, is Hermione stopping by before the match, do you know?” he asked casually. 

“She walked down with Ginny already, I think.”

“Oh,” said Ron, looking disappointed. “Right. Well, good luck.” 

“Thanks, mate,” said Harry, shouldering his broom. “See you after the match, yeah?” 

 

Harry hurried down through the corridors, finding them almost deserted. The entire school must be outside, either already seated in the stadium or heading toward it. He looked out of the windows as he walked, trying to gauge how much wind they were facing when he glanced up to see Malfoy walking toward him, accompanied by two sulky, resentful girls. 

Malfoy paused at the sight of Harry, then gave a short, humourless laugh and continued walking. 

“Where are you going?”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely going to tell you because it’s your business, Potter,” sneered Malfoy. “You’d better hurry up. They’ll be waiting for ‘the Chosen Captain’ — ‘the Boy Who Scored’ — whatever they call you these days.” 

One of the girls snorted a stifled sort of laugh. Harry stared at her, and she looked down. Malfoy pushed past Harry, and she and her friend followed at a trot, turning the corner and vanishing from view. 

Harry stood rooted on the spot and watched them disappear. It was infuriating; he was already cutting it fine to get to the match on time, and yet there was Malfoy, skulking off while the rest of the school was absent: Harry’s best chance yet of discovering what Malfoy was up to. The silent seconds trickled past, and Harry remained where he was, frozen, gazing at the place where Malfoy had vanished.

 

“Where have you been?” demanded Ginny as Harry sprinted into the changing rooms. The whole team was changed and ready; Coote and Peakes, the Beaters, were hitting their clubs nervously against their legs. 

“I met Malfoy,” Harry told her quietly as he pulled his scarlet robes over his head. “I want to know how come he’s up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here.”

“Does it matter right now?” 

“Well, I’m not likely to find out, am I?” said Harry, seizing his Firebolt and pushing his glasses straight. “Come on then!” 

And without another word, he marched out onto the pitch to thunderous cheers and boos. 

There was little wind; the clouds were patchy; now and then, there were dazzling flashes of bright sunlight. 

“Tricky conditions!” McLaggen said bracingly to the team. “Coote, Peakes, you’ll want to fly out of the sun, so they don’t see you coming —” 

“I’m the Captain, McLaggen, stop giving them instructions,” said Harry wearily. “Just get up by the goalposts.” 

Once McLaggen had marched off, Harry turned to Coote and Peakes. 

“Make sure you do fly out of the sun,” he told them grudgingly.

He shook hands with the Hufflepuff Captain and then, on Madam Hooch’s whistle, kicked off and rose into the air, higher than the rest of his team, streaking around the pitch in search of the snitch. If he could catch it good and early, there might be a chance he could get back up to the castle, seize the Marauder’s Map, and find out what Malfoy was doing. 

“And that’s Zacharias Smith with the Quaffle, bit of a git if ye’ ask me,” the Irish brogue of Seamus Finnegan boomed over the pitch. 

“Finnegan!” McGonagall said harshly. “I will have you impartial!”

“Right, sorry, Professor,” Seamus said with a cheeky grin. “Ginny Weasley hits him with a great tackle, knocking it out of his hands. Weasley takes it from him— fly girl, fly! Oh, Cadwallader gets the Quaffle from her.”

Harry stared around for the snitch; there was no sign of it. Moments later, Cadwallader scored. McLaggen had been shouting criticism at Ginny for allowing the Quaffle out of her possession, with the result that he had not noticed the large red ball soaring past his ear.  

“McLaggen, pay attention to what you’re supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!” bellowed Harry, wheeling around to face his keeper.

“You’re not setting a great example!” McLaggen shouted back, red-faced and furious.

“I’m the goddamn Captain!”

“Seems like Harry is having a hard time keeping his keeper in check,” Seamus mused. “Weasley has the Quaffle once again, and she dodges the incoming bludger, swerves under Smith, and lines up the shot. She scores! Ten all!”

Harry shook himself; McLaggen and Malfoy were keeping his head out of the game right now. 

“Robins, only her second game. She is flying well. Cadwallader lines up to block her with Smith, and she dives under them. She ducks under a bludger. Coote saves her from the next one. She has a free approach. Another goal for Gryffindor!” 

Harry breathed in deeply. He wasn’t even all that surprised when Cadwallader scored another goal for Hufflepuff. 

“Cadwallader got the Quaffle again, flying very well today. Thomas seems ready to block but is blocked by a bludger from McManus. Cadwallader has a free run towards the goal! Another goal for Hufflepuff,” Seamus roared. 

Harry tried to tune out everything around him and focus on finding the snitch, while keeping an eye on the Hufflepuff Seeker, Summerby, who was swerving left and right on the other side of the field. 

“70-40 in favour of Hufflepuff,” Seamus roared to the applause of the Hufflepuff side of the stands. 

Harry wanted to find the snitch quickly so that he could end this distraction. He absentmindedly wondered if it would have been better to play without a keeper at all for the moment.

“What the hell—” 

“Language!”

“—is McLaggen doing?” Seamus continued unfazed. “He’s taken a Beater’s bat from Peakes—”

Harry turned around to look dumbfounded at McLaggen, who once again had left the goal post and indeed grabbed a Beater’s bat to show Peakes how to hit a Bludger properly. That was the last thing Harry saw before everything turned dark. 

A blinding, sickening pain–a flash of light–distant screams–and the sensation of falling, disappearing down a long tunnel— 

Harry found himself lying in a warm and remarkably comfortable bed. He looked up at a circle of golden light that a lamp was throwing onto the shadowy ceiling. He awkwardly raised his head. To his left was a familiar-looking, freckly, red-haired face split in a grin. 

“Nice of you to drop in,” Ron said politely. 

Harry reoriented himself, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. He was in the hospital wing. Of course. Crimson remnants of sunset streaked the sky outside the windows. The match had finished hours ago, along with any hope of cornering Malfoy. Harry put a hand to his head, which felt both airy light and oddly heavy; he felt a stiff turban of bandages. He struggled to sit up.

“What,” he began, noticing his own voice sounding odd in his ears, “What happened?” 

“One of those bludgers cracked your skull,” said Madam Pomfrey brusquely, bustling up to push him back down into his bed. “Nothing serious. It was soon mended, but I’m keeping you overnight. Don’t overexert yourself for a few hours.” 

“Right,” Harry sighed. 

He wasn’t even all that mad anyway. He hadn’t been able to focus, not that McLaggen helped with that, but it was a far cry for Harry to say that he had been on top of his game.

There was a knock on the door to the Hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey looked like someone had just announced that the whole of the school was there to see Harry. Harry didn’t want to be the object of people’s attention right now. He really wanted Madam Pomfrey to send everyone away.

“It’ll only take a minute,” a gruff voice said.

“Oh, bugger,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Let him in, Madam Pomfrey.”

She looked like she was about to blow up but somehow managed to keep her temper.

Harry sat up in his bed and looked at the almost sulking posture of the otherwise huge man. 

“McLaggen,” Harry said calmly. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to apologise,” McLaggen said. “I got too competitive, and I’m used to doing everything my way. I forgot how it was to be a team player. Sorry.”

“Indeed,” Harry said. “I can’t have you on my team even if Ron is not able to play the last match against Slytherin. Quidditch was never a one-person sport.”

“That’s fair,” McLaggen sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I was a distraction during the game, and it certainly didn’t help with the—”

“—Apology accepted,” Harry cut him off. “I don’t know what your story is, and frankly, I don’t have energy or time to find out. Be better, but right now, I can’t allow you to play for Gryffindor.”

Madam Pomfrey shoved a disconsolate McLaggen back out of the Hospital Wing. 

“Is that all?” Ron asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“He injured you, and he practically lost us the game? Aren’t you furious at him?” 

“Why should I be?” Harry asked. “He regrets it, and he has to deal with the consequences of not being able to play quidditch for Gryffindor anymore. I don’t see why I should be angry at him.”

“Mate, it’s quidditch,” Ron said. 

“Exactly,” Harry looked straight at Ron. “On my way down to the pitch, I spotted Malfoy with two girls, not going there. I know he’s up to something.”

“You have been trying to follow him for weeks,” Ron sighed. “Look mate, I don’t know what you think he is up to, but Malfoy is just a kid. He’s always up to something. What kind of thing could he possibly do?” 

“I think he might have gotten the Dark Mark,” Harry said softly.

Ron laughed. “Malfoy, a Death Eater? You can’t be serious.”

“Forget it then,” Harry sighed. “Maybe you are right after all.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Ron asked. “What would be the point of making Malfoy a Death Eater? He is too young; it makes no sense.”

“I said, forget it,” Harry laid back into his bed and closed his eyes. 

He wasn’t going to argue with Ron about whether his theory about Malfoy was correct or not. A grudging silence fell between them. 

Harry stared up once more at the circle of lamplight, deep in thought. 

He felt like there was something he was supposed to remember, something which he had seen before. Something about Malfoy: it was right there on the edge of his mind.

Harry saw shadows of Malfoy playfully floating around him, taunting him. 

“I have ascended to a bigger playing board, Potter.” 

“You only think you know what is going on, Potter.”

“You have no value, Potter.” 

“You are all alone, Potter.” 

“Nobody likes you, Potter.”

Harry threw his fist at the shades surrounding his body. They disappeared, delicate whisps like memories in a Pensieve. He was alone in the darkness. 

“Did you think you stood a chance against me?” 

Tom Riddle from the orphanage stood in front of him, barely eleven years old. Harry watched as the boy grew at a far faster pace than normal, only stopping when Tom looked about sixteen, as he had been in the Chamber of Secrets.

“I was already stronger than you when I was younger than you are now. I already had my army ready to fight for me.”

Harry tried to open his mouth, but no sound came out. 

Riddle began morphing again, slowly turning more inhuman, his eyes turned red, his features more snakelike. 

“Ah, you couldn’t even defeat me when I was a child. What ‘Chosen One’? You will die the same as everyone else around you.”

Harry looked around him. Hermione, Tonks, Ron, Amelia, Susan, Ginny, Neville, Luna were standing behind him. He wanted them to run, to save themselves. 

Green bolts of lightning exploded from Voldemort’s wand hitting everyone around him.

He looked into the dead eyes of his friends, his family. 

“Who are you?” Their ghostly voices rang into the nothingness.

Chapter 43: Lord Voldemort’s Request

Summary:

[Heavily revised in detail but largely consistent with previous editions in overview]

Harry has been neglecting his friends.

Ginny and Susan are on the outs.

“But now, Harry, things become murkier and stranger." Hokey and Hepzibah.

"I have been fearless! I have pushed against the boundaries of magic, more than any before —" 

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 43: Lord Voldemort’s Request

Harry woke up the following morning covered in a cold sweat. At some point during the night, some of his bandages had unwrapped themselves and were almost choking him when he woke up. He felt like he had had a dream, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was. 

Harry and Ron were released from the hospital wing first thing on Monday morning, restored to good health by the ministrations of Madam Pomfrey. They were now able to enjoy the benefits of having been knocked out and poisoned, respectively. Harry was also happy to see that Hermione was openly close with Ron again, as she had been when the year had started. Hermione even walked with them to breakfast, bringing the unwelcome news that Ginny had argued with Susan, and they appeared to be on the outs. 

Harry couldn’t explain the unexpected feeling this news caused him. It was some mix of dread and sadness as he thought about the two girls he saw as sisters fighting. He wondered if maybe he should eat breakfast with Susan this morning. 

“What did they row about?” he asked Hermione, genuinely concerned as they turned onto a seventh-floor corridor that was deserted but for a tiny girl who was examining the tapestry of trolls in tutus. She gave a terrified squeak at the sight of the approaching sixth-years and dropped the heavy brass scales she was carrying.

“It’s alright,” Hermione said kindly, hurrying forward to help her. “Here—”

She tapped the broken scales with her wand, “Reparo.” 

The girl said nothing but remained rooted to the spot as they passed, and she watched them out of sight; Ron glanced back as they headed down the stairs. 

“I swear they’re getting smaller,” he muttered.

Harry looked back as well, and he frowned. She felt familiar, or the situation felt familiar. It was like someone was dangling the information in front of his face, laughing. Harry’s pupils dilated, and he looked shocked.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked. 

“I remember,” Harry muttered softly. 

“Remember what?” Hermione looked concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? You did hit your head rather hard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry waved his hand. “I’m alright.”

“Harry thinks Malfoy is a Death Eater,” Ron said. “I’m not sure he is okay after all.”

Ron had somehow expected Hermione to agree with him, but she looked between the two of them with a thoughtful look on her face. 

“You can’t seriously be considering Malfoy as a Death Eater?” Ron looked shocked. 

“I’m not,” Hermione said. “I just think some odd things are happening this year at Hogwarts.” 

“I’m going ahead to find Susan,” Harry said.

Harry sped up and left them behind. He made his way to the Hufflepuff table and found a rather tired looking Susan sitting a little away from her housemates. 

“Morning,” Harry smiled at her as he joined her at the table. 

“Oh, Harry,” Susan looked up from her porridge. “Good morning.”

“I heard from Hermione,” Harry began.

“That Ginny and I fought?” Susan looked at him with a weary expression.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, this is something we need to work on ourselves,” Susan said. “We fought about the training. She hasn’t completely forgiven me for what I did.”

“I see,” Harry sighed. “Is that why both of you stopped coming?” 

“Yeah,” Susan ruffled her hair. “Also, Ginny has her O.W.L.s, which you and I both know is tough for anyone. I still remember almost giving up last year.”

“Me too,” Harry laughed. “I probably wouldn’t have done nearly as well in mine if it wasn’t for Hermione. Her study help was invaluable.”

“What did I help you with?” Hermione asked from behind him.

“Why are you here?” Harry asked, surprised. “Sorry, I mean, I didn’t expect you to join us. What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Hermione said, handing him a scroll of parchment. “Also, Lavender ambushed Ron on the way into the Great Hall. I assumed they’d want some privacy.”

Harry looked over his shoulder towards the Gryffindor table and saw a subdued Ron sitting next to Lavender. Neither was saying anything.

“I see,” Harry said. “Are they going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “It’s none of my business.”

Harry could help but notice an involuntary tic of Hermione’s mouth, which made him uncomfortable. He had let her go, but something about the situation didn’t feel right, a possessive shadow or the memory of jealousy. He hated himself for it. 

Harry unrolled the scroll of parchment. 

“Tonight,” he sighed. “Well, thanks for bringing this. Susan, I hope you and Ginny work it out. I would hate having you two fight. I do like having my sisters around.”

“We will figure it out,” Susan smiled sadly. “No worries.” 

Hermione seemed to be in too good a mood all day, which made Harry’s mood even worse. He remembered where Malfoy had disappeared to all the time. He was doing something in the Room of Requirement. So many things had happened, and he had forgotten all about it.

What could take more than half a year? Harry thought to himself. Was Malfoy behind the necklace and the poisoning?

“When is our next training?” Hermione asked suddenly after they left their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Snape had given them another load of homework to do.

“When Dumbledore and Slughorn don’t have me so tied down,” Harry said. 

“You sure you aren’t delaying here?” Hermione frowned. “I want to be prepared.”

“Can’t you just grab someone else?” Harry asked. 

“They aren’t nearly as good as you,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“Thanks?” Harry sighed. “Sorry, I need to ask Neville for help with my Herbology essay.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Hermione said. “I could also look it over for you.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said. “I need to be able to do this on my own and not rely on you to finish my homework.”

“If you’re sure,” Hermione hesitated. “It really is no problem, and if it means more training time for me, then it’s a give-and-take thing, isn’t it?”

“Thanks, but I am doing okay on my right own,” Harry said as he walked away to find Neville.

Hermione stood there looking after him, then turned to go with a sigh.

 

Neville had answered all of Harry’s questions about their Herbology essay, and Harry felt like he had done better than usual on his homework. He looked at the time and realised that he was already slightly late for his private lesson with Dumbledore. He rushed out of the common room and stood in front of the Gargoyle once again.

“Toffee eclairs,” Harry told the statue, and he took the spiral staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door just as the clock within chimed eight.

“Enter,” Dumbledore called, but as Harry put out a hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor Trelawney.

“Aha!” she cried, pointing dramatically at Harry as she blinked at him through her magnifying spectacles. “So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!”

“My dear Sybil,” Dumbledore said in a placating tone, “there is no question of you being thrown from anywhere, ceremoniously or otherwise. Harry does have an appointment, however, and I don’t think there is much more to be said—”

“Very well. If you do not wish to dismiss that presumptuous nag, so be it,” lamented Professor Trelawney. “Perhaps I should consider if my talents would be better appreciated at another school.”

Pushing past Harry, she disappeared unsteadily down the spiral staircase. 

Dumbledore, sounding rather tired, indicated Harry’s usual seat and said, “Please have a seat, Harry.”

Harry noted the Pensieve resting on the headmaster’s desk once more, along with two more tiny crystal phials swirling with memories. 

“Firenze teaching Divination is still offensive to Professor Trelawney, I take it?” Harry asked. 

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore. “Divination has ironically turned out to be much more trouble than I had foreseen. But then, I never devoted much study to the subject. We cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. She does not know that she made the prophecy about you and Tom. Between ourselves, she has no idea the danger she would be in outside the castle, and it would be unwise to enlighten her.” 

Dumbledore sighed deeply and then said, “But never mind office politics, as it were. We have matters of greater importance before us. Now, have you managed the task I set you?”

“No,” Harry sighed. “I haven’t been able to get the memory from Professor Slughorn. He’s been eager to avoid me since I brought it up the first time.”

Dumbledore paused, peering at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles and allowing Harry to feel the weight of Dumbledore’s full attention. “Do you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, Harry? That you have applied all of your considerable creativity and cleverness in your quest to retrieve the memory?” 

“The first time I asked for it, McLaggen decided that claiming women as objects and causing a scene was the right course of action, taking away any opportunity for me to further my conversation with Professor Slughorn. The second time was when Ron got that dose of an old love potion intended for me. I had Slughorn in a good mood until —”

“Mr Weasley was poisoned,” Dumbledore finished. “I understand. I must admit I had hoped for better. Once it became clear that Mr Weasley would make a full recovery, I would have hoped you would apply yourself once more to the task I set for you. You must realise how crucial that memory is to us. I thought I had impressed upon you that it is the most critical memory of all. Without it, I fear we may be wasting valuable time.” 

“We’re not the only ones taking action,” Harry remarked pointedly. “A poisoned bottle of mead intended for you? A cursed necklace intended for you as well? Malfoy running around in the Room of Requirement? You know what is going on, and people are getting hurt because you won’t do anything about it.”

“What we are doing here is far more important than that,” Dumbledore said calmly, perhaps too dismissively. 

Harry felt a rush of anger he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Then send Snape after Malfoy then! Oh wait, you already did that, but it hasn’t worked out,” Harry tried to calm himself down. His relationship with Dumbledore was becoming exhausting, alternating among respectful student to professor, disgruntled pawn to dispassionate manipulator, and something like allies, or at least co-belligerents with a shared foe.

“Enough!” Dumbledore spoke sharply, anything but the grandfatherly role he usually played. He calmed. “I have two last memories I want to show you. After this, we will not meet again before you have the memory from Professor Slughorn.” 

Harry swallowed everything and forcefully calmed himself as well.

“You recall where we left off?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry recounted everything he had been shown before, their discussions, his own theories. He even once more asked what the nature of a Horcrux was, but Dumbledore didn’t answer more thoroughly this time either.

“Very good,” said Dumbledore. “Thus far, I have shown you what I hope to be firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Tom did until he came of age?” 

Harry agreed, nodding thoughtfully.

“But now, Harry, things become murkier and stranger. As difficult as it has been to find evidence about Riddle as a boy,” said Dumbledore, “I have found nearly impossible to find anyone prepared to share their thoughts about him as a man. I rather doubt there is a soul alive who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts, other than Tom himself. This would be his preference and by his design. I have two last memories, however, that I would like to share with you.” Dumbledore indicated the two gleaming phials beside the Pensieve. “I hope to hear your opinion of the conclusions I have drawn from them.” 

Harry was slightly surprised by the fact that Dumbledore seemed to care for his opinion. He hadn’t seemed to take Harry’s views very seriously before this, so why now? Was this another test? 

“I hope you have not tired of exploring these memories, for these last two are curious, to say the least,” he said. “This first one came to me from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before you see what Hokey witnessed, let me recount how Tom left Hogwarts. 

“He finished his seventh year with top grades in every examination he had taken, as you might have expected. All around him, his classmates decided which careers to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Most expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, and the Award for Special Services to the School. Several of his teachers, including Professor Slughorn, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic. They offered to set up interviews or put him in touch with useful contacts. Tom surprised them all by refusing their offers. Imagine the surprise when the staff learned that the self-styled Lord Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes.” 

“The dark artefacts shop in Knockturn Alley?” Harry repeated, stunned. 

“The same,” confirmed Dumbledore calmly. “When we have entered Hokey’s memory, you will see what attractions the place held for him. A shop job was not his first choice, of course. What few knew at the time — I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided — was that Voldemort first approached Headmaster Dippet about remaining at Hogwarts, but as a professor.”

“He wanted to stay?” asked Harry, more amazed still. “Why?”

“He confided nothing to Professor Dippet,” said Dumbledore, “but I believe he had several reasons. I believe that Voldemort had become attached to this school than he has ever been to any person. It was at Hogwarts where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had called home.” 

Harry sighed loudly at that.

“Something wrong?” Dumbledore asked.

“It is eerily similar to how I once felt about Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“Once?”

“Once.”

The silence descended between them for only a brief moment.

“Further, the castle is strong in ancient magic. While Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap. 

“Fiinally, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards as a teacher. Perhaps he had observed Professor Slughorn and seen for himself how influential a teacher can be. I cannot imagine for a moment that he envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a fertile recruiting ground where he might continue his quest to build his personal army.” 

“But he didn’t get the job.” 

“That’s right, he did not. Headmaster Dippet told him that he was still too young, but he invited him to reapply after a few years if he still wished to teach.” 

“How did you feel about that, Professor?” asked Harry hesitantly. 

“I was deeply uneasy,” admitted Dumbledore. “I had advised Armando against hiring Tom, though I did not share the reasons I have given you.  Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and totally convinced of his honest intentions. But I was deeply worried about having Voldemort back at this school,  especially in any position of power.” 

“Which job did he want? What subject did he want to teach?” Harry couldn’t imagine Voldemort teaching any course but one.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts. The class was had been taught by Professor Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years. I’m afraid it was considered something of a boring

“So Voldemort went to work at Borgin and Burkes, while the staff who had admired him bemoaned what a waste of potential it was, a brilliant young wizard like Tom working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite, handsome, and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes. They specialise, as you know, in magical objects with unusual and powerful properties. It was Voldemort’s job to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale, and he was, by most accounts, unusually gifted at doing this.” 

“I can imagine,” said Harry, unable to contain himself. 

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. “And now it is time to view the recollection of the house-elf of a very old, wealthy witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith. The elf’s name was Hokey.”

Dumbledore gestured toward a memory phial with his wand, popping out the cork and tipping the swirling silver memory into the Pensieve.

“After you, Harry.”

 

Entering the rippling surface of the memory, Harry found himself in the overstuffed sitting room of a singular-appearing witch. She was very short, almost elfin in stature, with heavy, brocaded robes which had once been the colour of a deep merlot but had become faded and worn, almost shiny in places from prolonged wear. 

Her face had likewise once been beautiful, or at least elegant, but now sagged in some places and pulled tightly in others, with makeup that better reflected her beautiful youth rather than her current dissolution. It was as if she had decided decades ago to stop ageing but had neglected to tell her physical body. She was touching up rouge on her cheeks, which were already a markedly different colour than the rest of her face, adding makeup on top of makeup in a behaviour born of habit rather than need.

She checked the results in a small mirror adorned with deep emerald gemstones and sighed happily. Harry realised that she was clearly losing her vision but was too vain or dotty to admit it. She seemed perfectly content with her garish visage.

He looked down and saw the oldest, tiniest house-elf he had ever seen busily lacing the old witch’s feet into dainty silk-lined slippers. Like her mistress, the elf had something of an air of faded grandeur, a dignity of bearing made tragic by the progress of countless years.

Harry felt a surge of compassion for the oddly matched pair. 

“Hurry now, Hokey!” chided Hepzibah excitedly. “It’s only a couple of minutes to four. He’s never yet been late.” 

She tucked away her makeup and mirror as her house-elf slowly straightened. The scant hairs clinging to the top of the elf’s head barely reached the level of Hepzibah’s chair. She moved with deliberate, crinkling grace, like an origami creature made from brittle tissue paper. 

“What do you think?” asked Hepzibah, turning her head to and fro. 

“Is lovely, madam,” squeaked Hokey, peering with difficulty up towards the face of her mistress. 

Harry could not tell if Hokey was blinded by duty, by age, or by devotion, but he would not have chosen “lovely” as a description of Hepzibah Smith. 

The doorbell rang, a high tinkling sound very similar to the house-elf’s voice. Hokey and her mistress both startled.

“Quick, quick, he’s here, Hokey!” cried Hepzibah, and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things: Shelves were overflowing with little lacquered boxes, tall stacks full of gold-embossed books, collections of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers. The combined effect was something of a cross between a magical antique shop and a nature conservatory. 

The house-elf shortly returned, followed by a tall young man.  Harry had no difficulty recognising Voldemort. He was dressed plainly, in a black suit with a deep emerald cloak hanging from one shoulder. His hair was somewhat longer than he had worn it at school, and it stood higher off his forehead. His cheeks were hollowed, adding definition to his features. But all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever. He picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah’s fat little hand, brushing it with his lips. 

“I brought you flowers,” he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere. 

“You naughty boy, you shouldn’t have!” squealed old Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. “You do spoil this old lady, Tom. Sit down, sit down. Where’s Hokey? Ah.” 

Her ancient house-elf reappeared at the mention of her name, navigating the maze-like path among knickknacks and objets d’art while perfectly balancing a tray of tea-cakes. She placed these at her mistresses elbow on a spindly side table. 

“I know how you love my cakes. Do please help yourself, Tom,” said Hepzibah. “Now, how are you, my dear man? You look so pale. I’ve said it a hundred times. They overwork you at that shop.” 

Voldemort smiled minimally, only moving the corners of his mouth slightly, but Hepzibah beamed as if he was her personal ray of sunshine. 

She leaned back, tilting her head coquettishly, the faded beauty of her aged face all the more tragic for the artless way she fluttered her eyelashes at him. She was a woman who had hoarded her beauty too long. Now she called upon it too late and for the wrong man.

“So what brings you here today, Tom? I can’t imagine it’s a purely social call?” Her tone begged him to argue the point, but he did not, moving straight ahead to business.

“Mr Burke has asked me to convey an improved offer for your goblin-forged armour,” said Voldemort. “He feels five hundred galleons would be more than fair —”

“Oh, no, Tom,” she pouted, “Not so mercenary, not so quickly! Or I’ll suspect you’re only here for business.” 

“I am only a poor assistant, madam,” said Voldemort quietly. “who must do as he is bidden. Mr Burke has urged upon me the importance—”

“Oh, Mr Burke? Is that all you care about, Tom?f” She fanned herself with a fluttering hand. “I have something to show you that I’ve never shown your old Mr Burke! You can keep a secret, can’t you, Tom? Promise me you won’t tell Mr Burke I’ve got this—he’d never rest if he knew it was here with me. And not for sale, mind you, not to Burke, nor anyone! But I know you, Tom, will appreciate its history, not its price in mere money.”

Hepzibah flushed and again gave an almost girlish giggle when Voldemort quietly said, “I’d be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah chooses to show me.”

“I had Hokey fetch it out for us. Let’s show Mr Riddle our finest treasures, Hokey. Hokey, where are you?” 

“Here, madam,” the house-elf squeaked, and Harry saw a small leather box atop a large object, larger than Hokey herself, enrobed in red velvet, being levitated through the maze of tables, pouffes, and footstools towards Hepzibah and Voldemort.

“Now,” said Hepzibah gleefully, taking the little black leather box and setting it aside, “You’re going to love this, Tom. But if my family knew? Not proper family, just cousins and grandnieces and such, barely relations,, yet they can’t wait to get their hands on my treasures!” 

She parted the thick velvet, so much more well-preserved than her own robes or many of the other objects in her collection. Harry edged forward to see what was unveiled and was surprised to see a pot—no, a cauldron—such as any witch or wizard might use for brewing potions. 

“I wonder, do you know what this is, Tom? Touch it, take a proper look!” Hepzibah urged him enthusiastically. Voldemort stretched out his long-fingered hand and ran a fingertip along the edge of the pewter cauldron that was nestled in the rich red velvet bag. As he examined the cauldron, an emblazoned figure was revealed.

“A badger,” murmured Voldemort, examining the embossed image upon the cauldron. “Then this was— it belonged to—?” 

Harry saw a red gleam in Voldemort’s dark eyes. His longing expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah’s face, except that her eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s handsome features, while he had eyes only for the Hogwarts founder’s enchanted cauldron.

“This belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, as you have deduced, my clever boy!” Hepzibah leaned forward with an audible creaking of her laced corsets. “I told you I was distantly descended, surely? It had been handed down in the family for years, but my aunt Ceraphima left it on display in the Hufflepuff common room at Hogwarts. Can you believe it? This precious artefact, surrounded by children? It’s supposed to possess all sorts of powers as well, not that I know anything about that. Never one for potions myself. Inelegant, you know. I arranged for it to be returned to the family, but now it’s just me, poor me, alone with all these delightful things and no proper heir at all. At least, not yet.” 

She lifted the velvet to cover the shining pewter cauldron, intent upon wrapping it carefully, too intent, so that she missed the shadow that crossed Voldemort’s face as his contact with the cauldron was broken. 

“Now Hokey—,” said Hepzibah distractedly, “Where are you—? Ah, here you are — take that away now, Hokey.” 

The ancient elf obediently removed the velvet-swaddled cauldron, and her mistress turned her attention to the small box Hokey had placed next to her. 

“I imagine you’ll find this even rarer, Tom. Do come closer, dear boy, so you can see,” she whispered. “Of course, your Mr Burke knows I’ve got this—I bought it from him—and I daresay he’d love to get it back once I’m gone.”

She slid back a delicate filigree clasp and flipped open the shining leather box. There, upon smooth jade velvet, lay a golden locket with an ornate, serpentine S. 

Without waiting for an invitation, Voldemort reached out his hand and held the locket up to the light, staring at it in fascination. 

“Slytherin’s mark,” he said quietly, with a sort of reverence Harry had never heard from him before.

“It is indeed,” said Hepzibah, proudly watching Voldemort transfixed, gazing at her locket. “It was exorbitantly priced, of course, but I simply could not resist. A treasure like that, I had to have it in my collection. Burke had purchased it from a ragged-looking woman, probably a thief who seemed to have stolen it with no idea of its true value—” 

Harry saw clearly this time, with no mistake: Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet at the old witch’s words, and his knuckles whitened on the locket’s chain. 

Hepzibah seemed ignorant of the transformation which had overcome her guest so briefly, and she continued, “— I daresay Burke paid the drudge nothing like its value, but there you are. Beautiful, isn’t it? Goblin-made, I would guess, with all kinds of powers attributed to it. Not for me, of course. I just keep it nice and safe.” 

Hepzibah reached out for the locket, and for a moment, Harry thought Voldemort was not going to let go of it. But, after a moment, it was back in its green velvet cushion inside the black leather box. 

“I fancy you rather enjoyed that, Tom.” 

She looked Voldemort full in the face, and for the first time, Harry saw her adoring smile falter. 

“Is something wrong, dear Tom?” 

“Nothing,” said Voldemort quietly. “No, I’m quite well, actually.” 

“I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —” said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and Harry wondered if she too had seen the momentary red gleam in Voldemort’s eyes. 

“Hokey, be a dear and lock these up again. All of the usual enchantments.” 

“That’s enough, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly, as the tiny elf bobbed away bearing the box with the locket. Dumbledore took Harry above the elbow once again, and together, they rose up through oblivion and back to Dumbledore’s office.

“Of course, Hepzibah never did sell her prized possessions to Burke or anyone else. She was dead two days after this little scene played out,” said Dumbledore. He took his seat likewise. “Her house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress’s evening tea. By accident, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry said calmly.

“Not surprised?” Dumbledore asked.

“No,” Harry closed his eyes. “It very much fits Tom Riddle’s way of doing things.”

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I agree that there are echoes of the deaths of the Riddles and here with Hepzibah Smith. In both cases, the blame fell upon someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death—" 

"There was a confession from Hokey?"

"She recalled putting something in her mistress's drink that was not sugar, but instead a lethal and rare toxin," said Dumbledore. "She had not meant to do it, they concluded, but as she was old and confused —" 

"So just like he did with Morfin, Voldemort modified Hokey's memory."

"That is my presumption as well," agreed Dumbledore. "The aurors were quick to accuse, and their suspicions fell on her house-elf, Hokey—" 

"— because she was a house-elf," Harry finished bitterly. Harry felt a pang of guilt that Hermione's society, S.P.E.W., didn't exist anymore. This would have been exactly an issue for their cause.

"True enough," said Dumbledore. "Hokey was no longer a young elf, and she openly admitted to having tampered with the drink. No one at the Ministry bothered to inquire further. As with Morfin, by the time I managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over. Her memory proves nothing, of course, except that Voldemort knew of the provenance of the cauldron and the locket." 

"By the time Hepzibah's family had realised that two of her greatest treasures were missing, Hokey had been convicted. It took a while to be sure, as Hepzibah had many hiding places, and she had always protected her collection with great care. The assistant who worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who visited Hepzibah so often and charmed her so well, resigned his post and disappeared as thoroughly as had the locket and the cauldron. His bosses had no idea where he was going, and they were as shocked as anyone by his disappearance. This was the last time Tom Riddle was seen or heard for several years.

'Now,' said Dumbledore, 'if you do not mind, Harry, I would like to dwell once again on specific points in this history. Voldemort committed another murder. Not his first, but not one among many, not at this point at least. Or so I believe. This time, as you may have seen, he did not kill for revenge but for profit. He wanted the two fantastic trophies that the poor old witch showed him. He once stole from the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his uncle Morfin's ring, and now he had escaped with Hepzibah's cauldron and locket.

"It seems mad. Risking so much, throwing away his job, just for those," Harry said.

"Mad for us, Harry, but not mad for Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "You will understand in time exactly how those specifically called out to him, but we can easily imagine that he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully belonging to him."

"The locket I can see," admitted Harry, "but why take the cauldron? It had no connection to Slytherin or the Gaunts." 

"True, but it had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, another Hogwarts's founder," said Dumbledore. "I think Voldemort at this time still felt a great pull toward the school. He could scarcely resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts history. There may have been other reasons that become more clear to you in due course."

"Hogwarts was his home," Harry mumbled.

"And now, until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us, this is the last memory I wish to show you. A decade separate Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing." 

As Dumbledore poured the final memory into the Pensieve, Harry rose once more.  

"Whose memory is this?" asked Harry. 

"Mine," said Dumbledore without emotion. 

Harry followed Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass, landing in the same office he had just left. Fawkes was sleeping contentedly on his perch to one side of the headmaster's desk, and behind the desk itself sat Dumbledore, not much different from the Dumbledore at Harry's side. However, this younger doppelganger was still whole in both hands, undamaged, and his face was perhaps a little less lined. The notable thing that confirmed to Harry this memory was from a different time was the snow falling outside the wide office window. Sparkling flecks drifted down past the window in the darkness.  

Past-day Dumbledore seemed to be waiting, calmly but expectantly, and moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door. "Enter," he called out firmly. 

Voldemort entered the room. Harry suppressed a gasp. Tom Riddle's features were not those of Lord Voldemort quite yet, those Harry had seen emerge from a cauldron in a graveyard almost two years ago. His eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet mask-like, and yet he was no longer recognizable entirely as handsome young Tom Riddle. It was as if his features were burnt and blurry. They were waxy and strangely distorted, and the pupils weren't yet the slits that Harry knew they would be, but the whites of the eyes now looked like they were dry and bloody. His long black cloak contrasted with his face, pale as the shining snow melting on his shoulders.

Evidently, this visitor was expected, as the Dumbledore behind the desk showed not a note of surprise. 

"Good evening, Tom. Won't you sit down?" said Dumbledore easily.

"Thank you," said Voldemort. He took the seat that Harry had just vacated in the present. His voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been in the past. "I heard that you had become headmaster. A worthy choice." 

"Thank you for your approval," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Would you care for a drink?" 

"I have come a long way. That would be welcome," said Voldemort.

Dumbledore moved to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but at this time, it held a collection of bottles. He poured Voldemort a goblet of wine, took one himself, and returned to the seat behind his desk. 

"And now, to what do I owe the pleasure, Tom?" 

Voldemort did not answer immediately, merely sipping his wine, perhaps taking a moment to calm his thoughts. 

"I am not called 'Tom' anymore," he said. "I am known now as —" 

"I know what some call you," interrupted Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. "I'm afraid to me you will always be Tom Riddle. One of the irritations with old teachers, I am afraid, is that we never quite forget our charges as they appeared to us first in their youth." 

He raised his glass as though to toast Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Harry felt a subtle change in the atmosphere in the room. Refusing to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and he took it as such. 

"I am surprised you have remained at the school so long yourself," Voldemort said after a short pause. "Why should a wizard with such power as yourself never wish move beyond the school?" 

"Simple," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "For a wizard such as myself, there nothing is more important—and rewarding—than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. You once saw the attraction of teaching as well, if I remember correctly." 

"You do," said Voldemort. "Though I admit to curiosity as to why you — who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister—"

"Three times at last count, actually," said Dumbledore. He waved a hand dismissively. "But politics has never attracted me as a career. Again, something we perhaps have in common."

Voldemort nodded, unsmiling, and paused over his goblet. Dumbledore allowed the silence to stretch between them with a look of pleasant expectancy, waiting for Voldemort to speak first.

The pause reached a breaking point, and with a glimmer of irritation, Voldemort spoke at last. "I have returned—later, I imagine, than Professor Dippet expected, but I have returned, nevertheless—to again request that which he once told me I was too young to possess. I have come to ask you to allow me to return to this castle as a professor. You know that I have seen and done much since I studied here myself. I could teach your students such things as they could learn nowhere else in the world." 

"Certainly you have seen and done much since leaving us," Dumbledore said, considering Voldemort over the top of his own goblet. "Rumours of your doings have indeed reached us here at Hogwarts, Tom. Should half of them be true, I should very sorry." 

Voldemort's expression remained impassive. "Greatness inspires envy. Envy, spite, and spite, lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately. 

"Of course!" asserted Voldemort as his eyes gleamed red. "I have been fearless! I have pushed against the boundaries of magic, more than any before —" 

"Some kinds of magic. Of some," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Your professed fearlessness may have pushed you towards some kinds of magic, Tom, but you have been running away from others." 

Voldemort smiled— the first time he had done so. It was not a joyful sight but rather a taut leer, an evil thing, as threatening as a glare of malice. 

"Your old argument, again", he teased softly. "But nothing in the world I have seen has supported your famous pronouncement that love is more powerful than my kind of magics, Dumbledore." 

"This suggests to me that you have been looking in the wrong places, Tom," replied the headmaster, ignoring the fact that Voldemort had stopped calling him Professor or Sir. 

"Well, why not have me start that search anew, here at Hogwarts?" urged Voldemort. "Let me return. Let me share what I have learned. I would place my talents at your discretion. I am yours to command." 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what of those whom you command? What of your Death Eaters?" 

Harry saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again, and the slit-like nostrils flared, proof that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know this name. 

"My friends would carry on their work without me, I am sure," he said, after a moment's pause.

"I am pleased to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I'll admit, I have been under the impression that they are more akin to servants." 

"That would be an incorrect impression," Voldemort demurred smoothly. 

"Would it really? So if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Lestrange, perhaps Malfoy and Dolohov — awaiting your return? They are devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely in the hope of congratulating you as you attempt to secure a teaching position." 

Voldemort was clearly nonplussed by Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those he was travelling with; however, he rallied quickly. 

“You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore.” 

"Nothing so grandiose, I assure you. I'm merely friendly with the local barmen," replied Dumbledore casually. "Now, Tom—"

Dumbledore drew himself up in his seat, setting down his empty glass and steepling the tips of his fingers in a characteristic posture. 

"Enough dissimilating, Tom. Why have you and your henchmen come to me, come to campaign for a job that we both know you do not want?" 

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "I do not want it? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want this job very much." 

"No, you very much want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more now than you did when you were freshly graduated. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an honest request for once?" 

Voldemort reacted at last with undisguised contempt. "If you are not going to offer me a job —" 

"Of course I'm not," said Dumbledore at once. "I don't believe for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked. You must have had a purpose." 

Voldemort stood quickly. His features clouded with ill-concealed rage, and he looked less like Tom Riddle than ever. "This is your final say on the matter?" 

"It is." Dumbledore stood as well.  

"We have nothing further to say to one another." 

"Sadly, I find myself agreeing with you at last," said Dumbledore, his voice tinged with genuine melancholy. "The time has long gone that I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. I wish I could, Tom. I very much wish I could." 

Harry was sure that Voldemort's hand had twitched toward his pocket and his wand, and for a second, he was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning. But the moment passed, and Voldemort turned away. The door was closed, and he was gone. 

Harry felt Dumbledore grip his arm again, and then they stood together once more in the same place, but with no snow on the window ledges. Looking at Dumbledore's hand, Harry saw that it was again turned black and necrotic.

Looking at Dumbledore, Harry asked, "Why did he come back to Hogwarts? Did you ever discover?" 

"I have strong suspicions, but not more than that," replied Dumbledore. "I'll share them, Harry, when you have retrieved Professor Slughorn's stubborn memory. When you have that final piece of the puzzle, everything will, at last, be clear to us both."

Still afire with curiosity, Harry did not move at once. 

"He was after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job again, wasn't he? He didn't actually say so." 

"Oh, he most decidedly wanted that position," agreed Dumbledore, holding the door open for Harry. "You may infer that from this fact: we have never been able to keep a teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts for longer than a year at Hogwarts since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort." 

Notes:

I tweaked this chapter just a bit to highlight the dynamic between Albus and Tom.

Despite his Big Bad role in the franchise, Tom honestly believes he is doing something spectacular, and Albus is the one who might possibly appreciate it (having lost himself on the path to greatness himself in the past...)

Instead, Dumbledore spikes Tom's ambition like a volleyball. He rejects Tom and all he stands for like a body rejecting a bad kidney.

Noice.

Chapter 44: Malfoy’s Gambit 

Summary:

Wizard Chess: Check. See the whole board, mate. Checkmate.

"I’m having something of a crisis and I don’t know who I can trust."

Liquid Luck? It's not a gift without strings.

Ron Weasley, Master Apparator.

Dobby's revenge.

Notes:

This point marks the real split in this narrative.

Waske, for reasons of his own which I refuse to criticise, walked away at this point. After some give and take, I eventually picked up the quill and persevered.

What was I thinking?

Seriously, my deepest thanks to Waske, who started me on this journey, and to all the dear commenters and kudos and book-markers. Strap yourselves in- it's going to be a bumpy ride!

Chapter Text

44. Malfoy’s Gambit 

 

Harry looked at the chessboard, trying to keep his emotions out of the decision-making and just see what Ron was offering. He distractedly scratched at the back of his head, where his recently-healed skull still itched from his most recent visit to Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary. 

“Take your time, Harry,” Ron said softly. “See the whole board.” 

“You keep saying that,” Harry said with evident frustration, “but it’s hard to do that, watching your Queen standing over the broken body of my knight.” 

“Good. You’ve identified the problem,” Ron went on with the same infuriating patience he had shown in the previous two games. “So, what are you going to do about it?” 

“I’m taking that damned queen,” Harry said, moving his bishop. 

Ron shrugged and sighed. He moved his own bishop, taking Harry’s other knight. The bishop raised his mace, knocked Harry’s knight from his horse, and stood triumphantly, threatening Harry’s king. 

“Check.”

 “Bugger,” Harry breathed explosively. He stood up suddenly. 

“Giving up, Harry?” It was the first time Hermione had spoken. Harry had nearly forgotten she was there, so focused had he been on the drubbing Ron was serving to him game after game. 

“No,” Harry pouted. “But I need a different perspective.” He turned to the side, looking at the board from a literally different point of view. His face fell. 

“You’ve got me, Ron. The only move I have left is to take that bishop, and then you’ll put me in check again. No, in checkmate. You’ve won, again.” 

“That’s great, Harry,” Ron was on his feet as well, pounding Harry on the shoulder. “Go on, hit a man while he’s down,” Harry muttered.

 Ron shook his head vigorously, smiling. 

“Don’t you get it? You spotted that the queen was making you crazy, and now you’ve seen that taking her led to a sequence of events you have no power to change. THAT is how you get better at chess, Harry, seeing the whole board. You’re so much closer now.” 

Harry looked at him for a moment and decided that Ron was genuinely excited. 

“So, I just need to let Voldemort beat me a few dozen times, and at least I’ll see it coming?” Harry smiled slightly as he said this, showing that he understood Ron’s point even if the defeat did sting. 

“Come on, mate, one more game. You’re getting close.” 

“Sorry, Ron. I’m still thinking about Malfoy, and Snape, and everything else. I feel like the board is in front of me, and I can see all the pieces, and I still can’t see how it fits together.” Harry slumped down in an armchair away from the chessboard. The pieces had marched back to their spaces and now were standing idly. 

“Okay, Ronald,” Hermione said, putting down her book. “I’ll play.” 

Both boys looked at her in surprise. Hermione had very early on in their friendship expressed her frustration with chess after failing to beat even Harry, much less Ron. She never, ever volunteered to play. 

“Are you sure?” Ron asked. “Okay, let’s have a go.” 

Hermione tapped one of Ron’s hands, drawing black. Ron advanced a white pawn and turned some of his attention to Harry. 

“Show me your board, Harry,” Ron said. “What do you know? Not the connections yet, just the elements.” 

Hermione moved, deliberately but not with hesitation. Ron countered. 

“The mead that put you in the infirmary,” Harry started, giving Ron a friendly punch on the arm in the way of young men, “that can’t have been meant for you, too clearly an accident.” 

“Then who was it for?” Ron took one of Hermione’s pawns. 

“I would say it was meant for Dumbledore since that’s where it was supposed to go.” 

“And the previous attack?” Ron noted that Hermione was threatening his knight and moved to support the piece, making it too costly to trade. Hermione moved on the other side of the board. 

“The locket? I don’t know. With the imperious curse, it could have been anyone at the castle. Maybe Dumbledore as well?” Harry was now deep in thought. 

“Good, so how well-thought-out would you say these attacks are, then?” Ron moved again, setting a trap for Hermione’s queen. 

“Not very. Too many things could go wrong, not just the things that actually did go wrong. All kinds of ways they could fail.” 

“Designed to fail?” Ron asked. Hermione, spotting the trap, retreated her queen. 

Harry shook his head. “More likely just sloppy. Not sloppy—unpracticed, immature. A student?” 

“Good thinking.” Ron used the failed trap to take an out-of-position pawn while he thought about what Harry had told him. “So, an impulsive student who has trouble thinking things through but definitely wants Dumbledore, and presumably you, to fail. I think you’re right. Sounds like Malfoy to me, mate.” 

“Let’s say it’s Malfoy,” Harry said, nodding. “So what does he want?” 

Ron looked at Hermione’s move, a knight moving from a well-defended spot to a more exposed choice. He pulled his hand back from reaching towards his bishop, suddenly realising that he had no idea what Hermione was trying to do. 

“Anything?” Harry asked. 

“No idea,” Ron said distractedly. “What are you doing, Hermione?” 

“Playing chess,” she replied. 

“Who have you been practising with?” Ron muttered, then he quickly moved his rook, blinking rapidly. “Checkmate. Bloody knight nearly made me miss that.” 

“I know.” Hermione got up and grabbed her book before turning back to the board. “I can’t yet beat your best game, Ronald, so I have to make you not play your best. Perhaps next time. Good evening, Harry. Ronald.” 

She gathered her things and headed for her room. 

“My best game,” Harry said. “I don’t know what Malfoy’s up to, but I have to be able to put him out of my mind so that I can focus on more important things.” 

“Play your best game,” Ron agreed, unable to take his eyes off of Hermione as she reached the stairs, looked back at him briefly, and went upstairs. He whispered to himself, “Bloody hell.” 

“Thanks for the help, Ron,” Harry said, unaware of his friend’s distraction. “I need to find out what Malfoy’s doing, so I can move on. And I can’t do that on my own.” 

“Look at the whole board,” Harry mumbled to himself as he dropped down on his bed. 

This late, there was still a chance Malfoy was back in the Room of Requirement again, doing whatever it was he was doing. 

Harry reached into his pocket and grabbed the Map.

 “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” Harry muttered with his wand on the parchment. 

The thin lines quickly filled the blank parchment, and Harry found the seventh corridor with the Room of Requirement. 

“Yup, that’s Goyle right there in front of it,” Harry noticed. “Malfoy must be in there.” Harry heard the door opening.

 “Hey mate,” Ron’s voice carried through the empty room.

 “Hey,” Harry said, lying back down staring at the ceiling. 

“You doing alright?”

 “Yeah, sure,” Harry tried to convince both of them. 

“You know, Hermione’s worried,” Ron said. “She said earlier today you haven’t been acting much like yourself.” 

Harry couldn’t stop a snort from escaping him. “What’s funny?” Ron asked, sitting down on his bed. 

“Nothing,” Harry turned his head to look at Ron. 

“Come on, mate,” Ron said. “We’re friends.” 

Harry stared at him for a second before he replied. 

“Maybe Hermione isn’t the best person anymore to know if I am acting like myself,” Harry said dryly. 

Harry had assumed that Ron would see the irony of the situation and hadn’t expected the frown on Ron’s face. 

“That’s not cool,” Ron said slowly. “She knows you pretty well by now. She’s smart, and she pays attention. You’re the only one who refuses to see it.” 

“Okay, Ronald,” Harry said. “I’ll take that to heart.” 

He had wanted to be cruel, and he wanted to hurt Ron. It wasn’t just the fact that Hermione and Harry weren’t together anymore. He had lost his best friend, too. Harry and Tonks shared a real closeness when they were together, but when their only communication consisted of a few letters a week and a photograph, it wasn’t the same. Harry had a better, more mature romantic relationship now, but he missed the incredibly tight bond of friendship he’d shared with Hermione. 

“That’s not fair,” Ron said with a hint of anger in his voice. He was clearly struggling to keep his own emotions in check. 

“I keep telling you, nothing about this is fair,” Harry looked him directly in the eyes. “Hermione is... Hermione. I get that. She is the same brilliant witch with strong opinions about everything. She is loyal, and she is a friend. She is just not the friend I had before.” 

“Because you aren’t letting anyone close,” Ron said as he got up. “Me, Neville, even Susan, you keep us all at this distance– of course things are different.” 

Harry wanted to viciously throw his words back at him, to cry about how unfair his life was. How unjust that nothing seemed to be working out. That Dumbledore was either too busy or too insensitive to even care about what Malfoy was up to. Even the thought of saying it made him sick and ashamed. What do you do when you know your feelings are irrational, but they’re too strong to ignore? 

Harry heard the door close as Ron stepped out, probably to head back to the common room. 

Look at the whole board. Harry turned the thought over again in his mind. How am I supposed to look at the whole board if nobody tells me the edges of it? I know who one player is, but am I the other player? Or one of the pawns? 

Harry got out of his bed. He needed to write to Tonks; he needed to find a way to see her. Three whole months without her close to him was excruciating. There had to be a way for them to meet. He stretched his body. He had been running, but something about being at Hogwarts stopped him from focusing entirely on his training, and it made his muscles feel stiff. 

Harry sat down at a nearby desk and wrote Tonks a brief but urgent letter. He watched as the ink dried before rolling it up. He needed to see if Hedwig was available in the Owlery. She might not have returned from delivering the last letter he had sent to Tonks, but it was worth a try. 

Harry found Ron at his chessboard, sitting alone by the fire. He appeared to be replaying his last game with Hermione, muttering to himself. 

What do you do when the pieces on the chessboard are your friends or your family? Harry thought. Would it still be alright to focus on the whole board? 

 

In her preferred spot, Susan was sitting in the Owlery, looking out into the darkness, when Harry arrived. He paused, then, remembering Ron’s words, and made himself approach her. He stood next to her in the dark for a while. 

“Is everything okay?” He’d meant to just sort of neutrally greet her and then get to his letter, but almost unbidden, the question had come to his lips. 

“Not really.” She sighed. “Ginny’s speaking to me, which is better.” 

“Well, that’s great, right?” 

“You’d think so.” She turned her back on the darkness, leaning on the ledge and facing the opposite direction from Harry. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows anymore, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. 

“You’re getting into a dark place yourself, Harry.” Susan continued gazing down, not challenging him with her eyes, just with her voice. “I think you’re becoming obsessed.” 

“And what should I be doing? What did you call it? Sunshine and rainbows? This is life and death. It’s war, Susan. Excuse me for being focused, not like you and Ginny, or Neville and Luna.” His angry words left a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. What right did any of them have to tell him how he should feel or how much he should care? 

“They broke up, Harry– a while back. Two of your closest friends broke up, and Ginny and I almost did, and you never even noticed.” Her voice was ragged, almost breaking, but as usual, there was a core of strength to it that ignored the pain and laid out the truth. “If you keep on trying to shoulder everything yourself and push everyone away, you’re just begging to wind up right back where you were after the Department of Mysteries, sacrificing every relationship you care about in the process.” 

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong. He tried to reach out to her, to say something comforting, but he was just too much in his own head. So instead, he awkwardly shrugged, nodded, and moved to Hedwig’s perch. 

Hedwig seemed to have returned without a letter from Tonks. Harry felt a twist of doubt that she hadn’t written. He understood that she couldn’t write everything in a letter that could be intercepted. He understood that there were things that just couldn’t be said. He censored himself as well in case of someone intercepting their letters. It was just frustrating. 

He affixed the letter to Hedwig’s leg, and with a fond scratch of her feathers, sent her on her way. He turned again, determined to say something more supportive to Susan, but she was already gone. He returned to the dormitory and found Ron had already gone to bed. Harry sat by the fire for a while in thought, and then he too went to bed. 

 

Dear Tonks, 

I know that I just wrote to you, but I’m having something of a crisis and I don’t know who I can trust. I seem to be burning bridges, pushing myself, and getting nowhere. I’ve started to realise that magical knowledge and duelling skills are not the same as being fully grown up and confident in my decisions. 

I don’t want to admit it, but I need you. I need someone I can trust implicitly to give me some guidance, and that’s you. Plus, of course, I miss you for other reasons I will be happy to discuss when I see you next. 

I think I still have permission from Professor McGonagall to visit Hogsmeade, or at least I can pretend to misunderstand that I do. Please let me know when you can see me, even for a short while. And as always, stay safe. Constant vigilance! 

Always, Harry 

 

Harry didn’t have any more luck with Slughorn during the week, and by the time Friday arrived, Harry was about to call it quits. He wasn’t making way with Slughorn, and he was in no way closer to getting into the Room of Requirement while Malfoy was in it. He had tried, of course, multiple times. Whenever he spotted either Crabbe or Goyle in front of the Room, he had tried in his invisibility cloak. He’d even had Dobby keep an eye out for Malfoy when possible, but the elf had only been able to confirm that Malfoy was spending a lot of time on the seventh floor. 

Why isn’t it working? Harry pounded his fist dully on the wall, trying not to arouse the suspicions of Crabbe, who was pacing idly a bit farther down the corridor. Shouldn’t the room appear when I have a specific need? 

The following day after his run, Harry sat down quietly at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He chose a seat between Neville and Ron intentionally. Rather than lower his head and disappear into his own world as he so often did lately, he turned, a cup of pumpkin juice in his hand, to face Neville. 

“Hey, Neville,” he said softly, getting the young wizard’s attention. “I, erm, I just wanted to say about you and Luna, well, I’m sorry.” 

Neville blinked at him slowly and replied in the same soft tone after throwing a look at where Luna was sitting with Susan and Ginny at the Hufflepuff table. “Thanks, Harry. I still love her, but, you know, timing.” 

Neville shrugged and went back to his breakfast. Harry nodded, not sure what to add, and turned to Ron. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” Ron said, putting marmalade on some toast. “Any progress on your, um, chess problem?” 

“Not really,” Harry admitted. “I’m stumped. I’ve reached out to someone for help, but I just have to wait and see.” He helped himself to a rasher of bacon. He looked up to see Hermione regarding him thoughtfully. 

“Morning?” Harry said tentatively. She smiled briefly and nodded back, taking a sip from her cup of tea. 

Soon everyone was heading either off to class or off to the library to study. Harry was about to follow when Hermione called to Ron. 

“Ronald,” she said pleasantly, “Harry and I will be along in just a moment. I need to talk to him for a minute. Could you grab our usual spot in the library?” 

“No problem,” Ron said, looking at Harry with an eyebrow raised for a moment. He asked Hermione, “Can I take your bag for you?” 

“That’s sweet of you, but I’ll bring it. Thank you.” 

“Sure,” Ron said before hurrying off to secure their favourite table. 

“Harry, thanks for staying.” Her voice was serious but not dramatically so. 

Harry nodded and waited to hear what she had to say. 

She reached into her bag and brought out a small paper-wrapped parcel. She slid it carefully across the table towards Harry, with feigned disinterest. 

“What’s this?” Harry asked, taking the package in his hand. Though small, it was heavier than he expected. 

Felix Felicis,” she said softly. “I want you to have it.” 

“But, Hermione,” Harry argued, trying to keep his voice down, “I can’t accept this. You earned it; it was a gift to you, right?” 

She smiled a sad smile that made her look very much older for a moment. “A gift? That’s ironic. If you knew how many nights... Well, let’s just say that Liquid Luck is not a gift without strings attached. I wonder now if Slughorn had prepared it expecting you to win it, so you’d owe him something. It seems like a thing he would do.” 

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Harry was holding the small package carefully. 

Hermione shrugged. “I know you’re trying to get something from Slughorn that he doesn’t want to give up. This seems like a fair exchange for his ‘gift’ to me. Besides, is there anyone in this world who needs a little luck more than Harry Potter?” 

Harry put the potion carefully away in his bag. He looked at her, her beautiful face open and kind, and he realised at last that he could see no lingering trace of the shock and horror she had shown him in the Department of Mysteries, or the reluctant, almost pitying expression she had worn when she explained it was best they break up. She was just Hermione. 

He thought about his friendships with Ron, and Neville, and Luna, about his love for Susan and his respect for her fierce devotion to Ginny. Most of all, he thought about his love for Tonks and the way she seemed to relax only when she was in his arms. He thought about everything that could have ended in tragedy in his life that hadn’t, and for just a minute, he was able to set aside (though not to forget) his frustrations, his loss, and his guilt. 

“Do I particularly need luck? I’m not sure anymore, to be honest,” Harry said. “There are days when I feel pretty lucky. Thank you, Hermione.” 

They met the others in the library, and Harry found a small amount of weight off his chest, even though he knew he had solved none of his problems. The feeling didn’t last very long before his worries and doubts, and perhaps a touch of persecuted paranoia crept back in, but for one morning, he was able to enjoy his friends’ company and to breathe. 

That weekend, Ron joined Hermione and the rest of the sixth-years who would be taking the Apparition test in a fortnight. Harry was rather jealous watching them preparing to go down into the village. It was a particularly fine spring day, with one of the first clear skies they had seen in some time. Despite his yearning for a break, Harry had decided to use the time to attempt another assault on the Room of Requirement. 

When he confided his plans to Ron and Hermione in the entrance hall, Hermione had shaken her head. 

“Maybe you’d do better,” she said, “to go straight to Slughorn and try again to get the memory you’ve been after.” 

“But I have been trying!” said Harry crossly. He had tarried after every Potions lesson seeking to corner Slughorn. The Potions master, despite his girth and deliberate nature, always left the classroom too quickly for Harry to catch up to him. More than once, Harry had gone to Slughorn’s office and knocked but received no reply. On the second occasion, Harry was sure he had heard the quickly stifled sounds of an old gramophone. 

“He’s actively avoiding me, Hermione! He’s too sly to let me get him on his own again.” 

“You have to keep trying, Harry. He can’t escape you forever.” 

The short queue of people headed to Hogsmeade filed past Filch, who was doing his usual prodding act with the Secrecy Sensor. Harry did not answer in case the caretaker overheard him. He wished Ron and Hermione luck with their Apparating, then turned and climbed the marble staircase again, determined, whatever Hermione said, to devote an hour or two to the Room of Requirement. 

Once out of sight of the entrance hall, Harry pulled the Marauder’s Map and his cloak from his bag. Concealing himself, he tapped the map, murmured, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” and scanned it carefully. 

As it was a weekend morning, many students were inside their common rooms: Gryffindors in one tower, Ravenclaws in another. Slytherins were in the dungeons and Hufflepuffs near the kitchens in the basement. A stray student meandered about in the library or up a corridor here and there. There were already people out on the grounds. He spotted two figures in a broom closet, which made him grin—three in another, which he declined to note other than offering a nod of respect. And there, alone in the seventh-floor corridor, was Gregory Goyle. There was no sign of the Room of Requirement, but Harry was not worried about that. If Goyle was standing guard outside it, the room was open, whether the map was aware of it or not. He sprinted up the stairs, slowing down only when he reached the corner into the corridor, when he began to creep, very slowly, toward the very same little girl, clutching her heavy brass scales, that Hermione had so kindly helped a fortnight before. Harry moved right behind her before bending very low and growling, “Hello. You’re a beautiful little thing, aren’t you?” 

Goyle gave a comically high-pitched scream, threw the scales up into the air, and sprinted away, vanishing from sight long before the sound of the scales smashing had stopped echoing around the corridor. Laughing, Harry turned to contemplate the blank wall behind which, he was sure, Draco Malfoy was now standing frozen, aware that someone unwelcome was out there but not daring to make an appearance. It gave Harry an agreeable if petty feeling of power as he reviewed what form of request he had not yet tried to gain entrance. 

This positive mood did not last. Half an hour later, having tried many more variations on his request to see what Malfoy was up to, Harry confronted a wall that was just as doorless as ever. Harry was frustrated beyond endurance; Malfoy might well be mere feet away from him, and there was still not the tiniest hint as to what he was doing. Losing his patience completely, Harry glared at the wall before savagely kicking it. 

“Bugger!” 

He thought he might have broken his toe; as he clutched it in pain, his cloak slipped off him. 

“Harry?” 

He spun awkwardly, hopping on what was now his good foot. There was Tonks, walking toward him to his utter astonishment, as though she frequently strolled up this corridor. 

“What are you doing here?” he said, scrambling to his feet again, “Did you get my letters?” 

“I did, but we were not allowed any post for a while. Lucky break today they sent me to see Dumbledore,” said Tonks. She reached out for him and took him in her arms. She pulled away long before he was ready. 

Harry thought she looked amazing, yet also terrible: thinner than usual, her hair lank and not so pink as she usually wore it. She clearly hadn’t been getting enough rest. 

“I’m glad to see you, love,” she said. “Dumbledore’s not even here, it turns out, but I have an hour or so to spend with you before they expect me back.” 

“What did you need to see him about?” 

“Some questions about his contacts abroad,” said Tonks. “I hoped he might know something about what’s going on.” 

“Yeah, I know, it’s all been in the paper,” said Harry. “I heard about the PM’s wife...” 

“The Prophet’s rarely abreast of the times,” said Tonks, who seemed anxious to change subjects. 

“So, can we go somewhere and talk?” Harry asked, holding her hands in his. 

“Just quickly, yes,” she said. He thought for a moment and pulled her into the nearby bathroom, with a quick privacy ward and a locking spell on the door. 

“Sorry for the luxury location, but I didn’t want to miss a minute.” Before the words were out of his mouth, she was in his arms, her face to his chest, her hair softly and surely turning from its washed-out colour to a more vibrant hue. They just held one another for some time, feeling each others’ hearts beating, feeling the breath of the other against them, renewing the security and comfort of their lover’s touch. 

“I can’t tell you how I’ve missed you,” she said. “I mean that literally, they have us hexed. I literally can’t talk about it.” 

He looked at her in alarm, but she shrugged. “Security. It’s gotten too dangerous to have leaks. Now tell me, what did you need my help with?” 

He started to explain about the Room of Requirement, and Malfoy, and Slughorn, but as he talked, he realised how paranoid and insane it all sounded. He finally just held her and said, “I think I know what I need to do next. I just needed someone I trust to promise me it will all be okay.” 

She looked at him, her eyes full of unshed tears and her smile bitter. “So, you want me to lie to you?” 

He looked at her, and suddenly the years, the height, the fitness, the fight, all of these fell from his face, and she saw him as the young man, the boy, that she had known. The boy who never had someone he trusted not to hurt him, trusted not to lie to him, trusted not to abandon him. 

“Please, Tonks?” His voice was ragged, breaking. 

She took him in her arms again and ran her fingers through his wild hair. “Don’t worry, Harry,” she said. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.” 

They barely spoke after that. Too soon, it was time for Tonks to leave. They kissed, and he offered to walk her to the gates, but she said that would make it even harder for her to go. So they kissed once more, and she turned abruptly and walked back down the corridor, leaving Harry to stare after her. 

After a minute or so, he pulled his cloak on again and resumed his efforts to get into the Room of Requirement. Eventually, a hollow feeling in his stomach and the knowledge that Ron and Hermione would soon be back for lunch made him abandon the attempt and leave the corridor to Malfoy, who hopefully would be too afraid to go for some hours to come. 

 

He found Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor house table, already halfway through an early lunch. 

Ron smiled cryptically when Harry asked how the Apparating lessons went. When Harry turned to Hermione for details, she was scowling. 

“I was supposed to be Apparating outside Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and I overshot a bit, ended up near Scrivenshaft’s.” 

“Probably you’re just naturally drawn to ink and quills, Hermione,” said Harry. “How’d you do, Ron?” 

“Oh, Ronald was perfect, obviously,” said Hermione with some irritation. “Apparently, his secret is to ‘clear the mind of all distractions.’ I am firmly against having my mind cleared, thank you.” 

Harry paled, as did Ron, but she was too worked up to note the irony, and she continued. “Everyone went for a quick drink in the Three Broomsticks after.” 

“And what about you?” asked Ron, eying the grumbling Hermione with amusement. “Have you been hunting Malfoy all this time?” 

“Yes,” said Harry. “And I ran into Tonks.” 

“Tonks?” repeated Hermione, surprised. 

“She’d come to visit Dumbledore, she said. Lucky for me, he was out.” 

“Well, at least you had some time together,” said Ron once Harry had finished describing his brief conversation with Tonks. 

“There was that, yeah,” said Harry, his mind already far away. 

A door appeared on the wall in the corridor on the seventh floor. The door cracked, and a hissing whisper could be heard by anyone who might have been in that corridor. 

“Goyle? GOYLE?!” There was silence. 

A mop of platinum blond hair ducked out into the corridor, then back. Draco Malfoy emerged quickly into the hallway, and the door closed behind him, disappearing as it did so. 

“Goyle!” Malfoy waited impatiently. He was gaunt, with dark shadows hollowing his cheeks and putting his eyes in relief. His skin, ordinarily delicate and pale as porcelain, had an off cast, and there was a suggestion of sickly sweatiness to his whole presence. The year had not been kind to young Draco Malfoy. His expression twisted into a cruel sneer as his patience for his henchman ran out. 

He hurried to the Great Hall, only to find that lunch was not being served any longer. Increasingly frustrated, he yelled for a house-elf, knowing that students could usually get tea and sandwiches even when the kitchen was closed. 

With a crack, a house-elf appeared, and Draco snapped, “Bring me something!” 

Instead of a crack of disapparation, or a squeaky acknowledgement, Draco heard only silence. He raised his head, ready to snap at the delinquent servant, and found himself looking into the enormous eyes of Dobby, the house-elf who had helped raise him from infancy. 

“Dobby,” he said with relief. “I need some food.” 

“Does you?” Dobby’s voice was high and tremulous but in no way subservient. Draco took a moment to take in that Dobby now wore clothes (a tea-cosy hat, many socks, and a neat toga). 

Draco and Dobby stood, staring at one another for a long minute. Finally, his stomach rumbling audibly, Draco grudgingly added one word. “Please.” 

Dobby disappeared and in his place on the table appeared a plate covered by a cloche. Lifting the lid, Draco found half an untoasted cheese sandwich, a glass of milk, and a carrot. 

Muttering darkly, he thought about storming off, but then his stomach twisted around the emptiness inside him. He sat and glumly began to eat the sandwich. At least the milk was cold. 

Chapter 45: Three Wizards and a Funeral

Summary:

Apparation Tests.
The Lavender Question.
The Death of Aragog.
I Have a Friend Named Felix.
Suo Gân, a Welsh Lullaby.
10 Galleons a Hair.
How Little You Must Think of Me.

Notes:

This chapter was brutal, hence the long delay. Almost 80 percent had to be paraphrased, rewritten, or replaced.

The changes are everywhere. Some subtle, some large. If you have read this before, I suggest it's still worth another look.

More notes follow the chapter.

-ReverendKilljoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

45. Three Wizards and a Funeral

 

The increasing number of bright blue patches of sky beginning to appear over the castle turrets did not lift Harry's mood. He had consistently failed in his attempts to find out what Malfoy was doing at every turn. He'd had no more luck in his efforts to start a conversation with Slughorn that might lead, somehow, to Slughorn handing over his decades-long-suppressed memory. 

"Just forget about Malfoy," implored Hermione. "I'm begging you."

They were sitting, ostensibly studying in a sunny corner of the courtyard with Ron after lunch. Hermione and Ron were both pouring over a Ministry of Magic text — Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them — to prepare for taking their tests that afternoon. Thus far, the pamphlets had served to make them, if anything, more nervous rather than less. 

Ron tried to hide behind Hermione with a sudden start when a girl came around the corner. 

"It isn't Lavender," said Hermione wearily.

"Oh, good," said Ron, relaxing.

"Harry Potter?" asked the girl. "I was told to give you this." 

"Thanks."

Harry's heart sank as he considered the small slip of parchment. He watched until the girl was out of earshot, then grumbled, "Dumbledore said until I got the memory, we wouldn't have any more lessons !" 

"Maybe he just wants to check on you?" suggested Hermione as Harry unfolded the parchment. Rather than finding Dumbledore's distinctive script, he found a barely comprehensible scrawl, marred by the presence of large tear-stains on the parchment, causing the ink to run.

 

Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione, 

Aragog died last night. It would mean the world ter me if you could nip down for the burial. I'm planning on doing it around dusk, his favourite time of day, yeh know. I know you're not supposed to be about that late, but you know how special he was. You maybe could use the cloak. I wouldn't ask, but I honestly don't figure I can face it on me own. 

Hagrid 

 

Harry handed the note to Hermione. "Look at this."

"Oh, for goodness sake," she said, scanning the note quickly before passing it to Ron, who read it with mouth agape. 

"Fucking metal," Ron muttered disbelievingly. "That thing was bloody terrifying, and now he expects us to go down do what? Cry over its horrible, hairy corpse?" 

"It's not just Aragog," said Hermione. "Hagrid's asking us to leave the castle at night. He knows security is vastly tighter now and how much trouble we would get in should we be caught." 

"Well, we have gone down to see him after curfew before," Harry mused.

"Yes, but never for something like this," said Hermione. "Aragog's dead, isn't he? We've taken risks to help Hagrid, sure. Perhaps if it were a question of trying to save Aragog—" 

"— I'd want even less to go, as if that was possible," said Ron unflinchingly. "Believe me, being dead will have improved that beast immensely." 

Harry took back the note and regarded the blotches all over it. Hagrid's tears had clearly fallen fast and free upon the parchment.

Hermione grew wary and said warningly, "Harry, you can't be thinking of going. It's dangerous, and you could get detention." 

Harry arched an eyebrow, and even Ron chuckled.

"Okay, not my strongest argument," admitted Hermione, looking relieved that Harry seemed to be putting the idea aside. "I'm afraid poor Hagrid will have to bury his acromantula without us. Besides, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with so many off doing our tests. Try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!" 

"Fiftieth time lucky, is that what they say?" said Harry bitterly. 

"Lucky," blurted Ron. "Harry, that's it — get lucky!" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Use Hermione's luck potion! I'm sure she'd share it for something this important." Ron looked at Hermione eagerly.

"Ronald, that's — that's wonderful!" said Hermione, sounding as if the idea had never occurred to her. "Yes! I should have thought of that myself." 

Harry stared at them both. 

"Felix Felicis?" he said. "I dunno. I was sort of hoping to save it." 

"What could you possibly be saving it for?" demanded Ron.

"Yes, what on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?" asked Hermione. 

Harry's vague and uncertain plans for the Liquid Luck had involved finding a cure for Hermione's obliviation, or perhaps a weapon against Voldemort himself. In his weaker moments, scenarios involving Tonks and private time between the two of them had roiled the depths of his mind, unacknowledged by his conscious self.

"Harry? Are you still with us?" asked Hermione. 

"What? Erm, okay," he said, pulling himself together. "If I can't get figure a way to make Slughorn talk this afternoon, I'll take Felix Felicis and have a go this evening." 

"So we're decided, then," said Hermione briskly. She rose to her feet and took an exaggeratedly careful stance. "Destination. Determination. Deliberation," she murmured. 

"Please stop that," Ron begged her softly, also standing. "I wasn't nervous at all until I started watching you — Bloody hell!" 

More students, including a couple of girls, appeared in the courtyard, and Ron ducked behind her. 

"It's not Lavender!" said Hermione impatiently. "This is getting tiresome, Ronald." 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” said Ron, peering over Hermione's shoulder to check. "Let me get this test over with, and Lavender and I will have, erm, our little chat. Blimey, those two don't look happy, do they?" 

"The Montgomery sisters? Of course, they don't look happy," Hermione said. "Haven't you heard what happened to their little brother, Simon?"

"Who can keep track of what's happening to everyone?" asked Ron. "Too much drama and too little time, to be honest."  

"Well, their brother was attacked. Their mother refused to aid some Death Eaters, the rumours say, so her son was attacked by a werewolf. They couldn't save him. Simon was only five, and he died in St. Mungo's." 

"Their brother died?" Harry was shocked, but he quickly lowered his voice when several people nearby turned toward them. "I thought werewolves don't usually kill, that they just attack animals and such. If they bite a person, it just turns you into one of them, right?" 

"They sometimes kill," said Ron grimly, looking unusually grave now. "When the werewolf gets carried away or is just particularly vicious. There was a time—in Wales, I think—just before we all met. A young Muggle bloke and his little girl, in their own house." 

Hermione reached over and put a comforting hand on Ron's arm, silently. He continued to stare off, clearly recalling the story in his mind.

"Was he caught? Do you know the werewolf's name?" asked Harry.

“Fenrir Greyback, or at least that’s what they’re saying,” said Hermione. 

“I thought so —Lupin’s told me about him. Something needs to be done about this,” said Harry bitterly. 

Hermione’s look was compassionate but stern. 

“Harry, you must focus on getting that memory,” she said. “It’s all about stopping Voldemort, right? Every dreadful thing that happens is because of him or his supporters.” 

Ron nodded. “Ignore the gambits and keep to your own game.”

The clock struck in the castle, and both Hermione and Ron jumped to their feet, looking nervous. 

“No worries, you two,” Harry said as he walked Ron and Hermione to meet the rest of the people in the entrance hall, leaving for their Apparition tests. “Good luck.” 

“And you as well!” said Hermione earnestly, waving to Harry as he headed off to Potions. 

 

There were only three students for Potions with so many off testing: Harry, Ernie McMillan, and Draco Malfoy. 

“Not turned seventeen yet?” said Slughorn genially. 

They nodded their heads. 

“Well, that’s alright,” said Slughorn cheerfully. “As we’re so few, let’s have some fun. I want each of you to brew me up something delightful, something amusing!” 

“That sounds good, sir,” said Ernie optimistically, rubbing his hands together. Malfoy, however, looked almost grim. 

“What do you mean, ‘something amusing’?” he asked in a near whine. 

“Oh, surprise me,” said Slughorn, waving a hand dismissively. 

Malfoy cracked opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulk and a sigh. He clearly thought this lesson was a distracting waste of his time. Undoubtedly, Malfoy was begrudging the time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement, Harry thought, glancing at him over the top of his own textbook. 

Was it his imagination, or did Malfoy look thinner? Indeed he looked paler; his skin rarely saw daylight these days. Worse, there was no air of smug superiority, none of the swagger that he had sported on the Hogwarts Express, boasting openly of his mission from Voldemort. Harry could only draw one conclusion: the task, whatever it was, was going poorly. 

Buoyed by this positive thought, Harry skimmed through his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He found his annotated version of “An Elixir to Induce Euphoria,” which seemed to meet Slughorn’s instructions. If Harry could persuade Slughorn to try some, it might also put him in such a positive mood that he would be willing to hand over that memory. 

An hour and a half later, Slughorn clapped his hands together as he stared down into the sunshine-yellow contents of Harry’s cauldron.

Euphoria, I take it? But what’s that I smell? Mmmm— you’ve added just a pinch of something, haven’t you?”

“Clove,” said Harry quietly, “to prevent wind. Oh, and a touch of mint.”

“Clove and mint, you say? Unorthodox but inspired, Harry! Mint to counterbalance the side-effect of reflexive nose-tweaking, I’d wager? Another sign of good breeding—your mother’s genes coming out in you!” 

“Perhaps,” said Harry noncommittally. 

Ernie was looking rather dour; determined to outshine Harry for once, he had rashly invented his own formula for a levitation potion, which had curdled and formed a sad, purple dumpling, floating around the bottom of his cauldron. Slughorn had pronounced Malfoy’s Hiccuping Draught merely “passable,” and Malfoy was already packing up, sour-faced.

At last, the class over, Ernie and Malfoy both took off immediately. 

“Sir,” Harry began, but Slughorn glanced over his shoulder, and when he saw that he was alone with Harry, he hurried out as fast as possible. 

“Professor — Professor, don’t you want to taste my— ?” Harry called after him, “— Potion?”

Slughorn was gone. Harry resignedly emptied the cauldron, packed up his things, and ambled back up to the Gryffindor common room. 

A few hours later, Ron and Hermione returned. 

“Harry!” cried Hermione as she bounded with uncharacteristic enthusiasm through the portrait hole. “Harry, I’ve passed!” 

“Well done!” he said. “What about Ron?” 

“He just failed,” whispered Hermione, as Ron came slouching into the room looking morose. “It was really unlucky, a tiny thing.” 

“Totally my own fault,” Ron said dispiritedly, overhearing her comment. “The examiner spotted that I’d left half an eyebrow behind. How did it go with Slughorn?” 

“No joy,” said Harry. “Bad luck about the eyebrow, but you’ll pass next time — we can take it together.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” said Ron grumpily. “But half an eyebrow! Of all the things to trip me up.” 

“I understand,” said Hermione soothingly, “but your concern was touching. Really it was, Ronald.” 

Ron coloured in his cheeks a bit and slouched along ahead of them in embarrassment. Hermione whispered anxiously to Harry in explanation, “It’s my fault, about Ronald. I went just before him, you see, and as I was leaving the test circle, I stumbled, turned my ankle a bit on a stone. Nothing at all, really, but Ronald was over to me in a flash. He Apparated straight to me to be sure I was okay. That’s when he lost that bit of eyebrow.” 

Harry watched Ron kicking at the cobbles idly as he walked and thought about how Ron had been behaving. “Well, I think we both know why he’s been on the outs with Lavender, don’t we?”

Hermione flushed slightly, just enough that Harry caught it though he doubted many would have. They continued on in silence. 

 

Dinner passed in inconsequential banter, roundly abusing the Apparition examiner. Ron became more cheerful by the by degrees, and after eating, they retired to the common room, discussing the now-perennial problem of Slughorn’s elusive memory. 

“So, Harry,” Ron demanded, “are you going to use the Felix Felicis or not?” 

“Yeah, I imagine I’d better,” said Harry. “I won’t need all of it, not twelve hours’ worth. It can’t take all night. I’ll just take a mouthful—two or three hours should do it.” 

Slughorn had just entered the Great Hall, and he liked to linger in conversation over meals, so they occupied themselves for a while in the common room. The plan was that Harry should go to Slughorn’s office after a decent interval, and when the sun had set to the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, they decided the moment had come. After checking carefully that Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all in the common room, they snuck up to the boys’ room. 

Harry took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of his trunk and extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle. 

“Good luck, mate,” Ron said solemnly.

“That’s the plan,” quipped Harry, touching the little bottle to his lips and swallowing a measured mouthful. 

“How do you feel?” Hermione asked, her voice reflexively dropping to a whisper. 

Harry could not answer for a moment, not sure how to describe the sensation. Gradually, a cool, shivering sheen of a feeling stole through him, from his heart to his fingertips and toes; he felt he could do anything, anything at all. Persuading Slughorn to share his memory suddenly seemed not only a possibility but a certainty.

Harry, smiling, brimming with confidence, swayed slightly on his feet.

“Excellent,” he said. “Really superb, actually. You know what? I’m going down to see Hagrid.”

“You what?” said Ron and Hermione together, aghast.

“Harry — you’ve got to see Slughorn, remember?” said Hermione. “That was the whole idea!”

“No,” said Harry dismissively, bouncing on his heels as limitless possibility hummed through his body. “I have an excellent feeling about this. I’m going to Hagrid’s.”

“A good feeling? About burying a giant spider?” Ron looked stunned. 

“Yeah,” said Harry, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his bag. “I feel like it’s the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?” 

“No,” Ron and Hermione again said together, both looking alarmed. 

“This is the Felix Felicis, I suppose?” said Hermione anxiously, holding up the phial for closer inspection. “You haven’t mixed it up with another bottle of— I don’t know —” 

“Instant Insanity?” suggested Ron. “Maybe Drops of Dumb-arse?” 

Harry swung his cloak over his shoulders and laughed, and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed. 

“Trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. Or rather —” he tapped a finger alongside his nose, “— Felix knows.” 

Harry pulled his invisibility cloak up and set off down the stairs, with Ron and Hermione hurrying to keep up behind him. Harry dodged a figure who stood foursquare at the foot of the stairs, trying to block the door. 

“And what exactly were you doing up there? With her?” accused Lavender Brown. She was staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione as they emerged from the boys’ dormitory together. Harry could hear Ron muttering behind him as he darted across the room towards the portrait hole. 

Getting through this gap was much more straightforward for Harry; as he approached, Dean and Ginny entered, and Harry was able to slip around them. As he did, he heard Ginny’s softly voiced comment to Dean. 

“Thank you, Dean,” she said, sounding relieved. “You were right. I could tell right off how sorry she was by just letting her talk without trying to get my side in. I should never have started by assuming she didn’t care, which is what I guess I’ve been doing.” 

The portrait swung closed behind Harry, and he moved off towards the exit from the castle. Stealth was not required as, not surprisingly, he met no one. Harry was obviously the luckiest person at Hogwarts this evening. 

How Harry knew that visiting Hagrid’s was the best use of his precious time, he had no clue. It was as though the Felix Felicis was shining a light down a dark corridor, lighting a few steps of Harry’s path at any given time: He could didn’t understand where Slughorn came in, but Harry could feel he was on the best route to get Slughorn’s suppressed memory. Arriving at the entryway, Harry found that Filch had somehow forgotten to lock the doors. Chuckling, Harry eased a door open and felt the cool evening air before moving down the steps into the dusk. 

When he reached the bottom step, it idly occurred to him how enjoyable a stroll past the vegetable patch would be on the walk to Hagrid’s hut. While not strictly on the way, it nevertheless seemed a whim worthy of pursuit. Approaching the vegetable patch under his cloak, Harry was not altogether surprised to find Professor Slughorn having a convivial discussion with Professor Sprout. Harry leaned comfortably against the low stone wall, feeling at peace with the world and eavesdropping casually on their conversation. 

“Pomona, I do thank you for taking so much time,” Slughorn was saying courteously. “Very astute of you to note that they are at their most efficacious when picked at twilight.” 

“Oh, no trouble,” said Professor Sprout warmly. “Will this be enough for you?” 

“A generous plenty,” agreed Slughorn, who, Harry saw, was carrying an armful of leafy plants. “This should allow a few leaves for each of my third-years, with some to spare if anyone over-stews them. Good evening to you, and my regards to Madam Hooch.” 

This last was a quiet addition, and Harry might have seen Professor Sprout blush under the smudges of soil on her cheeks, but he was unsure.  

In any event, Professor Sprout headed back towards her greenhouses in the gathering darkness, while Slughorn directed his steps toward the spot where Harry stood, observing invisibly. 

Suddenly struck by a desire to reveal himself, Harry pulled off his cloak with a flourish. “Professor Slughorn, good evening.” 

“Merlin’s beard, Harry,” said Slughorn, “you made me jump.” He stopped dead in his tracks, looking wary. “Whatever are you doing out at this hour?” 

“The doors were unlocked. Filch must have forgotten to lock up,” Harry said cheerfully. He was delighted to see the scowl on the professor’s face. 

“Filch—I’ll be reporting that, you may be certain. Always more concerned with catching minor infractions than proper security, if you ask me. But where are you heading, Harry?” 

Harry felt that the right thing to do at this moment was to tell the truth. “Well, sir, it’s Hagrid. He’s pretty upset. You won’t tell anyone, Professor? I don’t want trouble for him, and I know you can keep information in confidence.” 

The flattery was effective, but Slughorn’s was still curious. “Well, I make no promises, you understand,” he said gruffly. “However, I know that Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to the hilt, so I’m sure he can’t be up to anything very dreadful...” 

“You see, for years, he’s had this giant spider. It lived in the forest. It could talk, even —” 

“I’ve heard gossip that the Forbidden Forrest was home to acromantulas,” said Slughorn pensively, looking over at the mass of black trees. “So, the rumours were true?” 

“Yes,” said Harry. “But Aragog, this spider, he was the first one Hagrid ever had. Well, last night, he died. Hagrid’s gutted, sir. He doesn’t to be alone while he buries it, so I told him I’d be with him.” 

“A touching gesture,” said Slughorn absentmindedly, his large droopy eyes fixed upon the distant lights of Hagrid’s cabin. “Acromantula venom is precious—if there were a way to procure some. It’s terribly difficult to get venom from an acromantula while it’s still alive, as you can imagine. It would be a frightful waste not to collect it. It might fetch a hundred galleons a pint. To be honest, my salary is not what it might be.” 

As Slughorn revealed his acquisitive nature, Harry knew precisely what was to be done. 

“Well, if you wanted to come, Professor,” he said, with a most convincing hesitancy, “I know Hagrid would be very pleased. He’s keen to give Aragog a real send-off, you see.” 

“I tell you what, Harry,” said Slughorn, his eyes now bright with enthusiasm. “I shall meet you at Hagrid’s shortly with a bottle or two. We’ll toast the poor beast’s passing. I must change this tie. It wouldn’t do to wear one this exuberant for such a solemn occasion.” 

Slughorn hurried back to the castle while Harry sped off to Hagrid’s, elated at how well things seemed to be going. 

 

“Harry!” croaked Hagrid, opening the door to see Harry emerging from beneath his cloak. “Good ter see you’ve come!” 

“Ron and Hermione were sorry they couldn’t make it, though,” said Harry. “They’ve sent their condolences on your loss.” 

“That’s right nice. Aragog would have bin touched at the thought.” 

Hagrid’s shoulders heaved with a sobbing, snuffly cry. He had fashioned a black armband out of what appeared to b a rag dipped in boot polish, and his eyes were red and puffy with crying. Harry reached as high up as he could and patted Hagrid’s arm consolingly. 

“So, where will the gravesite be?” Harry asked. “Off in the forest, I suppose?” 

Hagrid, wiping his red-rimmed eyes on the bottom of his shirt, said, “Blimey, no. Them other spiders won’ have me anywhere near their webs now that Aragog’s gone. Turns out it was only on account of his orders they didn’t eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?” 

The honest answer was “yes.” It had been quite clear that Aragog was the only thing that stopped the acromantulas from consuming the trusting half-giant. 

“It wasn’ easy gettin’ his body out o’ the forest, I can tell yeh — they usually eat their dead, see. Never bin anywhere in the forest I couldn’ go before!” said Hagrid, shaking his head. “But I wanted ter give ’im a proper send-off, a real burial.” 

Harry resumed patting Hagrid’s elbow as his friend began sobbing again. Guided by the potion, he told Hagrid about meeting Slughorn on his way from the castle. 

Hagrid, looking up in alarm, said, “Yer not in trouble, are yeh? I shouldn’ have you outta the castle this late, I know.” 

“Actually, when he heard what I was doing, he said he’d like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog as well,” said Harry. “He’s just gone put on something more suitable, and he said he’d bring something to drink so we can toast Aragog’s memory properly.” 

“Said that, did he?” asked Hagrid, looking both astonished and touched. “Blimey, that “s right thoughtful of him, that is. Plus him not turnin’ yeh in for being out of the castle. I can’t say I’ve had much ter do with Slughorn before. But he’s comin’ ter see old Aragog off, yeh say? Well, Aragog would’ve liked that.” 

What Aragog would have most liked about the professor, Harry thought to himself, was the ample amount of edible flesh he provided. Glancing out the rear window of Hagrid’s hut, Harry saw the rather horrible shape of the enormous spider lying dead on its back outside, its legs curled and tangled. 

“Are we burying him here in your garden, Hagrid?” 

“A bit beyond the pumpkin patch, I reckon,” said Hagrid in a choked voice. “I already saw to his grave. Jus’ thought maybe we could say something —memories of happier times, yeh see—” 

A knock on the door interrupted Hagrid before he could break into tears again, and he turned to answer it. Professor Slughorn, wearing a sombre black silk cravat, hurried over the threshold, several bottles in his arms. 

“Hagrid,” he said in a respectful, grave voice. “I am so very sorry to have heard of your recent loss.” 

“Thank ye kindly, Professor,” said Hagrid. “An’ thanks fer not givin’ Harry detentions neither.” 

“On an occasion such as this? The furthest thing from my mind,” Slughorn reassured him. “Sad night, a sad night indeed. Where is the poor creature?” 

“He’s out back here,” said Hagrid in a shaking voice. “I suppose it’s time, then.” 

 

They stepped out into the back garden, a mismatched, somber trio. The moonlight mingled with the light spilling from Hagrid’s window to illuminate the scene. Aragog’s body was lying at the edge of a massive pit beside a mound of freshly dug soil. 

“Magnificent creature,” said Slughorn, approaching the spider’s head, where eight milky eyes stared blankly at the sky, and two giant, curved mandibles gleamed in the moonlight. As Slughorn bent over, apparently examining the enormous hairy head, Harry thought he heard the tinkle of bottles. 

“Not everybody appreciates how beautiful they are,” murmured Hagrid to Slughorn’s back, tears leaking from the corners of his crinkled eyes. “I didn’ know yeh were partial to interestin’ creatures like my Aragog, Horace.” 

“Partial? My dear Rubeus, I revere all the great and mysterious creatures of the magical world,” Slughorn said, stepping back from Aragog’s body. Harry saw the glint of a bottle disappearing beneath his cloak as he turned, though Hagrid noticed nothing. “Now, I suggest we proceed with the burial.” 

Nodding and moving forward, Hagrid put his shoulder to Aragog’s remains and, with an enormous effort, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit bottom with a rather horrible crunch. Hagrid started to cry again. 

“Of course, it’s most difficult for you, Hagrid, who knew him best,” said Slughorn. Like Harry, the portly professor could reach no higher than Hagrid’s elbow, but he patted it all the same. “Why don’t I say a few words, eh?” 

Slughorn must have got a lot of good quality venom from Aragog, Harry thought, for he wore a satisfied smile as he stepped up to the rim of the pit. He intoned in a slow, impressive voice, “Farewell to you, sweet prince of arachnids. Your long and faithful friendship those who knew you won’t soon forget! Though your body will decay, Aragog, your spirit shall linger on in the dark, web-spun quiet of the forest you called home. May your descendants, robust and many-eyed, ever flourish, and may your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained.” 

“That was... that was... beau’iful!” cried Hagrid, and he collapsed onto the compost heap, weeping with shuddering breaths. 

“Come now, Hagrid,” said Slughorn, covering the grave with a massive pile of earth with a wave of his wand. “Let’s get you inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, Harry. That’s it. Up you come, Hagrid. Well done.” 

They deposited Hagrid, with a great deal of effort, in a chair at his table. His boar-hound, Fang, who had skulked in his basket during the burial, now came padding softly across to them. He lay his massive head across Harry’s legs as he often did. Slughorn opened a bottle of wine with a pronounced “pop!” 

“It’s all been tested for poison,” Slughorn assured them, filling one of Hagrid’s bucket-sized mugs with the first bottle. “I had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert.” 

“A tankard for young Harry,” said Slughorn, dividing a second bottle between two mugs, “And one for me. Well,” he raised his drink in salute, “to the late, lamented Aragog.” 

“To Aragog,” said Hagrid and Harry together. 

Raising their cups to their lips, Slughorn and Hagrid drank deeply. Harry, however, prodded by Felix Felicis, knew that he must not drink. Instead, he pretended to take a polite sip and then set the mug back on the table before him. 

“Raised him from an egg,” said Hagrid morosely. “Tiny little thing he was, yeh know, when first he hatched.’ No bigger than a Pekingese.” 

“How sweet,” said Slughorn. 

“He lived in me cupboard up at the school until—” 

Hagrid’s expression fell, and Harry knew he was remembering when Tom Riddle had contrived to have young Hagrid blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets and thrown out of school. Slughorn, however, did not seem to be paying too much attention; he was looking up at the ceiling, from which several brass pots hung, and also a long, silky skein of bright white hair. 

“Hagrid, that’s never unicorn hair?” 

“That? Aye,” Hagrid said casually. “They catch their tails on branches an’ whatnot in the forest, yeh see...” 

“But my dear fellow, do you know how much that’s worth, for potions or wand-making? All sorts of applications?” 

“Dead useful stuff,” said Hagrid, shrugging. “I use it fer bindin’ bandages if a creature gets injured. It’s powerful strong, see.” 

His eyes moving carefully around the cabin, Slughorn took another deep draught from his mug. He was looking, Harry knew, for more treasures that he might be able to convert into all of his favourite little luxuries. He kept Hagrid’s mug filled along with his own. Slughorn questioned the groundskeeper on the forest and its creatures. He marvelled at how Hagrid was able to look after them all. Expansive under the influence of drink and Slughorn’s attention, Hagrid stopped mopping his eyes and entered happily into a lengthy discourse on bowtruckle husbandry. 

After a nudge from the Felix Felicis, Harry noticed that Slughorn and Hagrid’s supply of drink was quickly running out. He had not yet managed to bring off the Refilling Charm nonverbally. But tonight? With Felix as his ally? Harry grinned to himself as, unnoticed by the others, he pointed his wand under the table and made a complex motion. The emptying bottles immediately began to refill. 

An hour or so into their cups, Slughorn and Hagrid began toasting more extravagantly: to the headmaster, to the school, to elf-made wine, and to — 

“To Harry!” hollered Hagrid, slopping wine down his chin as he drained it. 

“Yes, indeed,” cried Slughorn a little thickly, “The Boy Who Chose, erm, Chosen Lived— how does it go, now?”  

Soon after, Hagrid became tearful again and presented Slughorn with the whole bundle of unicorn hair. Slughorn pocketed it quickly, crying out, “To colleagues! To generous friends! To ten galleons a hair!” 

And for a time after that, Hagrid and Slughorn sat side by side, arms linked, drinking deeply. Almost as an afterthought, Slughorn straightened, and his eyes closed. He began to sing, an old Welsh lullaby, in a clear, ringing tenor that filled Hagrid’s cottage with its ancient melody.

 

Huna'n dawel, heno, huna,

Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun;

Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu,

Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun?

Ai angylion fry sy’n gwenu,

Arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon,

Tithau'n gwenu'n ôl dan huno,

Huno'n dawel ar fy mron?

 

Seeming to sober himself, he repeated the verse, this time in English, as Hagrid wept brokenly.

 

Here tonight I tightly hold you

And enfold you while you sleep,

Why, I wonder, are you smiling

Smiling in your slumber deep?

Are the angels on you smiling

And beguiling you with charm,

While you also smile, my blossom,

In my bosom soft and warm?

 

“Ah, why must the good die young?” muttered Hagrid, slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn gave voice to the final verse, his song soaring with a delicacy that entranced even Harry, so at odds was it with his usual bluster.

 

Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen

Gura, gura ar y ddôr;

Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig

Sua, sua ar lan y môr;

Huna blentyn, nid oes yma

Ddim i roddi iti fraw;

Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes.

Ar yr engyl gwynion draw.

 

“Me dad, an’ yer mum an’ dad, Harry, they were no age ter go...” 

Hagrid wept, great fat tears oozing out of the corners of his crinkled eyes; he grasped Harry by the arm. 

“Best wizard and witch o’ their age I ever knew... terrible thing... terrible thing... terrible,” Hagrid muttered, and his great shaggy head rolled sideways onto his arms. He soon fell asleep, snoring deeply. 

 

Have no fear now, leaves are knocking,

Gently knocking at our door;

Have no fear now, waves are beating,

Gently beating on the shore.

Sleep, my darling, none shall harm you

Nor alarm you, never

And beguiling those on high.

 

Slughorn grew silent, and the pensive moment stretched out a long while before Harry finally spoke.

“He was talking about the murder of my parents,” said Harry quietly. 

“My,” said Slughorn, with a muffled sigh. “Oh, dear. Yes, that was — was terrible indeed.” 

Slughorn resorted to refilling their mugs while he gathered his scattered thoughts. “I don’t suppose you remember it, Harry?” he asked haltingly. 

“No — well, I was still an infant when they were murdered,” said Harry, choosing his words for maximum impact, his eyes transfixed by the flame of the flickering candle in front of Hagrid on the table. “I’ve found out more or less what happened. My father was killed first. Did you know that?”

“I — I didn’t,” said Slughorn in a choked voice.

 “Yes. Voldemort murdered him, and then he stepped toward my mum, right over my dad’s body,” Harry said. 

Slughorn could not tear his horrified gaze from Harry’s emotionless face. 

“He told me she needn’t have died. He only wanted me,” Harry continued remorselessly. “He told her to move out of his way. She could have left me, but she wouldn’t.” 

“She could have...” breathed Slughorn. “She needn’t... This is awful!” 

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked coldly. His voice was nearly a whisper. “You see, she wouldn’t move. He’d already killed my father, but she didn’t want him to kill me, too. When she tried to plead for my life, he laughed.” 

Enough!” exclaimed Slughorn, raising a shaking hand. “My dear boy, enough. I’m an old man. I don’t need to hear— I don’t want to hear—” 

“Of course, I forgot,” lied Harry, Felix Felicis guiding his words. “You liked my mother, didn’t you, Professor?” 

“Liked her? Everyone liked Lily Evans,” Slughorn said, his eyes shining with tears. “I can’t imagine anyone who met her not! Very brave, very funny, so full of joy and life.” 

“Voldemort put an end to that, and to her. Now you refuse help to her son,” Harry said, allowing a note of disappointment into his voice at last. “She gave her life for me, but you won’t give just one memory.” 

Harry held the Potions master’s tear-filled eyes with his own, refusing to look away. 

“You don’t realise what you’re asking of me. It’s not a question— If it were to help you, of course— But now, it could serve no purpose—” Slughorn stammered.

“It can serve a purpose, Professor,” said Harry clearly. “Voldemort’s not done with me yet. I need information.” 

He knew he was safe: Felix told him Slughorn would recall little of this by morning. Harry leaned forward. 

“I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. And I need your help.” 

Slughorn blanched, his forehead shining with sweat. “You truly are the Chosen One?”

 “Who else could it be?” Harry retorted calmly. 

“You’re asking me to aid you in your attempt to destroy —” 

“You don’t want to destroy the wizard who killed Lily Evans?” 

“Harry, of course I do! But —”

“You’re scared Voldemort will find out you’ve helped me.”

Too overcome to even flinch at Voldemort’s name, Slughorn said nothing, clearly terrified. 

“My mother would want you to be brave, Professor.” 

Slughorn raised a hand and pressed his shaking fingers to his mouth; he looked for a moment like an enormously overgrown child. 

“I am not a proud man. Vain, I suppose, but not proud,” he whispered through his fingers. “I’m ashamed of this memory, and I admit that now. I fear I did great damage that day.” 

“You have a chance to be brave tonight,” Harry urged him softly. “It would be a courageous and noble thing to do. It’s what Lily would do.” 

Harry saw Slughorn flinch at his mother’s name. 

Slughorn and Harry continued to stare at each other over the guttering candle. Hagrid twitched in his sleep but snored on. There was a long silence, but Felix Felicis urged Harry not to break it, to wait. 

“You must think very little of me, Harry,” Slughorn said, sounding much more sober and thoughtful than before. “Like my little speech for Hagrid’s spider friend. And my weaknesses, and being in Slytherin. You must think very little of me indeed. But please remember, I’ve taught every student who came into my Potions room. Muggle-born to Sacred Twenty-Eight. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw. Even Gryffindors like you and your father, who mocked my house and mocked me.” 

Reluctant but resolved, Slughorn reached into his pockets and withdrew his wand and a small, empty, crystal bottle. 

“I meant what I said outside earlier, Harry. About Hagrid and his spider. I know I am a figure without dignity in my bearing and appearance. But just because I came looking for advantage doesn’t mean I have no feelings, no heart, no soul. I never met anyone who didn’t love your mother, Harry, but that doesn’t mean my care for her was any less.” 

With his wand hand steady even as the rest of him shivered and shuddered in exhausted fear, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple. With it, he withdrew a long, shimmering thread of memory. The memory stretched, longer and longer, until at last it parted and clung, silvery bright, to his wand. Slughorn lowered the memory into the bottle where it coiled and spread, swirling like mist. He corked the bottle and then slid it across the table with a trembling hand toward Harry. 

Absent friends,” Slughorn murmured.

Absent friends. Thank you, Professor.” 

Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down his round, ruddy cheeks into his walrus moustache, said, “You’re a good boy, Harry. You have terrible things ahead of you yet, I fear. Just try not to judge too harshly once you’ve seen it.” 

Exhausted at last, Slughorn laid his head on his arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep alongside Hagrid.

 

Harry could feel the comforting glow of Felix Felicis fading away as he crept back into the castle. The front door remained unlocked, but on the third floor, he met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection. By the time he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulled off his cloak, he was unsurprised to find her less than helpful. 

“Oh, yes? Do you realise the hour, boy?”

“I’m sorry! It was terribly important, I promise!” 

“Well, passwords change at midnight. I suppose you’ll have to sleep in the corridor.” 

“You’re joking!” said Harry. “Who decided to have the password change at midnight?” 

The Fat Lady groused, “Tightened security. If you’re angry, go take it up with the headmaster.” 

“Fantastic,” Harry said bitterly. “Brilliant. I would take it up with Dumbledore if he was here. He’s the one who told me to —” 

“Professor Dumbledore is here,” a voice behind Harry said. “He returned about an hour ago.” 

Nearly Headless Nick was gliding down the corridor toward Harry, his head unsteady as usual upon his ruff. 

“I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive,” said Nick. “He appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little tired, of course.” 

“Do you know where he is?” Harry asked, his heart racing. The fading, guttering light of Felix Felicis showed him one dimly glowing thread ahead of him, one lucky path still worth pursuing. 

“Oh, he’s groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, a favourite pastime of his —” 

“Not the Bloody Baron — Dumbledore!” 

“Oh — in his office, I believe,” Nick said. “From what the Baron told me, the Headmaster has business to attend to before turning in —” 

“Yes, he has,” said Harry, hope flaring at the prospect of telling Dumbledore he had secured the memory and finally getting the old man off his back. He wheeled about and dashed off again, ignoring the Fat Lady calling after him. 

“Wait! I was only annoyed that you woke me up! The password is still ‘intrepid’!” 

Notes:

While I was tinkering under the hood, I decided to do some work on Slughorn's characterisation. In addition to his laughable exaggerations, he now has a more-explicitly tender heart, and a beautiful singing voice.

The song, Suo Gân, is a traditional and beautiful Welsh lullaby. You can find info, the translation I chose, and a link to Welsh songstress Charlotte Church performing the song here: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/suo-gan-lullaby.html

In other changes, Harry was given a bit more edge, using Felix Felicis more ruthlessly and being harder on Slughorn in their scene together at the end.

Hagrid was made somewhat less comic and pathetic, and but still heartbroken.

Finally, Ron fails his apparition test FOR A REASON, and not just to keep him down.

Chapter 46: Horcrux of the Problem

Summary:

Harry and Dumbledore explore the memory of Horace Slughorn.

Discussion of Horcruxes (important departures from the original books)

Dumbledore and Harry move closer to an understanding.

Harry and Hermione share an awkward moment.

Ron studies Go.

Chapter Text

46. Horcrux of the Problem

 

Harry was hurtling back along the corridor, and within minutes, he was saying “toffee éclairs” to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s Office. The stone figure leapt aside, and Harry bounded onto the spiral staircase. 

“Enter.”

Dumbledore sounded exhausted. When Harry pushed the door open, he found Dumbledore’s office looking the same as ever but for the black, star-strewn skies beyond the windows. 

“Good gracious,” said Dumbledore in surprise. “Harry, what brings you here at this very late hour?” 

“We’ve got it. I have Slughorn’s memory.” 

Harry showed Dumbledore the tiny glass bottle. For a moment, the headmaster was amazed. Then a broad smile split his beard. 

“This is spectacular, Harry! I knew you could do it! So very well done, indeed!” 

Forgetting the lateness of the hour, the white-haired wizard hurried around his desk with Slughorn’s memory and strode to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve. 

Moving the stone basin to his desk, he emptied the contents of the bottle into it. Dumbledore said, “Now, we shall see at last. Come, Harry, quickly.” 

Harry, both excited and nervous, tipped his face into the Pensieve. His feet left the floor, and once again, he fell through darkness. He descended in the warm lamplight of Professor Slughorn’s office many years before. 

There was Slughorn, much younger, with his shiny hair thick and straw-coloured and his gingery-blond moustache. He was sitting as Harry had often seen him in the present, in his comfortable winged armchair. His feet rested upon a velvet pouffe, he held a small glass of wine in one hand, and the other rummaged in a box of crystallised pineapple. A half-dozen teenage boys gathered close to Slughorn. In their centre sat Tom Riddle, the gold-and-black ring from Marvolo gleaming on his hand. 

“Sir,” Riddle asked as Dumbledore arrived alongside Harry, “is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?” 

“Heavens, Tom! I couldn’t tell you if I knew,” Slughorn said, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, with a broad wink revealing the truth of the matter. “I have to admit, though, I often wonder where you get your information, my boy. I’m curious if your sources aren’t nearly as good as my own!” 

Though Slughorn’s voice was jovial, Harry spotted the legitimate curiosity behind the question and was sure Riddle did as well. Riddle just smiled blandly. The other boys chuckled among themselves and cast him admiring looks.

“Between your careful flattery of the people with influence — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, my favourite since I was a boy—” 

Riddle’s gang of hangers-on tittered again at this. 

“—and your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, you should look at a career in politics, my boy. I’m confident you could rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep indulging my fondness for this pineapple. I have, you understand, many well-placed contacts within the Ministry.” 

As the others laughed again, Tom Riddle merely smiled. Harry noticed that Riddle was not the oldest or the biggest of his group of boys but that they all seemed to defer to him as their leader. Riddle’s smile never reached his eyes, Harry saw. 

“I don’t know, sir,” Riddle said when the laughter had died away. “I don’t have the right background, as I understand.” 

A couple of the boys smirked at each other, enjoying a private joke. Harry imagined this stemmed from what they knew—or suspected—regarding their leader’s famous ancestor. 

“Nonsense,” Slughorn said briskly, “I’ve never been wrong about a student yet, and it couldn’t be plainer you come from solid Wizarding stock. Abilities like yours? Yes, you’ll go far, my boy.” 

A small, golden clock on Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven o’clock, and he looked up, startled. 

“Is it that time already? Good gracious, you’d better be going, boys, or we’ll all be in trouble. And Lestrange, don’t forget I need your essay by tomorrow, or it’s detention. Avery? You as well.” 

The boys filed out one by one as Slughorn rose with some effort from his wingback chair and carried his empty glass toward his desk. Something made him look around, and he was surprised to see Riddle still standing there. 

“Of you go, Tom. Can’t have you caught out of bed past hours, and you a prefect.” 

“Professor Slughorn, sir, there is something I’ve wanted to ask you.”

“Well, then, m’boy, ask what you wish.”

“Sir, I wondered what you could tell me— about Horcruxes?” 

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass. 

“Project for Defence Against the Dark Arts, is it?” 

Slughorn, Harry could see, knew perfectly well that this was not a school-related question. 

“Not precisely,” Riddle admitted with calculated chagrin. “It’s a term that I came across in my reading. I thought to ask you, sir, as I didn’t understand it fully myself.” 

“I should think not. I can’t imagine you’d find a book at Hogwarts that could give you details on Horcruxes, Tom. Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” Slughorn said. 

“But a wizard like you, you obviously know all about them. If you can’t tell me, well—I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could. I just thought I’d ask.” 

Harry thought, That was well done, the casual tone, the careful flattery, just hesitant enough, not overdone. Harry himself had had too much experience trying to coax information out of reluctant people not to recognise a master of the craft. Riddle clearly wanted this information very, very much. Perhaps he had laid the groundwork for this moment for some time. 

“Well, it can’t hurt for me to give you an overview,” Slughorn said, fiddling with the ribbon on the top of his box of crystallised pineapple. He did not look Riddle in the eye. “Just so that you understand the term, I mean. A Horcrux is an object in which a wizard has concealed a part of their soul.” 

Riddle’s voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement. “I don’t quite understand yet how that works, sir.”

“Well, a wizard splits their soul, you see,” said Slughorn, “and hides part of it in an object outside their own body. In that situation, even if the body is attacked, or even destroyed, they cannot truly die. A part of the soul remains undamaged, bound still to this world. But to exist in such a form, of course...” 

Slughorn’ shuddered, his face pale. 

Harry remembered the words he had heard nearly two years before. “I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost... but still, I was alive.”

“Few would want it, Tom," Slughorn continued soberly. "Very few. Rather death than such a part-life.” 

But Riddle’s expression was greedy. His hunger now apparent, he could no longer conceal his longing. 

“Yes, but how? How could you go about splitting a soul?” 

“You must understand,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “the soul is supposed to remain whole and intact. Thus, splitting it is a violation against nature.” 

“Magic is by definition against nature,” muttered Riddle dismissively. “But the question is how to accomplish it?” 

“An act of evil, Tom. The supreme act of evil—murder, foul murder of an innocent. Such an act damages the soul. Foul murder sunders the soul, and the wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the moment to enclose the torn portion, you see—” 

“Enclose, yes, but how?” 

“There is a spell that—do not ask me,” said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. “I don’t know, I don't know! Do I look like a killer? Do you imagine I've tried it?” 

“Of course not, no, sir,” said Riddle quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend. I'm sorry.” 

“Not offended,” said Slughorn gruffly. “Not at all. It’s natural to feel some curiosity about these things, I suppose. Wizards of a certain calibre have always been drawn to these aspecta of magic.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Riddle. He went on, though more to himself than to the increasingly horrified professor. “But how much use would one Horcrux be? Why only split your soul once? Wouldn’t it make you stronger to have more pieces? The most magically powerful number is seven, so wouldn’t seven — ?” 

“Seven! Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped Slughorn, causing Riddle to look up from his musing. “Seven? To think of killing one person, is that not horrifying enough? Terrible enough to divide a soul, but to sunder it into seven pieces, what life could that be?” 

Slughorn was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, deeply troubled now. Harry could tell that he regretted entering into the conversation at all. 

“Of course,” muttered Slughorn, “this is all hypothetical, what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic.” 

“Of course, sir,” Riddle replied quickly. He was too good a liar to have lied so poorly here. It was a threat. He obviously wanted Slughorn to know, or at least to suspect, just how dangerous he was becoming. 

“But all the same, Tom, do keep this quiet—what I’ve told you — that’s to say, our purely speculative discussion. Most people wouldn’t care to learn we’ve been talking about Horcruxes. Dumbledore’s particularly fierce about it. It’s a banned subject at Hogwarts at present.” 

“Oh, I won’t say a word, Professor,” Riddle assured him glibly, and he left. As he turned to go, Harry glimpsed his face, full of that same feral joy as when Riddle had first been told that he was a wizard. It did not enhance his handsome features but instead made them, somehow, less human.

“Thank you, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly, clearly shaken to have confirmed at least part of what he had suspected. “I believe we have seen enough.” 

When Harry returned to the office floor, Dumbledore was already at his desk. Harry sat as well and waited for Dumbledore to speak. 

“I must thank you, Harry, again, for I have been striving to possess this piece of evidence for a very long time,” Dumbledore said at last. “The theory on which I have been proceeding is now confirmed. It tells me that I am correct yet also how very far there remains to go.” 

Harry noticed suddenly that every one of the former headmasters and headmistresses, in their portraits around the walls, was awake and listening closely to their conversation. A corpulent, rednosed wizard had even taken out an ear trumpet, leaning intently towards them. 

“Harry,” Dumbledore, said “I am sure you now understood the significance of what we have just heard. Tom Riddle was, at about the same age as you are now, learning all he could about how to make himself immortal.” 

“He succeeded then?” asked Harry. “He went ahead and made a Horcrux? That’s how Voldemort survived after he attacked me and my parents, isn’t it? He had a Horcrux hidden somewhere, so a bit of his filthy soul was safe. Now it starts to make sense.” 

“A bit? Perhaps,” said Dumbledore. “You heard him yourself. What did he particularly want from Horace? He wanted an opinion on what might happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux. What would be the result for the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be willing to murder many times, to rend his soul repeatedly, to encase the fragments in many, separately-concealed Horcruxes? There was no book, no history that could give Tom that information. As far as I, and Voldemort himself, knew, no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in two.” 

Harry nodded silently. It fit with everything he had seen himself of Voldemort. 

Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts, and then continued, “It was four years ago that I received what I considered the first proof that Voldemort had indeed split his soul.” 

“You did?” asked Harry. “What was it?” 

“You handed it to me yourself,” Dumbledore said. “Riddle’s diary, the one containing instructions on how to reopen the Chamber of Secrets.” 

“The shade of Riddle,” said Harry, his voice thick with revulsion and realisation. “The shadow that lived on in the diary.” 

“Indeed. After that incident, what you described to me was a phenomenon I had never heard of in my many years of study. A mere memory, able to act and think for itself? Worse still, sapping the life out of a student into whose hands it had fallen? Impossible, a word I do not use lightly. Something much more sinister was alive inside that diary, Harry, a fragment of Voldemort’s soul. I was certain the diary had been a Horcrux. But this raised a good number of questions. What alarmed me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon, not just as a safeguard.” 

“I still don’t understand,” Harry said. 

“Consider how events unfolded up until your brave intervention. The diary had worked as a Horcrux is supposed to: the fragment of soul concealed inside it survived and had undoubtedly played some part in preventing the true death of its owner. And yet, there could be no doubt that Riddle wanted that diary to be read. He wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess someone so that Slytherin’s monster would be unleashed again.” 

“Well, he didn’t want his hard work unappreciated,” Harry said. “He must have desperately wanted people to know ‘Lord Voldemort’ was Slytherin’s heir after he couldn’t take credit originally.” 

“Very perceptive,” agreed Dumbledore, nodding eagerly. “But don’t you see that if he wanted the diary passed to some future Hogwarts student, he was remarkably careless with that precious fragment of his soul concealed within it. The entire point of a Horcrux, as Professor Slughorn explained to Tom, is to keep a part of the self hidden, not to throw it into someone else’s path, to run the risk they might discover it, or even destroy it — as you were so fortunately able to do. In doing so, you saw to it that the particular fragment of soul from the diary is no more.” 

Harry leaned back in his chair, mulling over what Dumbledore’s words meant. He understood now the consternation Dumbledore must have felt from the whole incident with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. 

“The blasé way in which Voldemort treated this Horcrux was most unsettling to me.” Dumbledore was speaking lower and more quickly as if reflecting the pace of his thoughts at the time. “It suggested quite ominously that he must have made — or have been planning to make — more Horcruxes. Only then would the loss of his first not be so detrimental. I did not, and still do not, wish to believe it, but nothing else seemed to make sense.” 

“The night Voldemort returned to his body,” Harry said as he recalled Voldemort’s dramatic speech.” What did he say to his Death Eaters? ‘I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.’ He was talking about Horcruxes. Multiple Horcruxes.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “Just so. You never were stupid, Harry. ‘Further than anybody,’ though the Death Eaters did not know what that meant, I believed I did. He referred to Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever contemplated. Yet it fits: Lord Voldemort has grown visibly less human with the passing years, and the transformation he has undergone, both externally and internally, seemed to me to be only explicable if his soul was mutilated beyond any commonplace definition of evil.” 

“That’s his plan? He’s been murdering other people to make himself impossible to kill?” said Harry. “Why not make a Philosopher’s Stone if he was such a great wizard? Why not steal one if he was so obsessed with immortality?” 

“We know, of course, that he tried to do so during your first year here at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore. “I can think of several reasons that a Philosopher’s Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to the self-styled Lord Voldemort.” 

Dumbledore went to steeple his fingers, but as he raised his damaged hand, he grimaced for just a moment, a tight expression crossing his face so briefly Harry might have easily missed it before he continued. 

“The Elixir of Life extend one’s natural span, but it must be consumed regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain their immortality. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. He would not desire to be entirely dependent on the Elixir, for if he should run out or somehow lose the Stone, he would die just like any other man. I believe the thought of being dependent on anything, even Elixir, would be intolerable to him. Oh, yes, he was prepared to risk exposing himself for the Elixir if it would relieve him of the horrible part-life to which he had been condemned after attacking you, but only to regain a physical body. If only he could regain a human form, I am convinced, he intended to continue to rely on his Horcruxes. He was already as close to immortal as any man can be.”

 

“So, what do we do now?” Harry was speaking the words before he realised that he was speaking of them, he and Dumbledore, together. The monstrousness of Voldemort’s actions, and the very long game the dark wizard had been playing, made Harry reconsider some of Dumbledore’s callousness. His distance, the coldness of his actions which had so enraged Harry in years past, might be better seen now as careful moves on a much larger, more dangerous chessboard than Harry had previously known he occupied. He’d still never forgive Dumbledore for the Dursleys, but he at least understood now where the headmaster’s focus had been. 

“But now, armed with the crucial memory you have succeeded in procuring for us, Harry, we are further along the path to finishing Lord Voldemort than anyone ever before. Recall his words, Harry. ‘Wouldn’t it make you stronger to have more pieces? The most magically powerful number is seven…’ Seven, you note. Yes, I think Lord Voldemort would find great appeal in the idea of a seven-part soul.” 

“He killed seven times and made seven Horcruxes,” murmured Harry with horrified fascination, while the portraits on the walls made noises of shock and outrage. “But where would he hide them? What would he consider safe? They could be anywhere, a grain of sand on a beach with a billion more.” 

“You begin to appreciate the magnitude of our challenge, I see,” Dumbledore said calmly. “But first, an important correction. Not seven Horcruxes, Harry, but six. The seventh and final part of his shredded, shrivelled, evil soul resides inside his regenerated body. The seventh part of him survived, living a shadow existence during his many years of banishment. Without that tattered fragment, he has no proper self at all. That seventh piece of soul that lives in his body will be the last that anyone wishing to kill Voldemort must attack.” 

“Still,” said Harry, a little desperately, “how are we supposed to find six Horcruxes?” 

“Consider your own actions, Harry. You have already destroyed one Horcrux. And I have destroyed another.” 

“You have?” asked Harry. 

“Yes, indeed,” Dumbledore said, raising his blackened, burned-looking hand briefly. “Marvolo’s ring, you remember? He had laid a terrible curse upon it, I must say. Were it not for my own not-inconsiderable skills—and Professor Snape’s timely action when I returned, desperately injured, to Hogwarts — I might not have survived its destruction. However, a crippled hand does not seem like an unreasonable exchange for a seventh-part of Voldemort’s soul. The ring is no longer a Horcrux.” 

“He must have hidden it. How did you manage to locate it?”

“I have made it my business for many years now to discover as much as I can about Voldemort’s past. I have travelled widely, visiting those places he once knew. Searching carefully through the ruin of the Gaunts’ house, I found Marvolo’s ring concealed there. Voldemort, it seems, no longer wished to wear it once it contained a sliver of his soul sealed inside it. In the filthy remains of the shack where his ancestors once lived, I found it protected by many powerful enchantments. The idea that I might one day take the trouble to visit the ruin must never have occurred to him, much less that I might be keeping an eye open for traces of magical concealment.” 

“Four Horcruxes remaining,” Harry mused. “So, what can we learn of his thinking from where he hid the previous two? And might they be anything? They could be empty potion bottles, old empty tins, well, anything.” 

“If he were making Portkeys, Harry, which must be ordinary objects, easy to overlook, that might be so. But would the wizard who created the title of ‘Lord Voldemort’ use old potion bottles or tin cans to guard his own precious soul? You forget what I have shown you.” 

“He liked to collect trophies,” Harry said suddenly. “The things he’d stolen, his father’s ring—” 

“—And he coveted objects with a powerful magical history.” Dumbledore’s ancient face was alight, his eyes burning as he thought through the puzzle of the Horcruxes. “His prideful, almost sentimental attachment to places and people of significance to his own history and that of Hogwarts. His towering ego and unshakable belief in his own superiority. His almost obsessive need to establish for himself a central place in history. All of these together suggest that Voldemort would have chosen his Horcruxes with care, favouring objects worthy of the honour whenever possible.” 

“How was the diary special?” Harry’s mind was also racing, flitting from point to point as he tried to build a vision in his mind of Voldemort’s twisted thinking.

“As you said yourself, the diary proved Tom Riddle was the true Heir of Slytherin. I am certain that Voldemort must have considered it of extreme importance.”

“Have you figured out what they are?” Harry asked. “The other Horcruxes?” 

“We must speculate,” Dumbledore said. “As we’ve discussed, I believe that Lord Voldemort would prefer objects that have a certain grandeur of their own, not merely through association with him or his Horcruxes. I have therefore journeyed back through Voldemort’s past to see if I can find evidence that such artefacts have disappeared around him.” 

“Slytherin’s locket!” said Harry quickly. “And Hufflepuff’s cauldron, missing from their common room!” 

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, excited to see Harry following this thread so quickly, “I would be prepared to wager that Horcruxes three and four were created from those two objects. Assuming, as we did before, that he created a total of six, the remaining two are more of a challenge. However, I should imagine that having secured objects from Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw. An object from each of the four Hogwarts founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort’s imagination. I cannot answer for certain whether he ever managed to find anything of Ravenclaw’s. I am, however, confident that the only known relic of Godric Gryffindor remains safe with me here.” 

Dumbledore gestured to the wall behind him with his blackened hand, where a ruby-encrusted sword reposed within a crystal case. 

“Do you think that’s why he wanted to come back to Hogwarts? To try and find something belonging to the other founders?” Harry pondered, staring at the shining sword.

“Precisely my reasoning,” said Dumbledore. “But that does not advance us much further, unfortunately, as he was turned away without the chance to search the school. Perhaps he somehow managed to do so at another time, though I find it most unlikely. It’s most probable that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting all four founders’ objects. He definitely had two — he may have found three — that is the best we can do for now.” 

“That leaves a sixth Horcrux,” said Harry, “even if he got something of Ravenclaw’s or Gryffindor’s. Unless he managed both somehow?” 

“I don’t believe so,” said Dumbledore. “I am curious as to your reaction when I confess that I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I admit that I am fascinated by the unusual behaviour of the snake, Nagini. A most curious creature.” 

“His snake?” said Harry, startled. “You could use an animal as a Horcrux?”

“It seems unwise,” said Dumbledore, “to entrust a piece of your soul to something that can think and move for itself. However, Voldemort was still at least one Horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your parents’ house intending to kill you, if my calculations are correct.”

“He seems to have desired the process of making Horcruxes from personally significant murders. He must have believed that in killing you, he was destroying any path to his prophesied end. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure, therefore, that he intended to make his final Horcrux with your death.”

“As we know, he failed. After some years, however, when he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, it might have occurred to him at that time to turn her into his final Horcrux. The creature is powerful and dangerous, and she embodies the ties to Slytherin, which enhances Lord Voldemort’s mystique. He certainly is comfortable keeping her close, and he seems as fond of her as he can be of anything, or anyone. Even for a Parselmouth, he seems to have an unusual amount of control over her.” 

“So,” Harry summarised, “the cauldron, the locket, and the snake are still intact, but the diary’s gone, the ring’s gone, and you think there might be a Horcrux that was once Ravenclaw’s, or perhaps Gryffindor’s?” 

“Precisely, yes,” said Dumbledore, nodding. 

“You’re still looking for them. That’s where you’ve been when you’ve been away from the school.” 

“Correct,” said Dumbledore. “I have been searching for a very long time, and I think—perhaps— I may be close to locating another. The signs are hopeful, if I may tread upon Professor Trelawney’s domain.” 

“And when you do locate a Horcrux,” said Harry quickly, “can I come with you and help destroy it?” 

Dumbledore pondered this, looking at Harry very intently for a moment before saying, “Yes, I think so.” 

Harry felt his heart lift. It was excellent not to hear words of caution and protection for once. Maybe Dumbledore was finally ready to acknowledge that Harry had earned his place in this fight. But, unfortunately, the portraits of headmasters and headmistresses surrounding them seemed less impressed by Dumbledore’s decision. A few of them shook their heads, and Phineas Nigellus snorted with disdain. 

“Can he feel it?” Harry asked, ignoring the portraits and thinking of the locket and the diary. “Does Voldemort know somehow when one of his Horcruxes is destroyed?” 

“I asked myself the same question, Harry. Very quick of you. As to the answer, I believe not. It may be that Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of himself have been detached for so long that he does not feel anything as we do. Perhaps, near the point of death, he might be aware of his loss. But he was not aware that you had destroyed the diary until he forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. I am told that when Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, his anger was terrible to behold.” 

“I thought he meant for Lucius Malfoy to smuggle it into Hogwarts all along? What am I missing?” 

“When Voldemort was sure he would be able to create more Horcruxes, that must have been his plan, but Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemort’s order. An order, of course, which of course he never received as Voldemort was banished shortly after giving him the diary.” Dumbledore grinned a humourless grin that Harry recognised from his own experiences foiling Voldemort’s plans. 

“Voldemort must have assumed that Lucius would not dare do anything with the diary other than guard it carefully. But while his master knew the diary’s true power and importance, I doubt very much that he gave Lucius any more information than he needed to accomplish his mission. All Lucius know was that the diary would reopen the Chamber of Secrets, and with his master presumed dead, he lost his fear of Voldemort’s displeasure, much to his later regret, I assure you. So when he planted the diary upon Arthur Weasley’s young daughter, Lucius hoped to both discredit Arthur and rid himself of a highly incriminating magical object in one stroke.” 

After sitting in thought for a moment, Harry asked, “So if we were to destroy all of his Horcruxes, Voldemort would be mortal again?” 

“Logic, the principles of magic, and our dearest hopes all combine upon that point,” said Dumbledore. “Yet we are as always in uncharted waters. I am convinced that Voldemort will be a mortal man with a diminished, wounded soul once his Horcruxes have been destroyed. Remember, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his mind and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon power and skill to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes.” 

“I don’t have uncommon power and skill,” said Harry in frustration. 

“But you have,” said Dumbledore firmly. “You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can —” 

“I can love!” said Harry impatiently. “I know!” With difficulty, he stopped himself from adding, “So what?” 

 Dumbledore, who he knew perfectly well what Harry was thinking, said, “Yes, Harry, you can love. Are you still so young that the miracle of this isn’t clear to you? Given everything you have gone through? Harry, I hope that you might live long enough to understand just how astonishing that is.” 

“Last year,” Harry said, “you said one of us would have to kill the other —” 

“Voldemort made a grave error, Harry. Had he never murdered your father, would you so furiously seek your revenge? No! Had your mother not died at his hand protecting you, would you have the magical protection that frustrated him in his attempt to gain the Stone? Never, Harry! Do you see? As tyrants everywhere do, Voldemort himself created his worst enemy. Tyrants everywhere fear those they oppress. Each of them realises that there is one amongst their victims who shall rise against them and strike back. Voldemort is no different!”

Dumbledore’s voice was passionate, his agitation and excitement clearly evident.

“You must understand,” implored Dumbledore, standing up and pacing about the room, his glittering robes swooshing in his wake; Harry had never seen him so animated. “When he tried to kill you, Voldemort singled out the remarkable young man who sits here tonight and gave him the tools to complete the task! It is his fault that you were able to see into his thoughts or that you understand the Parselmouth with which he gives orders. Yet, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world, a gift any of his Death Eaters would covet, you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts. You’ve never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s followers!” 

“Follow him? Of course I’ve not been tempted to follow him!” Harry gasped indignantly. “He killed my parents! He stole Hermione’s life!”

“Again, you are protected by your ability to love!” said Dumbledore loudly. “No other protection could possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort’s! Despite all the suffering you’ve faced, you remain a good boy—no, a good man. When you looked into the Mirror of Erised, you didn’t see power or riches. Instead, you saw the means to frustrate a powerful and cunning Dark wizard. I could not have hoped to do better myself, Harry. That should have told Voldemort what he was dealing with, but he dismissed you in his frustration!” 

“He must realise it now,” Harry said bitterly. “That’s why he attacked Hermione.” 

“You have slipped into Lord Voldemort’s mind without mortal peril, but he cannot possess you without enduring terrible agony, as he discovered at the Ministry. But, more importantly, I do not think he understands why. I theorise that he was so cavalier to mutilate his own soul, he is poorly disposed to understand the resolute power of a soul that is tried and tested, yet whole.” 

Harry, making a valiant effort not to sound argumentative, said, “But it all comes to the same thing, doesn’t it? I’ve got to try and kill him.” 

“Got to?” said Dumbledore. “Of course you’ve got to! Because you will never rest until you’ve tried!” 

As Harry watched Dumbledore stride up and down in front of him, he reflected on his experiences with Voldemort. He thought of his parents and Sirius, poor, noble Cedric Diggory, and of course Hermione, looking into Harry’s eyes with fear and shock. A flame leapt inside his chest, searing his throat. 

“I want him finished,” said Harry quietly. “And I want to do it.”

 “You see, Harry? Sacrifice, or don’t. The end will be the same, however.” 

“In the end, one of us will kill the other,” said Harry. “Yes.” 

At last, he understood what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. Harry imagined that it was the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into that arena with his head up, defiant and proud. Of course, some might say that there was little to choose between the two ways. Voldemort certainly would have scoffed at the difference, but Dumbledore, and now Harry, knew better. 

 

“You were right, Hermione.” Harry was sitting in his preferred spot in the common room, and Hermione sat across from him. He had slept much of the day through after his encounter with Dumbledore. Now, he was digesting not only his dinner but also what he had learned about the problem of Voldemort and his Horcruxes. 

“I often am,” she said with a slight grin. “Brightest witch of my generation, they keep telling me.” 

He had to smile in return. “Well, I should have listened sooner. The potion was the way to the memory, and the memory was the way to understanding exactly what I am up against.” 

“I’m glad that it’s worked out.” Hermione looked at his face, so deep in thought. “What about Dumbledore? Was he very awful?” 

“About the usual amount, I suppose.” Harry nodded. “I think I understand him much better now. Of course, he’s still a manipulative old git who never should have trusted my useless aunt and her wretched family, but I can see now that he was looking much deeper, much farther into the future than I ever was. If only he had been more open to sharing what he knew and not so quick to make sacrifices. I wonder what he might have been like as a true ally and mentor this whole time.” 

“So, you said you better understand exactly what you’re up against. Meaning Voldemort?” 

“Yes,” Harry’s eyes were dark, his expression tight. “He isn’t just willing to sacrifice; he’s planned on it, counted on it, used it to make himself exactly who he wanted to become. He’s the monster that he is by careful and deliberate choice.” 

Hermione sat for a moment, thinking this over. 

“Well, there’s another clear way you’re different, Harry.” Her voice was soft, almost intimate, as they sat together near the fire, watching some of the younger students heading up to bed. 

“How do you mean?” 

“When you’ve made choices that I might consider... darker... it’s been in the heat of the moment or by mistake. When you make plans, they’re about avoiding those same kinds of sacrifices, those darker choices.” She stood and stretched unselfconsciously. 

Watching her, in the firelight, as her arms went up over her head with a yawn, and her clothes rode up to reveal a pale crescent of flesh between jumper and jeans, Harry had a momentary pang of remembered desire. It caught him by surprise since he had not had, had not allowed himself to have, feelings like that towards Hermione for a long time. His blood stirred, and he was embarrassed to find himself becoming aroused. 

Bloody hell, Harry thought. Where did that come from all of a sudden? 

“Are you coming up to bed?” 

“Am I, erm, sorry?” Harry’s tongue was thick in his mouth, his brain slow and suddenly heated. 

“I didn’t get to say goodnight to Ronald,” she continued, apparently oblivious to his discomfort. “If he’s still awake, please tell him that I said good night, and I’ll see you both in the morning.” 

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” 

“Goodnight, then.” 

As she walked away, he noticed that her bum was a little fuller in her jeans, a little curvier than he remembered. Her training had made some nice changes to the body he could so clearly still remember holding, touching—

“Fuck,” he said quietly as she disappeared up the stairs to her dormitory. He shook his head. 

“I really, really need to get away from here for a break,” he said, gathering his things and heading to his own room. 

Ron was reading his book about the game of Go, which he’d been slowly working through when he could find the time. It was similar to chess in that it was strategic, but while it seemed a more straightforward game, it was, in fact, far more complex in its execution. Sighing when Harry came in, Ron put his bookmark in place and laid the book down. 

“Oi, oi,” Ron said quietly, as their roommates were already sleeping. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, getting ready for bed. Thankfully his body was back under control, and his somewhat awkward situation had resolved itself. He slid into his bed. 

“Did you see Hermione? Before you came up?” Ron’s voice carried softly between their beds as Harry put out his light. 

“She went to bed,” Harry muttered, pulling his blankets around him. 

“Oh, okay. Night, Harry.” 

“Night.”

 Harry’s dreams that night were wild, strange, and best forgotten by morning. 

Chapter 47: Defeats and Victories

Summary:

Lavender and Ron finally break up. Smashingly.

Shacklebolt changes Tonks's assignment.

Vinegar into wine, and snow in the classroom.

Luna's looking for love. Good. (Sorry!)

Susan lays out some truth for Hermione.

Katie Bell returns.

Harry has an encounter in the toilets. No, not like that!

Notes:

I had NO IDEA how much fun I would have writing from Lavender Brown's POV! Damn, I should have done this sooner, instead of so near the end. So much lost potential. *sigh*

Also, Ron shows some depth and compassion here. He's not the prick he seemed in. the films when it comes to women- he's just an inexperienced teen dealing with a lot of shit.

Author's Note (Killjoy):
This was the final chapter to which Waske made significant contributions directly to the text, though his work on the outline and his earlier work obviously echoes through the rest of the series. If you enjoy what follows, we both thank you. If you see a terrible turn for the worse, I take full responsibility and ask you to not place any blame on my co-author.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

47. Defeats and Victories

 

The previous day, Lavender Brown had been looking for Hermione. Not for any sinister reason, not for anything serious. Parvati had lost a hair-clip, and they wanted to check with Hermione before searching around her bed and trunk, looking for it. She was being courteous. 

That was before she saw Ron and Hermione. Leaving the boys’ dormitories. Together. 

She knew this was coming. Oh, not this, precisely. But ever since Christmas, it had become increasingly clear that whatever had brought her and Ron together had been cooling. He was distracted, and she was dissatisfied. Not with him as a person, just as a boyfriend. The physical spark was there. Despite his somewhat lanky appearance, he was solid and robust, and he kissed like nobody’s business. 

Lately, though, he had spent far more time over his chessboard or trying to get someone to play Go with him or even studying. Studying! Ron Weasley? One of the things she had found attractive about Ron was his casual approach to life, and lately, he was always so serious. He probably just didn’t have the bollocks to break up with her. And now here he was, walking down from his bedroom, with Hermione Granger. Harry’s ex, Hermione Granger. Her roommate, Hermione Granger. “She’s just a friend,” Hermione Granger. Lavender was humiliated. 

“What were you doing up there? With her?” She couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of her voice, but at least she wasn’t shouting. She knew her voice was her biggest weakness. She often sounded desperate, angry, condescending. So the fact that she was feeling emotions not instantly apparent in her voice at this moment would nearly have been a triumph under other circumstances. 

Hermione looked away, awkwardly, as Ron spluttered something about things not being what they appeared. Lavender half expected the room to drop to dramatic silence, but instead, she heard Ginny and Dean Thomas coming into the common room from the corridor and some first-years talking about flying lessons. Not even her humiliation could get a proper dramatic tone, she thought. 

“Hermione,” Lavender said, cutting off Ron’s mumbling, “Parvati had a question for you about something she’s lost. Could you please excuse Ron and me for a moment?” 

Hermione nodded awkwardly. She skirted around Lavender and up the stairs towards their room, her eagerness betraying a desire to be out of the line of fire. 

Ron, finally meeting her eyes, said glumly, “Lavender, we need to talk.” 

“Gosh, do you think?” She sighed and took his hand. She led him to a far, quiet corner, making the flying first-years scatter with a glance. “Sit.” 

He sat, and she sat near, but not next to, him. “Do you hate me, Ron? Have I done something to make you hate me?” 

“What?” He flushed, tuning red from hairline to collar. “No, not at all, Lavender.” 

“Then why,” she paused, trying to control her voice, “why would you do something like this, humiliate me like this, in front of our entire house? You and I may—or may not—go on together, but these people will be living with us both for another year. And what just happened? That was humiliating.” 

“Really, I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I didn’t think about you, about how it would look, I mean. Hermione is—” 

“Just a friend? I can’t tell if you’re lying to yourself or me.” She felt tears welling in her eyes. It wasn’t fair—he didn’t deserve her tears. “No matter what was or was not going on with you two, the fact that you didn’t think about me, or how it would look, or how it would make me feel, should tell you something, shouldn’t it?” 

He hung his head again. “I didn’t ever mean to hurt you.”

“Not good enough, Ron,” she said, the tears falling now despite her best intentions. “You owe me more than that. Unintentionally hurting me isn’t good enough.” “You’re right, Lavender,” he said. “I don’t think I’m very good for you.” 

She sniffled and took his hand. “You’re not getting off that easy. Don’t put this on me.” “What do you mean?” 

“We both know things have changed. I don’t know what you want, Ron, but clearly, it’s not me. We’ve had fun, and I like you very much, but nothing’s been the same since Boxing Day, at least since then.” 

He smiled a sad smile. “You’re too good for me, see?”

“Bloody right, you manky git,” she laughed, scattering a few tears. 

He reached up and wiped her tears away with surprising tenderness. “Is there anything I can do? I mean, about what happened back there?” 

She made a face and then nodded.

“I’d appreciate it if you don’t ask her out right away.” 

“What, Hermione?” His voice was incredulous, more from habit than from conviction. “I mean, we haven’t—I don’t know—I haven’t asked her... I’m sorry.” 

“Give it a few days. And if anyone asks, we had a blazing row, and you’re right scared of me, okay?” 

He nodded. “Bloody terrified.” 

“Thank you,” she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek quickly. “Don’t forget me.” 

“Never,” he said gratefully. “Hey, before you go?” 

“Yes?” 

“Some of your friends are here. Want to give me a slap?” His eyes sparkled, and for a moment, she wanted him back. 

The moment passed. 

WHACK! 

“And you never forget that, Ron Weasley! Ever!”

 She tried not to smile as she stormed over to the sympathetic embraces of her friends. 

Ron, his face glowing with her handprint, had little trouble ‘pretending’ to be hurt. Lavender was stronger than she looked.

 

Tonks entered Shacklebolt’s office, and she was surprised to see Carmichael already standing in front of Kingsley’s desk. Kingsley was sitting, reading a parchment, and holding a cold cup of tea. He didn’t look up, but he nodded at her as she took her place next to Carmichael. 

“Thanks for coming so quickly. Change of assignment.” Shacklebolt set down his tea and grabbed a quill. He ticked a box on the parchment and sent it zooming on its way out of the office. He looked up at them at last with tired eyes. 

“We’re pulling you two out of the rotation, effective immediately. You are to continue sleeping here, as you are now on call. We want at least one team of experienced Aurors on hand at all times to respond to emergencies, as we’ve become spread too thinly.” 

Carmichael winked to Tonks at the mention of the two of them as “experienced Aurors” but otherwise remained stoic. Tonks just sighed. Too many assignments, too many changes. The lack of routine was itself the new routine, and she did not react well to change, ironically. 

“Tonks, if you could hold back a moment? Carmichael, that is all.” Carmichael hurried out, and Tonks was left, curiously regarding her boss. 

“Unofficial news from the Order,” Shacklebolt said softly. “Dumbledore has put all the members on alert and has modified the fire grate in his Hogwarts office to be accessible to you by the floo network from the ministry, Grimmauld Place, and the Weasleys’ only. I don’t need to tell you that this is for emergencies only and not for sneaking off to visit friends?” 

She scowled. “If you have a problem with the way I do my job, Kingsley, tell me now.” 

He sighed and waved a hand as if to dispel the thought. 

“Just being sure we’re clear, Tonks. I’ve managed to straighten out things for you officially and keep everything out of your service records just in case, but I want to be sure you have your head on straight where it involves the, erm, young man in question.” 

She could tell he had been about to say “boy.” “Understood. Anything else?” 

“Yes,” he smiled thinly at her. “Try to get some food and some sleep, please? Coffee and pepper imps can only fuel a body for so long. If I need you, I’m going to need you at your best. The good news is that we may have help from the Order as well if it comes to an open fight. So go on, get some sleep.” 

“You, too, Boss.” She flicked her wand at his teacup, hotting it up. “And try to drink that while it’s hot, okay?” 

Twelve minutes later, half a sandwich still in her hand, Tonks was sound asleep in a hammock slung between two desks in the Aurors’ workroom.

 

Harry slept for nearly fourteen hours after recovering from his long night and his experience with Felix Felicis. Then, during their next Charms class, he filled in Ron and Susan about everything that had happened with Dumbledore (having first cast the Muffliato spell upon those nearest them). They were both suitably impressed by the way he had coaxed the memory out of Slughorn and quietly awed when he told them about Voldemort’s Horcruxes. 

“I have to hand it to Dumbledore,” Harry said grudgingly. “He finally came through and told me what I needed to know. So maybe games and mysteries time is finally over. That would be a nice change.” 

He watched Hermione, across the room, confidently changing vinegar into wine and back again. She seemed to be keeping her distance from him, or perhaps from Ron. Neither of the boys had been able to talk with Hermione other than a hurried “good morning” at breakfast. But, on the other hand, maybe she was just concentrating extra hard on her lesson. Susan had managed to change vinegar into grape juice, but neither Harry nor Ron had made much progress. 

Ron, waving his wand very vaguely in the direction of the ceiling, was paying no attention to what he was doing. “Yeah, nice change, I suppose.” 

“Ron, you’re making it snow,” said Susan with exasperation. She grabbed his wrist and redirected his wand away from the ceiling, from which large white flakes had started to fall. Hermione, Harry noticed, glanced at Ron from the neighbouring table, and quickly looked away. 

“Oh, sorry,” exclaimed Ron, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise. At the farthest table, Lavender Brown saw what Ron was doing and laughed, nudging her table mates and nodding towards Ron’s snow-speckled hair. 

“We split up,” Ron said suddenly, nodding towards Lavender. “The other night, when she saw me coming out of our dormitory with Hermione? Since she couldn’t see you, she thought it had just been the two of us.” 

“Oh,” Harry commiserated. “Are you sorry that it’s over?” 

“No,” Ron admitted. “It was pretty bad, but at least it’s done. Got a slap, though, pretty good one.” 

“Serves you right,” said Susan, though she looked amused. “You’ve been off each other for ages, about time you did something about it. Your sister and I seem to be back on, by the way. Full speed and clear sailing, whatever.” 

Harry thought Susan was a little too glib as if she was forcing herself to be cheerful. He decided that if there were anything to it, she’d let him know in her own time. She was pretty private about that sort of thing, though. 

“Well, that’s good,” Ron said, “Wasn’t looking forward to a moody breakup from her all summer, I can tell you.” 

“Flitwick,” said Harry in a warning tone. The tiny Charms master was bobbing his way toward them, and only Susan had managed to turn her vinegar into wine. Her glass flask was filled with a light rosé, whereas Harry’s and Ron’s contents were a flat, pale liquid of unknown but decidedly un-wine-like character. Between them, they’d had a long couple of days, however. 

“Now, boys. A little less talk, a bit more action,” squeaked Professor Flitwick reproachfully. “Let me see you try—” 

Together they raised their wands and pointed them at their flasks with intense concentration. Harry’s vinegar turned to wine, but the sour smell wafting from his flask showed that it had nearly turned; Ron’s flask filled with a light Prosecco, which then shot upwards in an eruption of bubbles, spraying them all, including Flitwick, with the sparkling wine. 

“Yes... for homework,” said Professor Flitwick, quickly vanishing the stains from his professor’s robes, “practice. And do please focus, gentlemen.” 

They had a rare free period after Charms and walked to the library together. Despite the events of the previous class, Ron seemed positively lighthearted about the end of his relationship with Lavender, and Hermione was more cheerful too. However, when asked what she was grinning about, she simply said, “It’s a lovely day.” 

She and Susan were soon bent over a book a ways away from the boys. Luna Lovegood came in, and spoke briefly to them, then came over to Ron and Harry. 

“Hullo, boys,” she said. She was barefoot and had grass stains on her jeans. “Have you by any chance seen Neville about?” 

“Erm, no,” Harry said as Ron shook his head. “Not since breakfast. Do you want me to give him a message when I see him?” 

“Oh, please,” Luna smiled, her wide eyes suddenly seizing his gaze. “Would you tell him that papaver Pandorae are growing wild down by the lake?” 

“The flowers?” Ron asked. 

“Yes. They’re dotting the hill across the lake, so lovely. Also, if he fancies a quick shag, I’ll be free after my homework’s finished.” 

Ron and Harry both looked at her in stunned silence. “You won’t forget, will you?” She tilted her head. 

“I would imagine not,” Harry said and watched her nod and walk away. “I thought they broke up?” 

“They did,” Ron said with a shrug. “Must be, what do you call it, complicated.” They shook their heads and got to studying. 

Susan finally got Hermione just to tell her what was on her mind, after repeated promises not to tell “others.” 

“I just can’t stand it,” Hermione confided. “When I heard that Ronald and Lavender had broken up, it made me happy. She’s an adequate roommate, but something about her has set my teeth on edge all this last year.” 

“I can’t imagine what that might be,” Susan said sarcastically. 

“What do you mean?” Hermione looked at her with genuine puzzlement. “Am I a bad person? Is that what no one has told me since my attack, that I’m just a cruel, bitter person who wants to see my best friend heartbroken for no good reason?” 

“Are you serious?” Susan looked at her closely. “You are serious! Humping Hempstocks, Hermione! Do you honestly think we’d all be your friends if you were a bad person?” 

“No?” She sounded uncertain. “But why else would I be happy to see Ronald lose his girlfriend?” 

Susan smiled. “The obvious reason presents itself.” 

Hermione blushed and looked down. 

“I know that Harry and I had a relationship. I mean, everyone says we were in love and that we were... intimate.” She rushed on quietly. “But I’ve never felt so... I mean, I don’t know if these feelings are feelings, or just...” 

“You fancy Ron Weasley,” Susan offered helpfully. 

“That’s the most preposterous thing I have ever heard,” Hermione declared, sneaking a quick look over at the boys and blushing furiously. “Now, do you want my help with this homework or not?” 

She was saved from further cross-examination when Harry cried, “Katie! You’re back! Are you okay?” 

She stared: It was indeed Katie Bell, looking wholly healthy and surrounded by her jubilant friends. They were being shushed and scowled at by others using the library until they saw that it was the popular Gryffindor who had been much missed since her attack. 

“I’m well!” she said happily. “I took a few days at home with Mum and Dad after they let me out of St. Mungo’s on Monday. And then I returned to Hogwarts this morning. Leanne just told me about McLaggen and the last match, Harry. I’m so sorry!” 

“Thanks,” Harry said, “But now that you’re back and Ron’s fit again, we have a good chance of giving Ravenclaw a proper thrashing, which could keep us in the running for the Cup. Listen, Katie—”

He had a question for her that he must ask at once. Then, Katie’s friends started gathering up their things; apparently, they were late for Transfiguration. 

“—that necklace... can you remember who gave it to you now?” 

“No,” Katie said, shaking her head ruefully. “Everyone’s been asking me, but the last thing I remember was stepping into the ladies’ in the Three Broomsticks.” 

“You definitely went into the loo, then?” asked Hermione, pressing forward with Susan and Ron. 

“Well, I pushed open the door,” said Katie. “That much I recall, so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory’s blank until about two weeks ago in St. Mungo’s. Sorry, but I’d better get going; I shouldn't be surprised if McGonagall were to give me lines even if it is my first day back.” 

She caught up her bag and books and hurried after her friends, leaving Harry, Ron, Susan, and Hermione to sit back down at their table and ponder what she had told them. 

“So it must have been a girl who gave Katie the necklace,” said Hermione, “or a woman, to be in the ladies’ bathroom.” 

“Or just someone who looked like a girl or a woman,” Harry said. “Remember, there was a cauldron of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts, and we know someone nicked some.” 

In his mind’s eye, a parade of Crabbes and Goyles, all transformed into girls, pranced past. 

“I’m going to use another taste of Felix,” Harry declared, “and have another go at the Room of Requirement.” 

“A complete waste of potion!” Hermione argued firmly, putting down her copy of Spellman’s Syllabary. “You can only go so far with luck, Harry. Your situation with Slughorn wasn't the same; you could always persuade him; you just needed an opportunity. Luck alone won’t get you through a powerful enchantment, though. Don't give in to that temptation."

“You may need all the luck you can get if Dumbledore agrees to takes you along with him to — you know,” Susan added, dropping her voice to a whisper. 

“Could we make some more?” Ron asked Harry. “I’m looking at two of the best potion students to come through Hogwarts in ages, mate. Have you checked the book?” 

Harry reached into his bag for his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and searched for Felix Felicis

“Blimey, look at this,” he muttered, running an eye down the list of ingredients. “It takes six months. You’ve got to let it age in a slack tub. What’s a slack tub? And this, I don’t even recognise what this ingredient is.” 

“Typical,” said Ron. “Worth a thought, I guess.” 

 

The only Gryffindor who was not wholly thrilled that Katie Bell had returned to school was Dean Thomas, as he would no longer be required to fill in at Chaser. However, he took the blow stoically enough when Harry told him, merely grunting and shrugging. 

Over the following fortnight, Harry saw the best Quidditch practices he had known as Captain. The team was so chuffed to be rid of the unpredictable McLaggen and so glad to at last have Katie back that they were flying exceptionally well. 

Ginny seemed her old self again, the previously missing spark of the team. Her good-natured imitations of Ron anxiously bobbing up and down in front of the goalposts as the Quaffle flew toward him or of Harry bellowing orders at McLaggen before being knocked cold kept them all highly amused. Harry, laughing with the others, noticed that Ron had started making some good suggestions, having finally figured out how to apply his thoughts about strategy and gamesmanship to Quidditch. 

Harry found himself distracted by one thing, though. Susan and Hermione had resumed watching practices together from the stands, theoretically cheering on Ginny (for Susan) and everyone (for Hermione). But, as the weather warmed up, cloaks and heavy coats gave way to sleeveless jumpers and even tee-shirts. More than once, Harry found himself hurrying back to his dormitory after practice to spend some private time with his photograph of his girlfriend, watching Tonks grin and flash her tattoo from the picture frame. More than once, he realised that while he was holding the picture of Tonks in his hands, his thoughts were on the way the sun caught Hermione’s hair, or her flashing smile, or her laugh as she sat with Susan. 

One night, Harry had a vivid and wildly erotic dream of Tonks, laying on a sun-kissed hill surrounded by pale white and yellow poppies as he worshipped her body with his hands and his mouth. He woke to find himself relieved that at least his subconscious knew where his focus should be. But, unfortunately, he also had a painful erection, which neither a quick bit of self-gratification nor a cold shower could completely deflate. 

There were worse problems to have, he supposed. 

The season’s final Quidditch game loomed; Ron wanted to talk tactics with Harry all the time and had little thought for anything else. And every time Harry looked up from his discussions with Ron, Hermione seemed to be watching them. 

Amid all his distractions, Harry had not forgotten his other ambition: to find out what Malfoy was doing in the Room of Requirement. He was still checking the Marauder’s Map often and worked out that Malfoy was still spending plenty of time within the room. So, while Harry was losing hope that he would ever succeed in getting back inside the Room of Requirement, he still attempted it whenever he was in the vicinity. Unfortunately, however, no matter how he worded his request, the wall remained firmly doorless. 

A few days before the Ravenclaw match, Harry found himself walking down to dinner alone from the common room. Hermione had dashed off to see Professor Vector about a mistake she thought she might have made in her last Arithmancy essay, and Ron had hung back to wait for Hermione. So, more out of habit than anything, Harry made his habitual detour through the seventh-floor corridor, checking the Marauder’s Map along the way. For a moment, he could not spot Malfoy anywhere and assumed he must again be inside the Room of Requirement, but then he saw Malfoy’s tiny, labelled dot standing in a boys’ bathroom in the company, not of Crabbe or Goyle, but Moaning Myrtle. 

Harry only stopped staring at this unlikely pairing when he nearly walked right into a suit of armour. Coming to the boys’ bathroom, he pressed his ear against the door. He could not hear anything, so he very quietly pulled the door open. 

Draco Malfoy, his hands clutching either side of the sink, stood with his back to the door, his white-blond head bowed. 

“Don’t,” wheedled Moaning Myrtle from one of the cubicles. “Don’t. Just tell me what’s—” 

“No one can help me,” said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. “I can’t do it. I can’t — it won’t work, and unless I do it soon, he says he’ll kill me.” 

Harry realised with a shock that Malfoy was crying, tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy porcelain. Malfoy gulped and snuffled and then, with a great shudder, looked up. It was then that he saw Harry in the cracked mirror, staring at him from over his shoulder. 

Malfoy spun around, drawing his wand. Harry pulled out his own without a moment’s thought. Malfoy’s hex missed Harry by a hand’s breadth, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, wordlessly casting Levicorpus!, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another — 

“No! Stop it!” cried Moaning Myrtle, her shouts echoing loudly in the tiled room. “Stop! Stop!” 

The bin behind Harry exploded with a loud bang; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse, but it rebounded off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle. She screamed, water poured everywhere, and Harry slipped as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, “Cruci —” 

“—Diffindo!” hissed Harry from the floor, slashing his wand at Malfoy while he rolled to his feet. 

Myrtle shrieked, and Malfoy gasped. Harry pushed his hair back from his eyes to see Malfoy, wand on the floor at his feet, clutching his wrist. Blood spurted from Malfoy’s wrist, arm, and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. A pale sliver of bone was visible, deep in the cut on his arm. Malfoy staggered backwards and collapsed onto the wet floor with a great splash. 

“No —” gasped Harry in horror. 

Staggering and slipping, Harry got to his feet and plunged toward Malfoy. The young Slytherin’s face was shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling weakly at his blood-soaked body. 

“No — I wasn’t —” Harry didn’t know what he was saying as he fell to his knees beside Malfoy. The pale youth was shaking uncontrollably in a rapidly-spreading pool of his own blood. 

Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening shout: “HELP! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!” 

The door opened behind Harry with a crash, and he looked up to see that Professor Snape had burst into the room. His face livid, Snape pushed Harry roughly aside, knelt over Malfoy, and drew his wand. He traced it over the deep wounds that Harry’s curse had made, muttering a delicate incantation that sounded almost like song. The wounds stubbornly reopened as the wand passed, however. The flow of blood seemed impossible, a scarlet fountain, like ink pouring from an ink-pot. 

“Dittany,” Harry said urgently. The water was splashing around him, and the cold feeling of dread as he watched the blood pouring from the magical, un-healing wounds combined to send Harry back to his own worst moment. He could almost hear Leo’s voice whispering in his head, “I’m sorry, Harry. I can make it stop.” 

“Kreacher!” Harry called out suddenly, knowing that his family’s elf would respond even against his will. 

The house-elf appeared with a sharp crack, and the horrific sight wiped the surly scowl from even his face. 

“Essence of Dittany, in the potions kit from my trunk. Now!” Harry sent the elf on his way with another crack of apparition, and Snape looked down his long nose at Harry. 

“What have you done, Potter?” 

Kreacher returned with a tiny bottle, but just a few drops were enough to allow the wounds to finally close, and Snape was able to staunch the bleeding. He took the limp and listless Malfoy in his arms. 

“Forget expulsion. You’ll be in Azkaban for this, Potter,” Snape intoned. 

“I know what Malfoy was doing for his Master,” Harry lied quickly. “And I know you do, too. So maybe we’ll get adjoining cells.” 

Snape scowled at Harry and kicked open the bathroom door. 

“Once Malfoy is in the infirmary, I will look for you in my office.” He looked around the destroyed bathroom. “You might clean this up before someone else decides to investigate.” 

With a swirl of his bat-like cloak, he was gone and Malfoy with him. 

Harry sent Kreacher for Dobby, and he began to clean and repair the bathroom. When Dobby arrived, he brought an enormous supply of towels and a mop. While Dobby and Kreacher repaired the broken tiles and shattered basin, Harry began to scrub the blood from the floor. He could have used magic, but that seemed wrong, so instead, he ran rough towels back and forth over the tiles until his hands were raw and red, but he had removed all traces of Draco’s blood. 

Rowr!

 Harry looked up at the noise and saw Filch’s cat, Mrs Norris, regarding him from the doorway. 

Where Mrs Norris prowled, Filch would rarely be far behind. 

Harry grabbed the bloody towels in his arms, not thinking clearly, and pushed open the door. Then, leaping over the yowling cat, he hurried away down the hallway even as he heard Filch calling for his cat from down the nearby staircase. 

He slid to a halt before the tapestry of the dancing trolls, closed his eyes, and began to pace. 

I need a place to hide these towels. I need a place to hide these towels. I need a place to hide these towels.

He walked back and forth in front of the stretch of blank wall three times. Then, when he opened his eyes, there it was at last: the Room of Requirement. Harry wrenched the door open, flung himself inside, and slammed the door behind him. 

He gaped, disbelieving. Despite his haste and his fear of what awaited him in Snape’s office, he was powerless to resist being awed by what surrounded him. He was in the centre of a room the size of King’s Cross Station, where high, narrow windows were sending diagonal shafts of cool light down upon what looked like a fortress of towering walls. They were built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts staff and students. There were pathways and alleys amid the stacks, walled in with piles of damaged tables and chairs, hidden away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else tidied up by castle-proud house-elves. There were stacks upon stacks of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. His Seeker’s eye caught sight of multiple winged Snitches feebly flapping here and there and Fanged Frisbees, some with enough life in them still to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items. Scorched cauldrons with congealed potions, moth-eaten hats, loose jewels, and threadbare cloaks were stacked and scattered. He spotted what might very well be dragon eggshells, dusty bottles whose contents still glowed, oozed, or simply shimmered evilly, several rusty swords, and a headless suit of dented armour.

Harry plunged forward into one of the many alleyways among all the hidden trash and treasure. He turned right as he passed an enormous taxidermy troll, ran on a short way, and he took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year. Finally, he paused beside a large cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface. Harry opened one of the cupboard’s creaking doors: It was already the hiding place of something, long-since dead, in a cage; its skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the soiled towels beside the cage and slammed the cupboard door. 

His heart thumping horribly, he paused for a moment, gazing around at all the clutter. What if he needed to return? Why he had no clue, but losing the evidence of what he’d done seemed suddenly unbearable. How would he be sure to find this precise spot again amidst all this junk? Seizing the bust of an ugly old warlock from a nearby crate, he stood it on top of the cupboard where he had hidden the towels, perching a tattered white wig and a dusty tiara on it the statue’s head to make it more distinctive. He ran back through the pathways of forgotten junk as fast as he could run, to the door, and out onto the corridor, where he slammed the door behind him. It disappeared promptly back into stone. 

He practically flew to Snape’s office, arriving mere moments before the stern and sour professor. 

 

Notes:

Author's Note: "Humping Hempstocks, Hermione!"

In Neil Gaiman’s “The Ocean at the End of the Lane,” three women who happen to live in the same house are revealed as a witch’s coven – or are they? The precise truth of the tale is left for the reader to imagine. The who-did-what and what-was-real is subtle and beautiful. Maybe Lettie Hempstock was just a little girl who took a little boy for a walk. Perhaps she made up a story. Perhaps it was a game that led her to tell him to wait inside the circle and not move. Or maybe she saved him. 

https://girlwithherheadinabook.co.uk/2016/10/top-ten-witches-in-literature.html

Chapter 48: Strategy and Tactics

Summary:

Harry serves detention with Snape, missing the Quidditch final.

Harry Potter- Third Wheel.

Professor Trelawney's Big Adventure.

Severus, snake.

Confrontation with Dumbledore.

Horcrux Hunt.

Notes:

Harry and Dumbledore's argument was so hard to balance. This version of Harry districts Dumbledore, for good reason, but he's come to respect his commitment and his power.

Dumbledore understands he can't blindly lead Harry around, but still wants his cooperation.

Touhg scene, but it sets up the big changes coming.

Chapter Text

Chapter 48: Strategy and Tactics

 

Harry was still trying to calm his breathing and get control of his emotions when Snape strode down the hallway toward him. He made a show of unlocking his office with both his wand and a key, perhaps to demonstrate for Harry the precautions he was now taking against intrusion or theft. A minute later, Harry was standing in front of Snape, who sat at his desk, wordlessly regarding Harry. 

Finally, perhaps realising that his prolonging the inevitable was just giving Harry time to think, Snape spoke. 

“Not that I can see any way in which it may excuse you, Potter, but do you care to create some fantastic story which explains your assault on another student?” 

“No,” said Harry, his breathing finally coming under control. It was moments like this that he almost missed Leo, the firm hand at the wheel steering through dangerous waters. Almost. 

“Are you certain of that, Potter?” 

“I am,” Harry said with a touch more defiance. “I can tell you the truth if you like, but that has never seemed very important to you.” 

Snape twitched but composed himself immediately.

“This behaviour of yours isn’t something to solve with a detention or lines, Potter.” 

“Yes,” said Harry firmly. “But then, if you planned on pursuing this formally, I’d be in Dumbledore’s office, not yours. You want to know how much I know before you decide if you can afford to turn me over.” 

It was as if Leo had never left. Maybe he hadn’t. Perhaps the cruel, hard part of Harry that made the tough choices to protect him had just come home and had been there to call upon all along. Still, Harry knew that he was riding a fine line between wise confidence and insane recklessness. 

“Tell me why I should not take you to the headmaster right now?” Snape sounded both bored and condescending, his typical tone. 

“Tell me what you told Madam Pomfrey when you brought Malfoy to her infirmary, short a quart of blood.” 

Without warning, without so much as a raised eyebrow, Snape was in Harry’s mind. Not a subtle, insinuating probe, but rather a brute force thrust. Fortunately, Harry had made some progress on his own with Occlumency and had continued his nightly meditations to help control nightmares. 

Snape’s rapier thrust of mental energy met not soft, yielding thought nor the rigid wall of active defence. Instead, he jabbed into the place he expected Harry’s thoughts to be and fell into a hole. It was as if he had charged a locked door and found a bottomless pit instead, and Snape recoiled both mentally and physically. 

“You’ve been practising. How... unlike you.” Snape’s voice was filled with grudging acknowledgement, something from him almost like admiration. 

“I had your Lord Voldemort go into my head,” said Harry. “Did you think I wouldn’t do anything in my power to stop that happening again?” 

“Don’t be mistaken, Potter,” Snape chastised. His black, cold eyes were boring once more into Harry’s, but no further mental probe followed. “When the Dark Lord chooses to look into that sadly empty organ you refer to as your mind, you will find it to be quite a different experience.” 

Harry stood silent, having nothing helpful to say in response. Between him and Snape, this was progress, holding his tongue. 

“Let me share with you what I think, Potter,” said Snape, very quietly. “I think that you are a self-important fool, just like your father, and that you will do detention with me each Saturday until the end of term. What do you say to that, Potter?” 

“I don’t agree with you, sir,” Harry said, still looking Snape squarely in the eye. 

“Very well. I shall see how you feel after you serve your detentions,” Snape said. “Ten o’clock Saturday morning, Potter. This office.” 

“But sir...” said Harry, trying not to sound desperate. “Quidditch, the last match of the—” 

“Ten o’clock,” insisted Snape, with a smile that curled into a sneer. “Or you can take this matter up with the proper authorities after all. Poor Gryffindor. Fourth place this year, I fear.”

 

Harry had never made it to dinner that evening. It was just as well; he had no appetite. He had just finished catching Ron, Hermione, and Ginny up on what had happened, not that there seemed to be much need. The news had travelled rapidly. Moaning Myrtle had made it her mission to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to tell her highly embellished version of the story; Pansy Parkinson had lost no time in vilifying Harry far and wide atfer visiting Malfoy in the infirmary. Snape had told the staff precisely what had happened, or so he claimed. Harry had been called out of the common room to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the company of Professor McGonagall. She had told him that she supported wholeheartedly Snape’s punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term and that he was lucky not to have been expelled for duelling. 

One oddly happy moment was when, upon hearing the news, Cormac McLaggen’s first comment was, “Has anyone told Dean? He’ll need to get practising right away.” Finally, at least one person was able to focus on the essential things, Harry thought sourly. 

The worst part was that no matter how unfair his punishment seemed to Harry on behalf of his teammates, to himself, it was nothing. He deserved far worse. Each time he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he saw Malfoy sitting in the cold water, watching in horror as the blood pumped from his body. The tenth, twentieth, hundredth time he relived that moment, he took quill to parchment. 

 

Dear Tonks,

I’ve made some progress towards a long-term goal of mine. You should know which one. 

On a different note, I never really came out and thanked you for what you did for me. I mean, the reason I had to leave my wand with you or Auntie. You know. 

I never really thought about how terrible that must have been and how brave you were. I literally owe you everything, and I will never stop showing you how happy I am to be with you when circumstances finally permit. 

Always Yours, Harry 

 

“Ah, Potter,” said Snape, staring over his desk at Harry at the beginning of his subsequent detention. Ominously, where Harry was clearly supposed to sit, many cobwebbed boxes had been piled at a small table; the entire situation had the odour of tedious, thankless, pointless work about it. 

“Mr Filch has been after me for someone to clear out his old files,” said Snape softly. “These are the records of previous Hogwarts wrongdoers and their various punishments. Without magic, you will copy out the crimes and punishments afresh where the ink has faded, or mice have damaged the cards. Make sure that they are in alphabetical order and sorted into their proper boxes.” 

“Right,” said Harry, determined not to show any emotion or give Snape any reason for the slightest satisfaction. 

“Boxes one thousand and twelve to one thousand and fifty-six, I thought, should do for a start,” Snape said with a malicious smile on his lips, “Some familiar names in there should add interest to the task. Here, you see—” 

Snape pulled a card from one of the boxes and read, “‘—Gryffindors James Potter and Sirius Black. Illegal hex upon Bertram Aubrey. Aubrey’s head twice normal size. Double detention.’” Snape sneered. “It must be such a comfort to think that, though they are gone, a record of their great achievements remains.” 

Had Harry not already confronted the fact that his father and godfather had been bullies during their time at school, this would have stung. Instead of biting into tender emotion, however, it hit only scar tissue. Nodding absently, he sat down in front of the boxes and pulled one toward him. 

It was, as Harry had anticipated useless, tedious work, punctuated (as Snape had obviously planned) with the odd jolt in the stomach that meant he had just read his godfather’s name, usually for various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those of his father, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. He wondered what was going on outside while he copied out all their multiple offences and punishments. The match should have just begun.

Again and again, Harry glanced at the large clock ticking on the far wall.

Perhaps Snape had bewitched it to go extra slowly, as it seemed to be moving half as fast as a regular clock. He could not have been here for only half an hour. An hour. An hour and a half. 

When the clock showed half-past twelve, Harry’s stomach started rumbling audibly. Snape, who had not spoken since setting Harry to his task, smiled cooly. He finally looked up at ten past one. 

“That will do,” he said coldly. “Mark the place you have reached, and you will continue at ten o’clock next Saturday.” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

Harry placed the card in his hand neatly back to mark his spot and hurried out of the door before Snape could change his mind. He raced back up the stone steps, straining his ears to hear a sound from the pitch, but all was quiet. It was over, then. 

He hesitated outside the crowded Great Hall, then ran up the marble staircase; whether Gryffindor had won or lost, the team usually celebrated or commiserated in their own common room. 

Prope finem?” he said tentatively to the Fat Lady, wondering what he would find inside. 

Her expression was unreadable as she replied, “Indeed?” 

Without another word, the portrait swung open.

A roar of celebration erupted from the entrance behind her. Harry gaped as people began to shout at the sight of him; several hands pulled him into the room.

“We won!” yelled Ron, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver Cup at Harry. “We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!”

Harry looked around; Ginny was running toward him; she had a wild look on her face. She threw her arms around his neck and swung like a rope swing. Hermione was next, saying something about his coaching as if she understood the most nuanced subtleties of Quidditch. Dean Thomas was sitting, talking to Seamus, trying to ignore the fact that Romilda Vane had crawled into his lap and was playing with his hair.

Harry managed to break free of the welcoming committee after a time, and at last, he relocated Ron, still clutching the Cup and wearing an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head. Harry gave him a clear thumbs-up venture, and Ron burst into a huge grin and tipped the Quidditch Cup in his direction in salute.

After Harry managed to secure a few sandwiches to replace his missed lunch, he tried to find a less raucous corner of the common room. When he hurried around a low bookshelf that blocked one corner off somewhat, he discovered Ron and Hermione, sitting alone, shielded from the rest of the room.

He was going to back away and leave them to their semi-privacy, but Hermione saw him and startled. Ron turned and waved Harry towards them.

“Hey, Harry. Join us?” Ron seemed relaxed, like the tension before the match had never troubled him. Hermione, however, seemed much on edge.

“Yes, join us. We weren’t doing anything,” she said quickly. 

“If you really don’t mind?” Harry went to sit by Ron, but Hermione moved over to clear a space, and he wound up sitting across from the two of them as they sat side by side. Harry noticed that Hermione had the beginnings of some sunburn on her nose. 

“Better be careful there, Hermione,” he joked as he sat down, balancing his plate of sandwiches. “You’ll wind up covered in freckles.” 

Ron laughed, but Harry noticed that Hermione’s eyes grew wide, and she paled slightly, while her laugh was a little too loud. 

“What do you mean, Harry? Heh, heh.” 

He gestured. “You have a little burn coming on your nose, there. You know how you freckle in too much sun.” 

She blushed and sat quietly, looking away. Ron began to fill Harry in on the match, especially Ginny’s work filling in at Seeker. 

“It was amazing how well everyone flew, but Ginny was brilliant. Rather than match herself against Cho finding the snitch, she just kept an eye on her while using her positioning to break up the Ravenclaw offence, drawing them out of position, flying at them like an extra Chaser.” 

“That’s clever,” Harry said. “Was that her idea?” 

“Not really,” Ron said, suddenly shy. 

“Go on, tell him, or I certainly will,” Hermione said, poking at Ron’s side. 

“Okay, it was my idea,” Ron said, beaming. “Worked like a charm, too. Their defence was shambles. Even if they caught the snitch, it wouldn’t have mattered. And the idea was nothing without good play, and everyone was great. Katie was back fully on form like she had something to prove.” 

“It wasn’t all fancy offence,” Hermione noted. “Ronald made eight saves in a row at the end.” 

“It was seven,” Ron said. “I don’t count that clean miss at the last.”

“Anyway,” Hermione continued, “he was wonderful.” 

Harry noticed how Hermione was looking at Ron, and it dawned on him that he might be interrupting something. She was looking, well, much as he remembered her looking at him. He didn’t know if Ron knew what was going on. Or if Hermione herself knew, for that matter. From her point of view, this might be a brand new experience. 

Never thought of myself as the third wheel, Harry thought, but it looks like time for a graceful exit.

 “So, I’m going then,” he said suddenly and got up. When Ron made to follow, he waved him away. “No, you stay here and, erm, talk. Enjoy the party.” 

Harry stepped out into the corridor, more to escape the celebration inside than by any particular plan. He didn’t know how he felt about what he’d just seen. He had moved on from Hermione, he was certain, but she remained his first love, his first, everything really, and there she was falling, in slow motion, into love with someone else. Her first love, her potential first “everything,” all over again.

He liked Ron. They had gotten along better this year than any since they’d met, possibly because Ron had grown, perhaps because Harry had not had the constant comfort and support of Hermione in the same way he had in the past. He wanted to be happy for Ron, but it was complicated.

Harry continued through the corridors until he was startled by young Jimmy Peakes, a student who appeared by his side holding out a folded piece of parchment. 

“Thanks, Jimmy,” said Harry distractedly, unfolding the parchment and scanning it. Dumbledore wanted him in his office as quickly as he could come. 

“I best go and see, then, eh?” Harry murmured, rushing past the bewildered messenger, Jimmy. 

He hurried along the seventh-floor corridors as fast as he could, and then Harry heard a scream and a crash. He stopped in his tracks, listening.

“How — dare — you — argh!”

Harry sprinted toward the clamour, his wand at the ready. He hurtled around a corner and found Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor. Her head was covered by one of her many shawls, and several sherry bottles were lying beside her, one broken.

“Professor?”

Harry hurried forward to help Professor Trelawney to her feet. Some of her glittering beads were entangled with her glasses. She hiccuped loudly, patted her hair, and pulled herself up on Harry’s helping arm.

“What happened, Professor?”

“Well you may ask!” she cried shrilly. “I was innocently strolling along, brooding upon certain dark portents I happen to have glimpsed—”

She went on, but Harry was distracted, having just noticed where they were. To the right was the tapestry of dancing trolls, and to the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that he knew so well.

“You were trying to get into the Room of Requirement, weren’t you, Professor?”

“—omens that have been revealed — what was that?” She was suddenly wary.

“The Room of Requirement,” Harry repeated. “Were you trying to enter?”

“I was not aware that students knew —”

“A few do,” Harry said. “You screamed. What happened? It sounded as though you were injured.”

“I — well,” said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her defensively and staring down at him with her vastly magnified eyes. “I wished to, erm, deposit certain, certain personal items there.” She muttered something about “nasty accusations” under her breath.

“I see. But you couldn’t get in to hide them?” Harry glanced down at the sherry bottles. He found this very puzzling; the room had opened for him, after all, when he had wanted to hide the bloody towels after his duel with Malfoy.

“Getting in was not the issue,” said Professor Trelawney, glaring at the wall. “But somebody was already in there.”

“Somebody in —? Who?” demanded Harry. “Was Draco Malfoy in there?”

“Draco? I have no idea,” Professor Trelawney said, looking slightly taken aback at Harry’s urgency. “I walked into the room and heard a voice, something which has never happened before in all my years of hiding — of using the room, I mean.”

“A voice saying what?”

“I cannot say it was precisely saying anything,” Professor Trelawney mused. “It was more of a whooping.” 

“A whooping?”

“With glee,” she said, nodding.

Harry stared at her. 

“Was it male or female?”

“I would hazard a guess at a male,” said Professor Trelawney.

“And he sounded happy?”

“Very happy,” said Professor Trelawney sniffily.

“As though in celebration?”

“Assuredly.”

“What happened next?”

“I called out, ‘Who’s there?’ of course.”

“You couldn’t tell without asking?” Harry asked her, frustrated.

Professor Trelawney said, with dignity, straightening her shawls and many strands of glittering beads, “The Inner Eye was fixed upon weightier matters than the mundane whooping of unknown voices.”

“Of course,” Harry said hastily, having heard more than enough about Professor Trelawney’s Inner Eye previously. “Did the voice answer with who was there?”

“No, it did not,” she said. “Instead, everything went pitch-black. The next thing I knew, I was hurled headfirst out of the room!”

“Didn’t you see that coming?” Harry said, unable to stop himself.

“No, I told you it was pitch —” She broke off and glared suspiciously at him.

“I think you’d better inform Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said urgently. “He ought to know Malfoy’s, erm, I mean, that someone threw you from the room that way.”

To Harry’s surprise at this suggestion, Professor Trelawney drew herself up with haughty pride.

She said coldly, “The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer I make fewer visits at present. I have never been one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings that the cards show—” Her bony hand closed suddenly around Harry’s wrist. “No matter how I lay them out, Again and again!” 

She drew a card dramatically from underneath her shawls. “The lightning-struck tower,” she whispered. “Calamity. Disaster. Coming nearer all the time.”

“Disaster and calamity. Right,” repeated Harry. “Well, I still think it best that you tell Dumbledore about this voice, everything going dark and being thrown from the room.”

“Do you?” Professor Trelawney mulled this idea over, but Harry was sure she liked the idea of relating her recent adventure to Dumbledore.

“I’m heading to see him right now,” said Harry. “We have a meeting. We could go together if you like.”

“Oh, in that case,” said Professor Trelawney with a smile. She bent down, scooped up her sherry bottles, and dumped them unceremoniously in a sizeable blue-and-white vase standing in a nearby niche.

“I miss you in my classes, Harry,” she said wistfully as they set off together, headed towards Dumbledore’s office. “You weren’t much of a Seer, but you were a wonderful Object.”

Harry had loathed being the object of Professor Trelawney’s continual predictions of doom, so he did not reply.

“I am afraid,” she went on, “that your current Divination teacher knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked him, one Seer to another, had he not also sensed the distant vibrations of an impending catastrophe? He did not reply seriously. In fact, he appeared to find my concerns comical. Yes, comical!” 

As her voice rose dramatically, and Harry caught a powerful odour of sherry even though they had left the bottles behind. 

“Perhaps that fraud, that pretender has heard rumours that I do not share my great-great-grandmother’s gift. Those insults have been bandied about by the jealous for years. Do you know, Harry, what I say to such people? Would Dumbledore have let me teach all these years, had I not proved myself to him?”

Harry mumbled his reply noncommittally.

“It was during my first interview with Dumbledore,” Professor Trelawney continued in throaty tones, “That I made the greatest impression, I believe. He was deeply impressed. I had lodgings at the Hog’s Head, which I do not advise, by the way, as my situation was untenable. Dumbledore was courteous enough to call upon me there. He questioned me, and I must confess that I thought he seemed ill-disposed toward the Art. I recall that I was starting to feel a little odd; I had not eaten much that day, but then—”

And now Harry, paying attention properly for the first time, knew what had happened then. Professor Trelawney had made a prophecy that had altered the course of his whole life, the prophecy about him and Voldemort. A prophecy Harry himself had seen smashed on the floor of the Department of Mysteries and that Dumbledore had only briefly discussed with him afterwards.

“—but then Severus Snape rudely interrupted us!”

“He what?”

“Yes, there was a commotion outside, and the door flew open. There stood that rather uncouth barman with a handful of Snape’s black robes. Snape waffled about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I’m certain he had been apprehended eavesdropping on my interview — you see, he was seeking a job at the time from Dumbledore, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well, after that, you know, the Headmaster seemed much more disposed to give me the position. I cannot help thinking that it was because he appreciated the stark contrast between my quiet talent and unassuming air, compared to a thrusting, pushing young man who would stoop to listen at keyholes — Harry, dear?”

She realised that Harry was no longer with her; she looked back over her shoulder and saw that he had stopped walking. They were nearly ten feet from one another.

“Mr Potter? Harry?” she called out hesitantly.

Something in his face made her look so uncomfortable and frightened. Harry stood frozen in his tracks as wave after wave of shock crashed over him, an overwhelming rush obliterating everything except this vital fact that had been kept from him for so long.

Snape had overheard Trelawney’s prophecy. So it was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to his master. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had then sent Voldemort in the direction of Lily and James Potter and their son. Harry had just connected two dots so long separated that he never knew that they belonged together.

“Harry?” repeated Professor Trelawney. “Aren’t we going to see the headmaster together?”

She looked on in alarm as Harry ran past her into the corridor to Dumbledore’s office. Harry shouted the password at the lone gargoyle standing sentry, and he threw himself up the moving spiral stairs three at a time. Finally, he hammered upon Dumbledore’s door, and a calm voice answered, “Enter,” as Harry was already barging into the room.

Fawkes, the phoenix, looked around, his bright black eyes gleaming with reflected gold from the sunshine beyond the windows. Dumbledore was looking out the window, a long, black travelling cloak in his arms.

“Excellent! You recall, Harry, that I had promised that you could come along with me.”

For a moment, Harry did not understand. His brain seemed to be moving very slowly after the revelation from his conversation with Trelawney.

“Come along?”

“Of course, only if you still wish it.”

Harry remembered why he had been so eager to come to Dumbledore’s office in the first place. “You’ve found one? You’ve found a Horcrux?”

“It certainly seems so.”

Harry’s face must have shown something of the turmoil in his mind.

Dumbledore said gently, “It is natural to be afraid."

“I’m not afraid!” said Harry at once, and it was perfectly accurate; fear was one emotion he was not feeling at all. “Which Horcrux have you found?”

“I cannot be sure which it is — though I think we can rule out the snake. I believe it was hidden many miles from here in a cave on the coast, a location I have been trying to discover for a very long time. It is the cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorised two children from his orphanage on their annual trip. You remember?”

“I do,” Harry said. “Do you know how it is protected?”

“I do not; I have my suspicions, but they may quite mistaken. I promised you that you could accompany me, Harry, and I stand by that promise." Dumbledore hesitated. "I would be remiss, however, if I did not caution you that this journey will be exceedingly dangerous.”

“I’m coming,” Harry said before Dumbledore had even finished speaking. 

Dumbledore turned from the window and looked more closely at Harry, a slight crease between his silver eyebrows.

“Something has changed. What has happened to you?”

“Nothing,” lied Harry promptly. 

“What has upset you?”

 “I’m not upset.”

“Harry, you do not need to lie to me.”

“Lie” was the word that sparked Harry’s wrath.

“Snape!” he barked out, and Fawkes gave a soft squawk behind them. “Snape, that’s what happened! He’s the one who took the prophecy to Voldemort. It was him that listened outside Trelawney’s door—she told me herself!”

The room chilled despite the warm summer sun, though Dumbledore’s expression did not change. For a long moment, he stood, silent. “When did you discover this?” he asked at last.

“Just now!” said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, his rage went cold and flat and deadly.

“You let him teach here, and he led Voldemort to my mum and dad.” 

Rubbing his knuckles and restraining himself from knocking things over, Harry turned from Dumbledore, who still stood impassively. Harry wanted to rage and storm at Dumbledore, but he also needed to go with him to try and destroy the Horcrux. He wanted to call Dumbledore a foolish old man to trust Snape, but he knew Dumbledore would not agree to take him along until he mastered his anger.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly, “please listen to me.”

Harry chewed on his lip and looked into Dumbledore’s lined face.

“Severus Snape made a terrible —”

“Don’t tell me he made a mistake, sir. He was listening at her door!”

“Let me finish, please.” Dumbledore waited until Harry nodded curtly and then went on. “Professor Snape made, yes, a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ when he heard the first half of the prophecy from Professor Trelawney. Naturally, he hurried to tell his master what he had learned, but he had no way of knowing which child Voldemort would pursue from that day onward. He did not imagine the family he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew and cared about.”

Harry snorted with derisive laughter.

“Care, are you kidding me? He hated my dad just as he hated Sirius! The people that Snape hates seem to end up dead, Professor.”

“You cannot understand the remorse Professor Snape endured when he realised how Lord Voldemort chose to act upon the prophecy. I believe him that it is the greatest regret of his life, Harry, and the reason that he returned —”

“But Snape is a very good Occlumens, isn’t he?” Harry asked. “Voldemort is still convinced that Snape’s on his side, even now, isn’t he? How can you ever be sure Snape’s on our side, Professor?”

Dumbledore considered this in silence; he looked like he was trying to make up his mind about something. Then, at last, he said, “I am sure. I trust Severus Snape completely.”

Harry breathed deeply for a few moments to steady himself. It did not work.

“Well, I don’t!” he said, as angry as before. “Snape and Malfoy are up to something right now, under your nose, and still you—”

“—We have discussed this, Harry,” Dumbledore said sternly. “I have told you my views.”

“And I’ve told you I have little reason to trust you except when it’s for your own purposes. You’re leaving the school tonight. Have you ever considered that Snape and Malfoy might decide to —”

“—To what?” asked Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised. “Precisely what is it that you suspect them of doing together?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need to tell you,” said Harry. “I’d handle it myself. Professor Trelawney was just trying to hide her sherry bottles in the Room of Requirement, and she heard Malfoy whooping and celebrating! He’s trying something dangerous in there, and if you ask me, he’s succeeded at last, and now you’re about to just walk out of school!”

“Enough,” Dumbledore, his voice calm. Yet still, Harry fell silent immediately at Dumbledore’s words; he knew that he had finally crossed some invisible line. He might disagree with Dumbledore on any number of points, but the old man was arguably the most powerful wizard living. “Do you imagine that during my absences this year, I have once left the school unprotected? I have not, nor will I, this night. When we leave, should you come with me, there be additional protection in place as always. Do not suggest, Harry, that I do not take the safety of my charges seriously.”

They stood regarding each other for a moment.

Dumbledore’s voice was inscrutably calm again. “Do you still wish to accompany me tonight, Harry?” 

“Yes, sir,” Harry said without hesitation.

“Very well, then: Listen to me.” Dumbledore straightened, rising to his full height. “I am willing to take you with me on one condition: you must obey any command I might give you without question.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Understand me now, Harry. I mean for you to follow even orders such as ‘run,’ ‘hide,’ or ‘go back.’ Do I have your word?”

“I — yes, you do.”

“You will hide if I tell you to do so?”

“I will.”

“And if I say that you must flee, you will do it?”

“Yes.”

“If I order you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I say?”

“But what if I—” 

“Harry?” Dumbledore looked down at him. Not the kindly Professor, not the cheerful old man at the welcoming feast. This was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster, Order of Merlin, the man who defeated Grindelwald, the man who drove Voldemort from the Ministry of Magic’s lobby. His pale eyes burned with a frosty blue sheen. 

For a long moment, they looked at each other. 

“I will, sir.” 

“Very well. I wish for you to meet me in the entrance hall just before sunset with your invisibility cloak. Until then, speak of this to no one.” Dumbledore turned, looking back out of the window; the sun was now sinking noticeably towards the horizon. 

Harry wasted no time, walking quickly from the office and down the spiral staircase. His thoughts were suddenly clear. He knew what he needed to do. 

He passed a bewildered and agitated Sybil Trelawney, but he ignored her and focused on his own thoughts as he returned to the common room. The party seemed to have dissipated, though Ron and Hermione were sitting together over a chessboard. They did not seem to actually be playing. 

Hermione took one look at Harry’s face and asked, anxiously, “Harry, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” said Harry shortly, moving past them. He went to his room, where he flung open his trunk and pulled out the Marauder’s Map and a pair of balled-up socks. Then he went back down the stairs and into the common room, where Ron and Hermione sat, looking confused. 

“I’ve got to be quick,” Harry explained, “and I’m not supposed to be telling you this at all, so listen carefully.” 

Quickly he filled them in on where he was going and why. He did not pause either for Hermione’s questions or for Ron’s words of support; they would catch up on their own later.

“—so you see what this means?” Harry finished. “Dumbledore be gone tonight, so Malfoy’s will have a clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me,” he urged, cutting off bith Ron and Hermione as they moved to interrupt him. “I'm sure was Malfoy the one celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “Watch him, and Snape, too. Warn anyone you can reach from our duelling practices. Dumbledore’s put extra protection in the school, Snape’s involved so he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it. But he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?”

“Harry —” began Hermione.

“I haven’t time to argue,” said Harry curtly. “Take this as well —” 

He thrust the socks into Ron’s hands.

“Thanks,” said Ron. “Erm — so, why do we need socks?”

“No the socks, what’s wrapped in them, it’s the Felix Felicis. Share it between yourselves. I’d better go, Dumbledore’s waiting —”

“No!” Hermione said, as Ron unwrapped the tiny phial of shimmering potion. “We don’t need it, Harry. Who knows what you'll be facing? You take it!”

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be with Dumbledore,” said Harry. “If he and I can’t handle it, a little luck won’t tip the scales. I need to know you lot will be okay while we’re gone. Don’t look like that, I’ll see you soon.”

And he was off, walking back through the portrait hole and toward the Owlery. He figured he had just enough time to check if Tonks had written before he needed to meet the headmaster. Instead, he found Susan, alone, in her favourite spot. She was staring out over the grounds. 

“Hello, Susan,” Harry greeted her softly. “Everything alright?”

 She turned, and he saw that she had a pleasant, distracted smile on her face. 

“Hello, Harry.” She turned back to the view out over the grounds. “Did you hear about Ginny? She was amazing today.”

“That’s what I was told,” he agreed. “She practically tackled me when I got back to our common room. I’m really glad she did so well. She’s a great player.”

“She is, isn’t she? And after... well, everyone was there celebrating, running onto the pitch, it was madness.”

“I’m sorry I missed it, believe me.” Harry patted her arm, and saw that Hedwig not only had returned, but that she had something for him. She must have missed him at lunch while he served his detention.

“And right there in front of everyone, Ginny saw me and she shouted across the crowd. ‘I love you, Susan!’ She shouted it in front of everyone.” Susan was beaming. “There’s together, and there’s out together, but this was wide open and out together. I still can’t believe it.”

“Wow. That’s great, I’m the jealous one now, since you’re able to be public and I can’t be.” Harry took the last bit of cheese from his sandwich that he had saved in his pocket, and gave it to Hedwig as a treat. She relinquished her letter and hopped up on her perch next to Xerxes, and they shared the bite of cheese, hooting softly. Everyone was in love, it seemed.

Susan stepped to one side, giving Harry a little space to read his message.

 

My Lion,

Cannot wait to hear your news. I have never regretted being there for you, and given the chance I always will be. The year end cannot come quickly enough. Stay safe. 

Your Puma

 

When Harry crossed the entryway to the main entrance, Dumbledore was waiting beside the oaken front doors. He turned as Harry came out onto the topmost stone step.

“I would like you to put on your cloak, please,” Dumbledore said, and he waited until Harry vanished before saying, “Very good. Shall we go?”

Dumbledore, his own traveling cloak barely stirring in the still summer air, set off at once down the stone steps. Harry hurried alongside him.

“Will people ask questions if they see you leaving the school, Professor?” Harry asked, thinking of Snape and Malfoy.

“That I am headed into Hogsmeade for a friendly drink,” Dumbledore said lightly. “I have been known to visit the Hog’s Head, or offer Rosmerta my custom, or I have appeared to. It is a serviceable means of disguising one’s true activities.”

 

They made their way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air was full of the smells of warm grass, lake water, and wood smoke from Hagrid’s cabin. It was difficult to believe that they were heading for anything dangerous or frightening.

As they reached the gates at the bottom of the drive, Harry said quietly, “Professor, are we going to be Apparating?”

“Will will,” said Dumbledore. “You can Apparate now, I believe?”

“A bit,” Harry said, “but I haven’t a license.”

Harry thought honesty was more important than pride here; turning up a hundred miles from where he was supposed to go would ruin their mission as surely as any trap laid by Voldemort.

“No fear,” said Dumbledore, “I will assist you if needed.”

They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they walked, and by the time they reached the High Street night was falling in earnest. Lights twinkled from windows over shops and as they neared the Three Broomsticks they heard raucous shouting.

“— and stay out!” shouted Madam Rosmerta, forcibly ejecting a grubby-looking wizard. “Oh, hello, Albus. You’re out late.”

“Rosmerta! Good evening. Do forgive me, but I’m off to the Hog’s Head this evening. I feel like a quieter atmosphere tonight, no offence.”

They turned the corner into the side street where the Hog’s Head’s sign creaked, though no breeze disturbed the warm evening. Unlike the Three Broomsticks, the Hog's Head appeared to be completely empty.

“It is not necessary for us to enter,” muttered Dumbledore, glancing around. “So long as nobody sees us go. Place your hand upon my arm, Harry. You needn't grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three. One, two, three—”

Harry turned at once, and immediately there was the horrible sensation that he was being pulled through a thick elastic tube; he could not breathe, and every part of him was compressed past endurance or belief. And then, just when he thought he must be crushed or suffocated, the invisible bands seemed to burst open, and he was stumbling into cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air. 

Chapter 49: The Unquiet and Unwilling Dead

Summary:

Hunting a Horcrux by the sea

"From here, it is Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way."

"There is little left for either of us to gain by withholding things from the other."

"I should have liked very much to have been your teacher, Harry."

“You don’t suppose we’re meant to drink it, do you?”

Everything was black. 

Notes:

We near the end of this volume, and very nearly the end of JK's work as well, as our story veers farther and farther from hers after this chapter.

I wish that I was still a fan of her, but I am not. Her work is flawed, in some places wonderful and touching, but in others fall, mechanical, and deeply problematic.

But Waske and I rebuilt her foundations for our own purposes, and so, onward we go.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 49: The Unquiet and Unwilling Dead

 

Harry could smell the sea and hear the rushing waves; a light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at sea and sky. He stood upon a tall outcrop of dark rock overlooking the surf roiling and churning below him, the foam like bloody froth as the setting sun turned the pale blue-green to deep red. The moon was already rising, and the areas in shadow from the setting sun were silver and ephemeral in the reflected moonlight. 

A towering cliff stood behind them over his shoulder, a sheer, dark and faceless expanse of rock. Several large chunks of stone like the one they were standing upon had broken away from the cliff face in the past and formed a jagged tumult at the water. It was bleak, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand. 

"So, what do you think, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, as though asking Harry's opinion on whether it was a good site for a picnic. 

"They brought the orphans here?" asked Harry. "And here I thought I had it rough." 

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not here, precisely. There is a village of sorts some way along the cliffs above us. The orphans, I believe, were taken there for a taste of sea air and a view of the waves. No, only Tom Riddle and his youthful victims ever visited this spot. What Muggles could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers? The waters around us are too dangerous for boats. I imagine that Riddle climbed down, magic serving better than ropes. And remember, he brought two small children with him, presumably just for the pleasure of terrorising them. I think the journey alone should have done it, don't you?" 

Looking up at the cliff again, Harry felt goosebumps rising all over.

"But his final destination — and ours — lies farther on. Please follow me."

Harry joined Dumbledore at the very edge of their rocky perch, discovering a series of jagged niches that served as footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water, close to the cliff base. The treacherous descent was intimidating, but Dumbledore, hampered slightly by his withered hand, moved methodically. The lowest rocks were slippery with algae, rotting kelp, and lapping seawater. Flecks of cold salt spray hit Harry in the face. 

"Lumos," Dumbledore said as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff face, extending his wand. Golden light sparkled in a thousand specks upon the slowly rolling surface of the dark water a few feet below them. The black wall of rock beside him seemed to swallow the light.

"Do you see?" said Dumbledore quietly, raising his wand a little higher. Harry could see a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling. 

"You do not object to getting a little wet, do you?"

"Not at all," said Harry with enthusiasm he did not feel. 

"Take off your invisibility cloak — no need for it now — and we shall take the plunge together."

Suddenly, and with the agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slipped from the boulder into the sea. Then, his lit wand held in his teeth, he began to swim, with a strong, even stroke, toward the dark fissure in the rock face. Harry stuffed his cloak into a pocket and let himself drop into the sea.

The water was icy, and Harry's waterlogged clothes immediately tried to pull him down. Then, his nostrils full of the tang of salt and seaweed, Harry struck out for the shimmering, shrinking light now disappearing deeper into the cliff. Though healthy and younger by far than Dumbledore, Harry was not a strong swimmer. Still, it was marginally better than retrieving Hermione from the bottom of the Black Lake during the Triwizard Tournament, so he persevered. 

After a few yards, the fissure opened up into a dark tunnel. Harry could tell the passage would be flooded with water at high tide from the discolouration of the walls. The walls, barely three feet apart, glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Dumbledore's wand. The passageway curved to the left a little way in, and Harry saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim in Dumbledore's wake, his numb fingertips feeling along the rough, wet rock from time to time.

Harry, enduring what seemed an interminable swim, saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his silver hair and dark robes gleaming. When Harry reached the spot, he found rough-hewn steps leading into a larger cavern. He clambered up above the waterline, frigid seawater streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air.

He watched Dumbledore standing in the middle of the cavern, turning slowly on the spot with his wand held high, examining the walls and ceiling.

"We were correct. This is the place," said Dumbledore.

"How can you be sure?" Harry spoke in a whisper.

"These caves, these stones, have known deep magic," Dumbledore said grimly.

Harry was shivering, though from the bone-deep cold or some shared awareness of profound enchantment he could be certain. He watched Dumbledore continue to revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating on things Harry could not see.

"We stand in the entrance hall, if you will," said Dumbledore after a moment or two. "An antechamber. We will need to penetrate the inner spaces. From here, it is Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those of nature."

Dumbledore approached the cave wall and explored it with his whithered, burned fingertips, murmuring words in a tongue that Harry did not understand. Dumbledore paused twice to walk around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers over particular spots. At last, he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall. 

"Ah," he said. "We go on through here. He has concealed the entrance." 

Harry did not ask how Dumbledore knew. He had seldom seen a wizard work things out like this, simply by looking, touching, and thinking, but it reminded him of Bill Weasley's tales of curse-breaking for Gringotts.

Dumbledore, stepping back from the cave wall, pointed his wand at the apparently featureless rock. An arched outline appeared there, blazing white for a moment as though there was a powerful light behind the crack before fading away to nothing.

"You've d-done it!" Harry said through chattering teeth. As the words left his lips, the outline vanished, leaving the rock as bare and solid as ever. Dumbledore looked around.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive my distraction," Dumbledore said, pointing his wand toward Harry. At once, Harry's clothes felt as if they had been drying in front of a blazing fire.

"Thank you," said Harry. Dumbledore, however, had already returned his attention to the cave's apparently solid wall. Rather than try any further magic, he merely stood there staring at it intently, as though something exciting was written on it. Harry stayed quite still, afraid to break Dumbledore's concentration. Finally, after two solid minutes, Dumbledore said quietly, "Oh, surely not something so crude." 

"What is it?" 

"I think," Dumbledore said, putting his uninjured hand inside his robes and drawing out a short silver knife of the kind Harry used to chop potion ingredients, "that we are required to make payment to pass."

"Blood?" asked Harry. "They taught us blood magic was considered unreliable and childish."

"You were told it was crude," corrected Dumbledore. He sounded disdainful, even disappointed, as though Voldemort had fallen short of Dumbledore's expectations. "As I imagine you will have deduced, the idea is that your enemy must weaken themself to enter. But, once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

"Let me do it, sir. I'm —"

Harry was unsure what he was going to say — younger, fitter, more reckless?

But Dumbledore merely shook his head. There was a quick gleam of silver with a spatter of scarlet, and the rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Harry," Dumbledore said as he passed the tip of his wand across the deep cut he'd made in his arm, healing it instantly. "However, I'd rather not have your blood on my hands tonight. Now, that seems to have set things right, doesn't it?"

The outline of an arch had appeared in the wall in blazing silver again, and this time it did not fade: The blood-spattered rock within the outlines of the arch vanished cleanly, leaving a smooth opening into complete darkness.

"You should follow me, I think," said Dumbledore, and he walked through the archway. Harry followed close on his heels, lighting his own wand as they went.

They stood at the edge of a great silent lake so vast that they could not make out the far shore. The cavern ceiling was so high as to be out of sight above. In what looked like the middle of the lake, a misty, greenish glow emanated from an unseen source; it was perfectly reflected in the completely still water below. That greenish glow and the light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The darkness was somehow denser than mundane darkness.

Dumbledore said quietly, "Let us proceed, but be very mindful not to step into the water. Stay close."

They began walking, heading around the edge of the lake. The two wizards' footsteps on the narrow rim of rock surrounding the water echoed as they walked on and on. The view remained constant: on one side, the rough rock wall, on the other, the expanse of featureless black water, from the middle of which originated that mysterious greenish glow.

"Professor?" Harry said finally. "Do you think the Horcrux is here?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I'm sure now that it is. This presents the question, how does one get to it?"

"Could we just try a Summoning Charm?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore stopped so suddenly that Harry almost walked into him. "Certainly we could. The ward was simple, after all. So why don't you try?"

Harry was surprised at Dumbledore's easy acceptance but cleared his throat and said clearly, wand aloft, "Accio Horcrux!"

With a noise like an explosion, something vast and pale erupted out of the dark water some twenty feet away; it had vanished again with a crashing splash that made great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface. Harry, his eyes still riveted on the dark waters, spoke, less to Dumbledore than to himself.

"What was bloody hell was that?"

Dumbledore nevertheless replied, also with a voice of cautious softness. "That was something ready to respond should we attempt to seize the Horcrux."

"Lovely," Harry said dryly, looking back at the water. Harry had developed a certain gallows humour that sometimes shocked his more sheltered friends. Dumbledore, however, chuckled at Harry's understatement, and Harry admitted to himself that the old man's ability to share the humour was reassuring.

The ripples had vanished unnaturally fast, leaving the water like a black pane of glass; Harry's heart, however, was still pounding.

"I thought something might well happen if we made an obvious attempt to get our hands on the Horcrux, Harry. That was an excellent idea; much the simplest way of finding out what we are facing."

"But we don't know what that thing was," said Harry, looking at the sinisterly smooth water.

"Things, rather," said Dumbledore. "I would be astonished if there is only one of them."

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are we going to have to go into the lake? I, erm, I need to admit that I struggled a bit with the swimming earlier."

"Into the lake? No. And thank you for your honesty, Harry. I think we are reaching a point at last where there is little left for either of us to gain by withholding things from the other. But take reassurance from this: I believe we shall only have to go into this water if we are very unfortunate."

 "Thank you, Professor. So I take it you don't think the Horcrux is at the bottom."

"No, Harry. I think the Horcrux is there, in the middle," Dumbledore said and pointed toward the misty green light in the centre of the lake.

"So we have to cross the lake to get to it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Mmm-hmm," muttered Dumbledore, and he stopped again; "Stand back against the wall; I think I have found the place."

Harry could dimly perceive something of a rune or ward, some kind of fixed magic, but that was about it. Again, Dumbledore seemed to have detected something special, but this time he was not running his hand over the rocky wall but through the thin air. From his long experience with his cloak, Harry recognised the demeanour of a man reaching for something physical but unseen.

"Oh, ho," Dumbledore said happily a few seconds later. He had closed his hand in midair upon something Harry couldn't see. Dumbledore moved closer to the utmost edge of the rock rim. Then, keeping his hand clenched in midair, Dumbledore raised his wand with the other and tapped his fist with the point.

A thick coppery green chain appeared at once from thin air, extending from Dumbledore's clenched hand down into the depths of the water. The chain began to slide, snakelike, through his fist and coiled itself on the ground. The clinking sound echoed resoundingly from the rock walls around them. Something was rising from the depths of the black water, the chain affixed to it. As the spectrally pale prow of a tiny boat broke the surface, glowing as green as the chain, Harry gasped. It floated with barely a ripple toward the place on the bank where Harry and Dumbledore stood.

"I missed it.” Harry asked curiously, "Did you see that boat out there?"

"Not with my eyes, no. Magic leaves traces," Dumbledore said as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump, "Dark magic leaves very distinctive traces. And don't forget: I taught Tom Riddle, so I recognise his style."

"So, it's the boat then," Harry reasoned. "He would have created a means to cross the lake without attracting those creatures in case he ever wanted to revisit or remove his Horcrux."

"Very good, Harry," Dumbledore's grin was almost boyish. "We'll make a Horcrux Hunter out of you yet. Now, Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that none but a very skilled wizard would have been able to find the boat."

Dumbledore pondered quietly, considering the boat, and then Harry and himself. "He would have accepted a moderate risk in what he considered the unlikely possibility that someone would locate the Horcrux. Nevertheless, Voldemort would remain confident because he had set other obstacles ahead that only he could penetrate. We shall see whether this was justified confidence or smug vanity."

Harry looked down into the boat. It was a really tiny boat. 

“This boat doesn’t look built for two. Will it carry both of us at once?”

“Voldemort will not have cared about weight,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle, “but I can see him being very concerned with the magical power crossing his lake. This boat, I expect, is charmed so that only one very powerful wizard will be able to sail in it safely.”

“But then how — ?”

“The fact that you are underage and unqualified will most likely make the enchantment blind to your presence. Voldemort would never have expected a teenaged wizard to reach this place. While I have come to respect your abilities a great deal, I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine in the eyes of Voldemort.”

These words did little to raise Harry’s morale; perhaps Dumbledore knew it, for he added, “Voldemort compounds his mistakes, Harry. Age can be foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth. Now, in the boat you go, but please be careful not to let the water touch you.”

Dumbledore stood carefully aside, chain in hand, and Harry climbed cautiously into the boat. Dumbledore stepped in after him, coiling the chain onto the floor. They pushed close in together; Harry could not comfortably sit in the boat, so he knelt uneasily with his elbows jutting over the side. The tiny craft began to move at once, with only the silken shushing of the boat’s prow cleaving the water marking their passage. It moved without their intervention, as though pulled onward by an invisible rope toward the light in the waters' centre. Soon they could no longer see the cavern walls; they might have been at sea except that there were no waves.

The reflected gold of Harry’s wand-light sparkled and glittered on the surface of the black water as the boat proceeded. The tiny boat’s bow was graving deep grooves upon the glassy surface, ripples spreading across the dark mirror before rapidly falling still. And then Harry saw it, ghostly white, floating just beneath the surface of the water.

“Professor!” he said, and his startled voice echoed loudly over the silent water.

“Yes?”

“I saw a hand—a human hand—floating under the water!”

“Yes, I am not surprised that you did,” Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry stared down into the water with a sick feeling rising in his throat, looking for the vanished hand.

“So, earlier, the thing that jumped from the water — ?”

Before Dumbledore could reply, Harry had his answer. The wand-light slid over a further patch of water and revealed a dead man lying face-up, just beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

“There are bodies,” said Harry grimly.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore placidly, “but we do not need to worry about them just yet.”

“Just yet?” Harry repeated archly, lifting his gaze from the water to look warily at Dumbledore.

“While they peacefully drift below us, we should have no problems with them,” said Dumbledore. “Do not fear a body, Harry, any more than a young man of your age should fear the dark. Lord Voldemort, who secretly fears both darkness and death, disagrees. The Inferius, the corpse animated by dark magic against the will of the formerly living spirit, this to Voldemort is a terror, proof of death and the loss of will, combined. But once again, he reveals his the limits of his mastery. When we look upon death and darkness, it is the unknown we fear, nothing more.”

Harry did not want to argue, but he found the idea that animated bodies were floating around them and beneath them horrible, an offence against life itself. And, what was more, he could not believe that they posed no threat.

“But sir, one of them jumped,” he said, trying to make his voice as level and calm as Dumbledore’s. “When I tried to summon the Horcrux, a body leapt out of the lake.”

“True,” said Dumbledore. “Once we have taken the Horcrux, I am sure we shall find the Inferi less peaceable. Like so many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness, they recoil from light and warmth, which we shall call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Harry.”

“And never a phoenix around when you need one,” muttered Harry darkly. They continued to glide inexorably towards the green glow. He could have pretended that he was not scared, but this seemed a poor time for false courage. And yet, he also felt a great sense of expectation. The quiet black lake, teeming with the unwilling dead, passed by beneath them.

“They are a form of sacrifice, aren’t they? The unwilling dead?” Harry mused soberly. “Voldemort doesn’t shy away from making others pay for his wishes.”

“Quite right,” Dumbledore nodded. “A difference, I hope, between Voldemort and you, and even myself. We are willing to sacrifice ourselves, something he would never consider, which perhaps makes it somewhat less repellent for us to ask for sacrifice from others.” 

“It’s all about will,” Harry agreed grimly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about sacrifice, choice, free will. That’s what makes the Unforgivables so, well, unforgivable.” 

“How do you mean, Harry?” Dumbledore sounded intrigued despite himself. The boat was slowly approaching the light at the centre of the lake. 

“The killing curse robs you of your life, all ability to make choices and take actions ever again. The Cruciatus robs you of peace, using pain to force your response. And of course, Imperious, it takes away your will, enslaves you to another. They all take away free choice, one way or another.” 

“Fascinating, a very original insight into a branch of magic that seems to have very little left to reveal after so many centuries of study. I should have liked very much to have been your teacher, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly, “under better circumstances. Alas. Well, here we are.” 

Sure enough, the greenish light grew larger at last, and the boat came to a halt, bumping gently into a small island of smooth rock in the centre of the lake.

“Careful not to touch the water,” repeated Dumbledore as Harry clambered carefully ashore.

The island, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, was no so large as Dumbledore’s office. The light itself looked much brighter viewed close up. Harry squinted at what appeared at first to be a lamp of some sort, but closer up, he could see that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like a Pensieve, which rested atop a rough-hewn rock pedestal.

Harry followed Dumbledore as the wizard approached the light. They looked down into the basin side by side and found it full of an emerald liquid emitting that luminous radiance.

“Do you know what it is?” Harry asked softly.

Dumbledore said, “Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, I am sure.”

Dumbledore rolled up his sleeve, revealing his blackened hand, and carefully flexing his burned fingers, he stretched out toward the surface of the potion.

“Interesting!” noted Dumbledore with something like appreciation. “See? I cannot touch, cannot approach any nearer than this. You try.”

Harry reached into the basin. He, too, met an invisible barrier that stopped him when he tried to reach the potion. No matter the angle or effort, his fingers were met with solid and inflexible air.

“Finally using your head, Tom,” said Dumbledore to himself. He made complicated movements over the surface of the potion with his wand, murmuring softly. Harry remained silent while Dumbledore worked, but when Dumbledore withdrew his wand after a while, Harry felt it was safe to speak again.

“You think the Horcrux is in there?”

“Oh, yes. But how to reach it?” Dumbledore bowed closer to peer through his glasses into the stone depression which held the glowing liquid. Harry saw Dumbledore’s curious face reflected, upside down, in the smooth green surface. “This potion cannot be touched, parted, or poured away.” He ticked off methods on his blasted fingertips. “Nor can it be Vanished, Transfigured, Charmed, frozen, boiled, or made to change its nature otherwise.”

“You don’t suppose we’re meant to drink it, do you?” Harry asked, feeling rather stupid giving voice to the idea.

Dumbledore straightened suddenly, blinking rapidly behind his half-moon spectacles. A wolfish grin spread across his lined face.

“My boy!” he chuckled, sounding uncomfortably like Professor Slughorn.

Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand and twirled it once in midair. Harry managed to catch the delicate crystal goblet that the headmaster had conjured into being before it fell to the stones at their feet.

“We can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk, indeed! Well done, Harry.” Dumbledore took the crystal goblet from Harry’s hands.

“What?” said Harry. “But what if it’s meant to kill you?”

“Think about it, Harry,” said Dumbledore reassuringly. “Tom would not be quick to kill the wizard who had reached this point.”

“Professor,” said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, “Voldemort would as soon kill as breathe.”

“That may be true; I did not say he would not kill, but not quickly, not at once,” Dumbledore emphasised. “How did they locate the cavern? How did they manage to penetrate so far through his defences? Most of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin? Do not forget that Voldemort believes he alone knows of the creation of the Horcruxes.”

Dumbledore raised his hand to silence Harry’s next question, deep in thought. Harry waited, knowing better than to interrupt with more questions.

“The potion,” Dumbledore said finally, “must act in a way that will prevent me from taking the Horcrux. For example, it might cause, oh, paralysis, amnesia, physical pain, great anger or wayward passion, something to render me incapable in some fashion. This being the case, it will be your job, Harry, to make sure I finish drinking it off, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. Do you understand?”

Was this why Dumbledore had invited him along — to force-feed him a potion that might cause unendurable torment?

“Need I remind you,” said Dumbledore, “of the conditions on which I brought you with me?”

“No, sir,” Harry said, downcast. He was surprised to find Dumbledore placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I warned you,” Dumbledore said, “that there might be danger.” 

Harry nodded solemnly. He had to hand it to the old man; he was willing to put himself on the line.

“Can’t I drink the potion for you?” Harry asked. “I’m younger and fit, and I know that I can stand pain—”

“Harry, I am older, cleverer, and ultimately much less valuable,” said Dumbledore. “Now, do I have your word that you will do all in your power to make me keep drinking?”

“All right.”

Dumbledore lowered the goblet into the basin. For a brief moment, Harry entertained a mad hope that Dumbledore’s goblet would not be able to touch the potion, but the crystal slipped beneath the surface. When the potion had filled the crystal cup to the brim, Dumbledore lifted it to his lips.

He paused, arching an eyebrow, and said dryly, “Cheers, Harry.”

And without pause or hesitation, Dumbledore drained the goblet in three long pulls. Harry watched, terrified, his hands gripping the rim of the basin so hard that his fingertips were numb. “Professor?” he said anxiously as Dumbledore lowered the empty glass. “How do you feel?”

Scowling grimly, Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes tightly closed. Harry could clearly see that he was in great pain, but Dumbledore blindly plunged the glass back into the basin. Taking the refilled goblet to his lips, he drained it again.

Wordlessly, Dumbledore methodically swallowed three gobletsful of the potion. Halfway through the next goblet, though, he suddenly staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes flew open, a look of such pure, gut-wrenching heartbreak so evident on his face that Harry involuntarily took a half-step back.

“Professor?” Harry’s voice sounded strained in his own ears. “What's happening? Can you hear me, sir?”

Dumbledore could not answer him. The old wizard's face was a mask of grief and loss, and Harry could see every one of the many years writ large on Dumbledore's features. The potion was about to spill from the goblet which he held loosely. Harry reached out and closed Dumbledore's hand in his own, steadying the cup.

“Professor, can you hear me?” he repeated loudly, his voice echoing around the cavern.

Dumbledore's breath came in ragged gasps, and the voice that came from him Harry did not recognise, for he had never heard Dumbledore affected like this.

“I don’t want—Don’t make me—”

Harry stared into the whitened face, at the crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, and did not know what to do.

“—want to stop.” moaned Dumbledore.

“You can’t stop, Professor,” said Harry, resolve overriding his compassion. “You’ve got to keep drinking, remember? You made me promise; you have to keep drinking. Here you go.”

Repulsed by what he had to do, Harry nevertheless forced the goblet back once more to Dumbledore’s lips. He grimly tipped the remainder of the potion into the old man's mouth.

“Please! No!” Dumbledore groaned. Harry tried not to listen to the suffering in the man's voice as he lowered the goblet into the basin to refill it for him. “I don’t want—Ariana, I’m sorry!—I don’t want to.”

“It’s all right, Professor,” soothed Harry, his hand shaking. “It’s all right. I’m here —”

“Why can’t it stop? Oh, make it stop,” moaned Dumbledore.

“Here you go; this will help you,” Harry lied. Brushing away his own tears with one sleeve, he tipped the contents of the goblet into Dumbledore’s open mouth. 

Dumbledore screamed; the thin sound echoed dimly across the vast chamber, over the black water and its grisly contents. 

"No! I can't," Dumbledore sobbed, tears streaming into his beard. "I can't do it, damn you! I don't want to! Let me be!" 

"Professor, it's all right!" Harry said firmly, his heart pounding but his hands steady as he filled another gobletful. Less than half the cursed potion remained. "Whatever's happening to you, whatever you see, it's not real. You're safe— I swear it isn't real — take this, now, take this—"

Dumbledore seized Harry's hands in his, drinking as though it was a remedy Harry offered him. Upon draining the goblet, however, he fell to his knees, trembling uncontrollably. 

"I know, I know," he sobbed. "It's my fault, all my fault. I was wrong! Please make it stop, I beg you!"

"I can make it stop," Harry said, the echo of Leo in his mind making his voice crack as he brought the seventh glass of potion to Dumbledore's trembling lips.

Dumbledore recoiled as though invisible torments gathered around him. He nearly knocked the refilled goblet from Harry's hands with a flailing hand, and he cried out, "Don't hurt them, don't hurt them! Please, I beg you, it's my fault! Hurt me instead."

"Here, drink this," Harry pleaded, and once again, Dumbledore obeyed, opening his mouth even as his eyes shut tightly and his body began to shake from head to toe. His back arched, leaving only his head and heels touching the ground, and he fell back, screaming silently in horror, pain, and grief combined, hammering his fists upon the stones. Harry filled the ninth goblet.

Dumbledore was shaking his head from side to side, petulantly repeating, "No, no, no!" as his hands slapped weakly at the stones on which he lay.

Harry gritted his teeth, watching Dumbledore alternating between groans of physical pain and cries of heartbroken grief and loss. He tried to sound comforting, unsure if the old man could tell anything from his tone. "Drink this, Professor. Just get this inside you now."

Dumbledore drank desperately, but he yelled again as though his insides were on fire when he had finished. "No more, please, no more. What have you done?"

With the tenth gobletful of potion, the crystal scraped the bottom of the basin, leaving only a bare remnant of potion.

"Drink this, Professor. Drink it, and you can rest." Tears were clouding Harry's vision as he forced the tenth goblet to his lips, pouring the potion into Dumbledore's slack mouth and watching the old man's throat moving as he swallowed only by reflex.

As Harry filled the last goblet, Dumbledore lay back, his face almost calm. "Make it stop, boy," he said with quiet command so different from what had come before that Harry nearly obeyed."

"Drink this, Professor. Drink this."

Dumbledore drank like a scolded child, grudging but obedient, but no sooner had he finished than he said quite clearly, "I want to die. Please, may I? You can help. KILL ME!"

Dumbledore sighed, pushing away the empty goblet with his scorched fingers, and then, with a great, rattling gasp, rolled over onto his side, eyes unblinking. Harry could see no signs of breath.

"No!" Harry shouted. He flung himself down beside Dumbledore and heaved him over onto his back. Dumbledore's glasses were askew, his mouth hung slackly open, his dry, red eyes open and unmoving.

"Bloody hell," said Harry, shaking Dumbledore. "No, come on! Wake up, damn it — Rennervate!" he cried, pointing his wand at Dumbledore's heart; a flash of red light splashed over the man's chest, but nothing happened. "Rennervate — damn you, old man — please —"

Dumbledore's eyelids flickered; Harry's heart leapt. "Sir, are you — ?" 

"Water," croaked Dumbledore.

"Yes," panted Harry. "Water —"

He leapt to his feet, seizing the goblet he had dropped in the emptied basin; the golden locket lying curled beneath it scarcely made an impression.

He jabbed the goblet with his wand, crying out, "Aguamenti!"

The goblet filled with clear water. When Harry dropped to his knees beside Dumbledore and raised his head to bring the water to his lips — the cup was empty. Dumbledore groaned, and his breath rattled in his chest.

"Aguamenti!" repeated Harry, confused. Once more, clear water gleamed within the crystal goblet, but as it approached Dumbledore's mouth, the water vanished again.

Dumbledore's breath was fading now. Harry, battling panic, knew instinctively the only way left to get water—because Voldemort had planned it so.

"Riddle, you bastard," he growled as he flung his arm over to the edge of the rock, plunging the goblet into the lake and bringing it up full to the brim of icy water.

"Sir — here!" Harry urged, lurching towards the headmaster with the goblet still full of water. He splashed the water clumsily into Dumbledore's colourless face as something tugged on his arm.

The icy feeling on his arm was not the lingering chill of the dark water. A clammy white hand had gripped his wrist, and the creature to whom it belonged was pulling him, slowly, backwards toward the water. The surface was churning, and everywhere Harry looked, pale heads and white hands were emerging from the dark water. Men, women, and even children with clouded, sightless eyes and slack faces were moving toward the rock.

"Impedimenta!" yelled Harry, struggling to keep his footing on the slick stone surface of the island. He hexed the Inferius that gripped his arm: It released him, falling back toward the water, but many more Inferi were already climbing onto the rock, their bony hands clawing at its slippery surface, their blank, frosted eyes upon him, trailing wet rags, sunken faces leering. 

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry bellowed, backing away as he swiped his wand through the air; six or seven of them crumpled, but more were coming toward him. "Impedimenta! Incarcerous!"

One of the shambling corpses stumbled, legs frozen, and one or two of them were bound with ropes. They continued to come, those coming from the water stepping over or on their fallen counterparts. Slashing with his wand, Harry cried out, "Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Although the bodies of the dead were rent with gashes appearing in their icy skin, the slashes were bloodless as the Inferi had no blood to spill. They walked on, unfeeling, their bony limbs outstretched as they surrounded Harry. He was grabbed from behind and to either side, the cold, fleshless arms wrapping him up. Harry was lifted from the ground as they began to carry him, inexorably, down into the water. He could feel the life and hope draining from him, and he knew that he would drown, lost in the watery dark, and he would, at last, become just another dead sentry guarding a lonely splinter of Voldemort's fragmented soul.

At that moment, however, when his faith was failing him, Harry was shocked by a dazzling light. A circle of fire, red and gold like the crest of the Gryffindors, erupted where the water's edge came in contact with the stone island. The Inferi carrying Harry dared not approach the fiery circle and thus could not return to the water. They began to mill about in torpid confusion as the flames leapt higher. Harry fell to the ground, jostled by the stumbling dead, and he scraped a good bit of skin from his forearm but managed to hold onto his wand.

Dumbledore was on his feet again, as pale as the surrounding Inferi, but fire danced in his eyes. He raised his elderwood wand, its tip dancing like a conductor's baton and shooting flames that wove in and around, slashing the Inferi like a lash.

Dumbledore gestured to the drained stone basin, and Harry scrambled to grab the locket from within. He handed it to Dumbledore and stood beside him as the masterful wizard herded the shambling dead away from them. The flames parted to allow Harry and Dumbledore back onto the boat, and the Inferi sluggishly returned, past the dying flames, to their watery rest.

Once Harry had assisted the exhausted headmaster back into the relative safety of the boat, it began to move away from the rock and back across the black water. Dumbledore continued to move his wand wordlessly, and the much-diminished ring of fire surrounded them, the flames dancing from a point just above the water, but the swarming Inferi did not resurface.

"I'm sorry," panted Harry, "I forgot — about fire — they were coming at me —"

"Forgivable," muttered Dumbledore. His faint voice alarmed Harry.

They reached the bank with a gentle bump, and Harry leapt out, then turned quickly to help Dumbledore. When Dumbledore stepped at last onto the bank, he let his wand hand fall. The ring of fire subsided, but the Inferi did not emerge from the water again. The little boat sank silently into the water once more. Dumbledore sighed and slumped against the cavern wall.

"I'm afraid that I'm spent," he said.

"Don't worry," said Harry at once, anxious about Dumbledore's extreme pallor and by his air of exhaustion. "Don't worry. I'll get us back. Lean on me."

Harry pulled Dumbledore's uninjured arm around his shoulders, guided the weakened wizard back the way they had come, taking most of Dumbledore's weight.

"The protection was, after all, well-designed," gasped Dumbledore faintly. "I could not have done it. Not alone. You did well, Harry."

"You needn't talk now," said Harry, fearing the way Dumbledore's voice had become slurred, how much his feet dragged. "Save your strength. We'll soon be out of here."

"The archway will have sealed again. My knife—"

"—I'm bleeding from the rock," said Harry firmly. "Just tell me where."

"Here."

Harry wiped his bleeding forearm upon the stone: Having received its tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly. The two wizards crossed the outer cave, and Harry helped Dumbledore back down the slippery slope and into the icy seawater that filled the crevice in the cliff. As the tide rose, the water was very close now to the top of the fissure. Harry swam awkwardly on his side, pulling Dumbledore after him and desperately wishing for some gillyweed.

"Just a little more," Harry said over and over again, as much to reassure himself as to comfort the now-silent Dumbledore as they crawled along slowly through the claustrophobic passage.

Finally reaching the stone ledge, now ankle-deep in the sea as each wave crested, Harry collapsed. He lifted Dumbledore's head into his lap, and the two sat as the moon lit the scene in eerie, two-dimensional chiaroscuro. Harry wondered if the headmaster was dead. 

He wondered too if he could Apparate back to school or if he too would pass here, slipping beneath the dark water. He thought of Ron, Susan, and Sirius. He thought of feisty Ginny, faithful Neville, dear Luna. As the cold water leached the life from his aching muscles and seeped into his bones, he thought of Tonks. He tried to picture her face, but all he could see in his mind's eye was her hair, fading from pink to black.

Everything was black. 

Harry coughed on a mouthful of seawater and realised that he had fallen over, toppled by a wave as the tide reached its highest. He clung miserably to the body of Dumbledore, unaware if the old man still lived. He thought of Hermione, and the Yule Ball, and their first real kiss. 

Something sparked in Harry, something profound and angry.

If he died here, swept into the sea, taking one of Voldemort's precious Horcruxes with him, Voldemort would have won. His parents, Sirius, and Hermione—his Hermione, all her work and all of his love and hers— all of their sacrifices would be for nought.

That was intolerable, and it could not stand.

He levered himself up and tried to focus for Apparition. Destination, debilitation— Bloody hell, he could not concentrate. He could see the entryway to the school in his mind, but the will and skill to get there eluded him. 

"Dumbledore!" He shouted, shaking the old man urgently but still trying to be careful. Dumbledore's lips were blue, and his skin was as cold as Harry's so that Harry could not tell if he still lived. "Professor! I need your help!" 

Did the old man's eyes flicker under his closed lids, or was Harry going mad with false hope. He pulled the old wizard to his body and put the headmaster's wand into his unblackened hand, holding it closed as best he could with his own numb fingers. 

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry shouted as he spotted a large wave heading towards them, easily the highest point of the tide, ready to carry their bodies to the dark embrace of death. Harry wasn't afraid, only angry. 

"Bloody hell, old man!" he shouted, "Take us back, please!" 

As the water lifted them from their rocky ledge, Harry turned. At once, there was that welcomed, horrible sensation that he was being sucked through a straw; the stretching, squeezing distortion went on and on for what seemed like hours, and Harry wondered if the old man had not been able to pull it off after all. Harry would die, not in the water, but stretched across the eldritch world between worlds of Apparition, never to be seen again. 

Then abruptly, the world opened up beneath him, and he and Dumbledore, along with many gallons of seawater, fell perhaps five feet onto a hill before the Hogwarts castle, landing among dozens of pale yellow flowers. Where the shimmering moonlight touched them, the flowers opened, and tiny pinpricks of butter-yellow light floated from each blossom and spiralled around them. The tiny sparks brought with them an earthy aroma that was refreshing and invigorating. Harry could feel the tired, cold hopelessness leaving his body, and he heard Dumbledore cough, bringing up a mouthful of water onto the warm, moonlit grass. 

"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore wheezed. "I knew that I was right about you." 

And then the old wizard and the young both fell back onto the grass and flowers, feeling the warmth of the solid earth and breathing in the comforting scent of rooibos tea and grudyroot. 

Notes:

Why does Harry struggle with Apparition, and the Floo network?

He just does. He's not all-powerful. While he is, in this story series, a much better fighter, he has flaws, weaknesses, and mistakes like any other person.

Besides, it adds challenge.

Update [10/2022]
Going back to fix a few spelling issues, I took the time to really re-read this chapter for the first time since writing it. I am proud of this. I think it is the strongest of the JK chapters that I had to modify and adapt for this story, and conveys Harry and Dumbledore's relationship as well as anything I have written. I also think end shows just how scared Harry really was.

Yay, me.

Killjoy

Chapter 50: It’s the Sudden Stop at the End

Summary:

The Dark Mark over Hogwarts

Blood and death in the corridors

Dumbledore's Office

Death takes no sides

Alarum within, Fire without

Hello, Miss Lestrange.

Notes:

And here we have it- the long-promised chapter where JK's outline really goes out the window.

Nothing will ever be the same.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

50. It’s the Sudden Stop at the End 

 

“We did it, Professor,” Harry whispered with satisfaction and relief. “We got the Horcrux.” 

Dumbledore wheezed and was still. For a moment, Harry thought that the strain had been too much at last for the old man, and he levered himself up onto an elbow to take a closer look. The headmaster was greenish and ancient-appearing in the moonlight. 

“Hey, can you hear me, sir?” 

“I can,” said Dumbledore weakly, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “That potion was no health tonic.” 

And to Harry’s dismay, Dumbledore closed his eyes halfway, sinking listlessly into a stupor. 

“You’re going to be all right, sir. Don’t worry,” Harry looked around desperately for help, but there was nobody out and about at this hour to be seen, and all he could think was that he must somehow get Dumbledore quickly to the hospital wing. Fortunately, the headmaster had been able to apparate them much closer to the front gates than should have been allowed. 

“I need to get you to Madam Pomfrey.” 

“No,” gasped Dumbledore. “It is Professor Snape that I need.” 

“Right," Harry said, too exhausted to argue. "I’m going to knock on the doors, and I’ll get you some help.” 

“Severus,” said Dumbledore more clearly. “I need Severus.” 

The effort of this seemed to have exhausted Dumbledore past endurance, and his mouth hung slackly, his eyes twitching under closed eyelids. 

“All right then, Snape, but I’m going to have to leave you for a moment.” Before Harry could do more than stand, however, he heard running footsteps. 

“Harry Potter, is that you?” Arthur Weasley, his usually affable demeanour replaced by grim resolve and surprise, raced to a stop before them. “Goodness, Dumbledore?!” 

“If you help me,” Harry said, “I think we can get him inside —”

“But haven’t you— didn’t you see it?”

“See what?” Harry asked, struggling to rouse the fallen headmaster. 

Arthur pointed over the other wing of the castle, and as he turned slightly, Harry realised why the moonlight had seemed so bright, yet so oddly tinted. Hanging in the sky above the school was the Dark Mark. The mark Voldemort's Death Eaters left behind wherever they had murdered, the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, now desecrated the sky over the school. 

“When?” asked Harry urgently, with his arm tight around Dumbledore’s waist as he struggled him to his feet. 

“Must have been just minutes ago,” Arthur’s voice was as serious as Harry had ever heard it. “We didn't see it when we arrived in the village, but when I got to the gates —” 

“To my office,” Dumbledore wheezed. “And fetch Severus, at once.” 

“But, Snape—!” Arthur protested, but Harry shook his head sharply, and the older wizard held his tongue. As they manhandled the suddenly mortal-seeming, fragile old man into the castle, Harry noticed that all the torches were lit and flaring extra brightly. Though no students were visible, there were teachers and members of the Order everywhere, running to and fro with wands drawn and grim expressions. Some doors and tapestries bore the marks of recent magical damage. 

As they reached the corridor to Dumbledore’s office, the battle-hardened former Auror Mad-Eye Moody appeared. He had a fresh burn across his face and was bleeding from his lips but showed no hesitation. 

“Arthur, to the sixth floor, and watch the stairs coming down. There are Death Eaters in the bloody castle.” He grabbed Dumbledore in his brawny arms and began carrying him by main force towards the stairs to the headmaster’s office. His false leg clanged metallically on the stones with each pace, but his magical eye was spinning, watching in all directions for danger. 

“Good luck, Harry,” said Mr Weasley, hurrying towards the corridor that would lead him to the sixth-floor stairways. 

“Wand out, boy, and be lively,” Moody barked over his shoulder. 

“Constant vigilance,” Harry agreed grimly, backing up the stairs to cover their advance, wand out and mouth set in a hard, thin line. 

“So you’re not completely thick then, good!” Moody pushed into Dumbledore’s office and laid the headmaster down on a chaise that he transfigured from a chair. “So, what’s happened to him?” 

While the grizzled Auror began inspecting Dumbledore, Harry tried to explain what they had been through without mentioning Voldemort or the Horcrux by name. All the while, Harry’s mind was racing. Who had summoned the Mark? Was someone dead? One of his friends? 

Prospero’s Bollocks!” Moody suddenly swore, and Harry saw that Dumbledore’s hand was clutched over his heart, where he had placed the Horcrux in a pocket of his robes. The old man’s face was slack, and his eyes were partially open, unseeing. 

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was dead. 

“But —” Harry goggled incredulously, while Moody made various checks and rousing efforts, to no avail. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s young Phoenix, raised his head from his ashy nest, and a long, keening cry began to sound from the immature creature. Fawkes took wing and flew out the window. The lovely, lonely, heartbreaking song went on. 

“I’ll stay with his—with him. Find another member of the Order and bring them here, go!” Moody’s voice was still loud and firm, but there was a broken quality to it that Harry had never heard before. 

Harry hurried to the door which lead to the spiral staircase, he heard shouts and running footsteps from the other side as he laid his hand upon the door's iron ring. He looked around to Moody, who gestured for him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand again as he did so, and slipped on his cloak from a damp pocket of his robes, knowing that Moody’s magical eye would still be able to see him. 

The door burst open, and someone erupted through it shouting, “Expelliarmus!” even as Moody cast, “Stupefy!” 

Moody’s wand was wrenched from his grip by the disarming spell, and he was a fraction of a second late with his stunner. Instead of disabling his attacker, he hit Harry as he lost control of his wand, throwing Harry against the wall and nearly knocking him unconscious. Harry slid to the floor, barely holding onto his own wand, still concealed under his cloak. Even deflected, Moody’s stunners packed a wallop. 

Then, as Harry blinked away tears and tried to catch his breath, he saw Moody’s wand rolling across the floor and under Dumbledore’s desk. His magical eye quickly taking in Harry’s state, Moody shook his head minutely to Harry and turned to his attacker, Draco Malfoy. 

“Should have known it would be you, rabbit boy,” Moody said with disdain. To Draco’s sour look, he added, “Yes, we all heard about your incident on the train. There’s a great cartoon of it, published in the Quibbler if I recall.” 

Malfoy stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Moody were alone. His eyes fell upon the body of Dumbledore. 

“What happened to the Headmaster?” 

“I don’t answer to you, boy.” Moody was slowly edging backwards, perhaps thinking of Dumbledore’s wand. 

Harry watched Malfoy’s pale eyes shift back to Moody. 

“I’ve come to kill him,” Malfoy said. “And I’ve got backup. There are other Death Eaters here tonight.” 

“Well, well,” said Moody with venom. “Looks like you’re too late, son. The old man’s already gone. So these friends of yours, you found a way to let them in, did you?” 

Harry realised that Moody wasn’t just playing for time. He was interrogating Malfoy, gathering intelligence on the attack. Harry felt the feeling coming back into his limbs, and he was trying to catch his breath without alerting Malfoy. His vision still had floating spots, and he was terrified that if he tried to curse Malfoy and missed, he’d not get a second try. 

“Yeah,” said Malfoy, who was breathing heavily. “Right under your noses, and you never realised!” 

“Forgive me, but where are they now? You seem unsupported.” Moody jerked his head slightly forward, and Malfoy startled, then grew angry at his own timidity. 

“They met some of your guards. They’re fighting down below. They won’t be long—I came on ahead. I had this job to do.” 

“Well, then, what’s stopping you?” asked Moody. 

There was silence. Harry managed to sit partway up, getting a grip on his wand, but before he could move, more nausea overcame him, and he nearly wretched. He must have hit his head harder than he thought on the stone wall. He leaned upward, controlling his stomach and his breath, fist tight around his wand, staring at the two of them, straining to make out the sounds of the Death Eaters’ distant fight. 

“Malfoy, you’re just not a killer. Just like your father, you don’t have the stomach for it.” 

“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” said Malfoy more forcefully. “You don’t know what I’ve done!” 

“Oh yes, I do,” said Moody. “You almost killed that Katie Bell and the Weasley boy. You have been trying with some desperation to kill Dumbledore all year. Laughable attempts. So laughable, to be honest, that I wonder whether your effort will convince your Master.” 

Harry heard a muffled yell from somewhere in the depths of the castle below. Malfoy stiffened and risked a quick glance over his shoulder. 

“Someone is putting up a fight,” said Moody conversationally. “But you were saying, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into the school, which Dumbledore thought impossible. Yet here you are.” 

But Malfoy said nothing. He seemed almost as paralysed as Harry was, still listening to whatever was happening below. 

“What if your backup has been thwarted? You must know by now there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too.” 

Malfoy merely stared at him. 

“Afraid to act until they join you.” Moody’s non-magical eye briefly flickered in the direction of Dumbledore’s wand. If Harry saw it, Draco probably had as well. 

“So, while we wait for your friends, tell me how you smuggled them inside the school. It took you a long time to work out how to do it, I'll wager.” 

Malfoy was so excited and nervous as to appear ill. He gulped, taking several deep breaths, and glared at Moody, pointing his wand directly at the Auror's heart. At last, he could not help himself and he boasted, “I had to mend a broken Vanishing Cabinet—the one Montague got lost. No one had used it for years ” 

“Clever. One of a pair, I take it?” 

“The other is in Borgin and Burkes,” said Malfoy, “and together they make a kind of passage between them. I was the one who worked out that they could be a way into Hogwarts if I fixed the broken one.” 

“But there were times,” Moody continued to probe, “weren’t there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet? And you improvised, badly, sending a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands, poisoning mead there was almost no chance he’d drink.” 

“I thought to put the Dark Mark over the school and get the old man to hurry up here to figure out who’d been killed,” said Malfoy. “And it worked!” 

“Well, yes and no,” said Moody. “But I take it, then, that nobody has been murdered?” 

 

“Someone’s dead,” Malfoy said, his voice cracking as he said it. “One of your people —I don’t know who, it was dark. I was supposed to be waiting when Dumbledore got here, only you Phoenix lot got in the way.” 

“Yes, we do that,” said Moody. 

There were shouts and a loud bang from below. From the sounds, people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to where Moody, Malfoy, and Harry waited. Harry managed to slide himself upright at last and groggily focused on Malfoy. Harry’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. Someone was dead—Malfoy had stepped over the body—but who was it? He was about to attempt to disarm Malfoy when Moody spoke again. 

“This is your last chance, Malfoy. Give it up. You’re no killer.” 

But suddenly, footsteps sounded, and Malfoy was buffeted out of the way as three people in black robes burst through the door into the office. Harry barely managed to scoot out of the way, hold onto his wand, and avoid being detected. The Death Eaters, it seemed, had won the battle in the stairwell. 

One of the Death Eaters, a lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer, gave a wheezy giggle. 

“Dumbledore fallen!” he said, turning to a stocky, grinning little woman who looked as though she could be his sister. “Moody alone, Moody wand-less! Well done, Draco, well done!” 

“Amycus Carrow,” snorted Moody. “And you’ve brought Alecto, too.”

 The woman gave an angry little titter. “What do you say, Brother? Is he ours? Or our friend’s?” 

“Just see to him,” the stranger standing nearest to Harry said. He was a large, muscular man with filthy grey hair and whiskers, whose barrel-chested body looked uncomfortable in his tight black Death Eater’s robes. His voice was like nothing that Harry had ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. Harry could smell a potent mixture of dirt, sweat, and, unmistakably, blood coming from him. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails. “This meat is too old and tough for me.” 

Harry realised that this must be the werewolf Death Eater, Fenrir Greyback.

“Plenty of students downstairs for my tastes, and you know how much I like kids.” Greyback showed long, pointed teeth when he grinned. He licked his lips slowly, obscenely, and blood trickled down onto his chin.

The twins cackled at this.

“I wouldn’t miss a night at Hogwarts, Auror,” rasped Greyback. “Not with these young throats to be ripped out. Delicious, delightful students. Their fear is like wine.” 

And he picked at his front teeth with a yellow fingernail, leering at Moody. 

Malfoy was showing less resolution than ever. He looked terrified as he stared into Moody’s face and back to the werewolf with disgust. 

“No one said you were bringing him,” Draco grumbled. He clearly had not expected the creature to be set loose upon the school, at least not while his own allies were still there. 

The brother and sister Death Eaters spoke again, in unison, “Come on, Malfoy, kill him!” 

At that moment, however, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below, and a voice shouted, “They’ve blocked the stairs — Reducto! REDUCTO!” 

Harry recognised, of all people, Molly Weasley’s voice. His heart leapt. They had not eliminated all opposition but only broken through to the top of the stairs and created a barrier behind them. 

Now, Draco, quickly!” said the brutal-faced man angrily.

 But Malfoy’s hand was shaking so severely that he could barely aim. 

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us —” screeched the woman, but at that precise moment, the door to the stairs flew open once more. There stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Moody standing by the desk to the three Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, to Malfoy, and finally to the still form of Dumbledore. 

Snape said nothing but walked forward and roughly pushed Malfoy aside. The three Death Eaters fell back, cowed. Even the werewolf seemed subdued. 

Snape gazed for a moment at Moody, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. “Alastor,” he said, his voice dripping with characteristic contempt. “I’m here for Dumbledore.” 

“Too late, Snape,” Moody’s voice was also filled with loathing but also showed a touch of confusion. Had he, too, been lulled into trusting Snape, as had Dumbledore? 

Snape raised his wand. Moody’s eyebrows shot up, and he had time for one moment of genuine surprise before— 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

From the tip of Snape’s wand, a jet of green light shot out and hit Moody squarely in the chest. Harry’s scream of horror never left his throat; outnumbered and cornered, he only watched as Moody slumped to the ground. Draco ran past him to Dumbledore’s body. He grabbed the headmaster’s wand and raised it in his fist. 

“You see?” Draco cried desperately. “I did it! I killed the great Dumbledore, just as the Dark Lord commanded. And you can tell our Master—” 

“Expelliarmus!” 

Harry’s spell hit Draco squarely, wrenching the wand held aloft in his hand away from him. Somehow, the young wizard held onto it just long enough to carry him back towards the window. He lost his footing, and the headmaster’s wand flew from his hand. He groped wildly around for it, even as his knees hit the windowsill. 

For a split second, Malfoy seemed to hang suspended in the window, lit by the moon and the shimmering Dark Mark above them, with his eyes and mouth wide open in surprise, but then he toppled backwards, like a great rag doll, out the window out of sight. Draco gave a long terrified shriek, and then there was a horrible wet, solid sound, and then silence.

Harry felt as though he were hurtling through space as well; had that just happened? Could it have happened? Had Harry Potter just taken a man’s life? 

“Stupefy! Stupefy!” Snape shot quick stunners in Harry’s direction, missing just to either side of him through dumb luck. 

“Out of here, quickly,” shouted Snape. He seized the squat brother and sister by the scruff of the neck and forced them through the door; Greyback followed, his breath huffing with excitement. As they hurried through the door, Harry realised he was standing mutely against the wall, fixed with shock and horror. He threw his cloak aside as the black, angular form of Snape was disappearing through the door. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” 

His long-time nemesis buckled as though hit in the back with something solid and fell forward down the stairs, rigid as a waxwork, but Greyback and one of the others had him under the arms, and they dragged him downward. 

Harry knew he should be chasing them, but he had to do three things, and quickly, before leaving the headmaster’s office. Moody was, indeed, dead. As was Dumbledore, his face now almost peaceful. Harry closed the professor’s eyes and carefully extracted the locket Horcrux from the headmaster’s pocket. 

Then, he stepped to the window and looked down. He quickly ducked back inside, regretting the action even as he knew that he could not have avoided confirming what he’d expected. Doing his best to shake off what was most likely a concussion, Harry bolted from the office and down the spiral stairs. 

He leapt down the last few steps of the staircase and nearly collapsed where he landed, his head swimming with exhaustion and trauma. Half the ceiling seemed to have collapsed, and the dimly lit corridor was full of dust. There was a battle raging before him, but even as he attempted to make out who was fighting whom, he heard a familiar, unctuous voice.

“It’s over, time to go!” called Lucius Malfoy, disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor; the Azkaban fugitive showed himself at last. 

As Harry staggered after them, one of the figures detached themselves from the fray and doubled back toward him. It was the werewolf, Greyback. Before Harry could raise his wand, the larger man was on him, and Harry fell backwards. Filthy matted hair was in his face, the stench of sweat and blood filling his nose and mouth, hot greedy breath at his throat — 

Petrificus Totalus!” He heard Luna Lovegood’s clear voice ringing above the battle. 

Harry felt the werewolf collapse rigidly against him; with a spectacular effort, he pushed the werewolf aside as an unknown curse came flying toward him. Greyback was already shrugging off the effects of Luna’s curse when Harry ducked and ran headfirst into the fight. His feet met something soft amidst the rubble, and he stumbled. Two bodies were lying there, one atop the other in a spreading pool of blood, one a man with red hair, the other smaller, probably a student, but there was no time to investigate. Harry then saw a shock of pink hair weaving through the flying curses and jinxes in front of him, and his heart lurched in his chest. Even amid the fear and adrenaline, Harry knew a moment of relief. Tonks was here! And she was locked in combat with the lumpy Death Eaters, who were throwing hex after hex at her while she dodged them: the brother was giggling, enjoying the sport: “Crucio — Crucio — you can’t dance forever, pretty —” 

Impedimenta!” Harry yelled. 

His jinx hit Amycus in the chest between his shoulder blades. The loutish man squealed in pain as he slammed into the opposite wall, lifted off his feet by the impact of Harry’s curse. He slid down and fell out of sight near Ron, Luna, and Lupin, each battling a separate Death Eater. Beyond them, Harry saw Professor McGonagall duelling an enormous blond wizard, the two of them sending curses flying that ricocheted off the walls around them, cracking stone, shattering the nearest window. And there was Snape, un-hexed and battling towards the gates. 

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks cried, and he was able to reach her just long enough for a quick but meaningful embrace. “You okay, love?” 

“Complicated!” Harry grunted, firing a curse at one of the invaders, but he felt her reassuring arm around him briefly. “You?” 

“We’ve got this, I think,” she said. “Go after Snape, but watch out! The Azkaban breakouts are here, too.” 

There was no time to say more, but he put a quick kiss to her cheek and vaulted the improvised barrier of debris they were sheltering behind, narrowly avoiding a blast that erupted over his head, showering them both with debris. He lowered his head and sprinted forward.

Snape must not escape, he thought desperately. I must catch up with Snape — 

“You’d best run, cowards!” shouted Professor McGonagall. Harry caught a glimpse of the female Death Eater, Alecto, fleeing down the passage with her arms above her head, her brother close behind her. 

He hurled himself after them, but his foot caught on something, and the next moment he was down again, hard, lying across someone’s legs. Looking around, he saw Susan’s pale face flat against the floor. 

“Susan, are you — ?” 

“I’ll be all right,” grunted Susan sourly, clutching her stomach, though the blood seeping through her fingers gave lie to her words, “Harry— Snape— ran past — go!” 

“Got it!” Harry shouted, aiming a hex from the floor at the towering blond Death Eater who was causing much of the chaos. The man howled in pain as the spell struck his cheek. Harry staggered, righted himself, and then pounded away after the brother and sister without another look back. Their enemies seemed to be breaking and running. Harry began to sprint along the corridor, ignoring the bangs issuing from around him and the fallen figures whose fates he could only guess.

His trainers were slippery with blood, and he skidded on the stone floor rounding a corner. Snape had a big head start. Was it possible that he had already reached the gates? Or was he heading towards the cabinet in the Room of Requirement? Had his friends or the Order taken steps to secure against the Death Eaters retreating that way? Harry could hear little but his own hammering heart and his pounding feet as he sprinted along the next empty corridor, but soon he spotted a bloody footprint. At least one of the retreating Death Eaters was heading toward the front doors —perhaps the Room of Requirement was indeed blocked.

As he careened around another corner, a curse flew past him; he dived behind a suit of armour that promptly exploded. He saw the brother and sister, still fleeing from the chaos behind him, running down the marble staircase ahead, and he aimed jinxes at them but missed, startling some witches in portraits on the wall into other frames. As Harry leapt the wrecked armour, he heard more screaming and shouting; the castle was coming fully awake. 

He bolted toward a shortcut, hoping to overtake the brother and sister. He needed to catch Snape, who surely had reached the grounds by now on his way to the gates. Barely remembering to leap the vanishing step halfway down the concealed staircase, Harry burst through a tapestry and out into a corridor where several bewildered and pyjama-clad Hufflepuffs stood. 

“Harry! Someone said something about the Dark Mark, and we heard —” began Ernie Macmillan.

“Out of the way!” yelled Harry, nearly bowling two of the children aside as he sprinted down the remaining marble steps. The castle’s oaken front doors were scorched and hanging from their hinges, and there were smears of soot and blood spots on the flagstones. Students stood huddled against the walls, one or two with wands out and resolute faces. A curse had hit the giant Gryffindor hourglass, its rubies still falling with a loud rattle onto the flagstones below.

Harry scrambled across the entrance hall and out into the dark grounds. Even as his eyes adjusted to the darkness after the brightly lit castle corridors, he could barely make out figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate. By the looks of them, two of them were the huge blond Death Eater and, some way ahead of him, the black-cloaked Snape. 

The cold night air ripped at Harry’s overtaxed lungs as he tore after his quarry; not even his devotion to training and extending his body’s limits could help him at this extreme of exhaustion. A flash of light in the distance briefly backlit the fleeing Death Eaters. He didn’t know what it was but continued to run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse. 

Another flash, shouting, retaliatory jets of light, and Harry understood: Hagrid had emerged from his cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters’ escape. Though the stitch in his side was like fire and every frigid breath seemed to shred his lungs, Harry sped up. 

Something hit Harry suddenly, hard, near the base of his spine. He toppled forward, his face grinding into the ground and blood pouring from both nostrils. He realised, even as he painfully forced himself to his knees with his wand ready, that the brother and sister he had overtaken earlier had caught up from behind.

Impedimenta!” he gasped as he rolled over again, keeping close to the dark ground, and almost to his surprise, he jinxed one of them. They collided and tumbled down over one another. Harry pulled himself to his feet and ran raggedly after Snape.

Rearing up, illuminated by the light of the half-moon, he now saw the vast outline of Hagrid. Though the blond Death Eater was casting curse after curse at Hagrid, the gamekeeper’s toughened skin he had inherited from his giantess mother and his immense strength seemed to be protecting him. Snape, however, was still fleeing; he would soon be at the gates and then able to Apparate.

Harry tore past Hagrid and his opponent. Aiming at Snape’s back, he shouted, “Stupefy!”

The curse missed, the jet of red light soaring past Snape’s head; Snape finally stopped and turned, however. He and Harry looked at each other, twenty yards apart, before raising their wands simultaneously. Desperate, Harry cast another curse: “Crucio!”

But Snape deflected the curse, sending a parry back, which knocked Harry to his knees. Harry scrambled to one side as the huge Death Eater behind him yelled, “Incendio!” But the spell was not for Harry. He heard a mighty crack, and a dancing orange light spilt over all of them: Hagrid’s cottage was on fire.

“Fang’s in there, yeh evil, black-hearted traitor!” bellowed Hagrid.

Harry tried again, aiming for the spindly figure illuminated by the flickering flames, “Cruciatus!” 

Snape blocked the spell again, however, and Harry had drawn close enough to see his sneer.

“No, Potter! No Unforgivable Curses!” he shouted over the rushing of the flames, Hagrid’s yells, and the wild yelping of the trapped Fang. “You haven’t the nerve nor the ability!” 

Incarc —” Harry shouted, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

“Shielded, blocked, evaded! Time and time again, unless you learn to keep that mouth shut and that pitiful mind closed, Potter!” jibed Snape, deflecting Harry’s attacks. “Come!” he called to the huge Death Eater behind Harry. “It is time to be gone, before —”

Impedimen —”

But before Harry could finish this jinx, excruciating pain enveloped him; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, and he realised with surprise that it was him. He would surely die of this agony, as the pain would torture him to death or madness.

“No!” Snape roared, and the pain ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Harry lay, spent, on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting. Snape was shouting, “Potter belongs to the Dark Lord — we are to leave him! Go! Go!”

Harry felt the ground shudder beneath him as the brother, sister, and the towering blond Death Eater fled past him toward the gates. Harry heard an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he heard laughter, a high, manic laugh he could never forget. He was dreaming. Everything since the cave and the cold water had been a nightmare. Surely. He dragged himself to his knees.

Crucio!” 

Harry fell again, dropping his wand, defenceless. Heading towards him, past Snape, was Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair was wild and flowing in a breeze that only she could feel, and her face was one of obscenely sexual gratification. She licked her lips, jabbing at him with her wand, reminding Harry of nothing so much as young Dudley Dursley, a child poking at an animal’s soft belly with a stick. 

“No, you must leave him for our Master!” Snape ordered harshly. 

The pain continued to roil over Harry in waves, making his limbs flail and his already abused head slam into the turf. He heard his bones creaking, cracking. 

Then, from somewhat behind them, a small figure emerged from the darkness into the light. “Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy! Flipendo! Diffendo! Stupefy! Incendio!” 

The flurry of jinxes flew so fast that even Snape was unable to block them all, falling to his knees behind a collapsing shield charm, while Bellatrix was spun in a complete circle, screaming. The ends of her hair and the sleeves of her robe briefly caught fire. The pain gripping Harry receded. 

“Hello, Miss Lestrange. Do you remember me?” Hermione Granger advanced, firing jinxes and counters in a continuous string, both verbal and nonverbal, her wand dancing in a ceaseless pattern from one to the next, offering no relief or quarter. 

Harry managed to crawl to his wand and tried to stand. He was sure that he had broken ribs, and something in his right side caused unbearable shooting pain when he tried to straighten up. He managed to get to his feet in a pained crouch as he watched Hermione approaching the two Death Eaters that were before her, illuminated by the burning of Hagrid’s cottage. 

Hermione got as close as she dared without letting Snape flank her as she fired spell after spell at the madwoman, as Snape frantically blocked and shielded Bellatrix with no chance of counterattack. Finally, Hermione hit Bellatrix with a Levicorpus, lifting her from the ground, cruciform, arms and legs pulled behind her in the air. The still smouldering witch cried out, for the first time, in something that sounded like fear. 

“I hope you remember me,” Hermione said softly, her wand still at work, wearing down Snape while holding Lestrange suspended in a display of calculated offence like Harry had never seen, except perhaps when Dumbledore had duelled with Voldemort. Hermione came to a stop just a short way from Bellatrix, as close as she dared to keep Snape in her line of sight. She continued to cast spells his way, but she had eyes only for Bellatrix. 

“I really do hope that you remember me,” Hermione added, her face calm but her eyes burning. “Because I remember you.

Notes:

"...really goes out the window." Yeah, that was cruel of me, but Draco was a punk. An abused, whiny, self-important, insecure punk. It's not the fall that got him. It's the sudden stop at the end.

Dumbledore dies before he can be killed. Moody goes out like a bitch, but gets Harry vital information before doing so. Absent friends...

Harry kills. Yeah. War has consequences.

I wish Harry had been able to see and describe more of the battle, but this chapter had so much running it felt like an episode of Doctor Who.

I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger ending. The chapters are going to come faster now there is less un-JK-ing to be done, so I promise to resolve that cliffhanger promptly.

Unrelated note-
I see that many of you who Kudos or comment have little information in your profiles. Do you also write? If so, what/where? What else do you read?

Finally, have any of you sampled any of my other stories, and if so, which fandoms and what did you think? I greatly appreciate all the feedback I receive, even criticism, coming from friends. I'd like to consider us friends.

Be well,
Killjoy

Chapter 51: Aftermath

Summary:

"Nothin’ Dumbledore can’t put to rights."

The Locket.

Death in the House of Hufflepuff.

“Goodbye, young Master.”

“That bastard, Dolohov.”

"Are we seriously going to do this dance again?”

The end of things.

Notes:

Warnings for discussion of death, trauma, and grief, as you might expect.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

51. Aftermath

 

Harry, unable to stand completely, lacking even the breath to cry out, raised his wand. “Depulso!” 

His gasping declaration sprayed blood from his lips. There was definitely something very wrong inside him. It was, however, enough to cast the banishing charm. 

His spell caught Hermione unaware, and she had just a moment to send Harry a look of shocked betrayal before she was knocked sideways, rolling onto the grass. Snape stood as Bellatrix fell, collapsing against him for support. 

At the same time, a green jet of light flashed through the spot where Hermione had just been standing, as the Death Curse missed her by a hand’s breadth. 

“Come, now!” The high, reedy voice of Peter Pettigrew followed closely behind his missed spell, and he waved Snape and Bellatrix through the gates. Neither Hermione nor Harry could get a clean shot at them before all three disapparated, leaving fire, death, and blood in their wake.

“Hagrid,” muttered Harry, stumbling towards Hagrid’s burning house. “Hagrid?!

From the flames, carrying Fang on his back, strode Hagrid, smouldering from his heavy boots to his horrible hairy shirt. Harry sank to his knees with a cry of thankfulness. His body ached all over, and he was shaking uncontrollably. His breath came in painful, short heaves, accented with a frothing foam of blood.

“Harry? Yeh all right? Speak ter us, Harry.”

Hagrid’s huge, hairy face blocked out the stars above Harry. His eyes watered with the smell of burning wood and the smoking hair of man and dog. He reached out beside him and felt Fang’s reassuringly warm and alive body.

“Fine,” panted Harry. “You?”

“Right as rain. Take more’n that ter finish me.” 

“Harry,” said Hermione, her face coming into view as he blinked tears and ashes from his eyes, “you can never take it easy, can you?”

Hagrid and Hermione put hands under Harry’s arms and raised him up, though he could still not straighten completely. He could see fresh blood trickling down Hagrid’s cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.

“We should put out the fire,” muttered Harry. Hermione put a hand on his chest, keeping him from even trying to rise. She raised her wand briskly and cast, “Aguamenti!

As water arced from Hermione’s wand tip, Hagrid shyly raised his pink umbrella and murmured “Aguamenti” as well: Together, they sprayed water over and around the cottage until the flames were smothered.

“Could be worse,” said Hagrid optimistically, overlooking the smoking wreckage. “Nothin’ Dumbledore can’t put to rights.”

Harry reached a heavy hand to his friend. “Hagrid—”

“I was mendin’ a couple o’ bowtruckles’ legs when I heard ’em comin’,” said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. “They’ll have bin burnt ter twigs, poor little things.”

“Hagrid—”

“Harry, we need to get you inside. You need help,” Hermione interrupted, focused and businesslike.

“Can yeh tell us what happened, Harry?” Hagrid tucked his umbrella into his belt and bent to help Harry up carefully. “I saw them Death Eaters runnin’ for the gates, but why was Snape running with ’em? Was he chasin’ them?”

“He—” Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke. “Hagrid, he killed Mad-eye.”

Hagrid, the little of his face that could be seen beneath his beard and his covering of soot, looked utterly blank, uncomprehending.

“But, Dumbledore—?”

“Dumbledore’s dead. And Snape? He killed Moody. I was standing right there.” 

“Don’ say that,” said Hagrid roughly. “Snape, a killer? And Dumbledore, don’ be stupid, Harry. You’ve had a rough turn, is all.” 

“I saw it happen. I was there.”

Hagrid shook his head doggedly. He must have thought Harry was affected by the blows to his head, curses, and jinxes that he’d taken during his long battle.

“No, no. Dumbledore must have told Snape ter go after them Death Eaters,” Hagrid said confidently. “He’s gotta keep his cover, I reckon. Come on, we’ll get you up ter the school. You’ll see.”

Harry didn’t try to argue with him, still trying to control his body’s shaking. He knew Hagrid would find out the truth too soon. Hermione, her wand still out and vigilant, walked beside them, her face clouded with doubt and fear. Approaching the school, Harry could see many windows were lit now. He imagined the scenes inside, people telling each other that Death Eaters had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that someone had been murdered.

The oak front doors hung open ahead of them, one of them barely attached to its hinges. Warm light flooded out onto the steps and across the lawn. Shoeless students in pyjamas or dressing gowns were creeping down the steps, cautiously looking around for any signs of the Death Eaters who had disappeared into the dark.

Though Harry kept his head down and his eyes were fixed upon the ground as he walked, his mind’s eye was fixed on the spot below the headmaster’s office. He imagined the black, huddled mass lying on the grass there. Even as he passed the place where Malfoy’s body must lie, however, he saw people beginning to move toward it.

“What do yeh reckon that lot are all lookin’ at?” Hagrid asked as he and Harry approached the castle doors. Fang was keeping as close as he could to Hermione, who also was trying to see what was there on the normally well-tended lawn.

“See that, lyin’ on the grass?” Hagrid added sharply, looking to where a small crowd was congregating. “Hermione? Harry? Right at the foot o’ the wall? Under where the Mark— Blimey, yeh don’ think someone fell — ?”

He became silent, unwilling to voice the horrible thought aloud. Harry walked wearily alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his body where the various hexes of the last half-hour had hit him. He was oddly detached from the pain, as though somebody near him was suffering, and he thought suddenly of Leo, shouldering his burdens for so many years of abuse. What was inescapable was the awful grating feeling in his side and the even heavier weight on his heart. He knew what the crowd was seeing and how it got there.

Harry had thought that he would never hesitate to kill Malfoy given just cause, but now that it had happened, he felt sick, hollow. One more thing that separated him in his mind from Voldemort—his unwillingness to kill—was gone, and gone in an instant, without premeditation. What else would Harry do, he wondered, without thinking of the consequences? 

He slipped from Hagrid’s arm as the groundskeeper moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the astonished students and teachers had left a gap. 

Harry heard Hagrid’s sound of disgusted shock, but he did not stop; he turned and, leaning very heavily now on Hermione, he headed towards the castle doors. The crowd murmured behind Harry.

He felt something in his shirt pocket against his heart, and he carefully reached in for it, stopping with Hermione just inside the doors. His hand emerged covered in blood, confirming the feeling that at least one of his ribs had pushed through his side. The locket he and Dumbledore had managed to steal so many hours—or was it days?—before had been jarred open. Thinking that he could not feel more grief or horror or sadness than he felt already, Harry turned the locket over and discovered that he was wrong.

This was not the locket he remembered from the Pensieve. There were no markings upon it, no ornate that was supposed to be Slytherin’s mark. There was nothing but a scrap of folded parchment wedged tightly inside.

Without consciously thinking about what he was doing, Harry pulled out the fragment of parchment. Leaving bloody fingerprints in the process, he opened it and read by the light of the many torches lighting the castle:

 

Dark Lord, 

When you read this, I will be long dead. But I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen your Horcrux and intend to destroy it. Now, I will face Death in the hope that when at last he comes for you, you will be mortal once more. 

R.A.B. 

 

Harry didn't know nor care what the message meant. This was not a Horcrux, and Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion for nothing. He and Harry had risked their lives—and Dumbledore had given his—for nothing. Voldemort was no weaker, and Harry had lost an ally who, for all his many faults and failings, had been a powerful force holding Voldemort and his minions at bay. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl. 

He slumped against Hermione, and tears poured down his cheeks. Without asking for an explanation, without demanding anything, Hermione took him in her arms and held him. He forced the words from his mouth. 

“We thought this was a Horcrux. I nearly died. The strain for Dumbledore was—was too much. Draco came to his office, looking to kill him. I was stunned. Moody—he was a hero—he stalled, he questioned Draco, made him spill everything. Then more Death Eaters, the werewolf. Snape killed Moody, cut him down with the killing curse before my eyes. I tried to disarm Draco—I wasn’t thinking, it’s my strongest duelling move—but he tried to hold onto the wand. He went through the window. I tried to—I failed, I failed everyone.” 

“It’s not your fault, my love,” Hermione said. “You did what you could. It’s never your fault. Let’s get you to a healer, please!” 

Harry nodded dully, not registering the chaotic scenes around him. They came to the foot of the main staircase, and Hermione motioned to a familiar face, Molly Weasley, who had taken charge of a group of wandering students and was leading them back to their common rooms. 

Molly took one look at Harry and rushed to his side, lowering him down to the floor. She sent Hermione to take the students to the Great Hall, where they were running triage, separating the critically wounded from the bumps and bruises. Hermione took one last look at Harry and ran ahead, bossing the younger students along as if it was second nature. 

“I’m going to make you keep still, Harry,” Mrs Weasley said softly. “I don’t want you damaging yourself more, so try to relax.” 

Harry grunted an unintelligible reply but then started to sit up in alarm. 

“Red hair, by the headmaster’s office!” He gasped out. “Are your children safe? Is anyone dead?” 

He could see her face wrench for a moment, but like any mother of many children, she quickly put her impassive authority face back in place and pushed him firmly back down. 

“Now, you just lie still. Everything will be okay.” She waved her wand over him. “Petrificus Totalus!” 

“I must go now and find Arthur. Someone will be here for you in a moment, I promise. Just lie still, love,” she said as if he had another choice. 

It may have been five minutes before an assistant of Madam Pomfrey, or perhaps someone from the ministry called in by the Order, arrived and began treating Harry. It might have been an hour. 

Time had no meaning as he lay, petrified, feeling blood pooling in his lungs and grief and fear tearing at his heart. He was released from his paralysis at last and told to walk carefully to the Great Hall, but nowhere else. Of course, as soon as the young healer moved on, he painfully began to climb the stairs. He had to know what had happened.

He made it to the first landing and gripped the balustrade, trying to keep the darkness closing in from blinding him to the climb. It was here that Tonks found him, nearly tackling him before holding back at the last moment. 

“Oh, my Harry,” she muttered angrily. “What have they done to you, eh? And where are you going?” 

“Upstairs,” he gasped. “Have to see.” 

“Fuck, no,” she said shortly and turned him around. “Am I walking you to the Great Hall or carrying you? Your choice.” 

He wobbled for a moment before wearily answering, “Maybe a little of both?” 

He accepted her arm carefully around him and leaned heavily on her as they made their way to the Great Hall. On the way, they met Hermione, who took them in quickly, then nodded to Tonks. She moved on without speaking to them, hurrying up towards the sites of the fighting upstairs. Tonks and Harry continued to the Great Hall. 

Once there, she got him to sit on a bench while others came and went urgently. He leaned on her, eyes closed, as she filled him in as best she could. 

Draco had let several Death Eaters in through the Room of Requirement, while others had assembled just beyond the gates. Augustus Rookwood had left the castle to open the gates to his accomplices while a small group made their way towards Dumbledore’s office, McGonagall’s quarters, and the Gryffindor common room. 

McGonagall had been patrolling the grounds personally, unable to sleep. She had managed to delay the group headed for Dumbledore’s office. Crabbe and Goyle, the father’s of Draco’s favourite stooges, had run to the Gryffindor common room, presumably looking for Hermione, the Weasleys, and other valuable targets. The Fat Lady had graciously opened for them, only for them to be met with a face-full of jinxes from Harry’s friends who had been on watch for trouble following Harry’s exit. This was where the Death Eaters’ plans started to go seriously wrong. 

At this point, Tonks was interrupted by the arrival of a levitating litter bearing the body of Bill Weasley, surrounded by his mother and father, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny had her arm in a sling but seemed to ignore it. Ron had some bleeding scrapes but seemed okay. 

Bill, however, was deathly pale and had been mauled in the face and neck. His eyes were open and darting wildly about, but no sound came from his mouth but a bubbling gurgle and dark black blood constantly dripped from under the hasty bandages over his wounds. 

Remus Lupin held Bill to him as they set him on a table, his face ashen, his mouth an angry line. He began to urgently advise the healer who was examining Bill while assistants rushed up with a variety of salves and potions. 

“What happened to Bill?” Harry whispered. “I think I stepped on him by Dumbledore’s office.” 

Tonks’s voice was quiet and grim. “Fenrir Greyback. He took a stunner from Ginny, walked right through it, something with being a werewolf. He smacked the wand out of her hand, broke her wrist. He had picked her up and was about to tear out her throat when Bill arrived. Bull-rushed into him like an avenging angel and knocked her free. Then Greyback got his teeth into Bill, and they fell to the ground, Bill firing spells at point-blank into Greyback until he couldn’t speak anymore from the wounds. Bill fell over Ginny’s body and pinned her, and Fenrir rushed up with the others to look for Dumbledore.” 

“Poor Ginny couldn’t get Bill off of her, and he was bleeding out everywhere. At first, they thought he was dead, so until someone heard her shouting from under him they had just left him there. It was a long while before they realised he was alive. I had just sent Lupin to help him if he could when I was coming back down and found you.” 

“Is anyone... Is anyone dead?” Harry dreaded the answer. 

“Yes.” Tonks took a deep breath. “Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff. She followed Susan out and wouldn’t go back, wouldn’t abandon her friend. Some kind of curse, we’re not sure what. Also, Winky, a house-elf. She evidently was killed in the Room of Requirement by the Death Eaters while they waited for Malfoy’s signal. She... it looks like she was tortured.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, at a loss for words. “Oh, no.”

After everything she had been through in her sad life, Winky had not known peace even in death. It was just too much for Harry, on top of everything, and he slumped against Tonks and closed his eyes, letting the darkness swallow him up once more. 

Outside, Carmichael, the Auror, had pushed the crowds back from the body of Draco Malfoy and was trying to direct students back inside while not abandoning what he still considered to be a potential crime scene, though that was peacetime thinking. In war, this was now just a former battlefield, and the Malfoy boy a casualty, he supposed. He heard something behind him and turned quickly to see a house-elf, of all things, standing over the body. He appeared to be wearing a hat and something like lederhosen, held up with twine suspenders, and was adorned with many mismatched socks. 

Carmichael stared for a moment at the odd sight as he watched the elf almost tenderly straighten the dead boy’s robes to lay him out as if he were merely sleeping. 

“Elf, who are you? What are you doing there?”

“I am Dobby, sir! This boy was once Dobby’s Master, but now Dobby is working at Hogwarts.”

“Well, leave the boy alone. This is ministry business.”

“Dobby was just paying his respects, sir,” the high voice of the elf said earnestly.

What the hell, thought Carmichael. This night has been strange enough. 

“Okay then, just a few minutes. But then I want you back inside, you hear me?” “Yes, sir, as you say.” 

Dobby looked at the face of Draco, which he had used a touch of house-elf magic to make more peaceful, as untroubled as he could, though some things are beyond even the reach of magic.


“Dobby, catch! Catch, Dobby!” The boy, very fair, and small for his age, was rolling a ball down a flight of steps towards the landing. 

His target was a house-elf, wrapped in a spotless and tidy tea-towel, cinched with a belt of yarn like a toga. At the sound of the boy’s voice, the elf ducked his head in a nod and turned. He saw the ball rolling and bouncing down and squeaked in the high-pitched way of his kind. 

“Master Draco, sir! Sir is not to be playing with sir’s father’s things, Master Draco!” Eyes wide in alarm, the elf scrambled to intercept the ball bouncing towards him. He stretched out a long, spindly arm, fingers reaching wide and far to catch the crystal sphere. It took a high bounce off a carpeted step and headed for the stonework of the landing below. Dobby could hear the gleeful laughter of young Draco floating down from the story above. Dobby saw he would not reach the crystal ball in time, and he prepared to use house-elf magic to save it, despite the limits set by his Masters. 

Wingardium Leviosa!” came the booming voice from downstairs. Both Dobby and the crystal ball halted in midair, gripped in the thrall of the spell cast from below. Lucius Malfoy, his fine robes still covered with his travelling cloak, stood with his wand in hand. When he saw the crystal— a dark sphere of glass with a single drop of ruby-red fluid at its heart, a shining drop like a dark berry in the evening snow—when he saw this, Lucius frowned. 

Accio, Diviner’s Glass!” he snapped, and the orb flew to alight gently on his outstretched palm. He regarded it for a moment, his wand still extended and Dobby still dangling as though from the invisible strings of a puppeteer. 

Young Draco was toddling down the stairs, his robes tangling in his short legs and threatening to send him pitching forward with every step. He came to where Dobby hung in the air, and his laughter was like high music, joyful and full of wonder. 

“Da! Dobby flying, Da!” he laughed and reached a hand out to Dobby. 

“Dobby, you know the penalty for touching my things, my private things,” Lucius said with a tired voice. “The elf must be punished.” 

“Yes, Master. Dobby is a bad elf, sir. Dobby didn’t mean to touch the Master’s things, sir.” Dobby was wringing his hands as he floated helplessly in the air a foot above the landing. The fact that he was lying to protect the boy meant nothing to either him or his Master. 

“Lucius, are you home, darling?” Narcissa Malfoy came to the stairs and saw her husband levitating their house-elf as Draco looked on. Her face coloured, and she asked her husband, “What is that creature doing with my beautiful boy? Dobby, explain yourself.” 

“Dobby was trying to save Master’s things, Mistress. Dobby didn’t mean any harm! Dobby was trying to keep Master’s glass from breaking, he was.” The excited elf was almost impossible to understand as his nervous explanations got faster and higher in pitch. 

“Draco, go with your mother.” Lucius eyed Dobby coldly. “Father and Dobby need to talk about house-elves’ proper place and respecting their Master’s property.” 

Draco looked at Dobby, who was sobbing silently, eyes wide, his toes still dangling above the carpet. He could tell Dobby was terrified. Draco was the smallest boy among the sons of his father’s friends. Crabbe, Lestrange, even Goyle were all bigger than Draco, and he knew what it felt like to be small and frightened. 

“Da, I took the ball.” Draco wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robe and stood up straight. “Dobby is a good elf, Da. Dobby is a good elf. I’m sorry.” 

Lucius sighed and looked at his young son, standing side by side with his servant and playmate. He saw that Draco was trying to spare Dobby punishment, and he was even more confident that it had been Draco who had taken the orb from its place upstairs. 

“Lucius, take Draco to the table, and I will correct the elf,” Narcissa said softly to him. 

“I’m afraid not, Narcissa. The boy has to learn.” With a stern look on his face, he spoke down from his great height to his son. “Lead, Draco. Make choices, strong choices, bold choices. Never take blame, or pity. Lead, or you will always be a follower. There are winners and losers in this world, boy. Strong and weak.” 

“Powerful...” His wand twitched in his hand, and Draco floated down to his mother’s arms. “And powerless... Cruciatus!” 

A searing ray flashed from his wand, and Dobby was seized with torturous pain, writhing on the stairs in agony so profound it locked his jaws against screaming. The house-elf lay, back bowed in pain, eyes streaming tears, chest heaving with muffled sobbing. He’d slid down a few steps and was now just above the eye level of young Draco. 

“What do you have to say, Draco?” His mother’s fingers dug into the boy’s shoulders, and his face grew cold and just a little smug. A single tear welled in his eye but dared not fall. 

“Bad elf.” Draco looked at Dobby and said a little louder, “Bad, bad Dobby.” 

“Very good,” said his mother soothingly, smoothing the hair at Draco’s temple. “Now, come to the table, dear.”


Dobby took a last look at the face of Draco Malfoy. “Goodbye, young Master.” 

And Dobby went back inside the castle, carefully concealing from the Auror guarding Draco’s remains what he had taken from underneath Draco’s body. It was a wand that did not belong to any Malfoy but instead belonged to the generous and great Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

 

When Harry came to, he was laid out on a bed. Next to him, Susan Bones was similarly laid out, while Ginny Weasley softly snored in an armchair next to her, her arm still in a sling. 

When he could see that Susan was awake, he called out to her quietly.

“Hello, sis.” His body hurt less than he expected when he spoke, but that was a relative state only. 

“Hey, Harry.” Susan wiggled the fingers of one hand in a sort of minimal wave. Her face was ashen, but she seemed relaxed. Very relaxed. He realised she must be under some potent potions. 

“Have we been here long?” Harry asked, unsure what to say next. Hello, I killed a man. I watched another man murdered. How was your day? 

“Well, they put me out when I first got here.” She sounded unsure. “They had some trouble getting all my insides back in. Say I’m going to be all right, though. I think they’re sending us home soon.” 

“Home? Why would— wait, your insides? Bloody hell, what happened?”

“Bloody is right. Got cut across my guts, wound up on the floor holding them all in. I think everything is still there. Will take a long while to heal, though. And to fight inflexions.”

“Infections?” 

“Yeah, that too. But hey, look. It’s my good girl—she made it. But not poor Hannah.” Susan’s face fell into a confused expression as if she was trying to remember how to be sad and not quite reaching it. “The fuckers got Hannah.” 

Harry nodded. “I heard. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Susan said, closing her eyes. “She wasn’t alone. I stayed with her. No sacrifices. I stayed, and she wasn’t alone, at the end.” 

“I knew you would, Susan.”

 Her eyes opened, and she smiled a cruel, terrifying smile.

 “It was Dolohov,” she said. “That bastard, Dolohov.”

 “We, uh, we’ll get him,” Harry said, thrown off by her expression. Her smile got wider. 

“No problem. I already took care of him, Harry. After he killed Hannah, he saw how badly I was hurt, and he must have figured I was done fighting, turned his back on me. I transfigured him into a fish.” 

“A fish?” 

“A trout. Not a lot of water in the Hogwarts corridors, Harry. Not hardly any at all. So, as I lay there holding in my guts with both hands, breathing the dust and dirt of that floor, I got to watch Dolohov.” 

The bizarre smile left her face, and she looked peaceful once more.

“I watched him flop and gasp for a long time, Harry, before he stopped. I think I’ll take a nap. I’m pretty tired.”

“Me, too, Susan.” Harry lay back, and when he fell asleep, he did not dream. 

 

When he woke, Susan was also awake and seemed to be acting her usual self, though much subdued. Ginny stepped out for a moment when he woke, and soon his friends and allies filled the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, exhausted from her labours during the preceding day, lacked the energy to scold them all out and instead napped at her desk at the far end of the ward, a cold pot of tea at her side. 

“First,” Harry asked softly, “How is everyone? What happened with Bill?” 

Ron, who was standing with Hermione to one side of Harry’s bed, nodded slowly. 

“It’s all right, he’s alive. Mum and Dad have gone with him to Saint Mungo’s.” 

There was something in his voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. He’s a — a bit of a mess, that’s all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won’t — won’t look the same anymore.” 

Ron’s voice trembled a little. 

“We don’t know what the aftereffects will be — I mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time.” 

“But the others? There were other bodies on the ground.” 

“Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt and off to St. Mungo’s, but Madam Pomfrey says they’ll be all right. And a Death Eater’s dead, suffocated somehow in the hallway. They found Winky, the house-elf, dead in the Room of Requirement when they went to remove the vanishing cabinet.” 

At this point, Remus and Tonks entered. Remus moved to stand to one side by Ron, while Tonks took the chair between Harry and Susan. 

“Are you all right, Harry?”

“I’m fine. About Bill—Can’t they fix him with a charm or something?” 

“No charm will work,” said Tonks. “They’ve tried everything, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.” 

“But he wasn’t bitten at the full moon,” said Ron. “And Greyback hadn’t transformed, so surely Bill won’t be a real — ?” 

He looked uncertainly to Lupin. 

“There is sure to be some contamination,” said Lupin, “but I doubt very much Bill will become a true werewolf. I’m more concerned about his wounds. Those are cursed wounds, and they are unlikely ever to heal fully, and — and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on.” 

“Dumbledore might know something that’d work, though,” Ron said. “Where is he? We fought those maniacs in the school on Dumbledore’s orders. Dumbledore owes him—he can’t leave him in this state—” 

“Ron — Dumbledore’s dead,” said Ginny. 

“No!” Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control like this before; he felt he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron’s eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed for Ron what Ginny had said. 

“How did he die?” whispered Tonks. “How did it happen?” 

“He over-exerted himself on a mission gathering, well, a weapon of sorts, to use against Voldemort. He took me with him, but it was too much for us. Getting the two of us back alive pretty much killed him,” said Harry. “I was there—I saw it. Moody took him to his office, but it was already too late. His heart gave out. There was nothing we could do.” 

“And Moody?” Tonks had a tremor in her voice. They’d all joked about Alastor and his cries of “Constant vigilance,” but Harry knew she had nothing but respect and love for the old Auror who had trained her. 

“We took the headmaster to his office. Dumbledore was ill, weak, and I think Moody realised it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. I couldn’t do anything. I was stunned— under the invisibility cloak — when Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him.” 

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth, and Ron groaned. Luna gasped sadly. 

“More Death Eaters arrived — and then Snape — and then Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra.” Harry couldn’t go on. 

It felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened again, and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: her face was scraped, and her robes were ripped. 

“Molly and Arthur are asking for Ron and Ginny,” she said, and seeing their wide eyes, hurried to add, “Just to help with arrangements for looking after your brother, William.” 

Harry nearly smiled. Trust McGonagall to call Bill by his given name when not even his parents did. Ginny stood and kissed Susan goodbye in front of everyone. No one said anything or made any comments if they had a problem with this. Ron patted Harry’s shoulder. He excused himself to pass Lupin, and Hermione spoke suddenly. 

“Ronald, can I walk you out?”

“Sure, thanks.” 

Harry noted that Hermione had slipped her and into Ron’s as they were leaving. Harry looked at Tonks and saw that she had noticed this, too. She reached over and put her hand comfortingly on Harry’s arm. 

“Harry,” said McGonagall, “according to Hagrid, you were with Professor Dumbledore when he — when it happened. And something about Professor Snape?” 

“Snape killed Moody,” said Harry bluntly. 

She stared at Harry and seemed to lose her balance, swaying on her feet. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have pulled herself together and was watching from a discrete distance. She quickly conjured a chair at Minerva’s feet, and the Transfiguration professor fell gratefully back into it. 

“Snape,” McGonagall said faintly, slumping in the chair. “We all wondered. But Albus trusted—always—trusted Snape. I can’t believe it. Are you certain, Mr Potter?” 

“Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens,” said Harry bluntly. “You know that. Are we seriously going to do this dance again?”

“Dance?” More alarming than McGonagall’s confusion was her defeated posture. Seeing her anything less than ramrod straight and confident was a challenge to the morale of all those present.

Harry breathed a weary sigh. “I tell you Voldemort is alive, there’s a monster in the castle, Sirius is innocent, Snape is a traitor... All true, and every time we waste days or months while the evidence piles up. Just once, believe me. I’ve earned it.”

McGonagall opened her mouth to speak but slowly closed it. She nodded, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“I believe you, Harry,” whispered Tonks. “We always assumed Dumbledore knew something, something about Snape that we didn’t. I still can’t believe he was wrong.” 

“Albus always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape,” muttered Professor McGonagall. “With Snape’s history, people were bound to wonder. But the Headmaster told me explicitly that Snape’s repentance was genuine, and he refused to tolerate a word spoken against him.” 

“I think that I know why,” Harry said, and they all turned to him. “Snape was the one who gave Voldemort the information that made him hunt down my family. Afterwards, Snape told Dumbledore he hadn’t realised what he was doing, he was sorry he’d done it, and he was heartbroken that they died.”

Everyone stared at Harry.

“Did Dumbledore believe that nonsense?” Lupin asked incredulously. “That Snape was sorry James died? Snape hated James, hated him with a profound passion.”

“He thought my mum was trash as well,” said Harry, “because of her Muggle parents. He called her a Mudblood to her face.”

All of them seemed to be horrified, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened. None asked Harry how he knew what he knew.

“All of this is my fault,” Professor McGonagall said suddenly. She looked disoriented, looking about as if for an escape from the realisation of what was happening. “My fault! I sent Filius to fetch Snape —actually sent for him to help us! I don’t think he knew the Death Eaters were there before Filius told him. If I hadn’t alerted Snape, he might never have joined forces with them. I don’t think he was expecting them.”

“This isn’t your fault, Minerva,” said Lupin firmly. “We all wanted more help. We were glad to think Snape was joining us.”

“When he arrived, he joined in on the Death Eaters’ side?” Harry wanted every detail of Snape’s duplicity and infamy, feverishly collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear vengeance.

“It was all so confusing,” said Professor McGonagall distractedly. “Dumbledore had told me he planned to leave the school for a few hours, so we were to patrol the corridors as a precaution. Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora joined us in this task, and all seemed calm. Every known covert passageway out of the school was covered. We knew no one could fly in, and there are ancient and powerful enchantments protecting every entrance to the castle itself. I still don’t know how they found their way in.”

“I do,” Harry said. He briefly explained about the Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway between them. “So they entered through the Room of Requirement, where they must have found poor Winky.”

“We were fortunate,” Lupin said hoarsely, “that Ron, Ginny, and Neville took out Crabbe and Goyle almost immediately, then went looking for more trouble. They found us and let us know what had happened. Several of us encountered the Death Eaters minutes later, heading in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. Malfoy hadn’t expected so many people to be on the watch; he seemed surprised. When the fighting broke out, they split up, and we gave chase. One of them broke away up the stairs —”

“To set off the Mark?” asked Harry, thinking strategy through in his head as he’d watched Ron do, eyes closed. “They must have planned part that before they left the Room of Requirement.”

Lupin nodded.

“Around midnight, Professor Flitwick came down by the dungeons, shouting about Death Eaters in the castle,” Susan said. “I’m not sure he even registered that Luna and I were there. He burst into Snape’s office, calling for Snape to help him. We heard a loud thump, and then Snape came flying out of his office, saw us and — and —”

“What?” Harry urged her.

“I was so stupid, Harry!” said Susan in a dull tone full of remorse. “Professor Flitwick had collapsed, he said, and we should care for Flitwick while he went to help fight the Death Eaters.” She covered her face in shame.

Luna took up the story, her face uncharacteristically focused, her own voice soft but filled with frustration. “We went into the office to see if we could help Professor Flitwick and found him unconscious on the floor. Snape must have Stupefied him, but we didn’t realise, Harry, we didn’t realise. We just let Snape go.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Tonks firmly. “Susan, Luna, listen to me. If you had not obeyed Snape, he probably would have killed you both on the spot.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Susan muttered, as Luna lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“And then he came to Dumbledore’s office,” Harry said, watching Snape running up the moving staircase in his mind’s eye. The Dark Arts instructor, black robes billowing, pulling his wand from under his cloak as he ascended. “He found the fight quickly.”

“They had us in trouble,” said Tonks in a low voice. “Crabbe and Goyle were down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to fight to the death. Neville had been hurt, and Greyback had savaged Bill. It was all dark except for spells flying all around. Draco had slipped past, up the stairs, then more of them ran after him. One of them blocked the stair with some kind of curse I’ve never seen. Neville tried to break through and got thrown up into the air, putting him back down.”

“None of us could get past,” said Remus, “and that bloody massive blond fellow was still firing off jinxes in every direction. Ricochets off shield charms and stone walls sprayed everywhere.”

“Then suddenly Snape was there,” said Tonks, “and we took some hope. Until just as suddenly he wasn’t.”

“He ran straight through that cursed barrier as though it was nothing,” Lupin said, his anger turning his voice almost to a low growl. “I thought the curse must be down, so I tried to follow. I was thrown back just like Longbottom.”

“A spell we didn’t know, I thought then,” whispered McGonagall. “After all, he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. I assumed that he was in a hurry to chase after the Death Eaters who’d pushed up the stairs.”

“He was, in a hurry all right,” said Harry savagely, “but to help them, not to stop them. What do you want to bet you need a Dark Mark to get through that barrier? That’s how I would have done it.”

“Well,” said Lupin, trying to calm himself, “when he came back down, the big Death Eater had just fired off the hex that brought half the ceiling down. I think it also broke the curse blocking the stairway.”

“Snape emerged out of the dust — obviously, none of us attacked him.”

“We just let him pass,” said Tonks in a hollow voice. “We thought the Death Eaters were chasing him, and sure enough, the other Death Eaters and Greyback were back as well, and we were fighting again — I heard Snape shout something, but I don’t know what.”

“He shouted, ‘It’s over,’” said Harry. “I was coming down behind, then. They’d done what they’d meant to do.” 

They all fell silent. Unwelcome thoughts crept into Harry’s mind. Had they taken Dumbledore’s body from his office yet? What would happen to it next? Where would it rest? He clenched his fists tightly at his side.

The hospital wing doors burst open, making them all jump: Hermione was back, striding purposefully towards them again. Behind her, Hagrid walked in, looking as out of place and outsized as he always did indoors. His face, swollen and burnt, was streaked with tears, and they gathered like dew in his great bushy beard.

“I’ve done it, Professor,” he choked. “M-moved him, I mean. Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch’ ave the kids under a watchful eye. Horace Slughorn says the Ministry’s bin updated and all.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Professor McGonagall sighed, standing up and turning to look at the group around Harry and Susan. “I must see to the Ministry when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the Heads of Houses — Slughorn can represent Slytherin — that I want to see them in my office immediately. You should join us.”

Hagrid, his massive head hung low, nodded and shuffled out of the room, huge shoulders slumping. McGonagall turned to Harry. “I would like a quick word before I meet them. May I?”

He looked at her in confusion, then noted her wand out. 

“Oh, of course.” 

Muffliato!

Harry glanced at Tonks and the others, who turned away and talked to Susan. Professor McGonagall took a moment as though steeling herself, then spoke to Harry, her face revealing the strain she was under.

She got immediately to the point. “I need to know what you and Professor Dumbledore were doing when you left the school, Harry.”

“I don’t think I can tell you, Professor,” Harry said respectfully but without hesitation. The question didn’t surprise him and had his answer ready. Dumbledore himself had suggested that he confide the contents of their lessons to no one but Ron and Hermione.

“Harry, this may be of the greatest importance,” said Professor McGonagall urgently.

“I know it is,” Harry said, “but his advice was to keep our activities between us.”

“Potter” — No more “Harry,” he noticed — “in the light of Headmaster Dumbledore’s death, you must see the situation has changed.”

“I disagree.” Harry shrugged. “Dumbledore mentioned not following his advice if he died, and we discussed the possibility.”

“You did?” Professor McGonagall seemed somewhat taken aback, and her shoulders slumped. “If you change your mind, I trust you will inform me. The minister will be arriving soon, and I must speak to the heads of the houses before he gets arrives. The deaths of the Headmaster, a former Auror, a student from a politically powerful family, it’s all a terrible stain upon Hogwarts’s history. It is horrible, and we are not all convinced that the school should reopen next term.”

“I don’t believe that Dumbledore would have wanted the school closed,” said Harry. “I bet that if a single student wanted to come, then he would have wanted the school open for that student.”

“And will there be a single pupil after this?” McGonagall seemed indecisive, unsure, which frightened Harry more than a little. “Parents will keep their children home, and I can’t say I blame them. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened, Dumbledore and I considered the closure of the school — and I must say that Professor Dumbledore’s death disturbs me far more than the idea of a Basilisk in the basements.”

“Well,” said Professor McGonagall, regaining a little of her brisk efficiency. “Dumbledore’s wish was to be laid to rest here, at Hogwarts. We shall begin sending students home immediately following.”

She gave him a sad, hard look and then released the privacy charm, heading towards the doors. Tonks and his remaining friends turned towards him questioningly.

“She’s talking about closing the school,” said Harry.

“Lupin told us they might,” said Susan.

There was a pause. The world they had known was ending, and none were sure what would take its place. Harry found himself incurious about the future, for the moment. He wondered if he could ever feel curiosity again. He became aware suddenly that the school had grown silent. He reached out a hand to Tonks, and she took it in hers. They sat together quietly as the others took their leave. Harry knew somehow that something had not just changed but ended. Once the funerals had been held for Dumbledore, and Moody, and Hannah Abbot, they might never assemble this group together again. 

Notes:

I wish more people were sad for Winky. She was an innocent, caught up in events beyond her power or understanding. She died alone, terrified, and in pain, and to no purpose but the amusement of evil human beings.

Harry had no words, but maybe I do.

Absent Friends.

Chapter 52: Parting Ways

Summary:

Saying goodbye, and making changes. The end of Harry Potter and The Realistic Events of The Half-Blood Prince [Deluxe Edition].

I have nothing to add.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

52. Parting Ways

 

All lessons were suspended, all exams postponed. Some students were hastily taken away from Hogwarts by their parents within a couple of days - the Patil twins left before breakfast the morning after Dumbledore’s death, and Zacharias Smith was taken out of the castle by his haughty father. Cormac McLaggen found a use for himself by gathering up all the stray first-years from every house in the Great Hall. He regaled them with stories, both classic and freshly created, to keep them occupied as they waited to be picked up and filled their time until the Hogwarts Express would run after the funeral. It had started casually, but now everywhere he went, he was followed by a meandering tail of first-years, asking for more stories. He agreed to save his best stories for during the ceremony for Dumbledore, for all the students who did not feel comfortable gathering with the substantial crowd. 

Seamus Finnegan had resolutely refused to go home with his mother; there was an exchange of shouts in the Entrance Hall, which was only resolved when his mum allowed him to stay for the funeral. She had a hard time finding a bed in Hogsmeade, Seamus had told Harry and Ron, because hundreds of wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to give Dumbledore a final farewell. 

That morning, the Abbot family had arrived to escort their Hannah to her final resting place. Every past and present member of Hufflepuff House still on the grounds had borne her oaken casket through the front gate and down to a floo connection established in Hogsmeade. Susan Bones had been forbidden to attend by Madam Pomfrey, so she had held half a dozen people at wand-point while Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchly rigged a levitating chair to allow her to accompany her friend on her final exit from Hogwarts. Gideon Crumb, the bagpiper for the Weird Sisters present for Dumbledore’s services, piped the procession down the hill and into Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor House but still a proud Scott, had openly wept as she watched the brave, sad march wind out the gates and away. The keening of the pipes carried over the hills after the last Hufflepuff had disappeared from sight. 

Brighter and more positive excitement spread among the younger students—who had never seen it before—when a midnight blue carriage arrived. It was the size of a house, pulled by a dozen huge winged horses, and came flying down from the sky in the late afternoon the day before Dumbledore’s funeral. It settled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was met by the outsized figure of Hagrid and a few of his sturdier Care of Magical Creatures students, who began to tend to the winged Percherons, feeding them oats and single-malt whisky. 

Now on his feet but far from healthy, Harry was watching through a window as a gigantic, handsome-looking woman with an olive complexion got out of the carriage and threw herself into Hagrid’s arms. Madame Olympe Maxime had grown only more striking since Harry had seen her last, if that was possible, and she wore a long headscarf of black silk. She was escorted by a brace of young men in the light blue blazers, trimmed in white and silver, that denoted their attendance at Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons. 

Meanwhile, the Minister of Magic and a whole delegation of Ministry officials were welcomed inside the castle. Harry carefully avoided any contact with them; he was sure that sooner or later, someone would ask him to report on Dumbledore’s last hours at Hogwarts, something he was not able to address one way or another in his mind. 

He went back to his infirmary bed and lay down, letting Tonks, who had been with him almost constantly since he had awoken in the infirmary, cover him with a light blanket. He didn’t need the blanket or particularly want it, but it was clear that she was frustrated at her inability to help him further, and it was easy enough to indulge her nurturing instinct. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. He smiled at her, but it lasted just a moment. 

“So which of your many preoccupations are you dwelling on this time?” Her tone was joking, but he knew she was serious. She had appointed herself responsible for keeping him from brooding too heavily on any one of his many troubles, and it seemed to be helping this afternoon. 

“Still wrapping my head around Albus Dumbledore not trying to control my life anymore. It’s been something of a constant since before I can remember.” He closed his eyes and set his glasses aside to rub at his temples. He still suffered headaches from any one of the blows to the head he’d taken during the attack. He really needed to do a better job protecting his head, as that was generally where he kept his brains. 

“Are you glad that part’s over or angry that you’ll never get to really have it out with him?” Tonks wasn’t prying. She was just helping him follow his thoughts, something they had been doing the last few days together, which seemed to help Harry resist the temptation to spiral into obsession with any one problem. 

“Both? I hate to admit it, but towards the end, especially our last day, I started to understand him.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll never forgive him for leaving me with my aunt and for just assuming all was well in that hellhole of a family. And yet, he was so committed to fighting Voldemort, so positive that it was the right thing to do, even when no one else believed the maniac would ever return. How can I not respect the sacrifices he made of his own happiness, his own comfort, to prepare himself—and me—for this fight? I don’t know. I just can’t quite condemn him for his goals, even when I disagree with how he treated me, the way he treated others. He was playing a long game, and I’m just starting to see it.” 

“Deep thoughts,” Tonks agreed. “When I was in school, he was this remote, godlike figure, but at the same time, he’d hand out sweets, and he seemed to respect all of the houses, not just his own. That was a big deal to the Hufflepuffs. We don’t get a lot of respect these days from some people, but not him. But then, I found out about you, and what he’d done, or more like not done, I was so angry I lost all my respect for him. Now I don’t know what to think.” 

“I get it,” Harry said, putting his glasses back on and looking at her with genuine kindness. “In the end, he died fighting the worst foe I can imagine. He wasn’t willing to hide behind anyone else, so I have to respect that.” 

They sat together quietly and were still sitting when Susan Bones came in. She had one arm around Ginny Weasley, who had finally had time to get her broken wrist mended and was out of her sling. Susan leaned heavily on a cane on the opposite side from Ginny and was still walking very gingerly. Today was the first day she’d been allowed to walk about without observation, on the condition that she lean on Ginny and not stray too far from the infirmary. Having glimpsed the scars on her belly when they were examining her earlier, Harry was amazed that she was up at all. 

“Hello all,” Ginny said with forced cheerfulness. There had been a lot of that the last few days from everyone. “Good news. Neville and Professor Flitwick are both out of St. Mungo’s. Bill is still receiving treatment. His wounds aren’t healing well yet, but they are scarring over; in fact, he’s got a bit of a resemblance to old Mad-eye Moody, although, fortunately, with both eyes and both legs.” 

“How is Fleur taking it all?” Tonks asked. “Is she putting on the brave face, or is she already the long-suffering partner?” 

Ginny laughed. “She’s over him like an avenging angel. Won’t hear a word about what he will or won’t be able to do or how he won’t be the same. She says he’s a hero with proper war wounds. She’d marry him tomorrow if they would let her, I think. He seems a little taken aback, to be honest, but other than ordering all his meat extra rare, he seems to be adjusting.” 

“Well, good for them both,” said Tonks. 

Ron and Hermione came in, one after the other but so close together that they clearly must have at least met outside the door. Harry realised that they were trying to be discrete, which he might have found amusing if he had the emotional capacity for it in his present state. Ron’s scratches were healing, and his bruises were in the ugly yellow-green phase but fading. 

“Any other news from the wide world?” Harry asked them both. “We just got the Bill and Fleur update from Ginny.” 

Ron made a sour face. “They’re still looking for Snape, but without much luck.” 

“Of course,” said Harry, who was furious every time this came up. “They won’t find Snape until they find Voldemort, and since they haven’t been able to find him all this time...” 

Susan lay down on her bed, trying unsuccessfully to hide how much pain she was in while doing so. Ginny poured her a measure of her healing potion and fussed silently over her until Susan drank it. Susan winced at the taste, but her body began to relax almost immediately. 

Hermione edged closer to Harry with a decidedly Hermione-esque expression. “Harry, I found something this morning in the library.” 

“Don’t tell me you tracked down the mysterious ‘R.A.B.’ I would love to cross that off my list of worries,” Harry said, straightening up in the bed. 

He no longer felt as he had often felt before, excited, curious, anxious to get to the bottom of a mystery. He knew that unravelling the puzzle of the real Horcrux had to be completed before he could go on along the dark and winding path that awaited him, the path that he and Dumbledore had chosen and which he now knew he would have to cross alone. 

There were Horcruxes somewhere, and each of them had to be found and eliminated to create even a chance to kill Voldemort. 

He had shown Tonks, Hermione, and the others the note from the locket the morning following Dumbledore’s death. Hermione had not associated the initials with any dark wizard she had ever read about. But from then on, she tended to run to the library a little more often than it was strictly necessary for someone who had no revisions to do, no exams to prepare for. 

“No,” she said sadly, “We’ve tried, Harry, but we—that is, I—haven’t found anything. There are a couple of fairly well-known wizards with the initials—Rosalind Antigone Bungs, Rupert “Axebanger” Brookstanton —but I don’t think they have anything to do with it. Judging by the note, the person who stole the Horcrux knew Voldemort, and there is not the slightest indication that Bungs or Axebanger ever had anything to do with him. No, this was a less important mystery, but it’s bothered me. Snape.” 

She seemed disgusted just to say that name again.

 “What about him?” Harry asked slowly, sinking back into his pillows. 

“The Half-Blood Prince,” Hermione hesitated. “That book initially belonged to Eileen Prince, Snape’s mother. In an old Prophet, I found a small announcement about an Eileen Prince, who had married someone called Tobias Snape, and later a report that they had a son. “ 

“A murderer,” Harry snapped. 

“Yes, a murderer,” said Hermione. “But you see, Tobias Snape was a Muggle, according to the paper. So Snape was a Half-Blood Prince. No wonder the potions were so good.” 

“Just like Voldemort. Pureblood Mother, Muggle Father. Ashamed of his origins, he studied the Dark Arts and gave himself a high-sounding title; Lord Voldemort, The Half-Blood Prince. I should have seen it.” 

“It’s always easier to solve a puzzle when the answer is in your hands, Harry,” Tonks said. 

Harry shook his head. He could not stop thinking about the unreasonable trust that Dumbledore had put in Snape. Despite the growing darkness of those spells scribbled on the book, Harry had refused to think badly of the brilliant boy who had put them there. The book had helped him that much. Now, it was an almost unbearable thought. 

“I should have shown Dumbledore the book,” said Harry. “All those things he showed me to make me realise how bad Voldemort had been there even when he was in school, and I had evidence pointing at Snape.” 

“Harry, you’re blaming yourself too much,” Ron added. “I thought the Prince had a loathsome sense of humour, but I never imagined he was a potential murderer. None of us could have imagined what Snape was capable of.” 

Silence fell, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but Harry was sure that they, like him, were thinking about the following day when they would say goodbye to Dumbledore for the last time. 

Harry was considering that he had never attended a funeral; there had been no body to bury when Sirius died. He was unsure of what to expect and was a little worried about what he would see and feel. He wondered if Dumbledore’s death would seem more real to him once the funeral was over. Although there had been times when the memory was overpowering, there were also moments of bewilderment. Even though there was talk of nothing else in the castle, he still found it difficult to believe that Dumbledore was gone and not just away on his mysterious errands again. 

The next day Harry got up early to pack his bags; the Hogwarts Express would leave an hour after the funeral. He had just closed his trunk and was about to grab his book bag to carry a few things on the train. He heard a soft “ahem” noise behind him, and for just a moment, he thought of Dolores Umbridge, and bile rose in his throat. Turning, he saw Dobby, wearing all of his most clashing clothes but with a small black dress sock perched on his head like a beret. He had his hands behind his back and was shuffling from foot to foot nervously. 

“Oh, hi, Dobby,” he said uncertainly. “Come to say goodbye?” 

“Dobby wanted to say thank you, Harry Potter, for the chocolates.” 

Harry had found out that there was a sort of tradition among house elves to leave small flowers or treats at the site where an elf had died, a sort of memorial. He’d taken some chocolates that had been sent to him in the infirmary and had Luna place them in the Room of Requirement for Winky. She’d also left a bouquet of Pandora’s Poppies and a hair ribbon. There were other odds and ends, presumably from the other various elves who had known Winky and had been able to overlook her depression at being banished to Hogwarts. 

“It was the least we could do, Dobby. I’m very sorry about your friend. Winky was, well, she deserved better.” 

Dobby began to sob silently, shaking as large tears welled up in his enormous protruding eyes and dropped onto the floor. 

“This is why,” Dobby said, catching his breath, “This is why Harry Potter is being the greatest wizard in the world. To think of us in this time of your own tragedies! This is why we will never be forgetting the friendship of Harry Potter.” 

He threw his arms around Harry’s leg, and Harry awkwardly patted his head. In the past, Dobby’s enthusiasm and over-the-top declarations had been an embarrassment. Now, the heartfelt outpouring seemed exactly the release Harry would have wanted if he could have achieved it. He looked more closely at Dobby. 

“What is that you have there, Dobby? Is that something for me?” 

Dobby pulled back suddenly and looked around with comic intensity to ensure he was unobserved in the empty dormitory. 

“Dobby found this and thought that no one but Harry Potter would be knowing what to do with it,” the house-elf said with an odd note of sly fear. He handed Harry a wand, even though wizarding law expressly forbade a house-elf from carrying or wielding a wand. This crime led to Winky’s banishment from the employ of Barty Crouch, Sr. 

“Where did you get this? Was it one of the Death Eaters’? The bad people who attacked the castle?” Harry was examining the wand, a pale, straightforward design of elderwood with no fancy engraving or adornment. It looked familiar, but he was so surprised to see it that he could not immediately place it. 

“Dobby found it, Harry Potter, sir, under Master Draco. But this was never his, oh no! Not any of the House of Malfoy.” His eyelids came down, making slits of his enormous eyes. “Dobby knows the wands of the Malfoy Masters and Mistress very well, very well.” 

Harry’s own eyes went wide. “Professor Dumbledore! This was his wand—I’ve seen him duel with it! Draco must have—” 

“Was Dobby right that Master Draco was wrong to have that, Harry Potter, sir?” 

Harry looked at the wand, feeling it in his hands, both powerful and strange. “The wand chooses the wizard,” Olivander had said years ago. Harry took the wand and wrapped it carefully before hiding it at the bottom of his bag. 

“You were right, Dobby. There is no way Draco Malfoy should have had his hands on this wand. I’ll figure out how to care of it.” 

In the Great Hall, he found a sad and silent mood. Everyone was wearing their best robes, and nobody seemed to be hungry. Professor McGonagall had vacated the seat in the centre of the professors’ table, usually occupied by Dumbledore. Hagrid’s chair was also empty: Harry thought that perhaps he hadn’t felt ready to face breakfast; Snape’s position had been occupied, unceremoniously, by Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry avoided his yellowish eyes, which scrutinised the room; Harry had the strange feeling that he was looking for him. Near Scrimgeour, Harry spotted Percy Weasley’s red hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Ron showed no sign of noticing Percy; he was staring with an unusual loathing at his breakfast plate. Tonks was standing to one side of the professors’ table, eyes scanning the room, probably on guard duty for Scrimgeour. 

Further on, at the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle spoke in low voices. The two boys seemed strangely lonely without the tall, pale figure of Malfoy in their midst, commanding them. Harry wasn’t interested in fighting random Slytherins—he reserved his hatred for Snape. 

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by an elbow in the ribs from Ron. Professor McGonagall got to her feet, and the painful chitchat in the room stopped immediately. 

“It’s almost time,” she said. “Please follow your prefects and Heads of Houses out to the gardens. Gryffindor, after me. “ 

They came out almost silently. Harry saw that Slughorn led the Slytherin column, dressed in long emerald green dress robes adorned with silver embroidery. He had never seen Professor Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff, so tidy; she didn’t even have a patch on her hat or a spot on her robes. When Harry and his friends reached the Entrance Hall, they found Madam Hooch standing near Filch. She wore a light black veil that reached her knees, while he wore an ancient black suit and a tie that stank of mothballs. As the Hufflepuffs passed, Madam Hooch reached out and linked arms with Professor Sprout, and they walked each other out into the bright, mocking sunshine. 

As Harry saw when he went down the stone steps of the opposite doors, they headed towards the lake. The warmth of the sun caressed their faces as they silently followed Professor McGonagall to the place where hundreds of chairs were lined up. A path ran through the centre: there was a marble table opposite, and all the chairs were facing it. It was a beautiful summer day. 

An extraordinary assortment of people had already sat on half of the chairs: ragged and elegant, old and young. Many of them Harry didn’t recognise, but there were some he knew, like members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks (with her hair defiantly buoyant in bright pink again, as if to spite the darkness hanging over them all), Remus Lupin, Mr and Mrs Weasley, even Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who wore black dragon-leather jackets. There was Carmichael, the Auror, his face hollowed by grief. There was Madame Maxime, who occupied two and a half chairs by herself; Tom, the master of the Leaky Cauldron; Arabella Figg, the former neighbour of Harry; the hairy bassist of the Weird Sisters; Madam Malkin, from the Diagon Alley clothing store; and some people Harry knew only by sight, like the bartender of the Hog’s Head and the witch who pushed the sweets trolley on the Hogwarts Express. There were also the castle’s ghosts, barely visible in the bright sunlight, only distinct when they moved and shimmered, ethereal, in the bright air. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Susan—still leaning on Ginny and walking with her cane—Neville and Luna took the end of a row near the lake. People talked in low voices; there was a sound like a light breeze in the grass, but the chirping of birds was much louder. The crowd continued to swell; with a strong sense of affection for both, he saw that Luna was helping Neville sit down, his leg still not entirely healed from the battle. A few rows back, Amelia Bones sat, one baby on her hip while another slept in her pram under a sunshade. 

Cornelius Fudge, the former Minister of Magic, looking incredibly aged and careworn, passed in front of them. He made his way to the front rows as he uneasily turned his emerald bowler hat in his hands. Harry then recognised Rita Skeeter, who outrageously held a notebook in her red-gloved hand. Then, with even greater disgust, Harry spotted Dolores Umbridge, with an unconvincing expression of loss on her toad-like face, with a black velvet bow on her iron-coloured curls. When she caught sight of the centaur, Firenze, standing like a sentinel near the water’s edge, Umbridge got up and moved quickly to a more distant chair. 

The staff was seated last. Harry saw Scrimgeour, apparently solemn and dignified, in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He wondered if Scrimgeour or any of these essential characters were really upset about Dumbledore’s death. Many at the Ministry had feared Dumbledore’s power, his unconventional views, his disdain for form and tradition. Harry heard a strange sound, and he forgot his aversion to the Minister as he looked around to find out the source. He was not alone: many heads had turned, looking a little alarmed. 

“They came,” Hermione whispered into Harry’s ear. Her breath raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, and he followed her gaze to the lake. 

And there he saw them in the clear green water, illuminated by the sun, a few centimetres below the surface, pulling at his memories of the Triwizard Tournament. A chorus of the merfolk raised a song in their strange language; their pale faces barely emerged from the surface of the water, their purple-coloured hair floating all around them. The music made Harry’s hair stand on end, yet it wasn’t as harsh or strident as he recalled. Their song spoke clearly of loss and despair, of longing, and also of resolve. Looking at the singers’ sad faces, Harry felt that at least the merfolk were unequivocal in mourning Dumbledore’s death. Then Hermione again touched him lightly with her elbow, and Harry looked around. 

Hagrid was slowly walking among the rows of chairs. Her face was wet with tears, as almost silently he carried in his broad arms, wrapped in a purple velvet fabric adorned with golden stars, what Harry knew was Dumbledore’s body. 

Harry felt a lump in his throat at that sight: it seemed to him for a moment that the strange music and having Dumbledore’s remains so close had taken away all that heat from that day. All his complex feelings resolved at that moment into this: Here was a man, old, wise, powerful, who had devoted his life to educating the young and fighting for the good as he saw it, who now was gone forever. Here was a man who left no wife, no child, no fellowship, just the many he had taught and mentored, for good or ill. 

Ron was pale and obviously moved, and copious tears streaked the faces of Ginny and Hermione. Susan was not crying. Her face was hard, and there was something scary in her eyes that spoke of reckoning. Harry finally saw the unmistakable resemblance to her aunt, which had been much more muted before. Neville had his head held high while tears slowly worked down his face. Harry saw that Luna had reached one of her small hands to his thigh and gripped his leg tightly. 

Hagrid had carefully placed the remains on the table and was now turning back, blowing his nose with noisy trumpets that attracted the scandalised looks of several people towards him, including, as Harry noticed, those of Dolores Umbridge. Harry knew Dumbledore wouldn’t have cared. He tried to attract Hagrid’s attention as he passed, but Hagrid’s eyes were so swollen that it was already a miracle he could see where he was going. 

Harry turned to look at the distant row towards which Hagrid was heading and saw who he was going to. Dressed in a jacket and trousers so oversized as to suggest a small tent, there was the giant Grawp, whose frightening head, vast and boulder-like, was bent to the side, his expression docile. 

Hagrid came and sat next to his half-brother, and Grawp patted him so hard on the head that the legs of the chair gave way, sending Hagrid crashing to the ground. Harry felt an urgent need to laugh, but the music faded, and Harry looked ahead again. 

A small man with tousled hair and entirely dressed in black had risen and stood in front of Dumbledore’s body. Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying. Isolated words seemed to float out above the hundreds of heads. 

“Nobility of spirit.”

“Intellectual contribution.” 

“Dedicated service.” 

They didn’t mean much. They had little to do with the Dumbledore Harry had known. Sure, He guessed they were all true, but at the moment, Harry was thinking of what Dumbledore had meant when sharing “a few words.” 

Again he had to hold back a grimace not to laugh, and he saw that Hermione and Ron were eyeing him curiously. He whispered, “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” 

Ron looked at him as if he were mad, but Hermione failed to suppress a grin. Ron twigged to the reference, their first sorting feast at Hogwarts and Dumbledore’s idea of a few words of welcome. Hermione grinned, Run chuckled under his breath, and soon the three of them were trying desperately to stifle the laughter that was fighting against the seriousness of the occasion. The more they fought the inappropriate impulse, the harder it became not to laugh aloud. 

Ron began to wheeze, Harry rocked slightly from side to side, his jaw clenched and his face a study in stoicism, while Hermione sat motionless with tears streaming down her cheeks that for just a moment had nothing to do with grief. 

They heard a slight lapping sound in the water to their left, and they saw that even the people of the lake had surfaced to listen. Harry remembered Dumbledore crouching at the edge of the water two years and half a lifetime earlier, very close to where Harry was sitting now, conversing with the mermaid chiefs in their own language. Harry wondered where Dumbledore had learned it. There were still many things he had never learned about the headmaster, opportunities all past now, alive only in his memory. 

He stopped his jaw-clenched rocking suddenly and turned to look at Ron and Hermione. Ron was still chuckling under his breath, and Hermione was dabbing ineffectually at the tears that had rolled down her cheeks at the memory of Dumbledore’s first welcome to them all. 

How did Hermione know Dumbledore’s first welcome? Harry turned the idea over in his head in surprise. It’s not the kind of thing she would have put in her journals, read in their letters or even something Ron would have mentioned in her recovery. Where had Hermione gotten that memory? 

Harry realised that he was staring now at Hermione, his mouth hanging open. She looked at him, and then her own eyes opened wide, and her face became guarded. She glanced quickly at Ron, who was now trying to pretend at least he was paying attention to the speeches, and then back to Harry. She raised one finger to her lips, just briefly, in a quieting gesture. She looked away, along with Ron, listening to the speakers. Her hand crept into Ron’s lap, and he took it without any fuss. They sat quietly, holding hands while Harry forced his face forward. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was on anything but the ceremony taking place before him. 

The little man in black had finished talking and sat down again. 

Harry waited, thinking that someone else would get up. He was expecting some other speech, perhaps from the Minister, but nobody moved. The silence stretched, became palpable. 

Then someone shouted. A tall pillar of white flames enveloped Dumbledore’s body and the table on which he lay: they rose higher and higher, obscuring his body. White smoke spiralled into the air, drawing strange shapes: Harry thought, and his heart stopped for a moment, to have seen a phoenix flying joyfully in the blue, and a curious collection of symbols, nothing he recognised from runes or arithmancy but only one was clear at all, a triangle scribing a bisected circle, but before Harry could try to puzzle out its meaning, the next second the fire and smoke were gone. In their place, there was a white marble tomb that housed Dumbledore’s body and the table on which he rested. 

There were a few more cries of amazement and fear when a rain of arrows rose high in the air, blazing with green fire, only to fall short a reasonable distance away from the crowd. It was, Harry knew, the homage of the centaurs: he saw them turn and disappear behind the thick trees. In the same way, the merpeople slowly sank back into the green water and vanished from sight. Members of the crowd, by ones and twos, began to stand, mingle, or disperse. 

Harry turned to his friends and said what he’d thought since he woke up in the infirmary. “Voldemort uses people to whom his enemies are close. He’s already used Tonks as bait, Attacked you, Hermione, because—well, we all know why. He wants me to be aware of every connection as a weakness.” 

Hermione glanced at Ron before starting to speak, but Harry cut her off. 

“And that’s his mistake. Dumbledore is gone—in part—because he was too careful about his feelings, too willing to sacrifice his humanity in the name of an abstract greater good. I’m not going to make that mistake.” 

“So, what are you going to do?” Ron had his arm around Hermione’s shoulders, Ginny was clutching Susan’s hand to her heart, and even Luna was focused, though her eyes kept sliding to Neville, who looked almost fierce. 

Harry faced each of his friends carefully before responding. 

“It’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to figure out how to weaken Voldemort, then we’re going to attack him, and then we’re going to defeat him. And none of us will be doing it alone.” 

He raised a questioning eyebrow, and immediately Ron said, “I’m in.”

“We’re in,” Hermione said, correcting him.

“You’re not doing this without me,” Susan said, “Or my best girl, here.”

“Hell, no!” agreed Ginny. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask for help, actually,” Luna said.

“Took you long enough,” muttered Neville, a sly grin spreading over his face.

“It’s decided then,” Harry said, lightheaded and suddenly nervous. “I better tell Tonks as well.” 

“Now’s your chance, looks like,” Ron said, nodding at something over Harry’s shoulder. People had been clearing out of their seats, and through the crowd, Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards them along the lakeshore, leaning on his walking stick, followed by Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

“Harry, I was hoping I could exchange a few words.” Scrimgeour looked at Harry’s friends, who sat eyeing him with almost casual defiance. “Do you mind?” 

“It’s all right,” said Harry indifferently, nodding to the others. “Meet me at the tree where we met for running, and we’ll catch the train together.” 

The minister watched them scattering, then closed on Harry. 

“Harry, this was a terrible tragedy,” said Scrimgeour calmly. “I can’t tell you how horrified I was when I found out. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our differences of opinion, as you know, but nobody knows better than me—” 

“What do you want?” Harry asked firmly. 

Scrimgeour looked annoyed, but, as he had long ago in the Weasley’s garden, he quickly changed his expression to one of pained understanding, trying to sway Harry to whatever it was he wanted. 

“Now you’re clearly in pieces,” he said. “I know you were very attached to Dumbledore. I think you were his favourite pupil. The union between you two—” 

“What do you want?” Harry repeated, stopping him again. “It was a clear question.” 

Scrimgeour also stopped, leaning on his staff, and stared at Harry, this time with a pungent expression. 

“It is said that you were with him when he left school the night he died.”

“Who says that?” said Harry.

“I’m not here to discuss our sources of intelligence, Potter.” 

“You have spies in Hogwarts. Good to know,” said Harry. “Anyway, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He didn’t want anyone else to know.” 

“Your loyalty is admirable, of course,” said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be barely holding back his irritation, “but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. Gone forever. “ 

“He won’t be gone while anyone here remains loyal to what he stood for,” said Harry, smiling to himself. 

“Not even Dumbledore can come back from—”

“I’m not saying he can. You wouldn’t understand. We’re finished.” 

Scrimgeour hesitated for a moment, then said, in what he supposed was a delicate tone, “The Ministry can offer you any kind of protection, you know, Harry. I would be very happy to put a pair of my Aurors at your service—perhaps your guardian, the metamorphmagus?” 

Harry stopped. “She has a name. If you had known it, I might have listened to you. We’re done.” 

“Listen, Potter,” Scrimgeour snapped, clearly done coddling a boy who stood in his way. 

“Why should I?” Harry almost laughed. “Voldemort himself wants to kill me, and all your Aurors won’t stop him. So thank you for the offer, but I’m not interested.” 

“So,” asked Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, “the request I made of you at Christmas?” 

“What request? Ah, yeah, the one where you asked me to tell the world that you’re all doing a great job? “ 

“To raise everyone’s morale!” Scrimgeour snapped.

Harry considered for a few seconds.

“My morale’s actually not bad right now, Rufus. Good day.” 

Scrimgeour stared at him for a moment, then turned and limped away without adding another word. Harry could see Percy and the rest of the Ministry delegation waiting for him, glancing nervously at Hagrid and Grawp, who were still sobbing in their seats. Tonks said something to Shacklebolt, who looked at her questioningly for a moment, then nodded curtly. She hurriedly approached Harry. 

“You, Auror,” snapped Scrimgeour nastily. “You’re coming with me back to the ministry. Come along.” 

“Sorry, Gov,” said Tonks with a smile. “I’ve just resigned. Good luck to you. Wotcher, Harry!” 

Ron and Hermione also approached Harry, passing by Scrimgeour; Tonks tossed a jaunty salute towards the departing Minister and gave Harry a brief, circumspect kiss on the cheek in the shade of the beech tree, where they had often sat in happier times. Ron and Hermione arrived a moment later. 

“What did Scrimgeour want?” Hermione asked. 

“The same thing he wanted at Christmas,” Harry said with a shrug. “He wanted me to give him information on Dumbledore, and he also wanted me to become the Ministry’s new show pony.” 

It seemed that Ron was struggling with himself for a moment, then said softly to Hermione, “Let me go back and beat Percy!” 

“No,” she said firmly, grabbing him by the arm. “It will make me feel better! Just a little bit?” 

Harry laughed. Hermione smiled slightly, too, but her smile faded as soon as she looked at the castle. Harry and Ron did the same. Susan and Ginny arrived in time to follow their gaze towards the comforting bulk of the school. 

“Okay, what have I missed, you lot?” Susan asked. 

“I still can’t accept the idea that we may never go back there again,” Harry said softly. “How can they close Hogwarts?” 

“Maybe it won’t close,” said Ginny. ‘We’re not in more danger here than we would be at home, are we? It is the same everywhere now. I dare say Hogwarts is safer—there are more wizards inside to defend her. What do you think, Harry?” 

“I won’t be back even if it reopens,” said Harry.

Tonks nodded. “I knew you would say that. So where will we go?”

“We?” Harry had a moment of cautious hope in his eyes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Potter,” Tonks said. “If you’re going, I’m going.” 

“Sorry, everyone,” Luna said as she and Neville joined them, looking slightly dishevelled. Luna had misplaced her shoes and had let her hair, which had been braided earlier, down into its more natural, free-flowing state. When Neville stooped to try and tie his shoe, it was evident that he’d ruined his jacket, as the back was a solid mass of grass stains. Luna quickly bent to help him, and she, too, had suspicious stains on her elbows and knees. Neville caught Tonks and Hermione exchanging a look, and he shrugged, straightening again to his full height. 

“Saying goodbye to the greenhouses,” he muttered. “I don’t imagine we’re coming back here again, are we?” 

Harry grinned. “So, you two as well?” 

“Of course, Harry,” said Luna soothingly. “Neville and I have spoken to each other about it, and we’re going where you are all going. You can’t expect to do this without us.” 

“But where will we go if we don’t go back to school?” Hermione asked. Seeing the look on Ron’s face, she added, “You don’t expect us to let him go alone after his big speech, do you?” 

“I thought I could go back to Godric’s Hollow,” muttered Harry. He had been mulling that idea since before Dumbledore died. “It all started there. I have a feeling that I have to go there, that I’m still missing something. And I could visit my parents’ graves; I’d like to do it.” 

“Then we need to get started on the other Horcruxes,” Ron said. When Hermione looked at him in surprise, he said, “We can’t keep reacting, reacting, and expecting to win this. We need a strategy, and for that, we need information.” 

“I’ll have to track down the other Horcruxes, won’t I?” Hermione had her eyes fixed on Dumbledore’s white grave, which was reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. “This must be what he wanted you to do, which is why he finally opened up to you about them.” 

“And someone needs to keep your sorry asses alive and out of hot water with the Ministry authorities, and the Muggles, and the Death Eaters. I guess that’s my job,” said Tonks. 

“We have to find the Horcruxes and destroy them, and then I can go hunting for the seventh part of Voldemort’s soul, the part that is still in his body,” Harry said. “And I will be the one to kill him. And if, in the meantime, I happen to meet Severus Snape, the better for me and worse for him.” 

There was a long silence. The crowd was now almost dispersed, and the latecomers kept well away from the monumental figure of Grawp. He was holding Hagrid in his arms, their cries of loss echoing across the water. 

“We’ll be there together,” agreed Ron. “Well, after the wedding.” 

“Wedding?” Tonks looked back and forth among the two boys and Hermione. 

“Did you forget Bill and Fleur’s wedding?” 

Harry looked at him in amazement; the idea that something as ordinary as a wedding could still exist seemed fantastic. 

“You’re right. We can’t miss it,” he said finally.

“You sure?” Tonks was looking at him closely. “It’s sure to be targeted.” 

“Of course,” Harry said. “I already have a date, don’t I?” 

“Er, about that. I do as well,” Ron added, retaking Hermione’s hand. He waited a moment as if allowing Harry to say something, but the moment passed. He then appeared to register something that Tonks had just said. “Huh. The wedding is sure to be targeted. Thanks, Tonks.” 

“For what, exactly?” 

“Let me work on this thought for a bit, but I’ll let you know.” Ron nodded. He had the same look he always had when destroying Harry at wizard’s chess. 

As the various couples stood, looking out over the lake at a pair of crying half-brothers of unusual size, Harry closed his hand around Tonks’s. His other hand closed instinctively on the fake Horcrux, a symbol that despite the dark and tortuous path that appeared before them, despite the final meeting with Voldemort that he knew would come, he still had a precious day of serenity to enjoy with Tonks. They had one more day with Ron and Hermione, Susan and Ginny, Luna and Neville, with everyone dear to him who still fought for what they all believed in. 

“Tonks,” he asked softly, “will you ride with me on the train? I think even the kids whose parents are here for the funeral want to ride together, a sort of last hurrah.” 

“I’d like that,” she said. “By the way, your girlfriend is now unemployed.”

“Of course she is,” he said. “I think we’ll make it work.” 

Notes:

This brings us to the end, at last, of the journey that Waske started and that I jumped aboard. The next volume (which now ALSO needs some tuning up due to rewrites here—gods, what have I done?) is underway with my own vision for good or ill.

I thank everyone who has commented, bookmarked, read, or shared, I offer my most sincere thanks.

While waiting for the next volume, you might enjoy the prequel (A Soldier and Two Witches), or the bonus material (Scenes from the muggle-Born).

Until then, adieu.