Chapter 1: Knights of Avalon
Chapter Text
Oxford is cold in January.
Harry smiles, remembering the last January he’d been in Oxford and the way the snow had covered the colleges turning them into Christmas card settings.
It’s not quite as picturesque as his memory. The streets are dark grey, damp from the wash of rain overnight. The sky is a pale grey, the sun hidden behind the substantive mass of clouds.
Hermione’s hand tightens in his as they walk through the crowds along the street to the Radcliffe Camera, the library which hosts one of the best collections of History books in England.
Harry has only been there once before to collect Hermione for lunch since the social sciences library is elsewhere and, as a student of Social Care, that was where he spent most of his time. Mostly he remembers how quiet it had been inside the Radcliffe Camera and how he’d felt like a loud clomping elephant as he’d made his way across the floor.
The crisp morning air makes him shiver. He’s glad of the warm wool peacoat his grandmother had insisted on buying him. He’s dressed for the cold in heavy denim blue jeans, a thick navy-blue jumper over a long-sleeved white Henley. His emergency miniaturised trunk hangs around his neck on a leather cord underneath a thick maroon scarf around his neck, and he’d wore the matching beanie hat because it is freezing. The beanie is stamped with the Avalon coat of arms. Sturdy brown leather boots and gloves complete the outfit.
Harry keeps a tight hold on the leash of the large black grim keeping pace on his right as they dart around groups of oblivious tourists who block the pavement. He checks on Hermione who smiles at him sensing his regard and he smiles back.
She is in a more feminine version of his outfit with a crisp white blouse instead of the Henley under her sweater. The old hideous yellow scarf their Molly had knitted for her is wrapped warmly around her neck. She has a leather satchel slung across her body. Harry knows it contains her bottomless handbag. The outfit is topped off with a stylish black beret, also stamped with the Avalon coat of arms, and knee-high flat black boots which lace up.
Harry shakes his head.
The past two days feel surreal…
In truth, the past week and a half since they’ve been pulled into a different world has felt surreal.
Back on their world, Harry had been banished to the muggle world after he had been diagnosed with chaotic magic and Hermione had found herself constrained by a new muggleborn legislation. They had settled into a life of Oxford University students, filling their days with lectures and essays.
They had been ripped from that existence and into another universe thanks to ancient magic imbued in a crystal ball given to Hermione.
They live now in the presence of people long dead in their own world, with everything different because of the existence of family magic. Arthur and Merlin had created to bond magicals together in the hopes it would prevent the fall of Camelot. In the end it had only delayed it.
Harry’s still getting used to the family magic, used to the feeling of being bonded with family.
Family that had long since died on his own world.
His paternal grandparents have welcomed in as a long-lost grandson. He’s met versions of James and Lily, who aren’t married, who hadn’t fallen in love like his own parents, and were only just becoming friends.
More heartbreakingly in some respects, he has another version of his beloved godfather, Sirius Black, in his life. And with Sirius comes Sirius’ sister Regina, and his grandfather Arcturus. It feels overwhelmingly painful and joyful in equal measure.
He and Hermione had just begun adjusting to the world they now found themselves within when the crazy events at the Wizengamot had happened.
Harry had stepped on the Round Table to take part in an old traditional test which would assess his fitness to be a voting member. He had left the Table tasked with a mission to protect the world from an upcoming war, proclaimed, along with Hermione, a Knight of Avalon by the spirit of King Arthur Pendragon himself.
Godric tugs on his leash, pulling Harry’s attention to him.
The grim is a gift to Harry from Merlin delivered by Arthur’s spirit. Godric is not impressed at being leashed but the law is the law. Harry shoots a smile at his new familiar. He can’t bear the idea of being parted from him. He’s not Padfoot or the reincarnation of his actual godfather, Godric is his. Their bond had formed immediately as soon as he had been gifted to Harry.
Hermione has left her own familiar, Crookshanks, behind at Potter Hall, snoozing away at the bottom of their bed. Hermione believes that the kneazle is Crookshanks and Harry hasn’t argued otherwise – he trusts her to know. Presumably, whatever magic Merlin did to bring them into a different universe was capable of snatching up Crookshanks at the same time.
And again, the surrealism of their situation catches up with Harry and makes his breath hitch.
It is a mad, mad thing.
The uproar in the immediate aftermath of their visit to the Wizengamot has made Harry grateful for the protection of both the Potter and Black families.
Straight after the session, his grandfather, Charlus, the Earl of Gryffindor, had asserted his authority and swept Harry and Hermione away from the Ministry. They’d been sequestered at Potter Hall since, but Harry has determinedly insisted on his and Hermione getting a day alone as they’d originally planned.
Of course, their original plan had been to simply enjoy their first real date with each other whereas they’ve bent to the need to independently find out more about their new roles.
Hermione tugs him, and they turn onto the path leading to the Camera.
His relationship with Hermione is another aspect of the surrealism for Harry.
Back on their world, he’d never really allowed himself to think of Hermione as a prospective girlfriend, mostly since he had thought she didn’t see him as a prospective boyfriend. That belief combined with the on-again off-again relationship Hermione had been embroiled in with their best friend Ron, and Harry’s own failed relationship with Ginny, had meant that Harry had subconsciously put the idea of him and Hermione away.
This world had dragged the idea of Hermione as his girlfriend into the open and made it a reality.
In many ways their getting together has all the hallmarks of a cheesy romance film, Harry muses. This world’s social norms are very different from their own. Harry’s pendant gift to Hermione and her gift of new eyeglasses for him had been taken as tokens of affection between a married couple. They’d decided to remain ‘married’ when the misunderstanding of their relationship had been explained to them by Albus Dumbledore – alive and well in this reality, and still Headmaster of Hogwarts.
To consolidate their story, Harry had decided to wear his Lordship ring as a wedding ring, and he’d gifted Hermione the Ladyship equivalent to do the same. He isn’t certain but he thinks that when he placed the ring on Hermione’s finger the family magic had decreed that they were married. Hermione is shown as his wife on the Black Family tapestry, and he’s relieved she has the protection of himself and his family.
Harry thinks fondly about their made-up romantic backstory of falling in love as friends, kissing on a beach in Brighton, and marrying in a small church surrounded by friends and family.
Faking it had led to a real first kiss at the turn of the New Year. They had realised that night that they were both interested in more than just friendship; that maybe they had the possibility for more than friendship.
Friendship first, Harry muses, always friendship first, but they are building something more together and Harry likes that. He’s surprisingly optimistic, but maybe it’s because there is already love and a good foundation.
They slow to a stop just before the door. There is a handy ‘don’t walk on the grass’ sign which he loops Godric’s leash around and ties it. It gives Godric some movement, but it will keep him constrained. Hermione surreptitiously conjures up a bowl of water while Harry pulls out a chew toy.
“We won’t be long,” he promises as he pats Godric’s head.
Hermione slips her hand back in his as they complete the short walk up the pathway, up a few steps, through the door and into the building.
There is the same solemn hush that Harry remembers, and it has Harry immediately feeling like once again he is a noisy elephant.
Hermione leans into him. “Right, so I’ll go find the history section like we planned, and you take myths and legends. I’ll come find you.” She drops a soft kiss on his lips, and she’s gone before he can say anything.
Truthfully, the plan is Hermione’s.
She’s determined to find out as much as she can from neutral sources about the whole Knights of Avalon notion. He can’t say he blames her. He’s come to appreciate his family (he shies away from the word love – he’s only known them a short time), but he’s wary of trusting any information about their situation.
He heads up the stairs, following the signs to the mythology section of the library. It doesn’t take him long to find a section on Arthurian mythology, but it’s surprisingly limited to a shelf in a section on British myths right at the back wall.
He checks it out anyway.
His eyes roam over the titles and he settles on a book titled ‘The Knights Called to Arms.’ He picks it up and the shelf shimmers before a doorway reveals itself. He casts a look around to check that there isn’t a muggle – non-magical, he reminds himself of his new world’s term – and is relieved to find himself alone.
The magic is similar, he realises to the entryway to Diagon Alley. If he’d been paying attention, he would have sensed the familiar magical tingle.
Harry sighs and steps through the doorway into a large wizarding library.
He wonders where he even starts as he surveys row upon row of books.
“May I help you, Lord Peverell?”
Harry startles at the voice behind him and spins around to find a familiar figure.
He blinks.
The elderly form of his retired neighbour is different to the man Harry remembers. He’s wearing a beige cardigan, with a name badge pinned on the lapel, over a buttoned-up white shirt with a tartan tie teamed with plain black trousers and shiny leather shoes. But it’s the same wild white hair that curls around his ruddy face and wide blue eyes.
“Mister Higgins?” asks Harry tentatively.
“That’s me,” Higgins confirms in a soft Scottish brogue. “I assume Maisie redirected you here to our wizarding library from the front desk, Sir Harry?”
“Actually, I picked up,” Harry raises the book he’s still holding.
Higgins glances at the title. “Ah, researching your new position I take it?”
Harry hides his grimace and nods. “My wife and I were hoping to find a book on the Knights of Avalon?”
Higgins smiles and gestures behind him. “Follow me.”
Harry follows after Higgins who is walking with the same spritely energy that Harry remembers him having in his own world. They stop at a large section signed ‘The Reign of King Arthur.’ There were multiple shelving units, all of them stacked with books.
Harry hides his grimace. He’s not unaware of the irony that less than five minutes before he was decrying a lack of books, but…
Higgins smiles again as though he can read Harry’s mind and ushers him down an aisle. They stop in front of a small shelf.
“These are all the books written specifically about the Knights of Avalon,” Higgins says. He plucks three books from the tidy row. “These are the definitive guides.”
Harry breathes a sigh of relief as he takes the short stack. “Thank you, Mister Higgins.”
“I am entirely at your service, Sir Harry,” Higgins replies. He taps the books as his eyes twinkle. “You’ll read all about that, I’m sure.” He motions to the right. “There’s a very comfortable reading nook just over by the window. I’ll be at the desk by the door.”
Harry nods as Higgins takes his leave. He bites his bottom lip thoughtfully as he wanders over to the nook that Higgins has suggested.
There are two large green armchairs next to the window. Harry peeks out and sees the front of the building. He can see the small form of Godric lying down, ignoring the odd passing person.
Harry sits down in one of the armchairs, sets down the two larger books and opens the one Higgins had chosen first.
It’s an academic commentary on a first-person account found in an old church in Wales. Ser Allan had been a Knight of Avalon in the time of Arthur.
Harry skips over the chapters on the discovery and authentication of the document.
“Ser Allan begins his account with why Arthur created the Knights of Avalon, a different Order to the Knights of the Round Table, but no less important to Arthur’s reign.”
Harry frowns.
“The Order of the Round Table governed Avalon from Camelot, but the Knights of Avalon were the King’s appointed Chosen; they were his warriors, and peacekeepers. They were sent out into Avalon itself to maintain order among the citizens and the still fantastical magical beasts that roamed freely. They are the reality of the chivalrous Knights upon which later romantic myths and legends would emerge.”
Harry taps the page. He can feel the truth of that resonate with something deep inside him. It makes sense, Harry muses. There had to have been some kind of law and order in Avalon.
“All the Knights were personally appointed by the King and usually tasked with a specific mission. Ser Allan reveals his own mission was to find various magical artefacts that had wandered into the mortal world and return them to the Temple of Avalon for safe keeping.”
Harry’s eyes widen a little. Apparently, Ser Allan had been Camelot’s version of Arthur Weasley, tracking down anything that had been magically altered and which could reveal their presence to muggles. He smiles widely at the thought.
He misses Ron.
Even if their friendship had changed after Harry’s banishment (and Harry thinks the fact that Hermione had joined him in the muggle world had probably been part of that), Harry’s soft spot for his first friend has never diminished.
The part of his magic which sings with his family bonds twinges a little and he realises that Hermione has entered the wizarding library and is making her way through the stacks. He continues reading, certain she’ll find him.
It only takes a few minutes before she’s plopping down beside him with a pile of books significantly larger than his own.
“This is amazing!” Hermione says in a loud whisper. “There’s no library like this back in our world!”
“Are you sure?” Harry teases. “Maybe you just didn’t find it.”
Hermione shoots him a chiding look. Her obvious affection warms him. He holds out his hand and hers slides into his.
“This is nice,” Hermione says quietly. “It feels like forever since the two of us have had any time alone together.”
Harry nods. His family have kept them both close. Not that they really need to be physically in the same location to know how they are. Harry is still getting used to the pull of the family magic which connects him to his newfound relatives, but if he focuses, he knows he’ll sense his grandfather contemplative in a meeting with his political allies, Arcturus with his; his grandmother, Dorea, gleefully shopping with Regina in Paris.
He can sense that James is back at work as an Auror given the magic resonates with his sense of focus, and Lily is feeling mostly amused. It doesn’t surprise him; she was planning a day with her pregnant best friend, Alice Longbottom.
Sirius is harder to sense. The counterpart to his godfather had gone back to Hogwarts to prepare for the new school term and the ambient magic of the wards there and sheer number of students means the family magic lies fallow unless something serious occurs.
Harry and Hermione will head to Hogwarts themselves the next day.
“You’re thinking about Hogwarts again, aren’t you?” Hermione says softly.
Harry sighs and rubs his chin. “Are we doing the right thing going to work for Dumbledore with everything so up in the air about this Knight business?”
“Professor Dumbledore, Harry, and…” Hermione grimaces. “Maybe not.” She holds up a hand. “Let’s get these books checked out and we can talk somewhere a bit more appropriate.”
Harry nods. He helps her carry a portion of the books she has, and they head to the front desk.
“Sir Harry, Lady Hermione,” Higgins nods and gets to his feet as they approach.
Harry’s eyes stray to the occupied dog bed tucked by the desk. He stoops to pat the black Highland terrier’s head gently. It’s good to see that Higgins still has his faithful dog in this world too.
“An interesting but well-rounded collection, Lady Hermione,” Higgins says as he carefully taps each book. An entry appears in the large open ledger that takes up half the desk.
“Thank you,” Hermione says, her eyes widening a little at the use of her title. “I’ve always believed in getting a wide range of sources.”
“As a librarian, I heartily approve,” Higgins says with a smile.
Harry puts his own small stack on the desk.
“No need to check those, Sir Harry,” Higgins says, “they are on loan to the University from the Black library.”
Harry and Hermione exchange a quick glance at that news.
They gather the books and Hermione spells them into her satchel.
“If I can be of any further help, please do come back,” Higgins says.
“Thank you,” Harry gives a small nod in goodbye.
They leave the library and Harry retrieves an excited Godric. The grim’s tail wags enthusiastically as he greets them.
Hermione steers them back through the Oxford streets and in short order they’re sat at their usual table in the coffee shop they’d frequented daily in another world. Godric sits under their table happily chewing on a treat as they pour strong mugs of tea and contemplate the baked goods they’ve selected.
Hermione sets up a privacy bubble. “What do you want to talk about first?”
Harry sighs and rubs his hand through his hair. There’s some kind of magical property on the beanie which means his hair isn’t sweaty, but he imagines it’s probably still a mess given Hermione’s eyes flicker up and widen a touch before she gets very interested in her tea.
Harry pulls over the plate with his chocolate cake and takes a bite, thinking about his answer. “I miss Ron.”
Hermione looks at him with clear surprise.
Harry shakes his head. “That isn’t what I meant to say.”
“I don’t know why not,” Hermione reaches over and takes his hand. “I miss him too.” Her eyes soften. “I miss all our friends.”
“It’s just…” Harry rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “I guess coming here today, it’s reminded me of home.”
“I know what you mean,” Hermione murmurs. “If we ignore the grim at your feet, this could be another typical day for us at Uni.”
“Which made me think of options,” Harry admits. He reluctantly squeezes her hand and lets her go so she can eat her scone and drink her tea. He picks up his own and takes a fortifying sip.
Hermione regards him over the rim of her mug. “You’re having second thoughts about going back to Hogwarts.”
“I don’t trust Dumbledore,” Harry says bluntly.
Hermione nods. “Me either.”
“Then why are we going back again?” asks Harry pointedly.
Hermione chews her scone as she thinks about her answer, and he takes advantage of the lull to eat another forkful of cake.
“Better the devil we know?” Hermione sighs and shakes her head. “He wasn’t happy about the whole Wizengamot thing.”
“Neither were we,” comments Harry dryly. He raises his hands as if in surrender. “I know we talked over going back yesterday after Professor McGonagall asked us to at least serve a term as they were struggling to find alternatives, and we agreed, but…”
“But,” agrees Hermione. She fidgets a little with her scarf. “I don’t trust Professor Dumbledore. He’s different to our Albus Dumbledore and given how badly ours used you, I don’t trust this one very much at all. But Hogwarts is familiar and with everything else I think we could do with some familiar.”
Harry nods. “It’s just I realised in the library…”
“This is familiar too,” Hermione concludes sadly.
Harry leans back in his chair. “A part of me wishes we could just come here for real, study and have the lives we were planning back home.” He grimaces. “But I accepted the King’s call.”
Hermione reaches back over the table again and he takes her hand gratefully. “I don’t blame you for us being here, Harry. It’s not your fault Arthur Pendragon and his meddling wizard picked you to help keep this world safe.”
“They shouldn’t have involved you,” Harry says quietly, his eyes intent on hers. “You were almost killed.”
“I would have followed you here if they’d left me on our world,” Hermione points out with wry humour making her lips twitch into a smile.
He raises their hands and kisses her palm in a silent thank you for her friendship and love. She blushes prettily in response.
“I’m glad I’m here with you,” Hermione repeats, fingers tangling with his. “I don’t want to be anywhere else especially not when you’re facing another fight.”
Harry winces. “I don’t even know where to start with that.”
“Probably with old Tom,” Hermione sighs. “In our world, this is when he made his move.”
The timeline differences between the two worlds still have Harry’s head spinning. The year is supposedly the same as the one they’d left behind, but his parents are only just in their twenties and Voldemort’s first push for power is beginning to take root.
“Except,” Harry says, his mind drifting back to the insane moments he’d spent with King Arthur’s spirit, “Arthur said it wasn’t just Tom, that he and Merlin knew there was another Big Bad, they just couldn’t see its face.”
Hermione’s lips twist in disgust at the vagueness. “Honestly, we just don’t know enough about this world to know anything. How did they think bringing in complete strangers was going to help?”
“Objectivity? Fresh eyes?” Harry suggests.
Hermione reluctantly pulls her hand away from his and taps the table. “The books may help. We need to get a good understanding of the way magic works here, what the history already is. We need time to get used to this world.”
“Which is why you want to go back to Hogwarts,” Harry realises out loud.
“Hogwarts has the best collection of magical literature,” Hermione says briskly before she deflates a little. “And yes, I’d like to take advantage of sitting in one place we know well and which is protected to get that research under our belts.” She waves her hand. “I know your grandparents would prefer we stay at Potter Hall, but I think if we do, we’ll end up spending all of our time at the Ministry. Your families can’t protect us forever.”
Harry nods. It’s a fair point.
“Besides, can you honestly say that you’d be comfortable being that far away from Lily?” Hermione asks pointedly picking up her tea.
Harry slumps back in his chair. “No,” he admits.
His own mother’s protective magic combined with the family magic has made his connection with this Lily very sensitive. Lily is uncomfortable when she cannot be near him, and she has to return to Hogwarts and her apprenticeship.
“Besides, going back to Hogwarts means you can talk to Sirius properly and put your fears about his intentions to rest,” Hermione says.
He shoots a disgruntled look at her, but she simply raises an eyebrow in response.
“You can’t tell me you’re not worried,” Hermione says.
“He was the one who suggested the titles, and the one to propose I do the old Wizengamot test of standing on the Round Table,” Harry replies. He really doesn’t want to question Sirius’ intentions. But this Sirius isn’t his Sirius, and Sirius had seemed personally satisfied by the proclamation of them as Knights.
“Didn’t Charlus ask Arcturus outright?” asks Hermione.
Harry nods. “Arcturus says Sirius had an inkling Arthur would appear because that has happened before as a matter of historical record, but he didn’t know that the whole Knights of Avalon thing would happen.”
His mind drifts to the stack of books they’ve got to read before he pulls himself back, picking up his own tea and draining it.
“I just don’t like that he disappeared after we left the Wizengamot and before we could talk to him ourselves,” he admits.
Hermione nods. “I think Arcturus knows he mis-stepped sending Sirius back to Hogwarts so quickly to get eyes on Professor Dumbledore. Apart from Lily, he was the only one not protesting at the idea of us going back. I think he’s hoping if we do, we can clear the air with Sirius.”
“Let’s hope,” Harry says. He really hopes Sirius is on their side.
“So we are going back?” Hermione checks.
Harry nods. “You’re right about Lily and staying safe somewhere while we get our feet under us independently from the family.” He glances around. “I just…”
“Maybe we can plan to come back to Uni after this fight, whatever this fight is, is over?” suggests Hermione.
Harry rubs his chin and nods. “That’s not a bad idea. I think I’d like us to finish our studies and get a place of our own.”
Hermione smiles. “Maybe I can look at some part-time study too so we don’t get too far behind.” She pushes her finished plate to one side. “I hate to say it, but I think it’s prudent to plan. Who knows? They may banish us here too once you’ve saved them.”
Harry sets his mug down, stands up and offers his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
She takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet.
They’re smiling as they hurriedly drag on their coats and Harry takes hold of Godric’s leash firmly as he pulls Hermione close and apparates them out of the café.
They land in a deserted corner of Brighton’s beach.
Godric barks excitedly. Harry lets him off the leash and the grim bounds away to chase the swells and snuffle into the sand.
Hermione presses close to him, grinning. “I thought we said it was going to be too cold to come to the seaside?”
“Bugger it,” Harry says, grinning back. “Fancy doing our fake first date for real?”
“Fish and chips and you? Sounds perfect,” Hermione says.
Their gazes catch and hold and they’re kissing, soft and sweet and…
Hermione’s right, Harry thinks happily, pushing all thoughts of Knights and quests from his mind.
It’s Hermione and it’s him and it’s absolutely perfect.
Chapter 2: The Black Knight
Chapter Text
Sirius is at the breakfast table.
Harry almost pauses in the doorway as he catches sight of the wizard. He’s been conflicted about Sirius even without the question that buzzes most prominently in his head – namely, why had Sirius suggested Harry step onto the Round Table?
Sirius is the embodiment of everything that his own godfather never had the chance to become; a respected Professor of History, Baron Blackthorn, Heir to the House of the Black, and most importantly, a beloved grandson and brother.
But, Harry reminds himself, they had spoken about Harry’s relationship with the Sirius of his world, and he had been getting closer to this world’s Sirius before Arcturus had sent him off to spy on Dumbledore. He shouldn’t shy away from another conversation with Sirius about his motives at the Wizengamot.
He heads to the table and slides into the chair which has become his during his stay at Potter Hall. Godric follows him and lies down at his feet.
At the head of the table, Harry’s grandfather, Charlus, gives a nod from behind the global broadsheet, The Wizarding World. “Good morning, Harry.”
“Morning, Grandfather,” Harry replies warmly.
Dorea, his grandmother, enters before Harry can say anything to Sirius. She greets Harry with a kiss to his cheek, welcomes Sirius and sits.
“Is Hermione on her way down, Harry?” asks Dorea.
“She’s just finishing getting dressed.” He smiles remembering their date the day before.
It had been perfect.
Fish and chips on the beach, walking hand in hand down the sands with Godric racing ahead to splash in the waves. The memory of the kisses they’d shared make his blood heat a little even though he and Hermione are agreed to take their physical relationship at a slow pace.
“Lily said you were on a date when I arrived yesterday,” Sirius comments, drawing Harry’s attention back to the table.
Harry looks up into friendly silver eyes and wonders at his own doubts about the wizard across from him. “We wanted to spend some time just the two of us before we get to Hogwarts.”
“Good idea,” Sirius confirms, smiling, “it can get hectic especially once the students are back. We Professors don’t really get a lot of personal time.” He picks up his cup of coffee. “Of course, you’ll have shared quarters at least.”
Harry nods. He wonders if he should leave the uncertainty about Sirius unquestioned, but he’s always been the reckless type. “May we speak after breakfast? I’ve been wanting to ask you about what happened at the Wizengamot.”
Charlus snorts behind his newspaper.
“I’d be happy to answer any questions,” Sirius assures him. “Regina mentioned that you were concerned, and both Charlus and Grandfather thought you might need to speak to me before we get too immersed back into the school. It’s why I’m here.”
Harry smiles at him tremulously. It’s hopeful that Sirius is quick to agree to answer his questions, that he’s returned to do just that. And, Harry thinks, probably best for them to speak before they’re under the watchful eye of Headmaster Dumbledore.
From what Harry had observed during the time he and Hermione had stayed recovering at Hogwarts just after their arrival, this Dumbledore lacks the eccentricities of his own Albus Dumbledore, but he’s just as clever and probably just as much of a control freak trying to place all the pieces on the board into the position that he wants them in. Harry thinks he’s probably thrilled that he and Hermione have acquiesced to delivering on their commitment to become Professors, something they had agreed to do before Charlus and Arcturus had swept in to support them as a matter of family honour.
Harry looks up briefly as Lily joins them. She sends Harry a warm smile. “Good morning, you and Hermione were out late.”
“We went to jazz club to finish the night out,” Harry says.
“Ah, good?” Lily asks as she places the napkin on her lap.
“It was truly terrible,” Hermione says walking in. She greets everyone cheerfully before she kisses Harry’s cheek and sits down next to him. “But we got to dance which was hilarious.”
“I hate dancing,” Harry comments. He’d never gotten over his aversion after the awful Triwizard Yule Ball. Dancing in the Oxford clubs and student bars hadn’t changed his mind about it all either. He just wasn’t meant for dancing.
“We should probably add dancing lessons to our schedule,” Hermione notes with a grin. “I read that there are Ministry, Wizengamot and social balls. I’m sure we’ll be expected to dance.”
“You will be,” Dorea confirms, her own mirth evident in how her eyes are all but laughing at Harry. “I’ll source you a good teacher, but while you’re at Hogwarts, I’m sure Lily and Sirius will definitely help you out.”
“Oh, no, not me,” Lily says, “I probably need some lessons myself. It’s not like Hogwarts provides any classes on that type of thing.”
“I thought the primary school education for all magicals would cover cultural norms?” asks Hermione, leaning forward with interest. She’s fascinated by the way magical children are brought into the wizarding enclaves much, much earlier on this world.
Harry has some concerns over the methods the Ministry uses to enforce that, but having been raised in the muggle world until he was eleven, he can see how earlier introduction might help to better integrate first generation magicals with the rest of the wizarding world.
Their breakfast pops into place in front of them.
Harry happily dives into the creamy porridge with stewed apples. It tastes of cinnamon and sugar. He’s comforted by the food. He’ll miss the Potter elves when he goes to Hogwarts, although the food there was equally good.
He should probably look at getting more exercise to counteract all the lovely treats, Harry muses, although he guesses that his new role as the Flying Instructor is going to get him some flight time on his broom at least.
The porridge is followed by scrambled eggs and toast with crispy bacon.
Definitely, he needs more exercise. He sneaks some of the bacon to Godric.
Hermione places her napkin down on the table before her portion of eggs is delivered, letting the elves know she’s had enough with just the porridge. She reaches for the teapot and pours herself a generous cup as she continues her debate with Lily on when a culture class would be best for a first generation magical.
Harry sends Sirius a look of sympathy as he’s dragged into the discussion by Lily.
“I’m not certain that my view is relevant,” Sirius demurely deflects. “I was raised from birth with the traditions so I’m not exactly qualified…”
“Oh, please,” Lily rolls her eyes at him, “you must have some kind of opinion on when it would be best to introduce those from a non-magical background into wizarding world cultural norms!”
Sirius caves under her fierce expression. “As early as possible would be best. I think my grandmother insisted that I start dance lessons as soon as I was in their custody.”
“Melania was always right about these things,” Dorea confirms, her tone thick with wistful reminiscence. “I started James when he was four.” She hums. “I shall have to investigate the primary school curriculum.”
Hermione beams triumphantly.
Lily grins. “I can see having you on staff is going to be tremendous fun.”
Dorea smiles and picks up her tea. “Perhaps you should join Harry and Hermione in their lessons with Sirius,” she says, “I’m sure Minerva will agree to help.”
Sirius lifts his own cup in a silent toast. “If she has time, I’m certain she’ll help, but if not, then I’m sure Reg would come to the castle to help us.” He frowns. “Albus leaves more and more of the administration work to Minerva these days.”
“Our Dumbledore pretty much left it to Professor McGonagall to run the place,” Harry comments.
“He was also Chief Warlock and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards as well as Headmaster in our world,” Hermione says, reaching for the teapot again.
Charlus harrumphs. “I really don’t know how your world just accepted one wizard occupying so many positions of power!”
“He was very revered for defeating Grindelwald,” Hermione says dryly.
“He defeated him here, too,” Dorea says, “but perhaps we are more cautious about giving one wizard so many accolades.”
“Our wizarding world lacks common sense,” Hermione agrees cheerfully.
Harry smiles and lays his own napkin down before the house elves provide even more food.
Sirius carefully does the same and clears his throat. “Shall we head to the library and discuss everything there?”
Harry nods. “If we can be excused, Grandfather, Grandmother?”
The titles still feel a touch uncomfortable, but Charlus and Dorea have encouraged him to call them such and he can’t deny them the request after all the love and care they’ve shown Hermione and himself. Harry had agreed when they’d met Lily to try and treat his doppelganger family as a twin situation – same genetics, but recognition that they were very different people. In some ways, Harry muses, it’s like being adopted by distant family.
“Of course,” Charlus says. “I’ll be in my study when you’re ready to head to Hogwarts.”
Harry nods because he’s already lost the argument that he and Hermione can see themselves to Hogwarts without the rest of the family. At least Arcturus and Regina are busy with a prior social engagement, James is at work, and Sirius and Lily are Professors themselves.
Hermione slides out of her chair.
They loosely hold hands as they lead the way to the Potter library. Sirius follows, Godric keeping pace beside him.
Harry loves the room almost as much as Hermione. They’ve spent many an hour curled up on a corner of it with drinks and books, trying to learn as much as they can about their new world.
He avoids the nook on the upstairs level opposite the picture of the sleeping Ignotus Peverell keeping guard over the Deathly Hallows. One day, he believes he’ll have to return to gather the Hallows which are magically contained in the picture, but that’s for the future.
Hermione tugs him over to their favourite spot – a window seat with a great view of the gardens. Sirius snags a nearby chair to sit in front of them as they get comfortable. Godric lies down on the floor by Harry. Crookshanks wanders in and jumps up and sits on Hermione’s lap surveying Sirius as though he is also sitting in judgement of the wizard.
“I apologise on behalf of my grandfather and myself that we made the decision for me to return to Hogwarts so quickly after the Wizengamot,” Sirius said sombrely. He catches Harry’s gaze and holds it. “We felt that we needed eyes on Dumbledore sooner rather than later given his objections to you holding a Wizengamot seat and his unhappiness at your appointment as Knights of Avalon.” He pauses. “But we should have waited at least until you had had the opportunity to ask me questions about what happened and why I suggested the path of you stepping onto the Round Table.”
Harry can see he’s sincerely apologetic. He figures it was more Arcturus’ decision than Sirius’ but he accepts the apology.
“Was it worth it?” asks Hermione. “Did you learn anything more about Dumbledore’s attitude from returning so quickly?”
Sirius inclines his head, his gaze switching to her. “Yes, he came to my quarters that same night.” He smiles a touch sardonically. “He wanted to know why I suggested the Round Table and why I’d supported you assuming a place in our Wizengamot.”
“And what was your answer to him?” probes Hermione, one eyebrow arching inquisitively.
“On the question of why I supported your place in the Wizengamot, I repeated what I said when I gave my reasons in the session, which is also handily what I actually believe – that you shouldn’t lose what you are entitled to by birth and circumstance just because of ending up in a different world,” Sirius said firmly. “It’s a matter of family honour and our promise of no harm to ensure that you are not disadvantaged in such a way. If that wasn’t right, the family magic wouldn’t have been insistent that your position was recognised.”
Harry nods. He’d had a long session with Charlus ahead of the Wizengamot where the older man had explained it all to him. He didn’t entirely agree, but the more entrenched he became in their family magic himself, the more he’d come to appreciate that some things were a magical imperative that would be an anathema for his family to ignore.
“In respect of the Round Table I told Dumbledore that my only reasoning was that I was attempting an acceptable compromise to magic since there were so many objections to you having a vote,” Sirius says bluntly. “I told him that I fully believed that nothing would happen.”
“But that’s not true,” Hermione states briskly, “because you knew something would happen.”
Harry’s gaze sharpens on Sirius because this is the question that he’s wanted to ask since it all happened and he’d had a moment to catch his breath.
Sirius nods and leans forward. “I had every confidence that the spirit of our King would appear and confirm you to your rightful place.” He smiles. “I am the Professor of History.”
“You’ve researched the historical tales and so you were confident that the accounts of the spirit of Arthur appearing were true,” Hermione deduces.
“And the insistence in the family magic to confer the titles and position on me made you confident magically that Arthur would appear,” Harry deduces out loud. He breathes out sharply. It makes some kind of sense, he supposes.
“All of which is true,” Sirius says. “However, I have another calling at play, one which I would never divulge to Dumbledore, and one which may only be confided to those I closely trust before circumstances make it more widely known.”
Harry feels like he freezes in place. Hermione is also still beside him in her own shock.
“What?” asks Harry faintly.
Sirius carefully lifts his hand and another ring shimmers into place beside his Heir ring. The black onyx has the crest of a Knight of Avalon.
“This is the ring of the Black Knight, the first Knight of Avalon. It’s a Black heirloom, but rarely does magic confirm it on a Black heir. It came to me during my Heir ceremony and shocked the magic out of my Grandfather.” His lips twist. “Our King came to me in my dreams that same night.”
Heir ceremonies were typically held between the Head of House and the presumptive Heir, Harry remembers from his lessons with Charlus. They were a private affair where the Heir would magically vow to protect the House and its legacy and, in return, receive the Heir ring formally to wear.
“The book I was reading yesterday said Knights of Avalon were personally appointed by the King and given specific missions within the Kingdom,” Harry says, his heart is beating a little faster. On some level he thinks he knows what Sirius will say.
“Indeed,” Sirius says, “and the mission of the Black Knight was and always has been to protect and aid the King’s Knights, his Chosen.”
Something resonates deep in Harry’s magic, a recognition and an acknowledgement.
“The Black Knight is considered a myth on our world,” Hermione says. She chews on her lip thoughtfully. “A popular view is that they are the opposite of the White Knight, they come not to rescue, but to deliver death and destruction.” She shrugs. “Some people assume that a knight was so called in historical accounts simply because they had black skin and authors wanted to create a racial bias.”
Sirius’ expression brightens with interest. “Fascinating.”
“What’s the history here?” prompts Harry, rubbing his chest a touch.
“The House of Black descends from the Duke of Cornwall, Gorlois,” Sirius replies, sliding into a teaching tone Harry figures he uses with his students. “Arthur’s half-brother, Cador, was given the title after Uther killed the Duke when his affair with the Duchess, Igraine, was uncovered. As you know Arthur was illegitimate and only became a legitimate King when he drew the ancient sword of Britannica from the stone.”
“I remember reading about that in a history on Merlin,” Harry murmurs. “Merlin was ordered by Uther to help him hide the affair, and he only did so because he’d had a vision of Arthur and of Camelot.”
“That’s the tale,” Sirius agrees. “Cador was a baby when Gorlois was killed, and he was magical with a powerful gift of Sight. Merlin took him to the Temple of Avalon and his sister, Vivien, the Lady of the Lake raised him. When Arthur came to power, Cador vowed eternal loyalty to Arthur and fought beside Arthur to unite Albion. He became one of the original Knights of the Round Table.”
“Until he became a Knight of Avalon?” Harry guesses.
Sirius nods. “When family magic was created, Cador had a powerful vision, he went to Arthur and Merlin. He had Seen a powerful threat far into the future, a formless Evil which would destroy magic and unravel the spell Merlin would create to bring about the return of the King and Camelot.”
“Arthur said Merlin saw each threat ahead of them, including this great Evil. He said that it was because of this one they needed a protector,” Harry murmurs. “That’s why they brought us here.”
Hermione sighs. “I really hate Divination.”
“When Cador confided what he had seen, Arthur tasked Cador and Cador’s line with providing all due aid and protection to their chosen protectors to defeat the threat to Avalon,” Sirius concludes. “Cador was given the ring and the title of the Black Knight, the first Knight of Avalon. Other Knights were appointed, and the Black Knight often came to their aid in their missions as each Knight is gifted with Cador’s Sight and can see when help is needed.”
“I assume that the title and ring are magically bestowed rather than being purely hereditary?” Hermione asks.
“We have only recorded three other Knights beyond Cador himself,” Sirius says. “The first was his grandson who helped Galahad to free Merlin from his sister’s sorcery in time to save Arthur and take him into the safety of Avalon after Arthur was fatally injured in an accident.” He clears his throat. “The second, Cadyn Black, was said to have aided the Hogwarts’ founders in establishing the school. He donated the land and Black Lake to the school’s trust. The third was the first Sirius Black.”
Harry’s magic felt another thrum of recognition. “The Founders were Knights of Avalon.”
“Yes,” Sirius says, “but accounts of how they were tasked remain murky. We know they didn’t get it from stepping onto the Round Table because the Wizengamot records would definitely have recorded such an event.” He grimaces. “I know that there would have been more objections to my suggestion for you to step onto it, if anyone had known it was a possibility.”
“Did you suspect that we would become Knights of Avalon, the King’s chosen protectors before we met?” asks Harry bluntly.
“I suspected when I found out about your arrival,” Sirius says without hesitation. “I have often wondered if the events in Cador’s vision would come in my lifetime because I received the ring. Your arrival was so other-worldly it seemed bizarre to think that you wouldn’t be, but until the Wizengamot and the King’s own proclamation of you as Knights, I couldn’t know for certain.”
Harry spots that Sirius is keeping something back because his own Sirius had the same tell. “And?” he prompts brusquely.
Sirius winces and sighs. “Regina is also a Seer. She inherited the ability through our Grandmother’s line. She had a vision of you, Harry, soon after you arrived, standing between light and dark, a witch from Guinevere’s maternal bloodline beside you.”
Hermione shifts at that unexpected news. “Really?”
Sirius nods. “We haven’t had time to investigate your family history though so I can’t validate that, Hermione, but Regina is never wrong in her visions. There are also other prophecies held at the Department of Mysteries.” He waves a hand at them. “Regardless of Regina or those, again, I couldn’t know until you actually became Knights.” He sighs again. “We’ve also all been busy with just dealing with your arrival here and the politics of it all, with getting you safe and welcomed as our family magic insisted, that there’s been little time to even think about the possibility." He raises his hands as though in surrender. “I know I was focused more on securing your position here on this world rather than contemplating that you could be chosen. Not an excuse, but a reason for why I haven’t said anything until now.”
Harry exchanges a quick look with Hermione. They can both hear Sirius’ sincerity. Hermione’s gaze is understanding. She knows better than anyone how much Harry wants to trust this Sirius because he loved their own so much.
He turns back to the waiting wizard. “I understand your position, but I don’t like that so much was kept from us.” He gestures. “We had enough of Dumbledore manipulating events on our world, choosing what information to share with us and keeping us in the dark supposedly ‘for our own good,’ but more accurately to his benefit. I won’t have the same happen here with people meant to be our allies.”
Sirius holds both of his hands up in surrender. “I understand and I promise that from here on out, your mission is my mission, and we are full partners in that endeavour.”
“Then we stand together,” Harry says unprompted and…
A bright joyful rush of Magic swirls around them.
It leaves all three of them breathless and staring at each other in shock.
“Well, I guess Magic approves,” Sirius murmurs with satisfaction.
Hermione coughs. “Before we leave the library, why are you spying on Dumbledore?”
It’s a good question, Harry thinks, shooting her a look of pride.
Sirius looks abashed. “Ah, well, that’s rather a long story.”
Both Harry and Hermione let him gather his thoughts into order.
“What have you learned so far about Albus Dumbledore and his family here?” asks Sirius.
Hermione shoots Sirius an irritated look before she replies. “Some of his early history is the same as ours, but their story diverges with the attack on Ariana. In our world, his father was imprisoned and Ariana’s magic permanently damaged; here his father was given a suspended sentence, Ariana was healed, and his father went onto become Chief Warlock. Percival Dumbledore spearheaded the Magical Protectionist movement which led to the muggleborns and their families being brought to wizarding enclaves as soon as they were identified by the magical registry.”
Sirius nods.
“Albus Dumbledore attended Hogwarts, became Head Boy, and left on a European tour. He apprenticed with the Flamels and became part of the French resistance in the Second World War. He defeated Grindelwald. He returned to England after his father became ill and took over as Chief Warlock until he moved to Hogwarts to better support his sister,” Hermione continues. “He was the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor until he became Headmaster upon Headmaster Dippet’s retirement. He’s been Headmaster ever since.”
“A concise but accurate summary,” Sirius confirms. “I’d certainly give you an Exceeds Expectations if this was a test.”
“I’d like to know what I missed to get an Outstanding,” Hermione says dryly.
Sirius smiles but it fades as he takes a breath. “Dumbledore originally attempted to hold onto the Chief Warlock position when he accepted his teaching position at Hogwarts. There was a terrible political kerfuffle at the time which left a lot of his rivals and his allies questioning why he was so intent on holding onto power.” He taps his finger against the chair arm. “It begins there with him seemingly making a grab for power.”
Hermione nods slowly. “Your Dumbledore spent more time abroad than ours. He was a Professor and a Headmaster first, the other positions followed as his reputation grew. People here are more inclined to question him, I think.”
“Perhaps,” Sirius notes, “or perhaps people were already unhappy that he’d essentially ridden the coattails of his father’s death to gain such a powerful position in the first place.”
Hermione cocks her head thoughtfully as she strokes a hand over Crookshanks ginger-striped body. “Did he take over his father’s political movement as well?”
Sirius smiles. “He did, and he did retain leadership of that.”
“And that’s why you’re spying on him,” Harry realises. “Because he’s leading this Magical Protectionism political movement.”
“Once he was denied his place at the Wizengamot, Dumbledore used and still uses the school to foster minions and political allies amongst the younger set,” Sirius says. “Remus Lupin is a good example of that. Dumbledore plays on the fact that he allowed a talented magical werewolf attend Hogwarts to keep Lupin loyal to him. James would be another example, although his deference to Dumbledore is also tied up with his friendship with Bertie.”
“And I guess the way he’s entangled Lily and Snape into agreements and apprenticeships which are to his benefit are other examples,” Harry muses.
“In hindsight, our Dumbledore was very much the same,” Hermione says crisply. “He’s just much more subtle about his networking than Professor Slughorn.”
“Yes,” Sirius points at her, “that’s a very good comparison.” He sighs. “In the middle of my fourth year, Dumbledore took over teaching History mid-year when the previous Professor abruptly decided to stop haunting the castle. I was the top student in History and Dumbledore began to favour me. He’d give me access to the Restricted session or loan me a book from his personal library.”
“He was cultivating you,” Harry says with a touch of disgust at Dumbledore’s actions. He’s grateful that he’s started wearing his Lordship ring as it will give him some mental protection against Dumbledore’s Leglimancy. He rather doubts that Sirius or Arcturus would tell him as much with his mind unprotected to Dumbledore’s rummaging.
“My grandparents immediately suspected as much,” Sirius says. “The Black bloc in the Wizengamot is very strong. Dumbledore knows it is to his political advantage to have us in his camp.”
“So you allowed him to cultivate you in order to have an inside man,” Hermione says.
Sirius nods. “He thinks my grandfather and I have a loving but somewhat fractious relationship about my decision to enter teaching rather than joining him in running the Black estates,” he says, “we’ve encouraged him to think that.” He pauses and sighs. “Just after my grandmother died, Dumbledore finally invited me to join his political group, the Order of the Phoenix.”
Harry’s eyes widen. “We had an Order of the Phoenix. They were a vigilante group who fought against Voldemort.”
“The Dark Lord who waged war on you?” Sirius checks.
“Yes,” Harry says.
“Dumbledore’s Order here is a political movement,” Sirius says seriously. “On the surface, it’s very much about protection from the muggle world.”
“And under the surface?” questions Hermione intently.
“We’re really not sure beyond rumours. There’s a lot of smoke and mirrors,” Sirius notes. “Some say that it’s only advocating for more protectionism,” he lifts his hands and mimes quotation marks, “’for the greater good’ to protect us all, magicals and non-magicals.”
There’s a part of Harry which is duly horrified, but there is another part of him which is not surprised at all. He can see the same mixed feelings cascading through Hermione when she turns to him with a worried frown. She turns back to Sirius.
“That was the mantra of Grindelwald’s movement in our world. Was it here?” Hermione muses out loud.
Sirius shakes his head. “I’ve never heard it in the context of Grindelwald, only Dumbledore.”
“If you’re a member now, have you discovered more?” asks Harry.
“So far, I’ve very little to report,” Sirius admits, somewhat sheepishly, “most of the meetings are boring re-runs of Dumbledore’s public propaganda spouted at his like-minded minions. But…” he sighs. “I think there’s more going on and he just doesn’t trust me enough yet.” He gestures at them. “It’ll be interesting to see if he tries to bring you in on it.”
Harry grimaces. He wonders if Dumbledore’s ‘Greater Good’ is the Evil he’s meant to face; his Dumbledore’s ‘Greater Good’ had been a challenge to Harry’s own chances of survival.
Hermione nudges him with a sad smile. “Still OK with us going to Hogwarts?”
He’d like to say no and for them to walk away, but Hermione is right that they need the time at the school to get their bearings on the whole Knights thing, and simply being a part of this new world.
Harry offers what he hopes is a nonchalant shrug. “Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “it’s not like we didn’t already know what a manipulative bastard Dumbledore is.”
Chapter 3: Return to Hogwarts
Chapter Text
“And these are your family quarters,” Minerva taps the door in front of them in the basement of Gryffindor tower and leads the way through when it opens.
Harry holds Hermione’s hand as they traverse a hallway, Godric pads happily along next to them, but Crookshanks is growling in the pet carrier Hermione carries. They are followed by Lily and Sirius, and behind them Dorea and Charlus. They had all been corralled by Minerva as soon as the car had arrived at Hogwarts.
They pass through an archway and into a common room with comfortable seating, a dining table to the right and a roaring fire in front of them; above the stone mantel is a picture of a sleeping Godric Gryffindor. The right side of the room is wall to wall glass doors which Harry can see leads into a private underground courtyard that was somehow filled with sunlight. To the left there was a door and a staircase leading upwards.
Minerva pointed at the door. “This leads to the office of the Professor of Arithmancy, Hermione. It’s your personal study and there is another door through which students enter which is located on the third floor teaching corridor.”
Hermione nods briskly. She crouches down, sets the carrier on the floor, and lets Crookshanks loose.
Minerva motions to the right. “Through the courtyard is a passageway to the Flying Instructor’s Office, Harry. Students enter through the Quidditch Players’ Hall. You will have dominion over the Hall, the locker rooms, equipment store, and the pitch, of course.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose. Their Hogwarts had never had such a set-up. He assumed Madame Hooch had had an office, but he’s forgotten if he ever knew where it was located. Their equipment store had been a box beside the pitch and players had changed in their own Houses’ dormitories before heading out to the pitch.
Charlus nods approvingly. “This looks very cosy.”
“I assume all the food is provided for by the Hogwarts’ elves?” checks Dorea.
Minerva nods. “Albus expects staff to attend dinner in the Great Hall during the week, but Professors who do not have a Head of House responsibility may take breakfast in their quarters. Indeed, you are both free to request any other meal to be served here.” She smiles at them. “Guests outside of the castle are allowed to visit, although I warn you Albus discourages the practice during term-time, and you will need to let me know so I can record them in the visitor’s book for the wards.”
Hermione smiles back at her. “I assume we can invite other members of staff whenever we wish outside the usual expectations?”
“You can indeed,” Minerva nods approvingly, her short grey bob hardly moving with the movement. “Let us go up as there are a couple of surprises.”
They all troop up and stop in a large circular landing with three doors, each with a plaque with engraved names.
“Oh my,” Lily murmurs as she touches the plaque of the door nearest to her. The bronze plaque shimmers with her name, Lily Evans.
Minerva’s eyes twinkle with amusement at Lily’s surprise. “The Headmaster has agreed given your family magic has bonded you very tightly to Harry and with you continued discomfort that you should occupy family quarters with him and Hermione.” She motions for Lily to enter. “The house elves moved your belongings from your room in the single staff quarters this morning. The suite also comes with a door to your current office as Professor of Muggle Studies, your own bathroom, and a small sitting room for your own use.”
Lily smiles at the Deputy Headmistress. “Thank you, Minerva. This is a wonderful surprise.”
“I’ve been moved too?” asks Sirius, pointing at the door next to him on the other side of the landing.
“Yes,” Minerva says. “Similarly, the Headmaster feels that if Lily is to be accommodated into family quarters, you should also be given the same consideration.”
Sirius nods his agreement. “I’m happy to accept the relocation if Harry and Hermione don’t mind it.” He looks over to Harry and Hermione. “I realise you may have expected some privacy as a married couple rather than having family quite so close.”
Lily’s face falls a touch at the remark. “I never even thought…”
Minerva holds her hand up to cut her protest short and turns expectantly to Harry to make a final decision. “I’m certain that the Headmaster’s decision was only meant with good intentions, and admittedly, I thought it was a good idea myself which is why I went along with it.” She sighs. “But I cannot say Sirius does not have a point.”
“He does,” Charlus agrees, “but I know I would be comforted knowing that you were all housed together.”
Harry glances at Hermione to get her view.
Hermione frowns at Minerva. “I’d be happy to have both Lily and Sirius close, but I seem to remember there is caution over allowing unmarried people of the opposite genders living in close proximity to each other? I don’t want either Lily or Sirius’ reputation to be undermined because of their living circumstances.”
And that was a good point, Harry muses. He hadn’t even considered that.
“Typically, that would be true,” Minerva agrees, “but it is well known that neither Lily nor Sirius have pursued a closer relationship than friendship with each other in all their years of knowing one another, and as a married couple with the Ministry paperwork to prove it, you are appropriate chaperones.”
Until it comes out that Dumbledore and Minerva knew that Harry and Hermione were not married when they originally arrived, Harry thinks. While the Ministry paperwork does give them some cover, he and Hermione should really clue Dumbledore and Minerva into the magical truth of their relationship sooner rather than later, he determines.
“Then it will be lovely to have them near,” Hermione says.
Harry nods and looks over at Sirius. “We each have our own suite here if we need privacy or time away from each other. We’d be happy to have you close.”
The conversation after breakfast had done a lot to mitigate Harry’s worry about Sirius’ motivations.
Sirius smiles. “Then I am delighted to accept the change in accommodation.”
“While Lily and Sirius acquaint themselves with their new abodes, let me show you your rooms, Harry, Hermione,” Minerva says briskly. She taps the door which is in the middle with the plaque that bears their name. She enters with every expectation that they will follow.
Harry ushers Hermione in ahead of him.
It is a suite of rooms similar to those they have Potter House.
They walk into a spacious sitting room with walls of bookshelves. There’s a set of French doors leading to a private inner courtyard, packed with verdant green plants. In the centre sits a wrought iron table and chairs.
“The Floo is in the common room only,” Minerva says pointing at the hearth. “This is for warmth.”
Harry smiles at the fireguard which sports a Gryffindor crest.
Minerva gazes at the bookshelves. “I took the liberty of stocking your shelves with some books from the Hogwarts library, but I’m certain Charlus and Arcturus wouldn’t mind if you wanted to bring over some from the Potter and Black libraries.”
The door at the back of the room leads them to a large bathroom. One side had two sinks set in a sideboard with vanity mirrors on the wall. The opposite side has a large claw tub bath and a stand-alone shower.
There is another door at the back leading into the bedroom. There are large wardrobes on one side, a dressing table for Hermione, and a comfortable double bed, decked out in Gryffindor red and gold bedding flanked by two bedside tables with reading lights.
“This looks very comfortable,” Dorea says approvingly.
“Thank you, Minerva,” Harry says, “this is fantastic.”
“It’s wonderful,” Hermione says.
Minerva smiles at them warmly. “I want you to feel welcome here. Perhaps,” she teases, “we might be able to convince you to stay on for the long term.”
Harry admires her tenacity.
“Ariana would like to see you first thing tomorrow, Harry,” Minerva says. “Healer Albright sent her the latest update on the treatment plan for your chaotic magic.”
Harry unconsciously touches the slim bracelet which helps steady his magic. There are a number of treatments left to cure his condition, but he already feels so much better.
Minerva places a hand on Hermione’s arm. “I’ll leave you to settle in. There’s a staff meeting before lunch, just ask an elf to show you where we’ll be, and the Headmaster has asked to meet with you after that. All staff are expected in the Great Hall for dinner since the students returned this morning.”
She barely waits for the flurry of hastily said ‘thank yous’ before she leaves Harry and Hermione with Dorea and Charlus.
“We’ll be heading off too,” Dorea says, hugging Hermione. “It’s comforting to know you’ll have Lily and Sirius so close.” She moves to hug Harry next.
Harry leans into the hug. “Thank you for everything.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Charlus says giving Harry a hug of his own as Dorea steps back. “Remember you can call us any time and we will come.” He eased away and patted Harry’s upper arms. “I’ve swept the rooms. There are no surveillance devices I can detect.”
“We’ll have you over for dinner at a weekend as soon as we’re settled in,” Hermione promises as she hugs Charlus herself.
“We look forward to that,” Dorea says and tugs Charlus from the room.
Harry walks them out and down to the common room. When he returns to the bedroom, Hermione is in the middle of directing the house elves where to store their clothes. She’s never fully reconciled with the idea of house elves being bonded to a wizarding family, but she’d stepped back from the idea of them being enslaved when she’d thoroughly researched the matter after the war.
Harry nudges her and they step away from the working house elves into the sitting room, closing the bathroom door to give them some privacy. “I think we need to tell Dumbledore and Minerva we are married.”
“I agree,” Hermione says, huffing out a breath of relief. “I like Lily and Sirius living close to us, but I don’t want the Headmaster being able to use it against us.”
Harry pushes his glasses up his nose. “I think the same.”
“We’ll tell him when we meet with him later,” Hermione says. She narrows her gaze. “You are comfortable with Lily and Sirius being in quarters with us, aren’t you?”
Harry nods. “I’m really pleased Lily is close.”
“And Sirius?” Hermione pushes, her gaze meeting his fully.
“It’ll help us work through things,” Harry says bluntly. “I accept all of everything he told this morning, but I don’t like that we were left so completely in the dark.”
Hermione nods slowly. “I think he’s sincere for what it’s worth.” She sighs. “We have so much to catch-up on with this world.”
“Including lesson plans,” Harry quips. “I think we should probably leave the elves to sort out our unpacking and head to our offices.”
“Good idea,” Hermione says fervently. Her eyes widening. “I should grab my prep folder. Professor Spelling told me in her letter that she had left all the lesson plans and student notes in her desk.”
Harry isn’t surprised when Hermione hurries to gather her large binder of notes and hustles them both out of their suite.
They part ways in the common room with Harry heading one way and Hermione another.
Godric joins him and Harry is glad of the grim’s company as he walks through the basement courtyard with bemusement. The ceiling is enchanted to reflect the sky outside and the grey winter clouds of a Scottish winter make the area feel cold.
He shivers and walks swiftly to the door on the far side.
His office is tiny.
It’s not the broom cupboard of his childhood, but it’s reminiscent in size to the box room he’d occupied at the Dursleys once they moved him into Dudley’s second bedroom. It feels small with himself and Godric standing in what feels like the only available floor space.
A large desk overflowing with paper takes up a lot of the room with a large filing cabinet beyond it. The desk chair and a visitor’s chair take up the rest.
The wall to his right has a painting of a Quidditch match in play. He spends a moment admiring it. A small display cabinet holds past Hogwarts awards for Quidditch played against other schools. He wonders what happened to stop the school league.
He moves through the office and out onto a very small landing in the Quidditch Player’s Hall. A second door across the landing leads into a changing room complete with shower and toilet. There is a wooden staircase leading the way down.
Tall windows make him realise that he’s in a completely different building from the castle. From the view, he’s guessing that it’s situated close to the pitch. Once again, he’s reminded that Hogwarts is a magical castle and that the layout and the way someone traverses between one room and another doesn’t make any kind of logical sense.
Still, his mind wrestles with walking through a basement courtyard in the main castle and into a door that leads into the top floor of another building altogether.
He shakes himself out of trying to figure it out. It’s probably a mix of arithmancy and runes, Harry muses as he heads down the staircase, slowing as he hears voices before they disappear behind a door slamming shut.
The staircase ends in what is clearly the entryway to the Hall, outside a door labelled ‘Equipment Store.’ Harry peeks in and isn’t surprised to find a long room filled end to end with brooms with a large cupboard to his left which he figures holds the rest of the Quidditch stuff – bludgers, bats, spare gloves, and the all-important snitch.
He backs out and closes the door. The door beside it is labelled ‘Gym.’
He glances at the main external door behind him which is open, a brisk winter breeze creating a cold draught.
A brief wave of his hand sends a wandless spell which has the door closing. He suppresses the urge to stay in front of the wall to his left which is covered in framed photos of past Quidditch teams and opens the last door to his right.
He finds himself in a corridor with four doors, two on the left, two on the right, and an external door right at the end of the corridor leading outside. Harry figures that will be the door they use to enter the pitch on game days.
He’s not surprised that each door in the corridor has a crest of a Hogwarts’ House. He peeks into the closest to his right, Hufflepuff, and nods as it leads into a tiny space with a girls’ door to the left, a boys’ to the right, and one for the Captain in the middle. He goes into the boys’ changing room and finds it a nice airy space with wooden benches, and yellow lockers.
He wanders in further and finds a door leading to the gym space.
The gym is a large space which reminds him of his old primary school assembly hall. Godric bounds around it happily as Harry takes in the climbing walls, weights and mats.
There are other doors leading he guesses to other changing rooms, and another external door out to the pitch.
He heads back into the Hufflepuff boys’ changing room and finds a shower room and toilets tucked away at the back.
He leaves and peeks into the door labelled for the Captain. They get a private changing room, bathroom and a small office. The Hufflepuff one has a bookshelf crammed with books on Quidditch tactics and gameplay. Harry wonders if each office gets the same.
All in all, he’s deeply envious that he didn’t have the same when he was a Quidditch Captain.
He finally leaves the Hufflepuff space and pauses outside the opposite door which leads to Gryffindor. Godric huffs and sniffs at the floor. There is definitely someone, likely a student, talking in one of the rooms beyond the door; he can hear a faint murmur.
Theoretically, he’s known that he’ll inevitably encounter students since he has to teach them. In reality, nerves storm his belly. He straightens his shoulders. He’s going to be interacting with all the students at some point, he might as well get it over and done with.
He opens the outer door and immediately notes the voices are behind the boys’ door. He enters without a courtesy knock.
The two red-haired boys in the changing room whirl around to face him with wide-eyes in their familiar freckled faces.
For a second Harry can’t speak.
A young Bill and Charlie Weasley stare back at him.
Bill recovers first, stepping up in front of his tiny brother as though to hide him, his gaze goes warily to Godric and back to Harry. “Sorry, sir, I know we’re not usually allowed to bring other people in, but I was just showing my brother the Hall before school starts again.”
“I’m Mister Potter, the new Flying Instructor,” Harry belatedly introduces himself. “I assume you’re Weasleys.”
“Yes, sir,” Bill says politely. “I’m Bill, and this is my brother Charlie.”
Charlie grins up at Harry. “I beat Bill in a game of Wizarding snap at New Year and this was my prize.”
“Well, I would hate to get in the way of a prize,” Harry says amused. “Besides, I’m happy to provide motivation for a future player.” He points at Charlie. “First year?” It’s a reasonable guess, Harry thinks, since Bill is having to show Charlie the Hall so Charlie can’t be a player himself.
Charlie nods. “I want to be Seeker.”
“I’m sure you’ll make a great Seeker,” Harry says. He looks over at Bill. “Third year?”
Bill nods. “I’m the Gryffindor Keeper.”
Harry smiles. “Well, don’t show Charlie anywhere you are not supposed to go, and please close the doors behind you. We don’t want the Hall getting cold.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bill says, relief chasing its way over his expressive face.
Harry nods sharply and steps back towards the door.
“Sir!” Charlie calls out. “Is it true that you’re from another world?”
Bill facepalms and Harry almost chuckles at the sight.
“Only our Great-Aunt Muriel says it’s a load of codswallop, but Mum said Albus Dumbledore himself told her it was true, and she’s believes him!”
Harry swallows the urge to laugh at Charlie’s bubbling enthusiasm. It was good to have confirmation though that Molly and the Weasleys were just as much Dumbledore’s supporters as they had been in his world.
“It’s true,” Harry answers Charlie, “the Ministry investigated and the Wizengamot kindly confirmed we have a place here since it’s going to be a while before anyone works out how to get us home.”
Bill’s keen gaze landed on him. “The Prophet said you’d been confirmed by the spirit of King Arthur himself as a Knight of Avalon. Dad says it was the talk of the Ministry.”
“The spirit of King Arthur did appoint me as a Knight,” Harry says simply and holds a hand up when Bill opens his mouth to ask another question. “I’d best get back to my prep. Don’t spend too long on your tour. I’ll see you boys at dinner.”
Bill’s face flickers with disappointment. “Yes, sir.”
Harry leaves them, closing the door behind him as he steps back into the communal corridor. He’s suddenly missing Ron again so much his heart aches.
He heads to the Equipment Store.
He’s in the middle of his broom examination – there’s a stack to his left of those in good repair, and a stack to the right of those which are not, with still a larger stack still to be tackled, when a house elf pops in beside him wearing a clean Hogwarts’ uniform.
“Instructor Potter, sir,” the house elf’s ears waggle, “Professor Potter is sending Ely to tells you that it be time to be returning and getting ready for the staff meeting.”
Harry blinks and pushes his glasses up his nose. He frowns at the dust on his fingers. “Right.”
He waves his wand and the brooms fly to their places on the shelves. According to the timetable Minerva had provided him with, his first class isn’t until the afternoon of the next day so he’ll have time to finish his inspection.
He heads back up the stairs at a gallop, Godric bounding up beside him, and through his office, out into the courtyard and back into his quarters.
Lily and Sirius look up from where they’re playing a game of cards on the dining table as Godric simply heads to the hearth and plonks down in front of it.
Harry waves a greeting at them and hurries up the stairs to his and Hermione’s suite.
Hermione is reading in the sitting room, already dressed in a smart grey dress teamed with her black Professor robes. She gets up to greet him with a kiss and wrinkles her nose at the dust that covers him. “I laid out some clothes for you.”
“You’re a marvel,” Harry dips his head to kiss her again. “Oh, I met a couple of students, remind me to tell you later!”
He speeds off to take a quick shower. He dries himself off with a spell that leaves his skin tingling and pulls on the clean clothes he finds on their bed.
He adds a Gryffindor red tie to the grey pants and white shirt before he pulls on the black Professor robes over the top. He assesses himself in the mirror, and he can say that he does look kind of Professor-ish.
He grimaces.
“You look very smart, dearie,” the mirror assures him.
“Thank you,” Harry says.
He’s back in the sitting room in less than ten minutes. Hermione smirks at his tie and loops her arm around his as they head back downstairs.
Lily and Sirius guide them through Hogwarts towards the Headmaster’s office, but they veer off just before down a side-corridor with only one door. They’re ushered inside a large room dominated by a long table with a lot of staff already sitting around it gossiping away to each other.
Lily squeezes Harry’s arm and moves to sit by Filius Flitwick, her mentor. Although she’s a Professor in her own right, she’s apprenticed to Filius and it’s clear he’s saved her a seat.
Sirius nudges them into chairs further down the table and they sit down together – Sirius beside a Professor Harry doesn’t recognise, Hermione beside Sirius, and Harry beside Hermione.
Across the table from him, Hagrid gives him a wide grin and offers his large hand across the table. “Pleased ta meet ya! I’m Hagrid, the ‘elp to Professor Stabling.”
Harry smiles back at Hagrid. “Harry, I’m the new Flying Instructor. This is my wife, Hermione, she’s the new Arithmancy Professor.”
Hagrid looks about to say something else but a door opens beyond the other end of the table and Dumbledore strides in.
Harry is struck once again at the differences between his Dumbledore and this world’s incarnation. Dumbledore is neatly groomed with greying red-brown hair. He wears a starched white shirt, Hogwarts tie, and a traditional waistcoat which matches his sharply pressed trousers, all under the usual Professor robes. There is no sign of bright colours or any eccentricity at all.
Dumbledore stands at the top of the table and the staff quietens to listen to him. “Thank you,” he says dryly, “welcome back to the Spring term of this school year.” He looks sharply around the table. “We have some new faces, so we’ll do a quick round robin of introductions. Please stand briefly, and simply state your name and your subject.” He motions to Minerva on his right. “If you can start, please, Minerva.”
“Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House and the Professor of Transfiguration,” Minerva lists off briskly.
Harry listens as a younger Pomona Sprout introduces herself, followed by Flitwick and Lily.
“Horace Slughorn,” the very rotund man lurches out of his chair. He has a terrible, terrible combover of the sparse remaining hair on his head. His eyes land on Harry with greedy delight. “Head of Slytherin and Professor of Potions.” He waves a hand. “You probably already know me from such publications such as…”
“Horace!” Dumbledore interjects firmly. “Name and position only.” He nods at the professor beside Slughorn.
“Professor Sara Wood,” the Scottish accent is very thick and Harry wonders if she’s related to Oliver in some way. With her brown hair, brown eyes and tanned skin, she reminds Harry of a brown sparrow, unremarkable and plain, although he feels slightly cruel to think so. “Astronomy, taking over from Professor Jacobs who had an unfortunate accident at Christmas.”
“Is that what we’re calling pretending to be Santa, falling off his roof and breaking his neck?” asks a stern looking wizard across the table, a few places up from Harry.
“If we could stick to the introductions, please,” Dumbledore states firmly. He motions at the wizard next to Wood, sitting in between her and Hagrid.
The burly grey-haired wizard grins good-naturedly at the rest of the table. “Stan Stabling, Professor of Magical Creatures, uh, Care thereof.”
Hagrid reintroduces himself to the rest of the table cheerfully and Harry realises he’s next.
“Harry Potter,” he states clearly as he gets to his feet, “the new Flying Instructor.”
Hermione smiles at him before she turns back to the table. “Hermione Potter, I’m the new Arithmancy Professor.”
Sirius announces himself as the Professor of History.
Beside him, an elderly witch introduces herself as the Divination Professor, Angela Glass.
The wizard who questioned Wood is next. Harry can see he’s tall and lithe; dark-haired with sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes.
“Kevin Locke,” he states, “Defence Against the Dark Arts, I’m an Auror assigned by the Ministry and taking over from Professor Appleton who was murdered by unknown assailants at New Year in Knockturn Alley.” He looks suspiciously around the staff as though one of them is suspected of murdering the Professor.
Harry doesn’t believe in coincidences. Riddle’s reign of terror had started in his world with unexplained deaths and disappearances. He feels Hermione tense beside him with the same realisation. They’ll have to make some discreet enquires. Perhaps James can help them as he’s a working Auror, Harry muses.
Next to Locke, Poppy and Ariana introduce themselves before the final person stands up tentatively. It’s an old wizard with white fluffy hair and chameleon eyes.
“Professor Ambrosius Wilde,” he says in a Welsh lilt, “Professor of Runes and Magical Craft.” He motions with a wrinkled brown-spotted hand. “Taking over from Professor Finn who is now teaching at Durmstang.”
He sits down.
“Madame Pince, the librarian is not here as she has some urgent tasks in the library. Argus Filch, our Caretaker, is keeping an eye on the school while we meet, and my apprentice Severus Snape is currently abroad, completing a project with Nicholas Flamel and will not return until the first Hogsmeade weekend,” Dumbledore says. “Please make yourselves known to them, if you haven’t already done so.” He looks around the table and catches Harry’s gaze briefly. “I’d like to thank you all for teaching here at Hogwarts, especially those of you who have stepped in to fill the breach left by others.” He sits down. “We have a number of items to cover…”
Agendas appear in front of them in a pop of magic.
Harry’s heart sinks at the list of twenty itemised points. He hopes his dismay is not as obvious as Hagrid’s; the half-giant looks completely forlorn.
He’s less surprised when Hermione pulls out a quill and parchment to make notes. That’s his Hermione, he thinks fondly. And watches a little disconcerted when Lily and Sirius do the same.
“First on the agenda are the changes to the timetable,” Dumbledore begins.
Harry sits back and gets comfortable. He has a feeling that it’s going to be a long time before they see lunch.
Chapter 4: Old Rivalries
Chapter Text
Harry surveys the Third-Year class that had just arrived on the pitch and represses the urge to sigh as the Gryffindors glare at the Slytherins, and the Slytherins sneer back at the Gryffindors even more than usual. Clearly something has happened just before they came to their lesson.
Harry has been the Flying Instructor for a whole month and he had barely needed any of that time to realise that the rift between Gryffindor and Slytherin is just as prevalent and just as damaging in this Hogwarts, as it had been during his own schooling at a completely different version.
Similarly, Dumbledore does absolutely nothing to encourage inter-school unity beyond talk about it. Perhaps his actions don’t fan the flames either, he isn’t as blatant in his favouritism as Harry’s Albus, but his inaction is shown in small ways, like the lack of oversight on the House points system which is happily abused by Slughorn. It leaves the other Professors to either follow suit in favouring a House or not give out points to Slytherins themselves to balance the books.
Harry is scrupulously fair in awarding points, and he knows Hermione is the same, for all they love Gryffindor.
He takes out his wand and transfigures the grass turning the damp turf into a very large dry tarp. It isn’t the best transfiguration ever – the tarp remains the dull green-brown of the winter pitch in colour – but it is sufficient for his purposes.
He sits down. “Everyone, take a seat.”
“Sir?” mutters Sylvestre Malfoy, a second cousin of Lucius who Harry isn’t show exists back on his world. He reminds Harry a little of Draco. There is less of ‘my father’ in Sylvestre’s taunting, but the arrogance and entitlement of someone with wealth and privilege is the same.
“Sit, Mister Malfoy,” Harry says firmly.
The Gryffindors drop to the ground with their brooms laid down beside them, whether owned or borrowed from Harry’s newly reinvigorated school store. The Slytherins are slower but eventually they’re all sitting.
“What is the number one rule in my lesson?” asks Harry.
Hands shoot up.
He picks on Geraldine Greengrass, Daphne’s aunt. She’s as pretty as Daphne was back in his school days. She has a porcelain complexion, dark hair and stunning sapphire blue eyes. She’s also one of the Slytherin’s best Quidditch players, a Chaser.
“Safety first,” Geraldine states firmly.
“Point to Slytherin,” Harry says. “What are you risking when you fly angry?” He points at Gregory Cook, one of Bill’s friends. He’s a good-looking muggleborn lad with a mop of dirty blond hair and green eyes.
“That you fly dangerously because you’re not thinking,” Gregory sighs.
“Point to Gryffindor,” Harry confirms.
He’s pleased to see his students are beginning to look sheepish, realisation dawning across their young faces.
“Now, who would like to tell me why you all turned up glaring at each other?” asks Harry.
The children, for they all are children still, dart nervous glances at each other before staring at the ground. It’s the unspoken rule of the schoolyard, Harry muses; nobody wants to snitch.
Bill sets his jaw in a familiar way. “There was an incident in Potions.”
Harry nods encouragingly.
“Someone,” his eyes remain on Harry rather than shifting to the accused which speaks to Bill’s strength of character for him and allows him to speak about the incident without exactly snitching, maintaining his honour as a student peer, “threw frogspawn into Allie’s cauldron. We were making Vanishing Potion and where Allie was in the process, the frogspawn could have caused an explosion.”
Allie being Alison MacMillan, Alice’s cousin. Bill and Gregory are best friends with Allie in much the same way Ron and Harry are with Hermione.
“You caught it, didn’t you?” mutters Josephine Smith.
Zach’s oldest cousin is as much as an arse as he is, Harry thinks looking at the blonde Slytherin princess.
“Slughorn accused Bill of trying to prank Allie! He gave him a detention and took points from Gryffindor when we protested!” explodes a furious looking Harriet Foreman. Harriet is the closest to Hermione in personality. First generation, smart as a whip and very much a loner. “You Slytherin lot all just went along with it because you’re self-centred lying bunch of twats!”
“Language, Miss Foreman,” Harry says automatically. He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose.
He really should take a point, but he won’t because it’s clear that Gryffindor has already been treated unfairly.
“Who threw the frogspawn?” asks Harry sharply.
He lets his gaze roam over the Slytherins. Josephine and Sylvestre both look mulish, arms folded tightly across their chests. The other Slytherins have their gazes pinned to the ground until Donald Parkinson darts a look over at Sylvestre’s best friend, Tim Crabbe, before he drops his gaze again.
Tim is not a good student in any subject except Care for Magical Creatures where he seems to have a knack with animals according to Stabling. The likelihood is that even if Tim threw the frogspawn, it wouldn’t have been his idea, and Harry figures he had no idea it would cause an explosion. Sylvestre, on the other hand, is adept at Potions.
Harry sighs. “How many points did Professor Slughorn take from Gryffindor?”
Sylvestre’s gaze snaps to him in alarm.
“Fifty points because of the severity of what might have happened,” Allie says bitterly.
“Here’s the deal,” Harry says to the Slytherins, “one of you confesses or I will take a hundred points from Slytherin.”
“You can’t do that!” proclaims Josephine, horrified.
“I think you’ll find I can,” Harry says firmly.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, it was Tim!” Geraldine snaps.
“Geraldine!” Josephine protests loudly.
“Stow it, Smith!” Geraldine says. “I earn most of the points outside of Potions for our year. I’m not letting Tim’s idiocy wipe out all of those points!”
“Have you ever heard of House loyalty?” snarls Sylvestre, glaring at her.
Geraldine sniffs. “Does that mean you’d prefer to be in Hufflepuff?”
Sylvestre scowls.
“Mister Crabbe,” Harry interjects, “why did you not act honourably and inform Professor Slughorn that he was mistaken in accusing Mister Weasley?”
“Because Syl told me not to,” mumbles Tim, a gormless look on his round face.
Syl puffs up indignantly, but the flush on his cheeks gives away his guilt.
“Tell me, Mister Malfoy,” Harry says quietly, catching and holding the boy’s gaze, “how does acting dishonourably reflect on your House?” He waits until Sylvestre looks down before he sweeps his gaze around the Slytherin group. “Your House is capable of great wizardry, but dishonesty and cheap bullying tricks do not speak to cunning and ambition. That none of you were honourable enough to admit that it wasn’t Mister Weasley to Professor Slughorn reflects badly on you all. I am disappointed in your behaviour.”
The majority of them look shamefaced, Harry notes with satisfaction.
The Gryffindors look vindicated.
Harry turns to them. “Where did you all go wrong in this matter?”
For a second, they look affronted.
Bill clears his throat. “We should have kept our heads with the Professor. We were all yelling so badly, he just wouldn’t listen to any of us in the end.”
“Courage isn’t who can shout the loudest,” Harry agrees. He clears his throat. “I will speak with Professor Slughorn on the matter of the detention, Mister Weasley.”
And Bill really doesn’t know the sacrifice he’s making with that offer. Slughorn’s interest in befriending the Knights of Avalon hasn’t waned in the past month.
“Forty points to Gryffindor to adjust the unfair points deduction.” Harry glances across to the Slytherins. “Ten points from Slytherin for allowing Professor Slughorn to believe a lie and,” he stresses as Geraldine’s fury flashes across her face, “and five points to Geraldine and Slytherin for telling the truth.”
The class looks semi-satisfied and chastised across the board.
Well.
Sylvestre looks mulish still and Josephine is glaring at Geraldine, but he can’t win them all.
Harry stands up. “We will adjourn to the gym and have a lesson in broom maintenance.”
The groans come from both Slytherin and Gryffindor.
He herds them back to the gym, ignoring their grumbles, and feels relieved that the shared horror of broom maintenance means that there is less tension between the two groups.
The lesson is his last for the day and his Friday night beckons. He shoos the chattering students out of the Hall.
Bill lingers behind, Allie and Gregory hovering just outside the door.
Bill bites his lip. “You’ll really speak with Professor Slughorn, Mister Potter?”
“I will,” Harry confirms. “Now, go on. Go enjoy your weekend with your friends.”
Bill grins at him and hurries out.
Harry takes some time to make a round of the Hall, tidying up and checking everything is as it should be. He heads to his office with a sense of relief.
There’s a lot more work than he had assumed when Dumbledore first offered the job to him. The Flying Instructor oversees flying lessons First through Fifth-Year (he wonders when his Hogwarts had decided to just have the lessons in First), as well as providing objective coaching to all four of the House Quidditch teams in regular practice sessions. His first time refereeing a match will happen in mid-February and he’s nervous. He only hopes he remembers not to catch the snitch himself.
He locks up his office and heads back into the family quarters.
Hermione is curled up on the sitting room sofa with a large book, Crookshanks on her lap. He heads over to her and drops a kiss on her lips. He settles beside her, wrapping an arm around her.
“Good book?” asks Harry.
“Regina sent it,” Hermione says. “She’s been scouring the library at Tintagel for more information, and this was hidden away.” She raises the cover.
“‘Tales of the Knights of Avalon,’” Harry reads aloud. “Any good?”
“It only substantiates what we’ve been able to find out in the last month from our other sources,” Hermione says with a frown. “Appointment as a Knight of Avalon was rare and there was always a specific mission given. It confirms the other account that we found where Merlin often gifted a magical item to a Knight to aid them on their mission. The first story I read was of the Knight Beddle, the Green Knight, who was given magical armour so he could kill a sprite controlled by a Dark wizard. It suggests that any gifts Merlin gives have importance.”
Harry sighs. He guesses thinking that the gifts of Godric and Crookshanks are more in line with Merlin giving them emotional support animals to help them deal with the mental and emotional disconnect of being in an entirely new world is wishful thinking. “Something to keep in mind.”
“I don’t think we’re going to learn anything more of value about being Knights of Avalon,” Hermione declares in the same way she had once declared that they were finished with revision ahead of exams. “We’ve read every book across every library we have access to and the sum of our information hasn’t increased a whit in the last couple of weeks.”
Harry agrees. “We should probably turn our attention to figuring out the mission we’ve been given, especially now we’re settled into classes.”
“I can’t believe that we’re at the first Hogsmeade weekend,” Hermione comments with a sigh, setting the book aside and snuggling into Harry.
“Me either,” Harry admits. “Where’s Lily and Sirius?”
“Sirius sent word he gave a couple of Hufflepuffs a detention for cheating so won’t be back before dinner, and as for Lily…apparently Severus Snape arrived back in the castle early,” Hermione sighs. “Lily went off to meet with him ahead of dinner. She wants us to have lunch with them at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow since none of us are chaperoning.”
Harry wrinkles his face in disgust in a way that he never would in front of Lily herself. “Joy.”
Hermione hums and shifts back to look at him. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you about meeting this Severus Snape?”
“Want to?” Harry shakes his head. “But I probably should anyway, right?”
Hermione smiles sadly at him.
Their hands clasp loosely and she entwines their fingers gently.
“I know why I’m cautious about meeting him,” Hermione says. “I mean, I don’t have your history with our Professor Snape, apart from him generally being unpleasant to me, but I’m not looking forward to meeting his counterpart with everything Sirius and James have said.”
“Lily likes him,” Harry points out, surprised that’s she’s put so much weight on Sirius’ and James’ depiction of Snape.
Hermione smiles. “She’s his friend – his only friend, by all accounts. She’s very biased in his favour. She’s still dropping hints about inviting him to the family meals on Sundays.” She shrugs. “James admits they haven’t had much interaction since Hogwarts, but that at school, Severus was deeply unpleasant to everyone except Lily. He outright called him a bully.” She bites her lip. “Sirius is more measured, but he has said that Snape has remained very possessive over Lily’s time and attention. I guess I see red flags waving and I can’t unsee them.”
Harry rubs his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m trying not to have an opinion until we meet him.”
“Wise,” Hermione says, raising her eyebrows a touch.
Harry shrugs. “Our Snape was a bully and a grade-one arsehole.” He grimaces. “After the war, when I spoke up to confirm that Snape had been acting against Voldemort all along, I didn’t expect for a lot of people to then excuse everything he did, for everyone to try to make me accept the narrative of Snape the Brave Hero.”
He’s grateful when Hermione waits patiently for him to continue.
“He loved my mother,” Harry concedes, “and he turned spy on Voldemort because he targeted her, then killed her. He loved her until the last moment he drew breath.”
“But?” prompts Hermione gently.
“But he hated me,” Harry says bluntly. “He never forgave me for being James Potter’s son. He bullied and demeaned me, even as he worked to keep me safe from Voldemort until the time came for me to die, and to excuse his behaviour as a pretence to keep his cover is a lie.”
Hermione squeezes his hand in comfort.
Harry takes a deep breath. “There is a lot that I’m angry with our Dumbledore about, but making Snape, a man who hated me, no, loathed me and didn’t hide the fact ever, try to teach me Occlumency by breaking into mind repeatedly? And then be the instrument of telling me I needed to die? That is something that I can never forgive.”
Hermione cuddles closer and Harry leans into her warmth, letting it ease his remembered fury.
“I really wish we didn’t have to deal with this Snape,” Harry admits. “I don’t expect he’ll view me any differently than ours did since he hates James and is clearly possessive with Lily.”
“We’ll have to hope for the best,” Hermione says diplomatically.
“This weekend is really going to suck,” Harry muses out loud, snuggling closer to his wife. He goes onto explain his need to speak to Slughorn after dinner.
Hermione looks more amused at his predicament than sympathetic. “Poor Bill.”
“Poor Bill? Poor me!” Harry proclaims. “I’m the one who’s going to have to talk to Slughorn.”
“We’ll suggest meeting him for a drink in his quarters, and I can pretend a headache to leave when we’re done,” Hermione says briskly. “It’ll be fine.”
“You’ll come with me?” asks Harry, relieved.
“Of course,” Hermione says simply, raising her head from his shoulder to meet his happy gaze. “Where you go, I go, right?”
“You’re the best wife,” Harry says and kisses her as she laughs.
Their relationship is progressing, slowly and steadily. They are not lovers, but they love each other, and Harry knows when Hermione is ready to take that final physical step with him, she’ll let him know. He has a plan for taking them back to Bournemouth for a weekend away when she does. He loves Hogwarts, but he really would rather not make love to his wife for the first time within walls where Dumbledore holds the wards.
Harry thinks on their first night back at Hogwarts when they had told Dumbledore that they were married for real and not just because they were pretending in order to satisfy the social norms of a different world from their own. Dumbledore had offered them congratulations, but the flicker of anger at losing something to hold over their heads had come and gone in the Headmaster’s eyes.
Hermione dashes off a note to Slughorn and sends it with an elf who comes back with a flowery response which tells them the Potions Professor will be delighted to host them after dinner.
They cuddle, content with sitting in silence and being together until they need to head down to the hall for dinner. They leave Godric and Crookshanks snoozing in front of the fire as Dumbledore doesn’t allow pets in the hall.
Harry and Hermione enter arm in arm and Harry hears a few coos from the younger Hufflepuffs as they pass the table on the way to the staff table. The older ones simply sigh wistfully.
Harry’s lips twitch and he suppresses the chuckle that he wants to make. Hermione shoots him a look which tells him she knows exactly what he’s thinking. He grins at her. Unsurprisingly, Hermione has a gaggle of young schoolgirls who now want to be just like Professor Potter, but he’s also aware that he has gathered a new set of fans, and that a lot of young people find their story of world displacement and Knights of Avalon altogether too romantic.
Dumbledore nods a greeting to them as they approach. Slughorn beams at them.
Harry sits Hermione before he takes his own chair. They’ve opted for seats down on the right of the Headmaster, facing the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Lily always sits with Filius opposite Ravenclaw, but Sirius hurriedly sits down beside Hermione on one side and Hagrid is on Harry’s right at the end of the table.
Harry has been thrilled to make friends with the half-giant.
“How was the detention?” Hermione asks Sirius cheerfully as the dishes start appearing across the tables.
Sirius huffs and reaches for the platter of steak. “Why they thought they could get away with submitting the same essay I do not know!”
Harry turns to Hagrid who, Harry notes with concern, is looking slightly downcast. “How was your day?”
“Not a good one to tell ya the truth of it, Harry,” Hagrid says shaking his head. “Someone attacked the unicorn herd last night.”
Harry stills at the news.
Before Harry and Hermione had gone to stay with his family, Harry had overheard James talking with Dumbledore about a group of masked wizards in black robes attacking the herd, before the centaurs had seen them off.
“Were any hurt?” asks Hermione quietly.
“They’re missing a foal,” Hagrid says, his brown eyes swimming with his upset. He takes out an overlarge hanky from a pocket and blows his nose loudly. “It’s a terrible thing!”
Harry, Hermione and Sirius all exchange worried glances.
“Aurors came and spoke with the centaurs, but there’s no leads to who took the poor wee creature,” Hagrid continues. His brow lowers. “Nobody takes a unicorn foal with good intentions.”
“I’m sure the Aurors will do all they can to find the foal and the people who took them,” Harry assures Hagrid.
“When we had people targeting the unicorns,” Hermione says quietly, “it was to keep a dark wizard alive by drinking the blood.”
Harry’s mind flits to the memory of Voldemort’s shade in Quirrell’s body drinking unicorn blood. He shudders and he’s suddenly less enthused about the roast beef on his plate. He forces himself to continuing eating anyway.
“We don’t know what this dark wizard might do with a unicorn foal,” Harry points out. “We don’t really know what happened to him after he went abroad or if it is him that’s behind the attacks.”
“I’ll contact James after dinner,” Sirius offers in a low voice, “he may be able to tell us more about the investigation.”
“Aurors are keeping a patrol on the forest, they say,” Hagrid sighs. “Centaurs aren’t happy about that.”
In Harry’s experience, the centaurs are rarely happy about anything that encroaches on their space.
Hermione clears her throat and asks Hagrid about the kneazle that’s taken up residence in the Thestral stable. Crookshanks has been paying regular visits and Hermione questions Hagrid like a high society matron worried about the virtue of her only child.
Sirius and Harry glance across at each other, laughter in their eyes.
Harry focuses on eating and enjoying his wife quiz a flustered Hagrid about the intentions of a kneazle. He lets his gaze roam around the hall.
The Ravenclaw table is the quietest. Quite a few of the students sit with books open, reading while they eat. There’s a fierce debate among the oldest students at one end of the table, but that’s nothing unusual.
The Slytherins are engaged with each other; each clique jostling to keep and improve their position in the hierarchy. The Third Years are quieter than normal, and the loss of points has clearly been noted by the other Slytherin Years.
The Hufflepuff table is a loud riot of gossip and chatter in comparison, but the Gryffindors remain the most rambunctious.
Harry wonders if his own table was really that loud.
Dinner comes to an end.
Dumbledore disappears immediately.
Hagrid excuses himself to head out to feed the animals.
Sirius stands with Harry and Hermione. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a quiet evening with a glass of wine and a good book.”
“It sounds delightful,” Hermione says with a moue of disappointment. “Unfortunately, Harry and I have to speak with Horace.” She motions towards the Potions Professor who is waddling their way. “There’s an unfair detention we need to sort out.”
“Rather you than me,” Sirius quips. “I’ll see you back at our quarters.” He scarpers before Slughorn reaches them.
Harry greets him with a terse smile. “Professor Slughorn.”
“Horace, my dear boy,” Horace smiles at him. “We are colleagues, are we not?”
Hermione loops her arm into Harry’s and smiles back at the professor. “Of course, and we’re obviously Harry and Hermione in return, Horace.” She lets Horace puff up with pleasure before she gestures for him to lead the way. “Shall we?”
Harry is thrilled when Hermione engages Horace during their walk to his quarters in a discussion about the development of a hair colouring potion that she’d read about in a Potions magazine.
They reach the Slytherin dungeons.
Harry is surprised when they bypass where their world’s Snape had been quartered and instead head to an unremarkable door beside a painting of an early Hogwarts.
Horace leads them into a spacious suite not unlike their own.
A large sitting area takes up their immediate surroundings. Multiple individual chairs flank a black marble hearth with a smouldering fire, and there are small occasional tables dotted around to provide somewhere for people to place drinks. It isn’t decorated in green and silver like the Slytherin common room, but rather with an emphasis on expensive comfort; opulence is the key word, Harry muses.
The back wall has closed doors which Harry assumes leads to Horace’s bedroom, bathroom and office, perhaps even a private potions lab.
The walls either side of the fire are filled ceiling to floor with books. Hermione immediately drifts over to them and Horace smiles indulgently.
“Please, please sit, relax! Drinks?” He points at the drinks’ cabinet to their right.
A few minutes later, Harry finds himself sitting in the most comfortable chair he’s ever sat on in his life, Hermione in the chair beside him, both of them with glasses of deep red elf wine that tastes delicious.
“To new friendships,” Horace proposes the toast.
Harry raises his glass and repeats it politely. He sips his wine. It’s wonderful.
“Now, before we talk of other things, your note mentioned you wished to talk to me about a detention I gave today?” Horace says briskly. “As I only gave one to Mister Weasley, I assume this is about that incident?”
“It is,” Harry confirms. He tells Horace of his own lesson and the confessions of the Slytherins. “Usually, I would not interfere, but I feel you needed all the information I discovered if only to understand that Mister Weasley had no intention of adding frogspawn into a volatile mixture.”
Horace purses his fat lips. “No, no, I thank you for bringing this to my attention, dear Harry. I did think it was most out of character for Mister Weasley. Bill is a bright lad and more like Arthur than his mother in nature. Now, Molly Prewitt! Oh, but she had a temper on her! Very unwise in a potions lab.”
Hermione coughs to hide her laugh.
“I rescind the detention,” Horace declares. “It is unfair for the boy to miss out on his weekend because of a prank played by others.” He calls one of the Hogwarts house elves to deliver the news to Bill.
Harry relaxes a touch. He’s achieved his aim and he’s content that the discussion didn’t devolve into a fight.
Horace huffs as the house elf pops away. “I will have to discuss this matter with Mister Crabbe since he was the actual culprit.” His face fell. “He’s a simple boy. I rather doubt he has the smarts to realise what might have happened.”
“He’s easily led,” Harry says. “Might I suggest a word from his Head of House about not blindly following the lead of others might also be wise?”
“Indeed,” Horace raises his glass, “although I fear such a word will fall on deaf ears. Unfortunately, Mister Malfoy holds a great deal of influence with Mister Crabbe. Of course, the families are close.” His sharp eyes narrow on them. “It is good to see our new Knights of Avalon devoutly believe in fairness.”
Harry tilts his head. “Have there been Knights who have not?”
“Well, the Black Knight tends to tip the scales to whatever is needed rather than respect the notion of fairness,” Horace says, “although I’m sure our own Professor Black will know more about than I. The mantle of the Black Knight does sit with his Noble House.”
Harry wonders if Horace is seeking to seed distrust on behalf of Dumbledore or trying to wedge himself in, envious of their closeness to Sirius. Harry has long forgiven the other wizard for keeping them in the dark about the Black Knight and the Sight gifts of the House of Black. Sirius has become his closest friend and confidante outside of Hermione; closer still than James who as an Auror spends much less time with them.
“I see you have an extensive library here,” Hermione says. “Do you have any books on Knights of Avalon?”
“I’m afraid only copies of those I’m certain you will have already read from Hogwarts’ own collection,” Horace says with visible dismay. “However, I do want to take this opportunity to say if there is any way that I can assist you on the mission our King has placed upon you, please do call upon me. Every wizard has a duty to give you aid.”
Definitely trying to wedge himself in, Harry thinks, somewhat amused by the attempt.
“Thank you, Horace,” Harry says, as diplomatically as he can, “we will keep your offer in mind.”
They all sip the wine.
“Well, now that we’re done with business, may I ask for your opinion on the latest article from Madame Gaultier on her experiments with plastic cauldrons, Horace?” asks Hermione, sweetly.
Horace brightens, gives a mock shudder, and launches into a well-articulated rant on the terrible effect of plastics on traditional potions.
Harry sits back content to listen.
Hermione excuses them soon after they finish their drinks, mentioning her tiredness after a long week. They head back to their quarters and find Sirius half-asleep on the sofa in the common room.
“You’re back,” Sirius yawns. “How did it go with Horace?”
“He rescinded Bill’s detention,” Harry says, dropping down into the chair next to him. Hermione perches on the arm and leans against him.
“Do you have any idea why he might want to put a wedge between you and I?” asks Harry bluntly.
Sirius’ eyebrows shoot up his face as his silver eyes widen. “Really?” He shakes his head. “He’s usually pretty obsequious with me. Interesting.”
“I take it he hasn’t turned up at one of your Order meetings?” asks Harry.
Sirius shakes his head again. “He could be part of it and not attend. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Molly’s cooking, I’m not sure anyone would be turning up. It’s a lot of words not going anywhere.”
Hermione hums. “Horace could just be angling to become a trusted friend to Knights of Avalon.”
“Maybe,” Sirius agrees, “he’s Dippet’s man really. He and Dumbledore have never been very close. Respectful, but not close.”
Harry nods. He frowns a little. “Lily back yet?”
“She’s having an early night,” Sirius says. He pauses, hesitating before ploughing on. “She was a little upset. I don’t think the meeting with Severus went well.”
“I can understand that,” Harry says dryly. “It can’t be easy to understand that your dearest friend in another world married your schoolboy rival and had a baby son with them that has suddenly appeared out of nowhere.”
“Severus has always been an arse,” Sirius says with the bluntness that Harry associates more with his own Sirius than Professor Sirius Black. “She’s asked me to come along to the lunch tomorrow.”
“I’d be glad to have you along,” Harry admits.
“Then I’ll be there,” Sirius says.
And suddenly Harry isn’t dreading the next day, even if he’s a little alarmed to realise just how much he really was dreading it before Sirius’ acceptance of Lily’s invitation. It doesn’t matter if Severus Snape hates him, Harry tells himself; it hadn’t mattered in the end in his own world, and it will not matter in this one.
Chapter 5: Interlude
Chapter Text
Sirius walks slowly alongside Harry and Hermione on the main path to Hogsmeade, Godric, loping alongside Harry, looks pleased as punch to be outside of the castle grounds.
The couple are walking hand in hand which is causing the students hurrying past to take very funny double-takes, some in romantic awe and some in scandalised horror. He wonders when it will stop being a novelty to them. Having married Professors is new for their generation.
For his own part, he’s been envious of the pair’s love for each other since he met them and that hasn’t changed. Not that he’s going to admit it out loud in his sister’s hearing again. After he’d alluded to his feelings at New Year, Regina had spent the next week dropping hints about Kathryn Hobson being a lovely young woman in search of a beau.
Sirius huffs. He’s known since he put on his heir ring that he was destined to be the Black Knight. He’s never thought to bring a partner into that.
Partner.
He’s never told anyone he prefers men to women, although he’s attracted to both. He knows he has a duty ahead of him as heir to provide an heir of his own.
He glances over to Harry and Hermione.
The couple have become steadfast friends to him. Real friends. It’s not that his friendships before their arrival were not real, because he considers his relationship with his cousin Alice and her husband Frank to be a real friendship, but he’s aware that Alice and Frank have other closer friends than himself – Lily being one of them. He’s never had a friendship with the depth of the one that he shares with Harry and Hermione.
They are true confidantes.
He’s shared more about the weight of being the Black Knight with them than he has with anyone including his grandfather.
Regina and he have always been close too, he considers. He’s never felt lonely because they’ve always had each other. But he cannot deny that he’s always felt the responsibility of his position as Reg’s older brother. He enjoys the fact that Harry and Hermione need his protection less in that regard, and if he’s truthful, they are in need of his protection less and less as they get familiar with the world and their position within it. They’re both very capable, very powerful magical Knights.
Hermione’s intelligence is as sharp as his own. Her ability to absorb information and to analyse it is outstanding.
And Harry, Harry is a powerhouse.
There is only one more treatment before his magical chaos is completely settled, but Sirius can already feel the strength of Harry’s magic flowing like a deep and endless river inside him. The Black family magic revels at Harry’s presence.
Sirius is honoured to have them as his friends. He thinks they’re also happy with the deepening friendship between them. He hopes so. He knows that he can’t replace the friends that they’ve lost, but he hopes their new friendship gives them comfort.
Harry certainly looks at him less as though he’s seeing a ghost and with much more genuine fondness for Sirius himself which delights Sirius no end, not least because he’s never wanted to cause Harry harm by reminding him of a Sirius he’d loved and lost.
A brisk winter breeze has Sirius huddling in his woollen coat. He wishes he’d remembered to bring a scarf. Hermione is wearing a terrible yellow one which Harry has confided holds sentimental value for her. Harry has a Gryffindor scarf around his neck. He seems unconcerned at showing his House colours.
They’re all walking rather slowly, Sirius thinks amused. None of them are looking forward to the lunch with Snape. He doesn’t think Lily is actually looking forward to the lunch with Snape. Snape had been an arse about everything, Lily had reported when she’d stormed into the family quarters the night before.
She’d admitted that his letters since she’d written to tell him of Harry had been terse, but not unusually so. (Which makes Sirius think that Snape is typically an arse to his own closest friend, it’s just never really made itself more apparent to Lily until now when her magic is pressing her to protect Harry).
Sirius has some sympathy with Snape about James Potter. They’d both been the target of the Mischief Makers – the little band of friends that James had gathered around him. They’d been a terror all through Sirius’ schooling and after an unfortunate incident with Lupin, they’d gotten worse in the final years. Some days he can allow that their constant targeting of him, whether through pranks, snide comments or, on the rare occasion an outright attack, had honed his reflexes and his situational awareness.
But he’d set aside his own issues with James because his family had needed the rapprochement with the Potters. His great-grandfather’s cursing of Dorea Potter because she’d eschewed the match that he’d made for her in favour of Charlus had been a stain on their honour. When Charlus had finally agreed to the rapprochement following Harry’s arrival, and James had apologised after Lupin had confessed that Sirius hadn’t been the one to attack him, it had given them a clean slate.
He and James are slowly forming their own relationship as cousins. They get along surprisingly well, and Sirius can imagine a world where he’d Sorted into the same House as James and they’d become friends. He likes James. And James isn’t the same immature jealous schoolboy he’d been at Hogwarts. He’s a talented Auror; smart; handsome…
Exactly Sirius’ type.
Sirius smiles wryly.
He’s absolutely certain that James’ type is not Sirius, but rather a lovely redhead by the name of Lily.
James is still smitten with her. Or perhaps, Sirius muses, it’s fairer to say that James has been re-smitten with her since they’ve remade their acquaintance with the advent of Harry into their lives.
He’s not certain that he would have handled a long-lost son from another world with as much grace and aplomb as James and Lily. He knows that Harry himself has embraced his wife’s suggestion of treating the situation the same as though Harry’s family are twins of his own blood relations. James, on the other hand, has insisted on his relationship with Harry being considered as one of cousins since the age difference between them is only a few years.
Sirius thinks James is acting more and more fatherly towards Harry without even realising it though. Lily is very motherly towards him. He’s noticed at the family Sundays that have been instituted since Harry and Hermione joined the Hogwarts’ staff that the shared experience is drawing Lily and James towards one another – whether they’re willing to admit it or not.
A problem for another day, muses Sirius.
His gaze flits to Hermione.
He wonders whether Charlus and Dorea had made any progress in tracking down the Grangers and seeing whether the Hermione of this world has been born. Hermione has never mentioned her family so he suspects not, but he is aware that the Potters had asked her if she wanted to make contact with her family.
Their steps slow as The Three Broomsticks comes into view.
Hermione sighs. “’Once more into the breach, dear friends.’”
Harry kisses the side of her head. “Right,” he says grimly, “let’s do this.”
Sirius falls in behind them.
The pub is already bustling with the older students, and he can see Hagrid tucked away at the back talking with a grizzled old man that looks like he’s been sleeping on the street. He frowns. The Care of Magical Creatures Assistant will befriend anyone.
Harry spots Lily first in a back booth. For a second there’s a weird grimace on both Harry and Hermione’s faces before they seem to shake it off. Harry leads the way, weaving through the masses with ease.
They pause by the table as Lily jumps up to greet them all with a hug and a kiss. She slides back into the booth section next to Severus and waves at them all to take the seats she’s saved.
Harry sits Hermione politely in the best wooden chair by Lily and takes the seat next to her. Sirius slides into the remaining chair between Harry and a glowering Snape.
Dumbledore’s apprentice is dressed in his usual all-black motif; black trousers and tunic under a buttoned high-necked robe. His long black hair is slicked back into a low ponytail which does nothing to soften the harsh plains of his angular sallow face and hooked nose. Ariana had fixed Snape’s crooked teeth in their Fourth Year after an unfortunate trip on the stairs, but his appearance remains ghastly to Sirius’ eye.
“This is Severus Snape, heir to the Noble House of Prince,” Lily introduces her friend in a cheery voice that is as forced as her smile. “Severus, this is Lord and Lady Peverell, Baron and Baroness Ravenshold, otherwise known as Harry and Hermione. You know Sirius.”
Sirius nods at Snape who glares back at him.
Harry clears his throat. “Lily has spoken a great deal about you. It’s an honour to meet the person she considers a dear friend.”
Snape sneers. “I rather doubt that.”
“Severus…” Lily begins.
Harry shakes his head a touch at her and raises his eyebrows inquisitively. “May I ask why?”
“I doubt any spawn of James Potter would consider it an honour to meet me,” Snape retorts angrily.
“I’m not my father,” Harry says politely, but with a hard edge to his voice, “and since I’m not of this world, I’m neither the son nor the spawn of the James Potter you know.”
“You…” Snape begins.
Sirius rolls his eyes and cuts him off. “Harry, why don’t you and Hermione go order some food and drinks for us?”
Harry shoots Sirius a look, but he nods. “Does everyone know what they’re having?”
There’s a brief respite of hostility from Severus as he gives his order. Harry and Hermione head to the bar once they have everyone’s and Sirius waits until they are out of earshot before turning to Severus.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Snape?” asks Sirius bluntly.
Snape bristles. “I don’t answer to you, Black.”
Sirius smiles sharply and Snape’s eyes widen as he takes in the protectiveness that Sirius is allowing to show in his face.
“Harry is part of the Black family magic,” Sirius says firmly. “He’s under our protection and the protection of the House of Potter, which I will remind you is led by Charlus not James. I don’t know what bug has crawled up your arse about this situation – I’m guessing it is something to do with your unwillingness to share Lily’s time and attention with anyone else on Earth, let alone a young man who her magic recognises as her son – but whatever irritation you have, I suggest you drop the hostility and make an effort to genuinely make Harry and Hermione’s acquaintance before my family magic demands I curse you.” He holds Snape’s furious eyes with his own. “Do you understand me?”
It says something about Lily’s feelings about Snape’s behaviour that she doesn’t automatically jump to his defence as she would have normally done.
“I understand,” Snape snaps tersely. He looks guardedly to the bar where Harry and Hermione are chatting with Rosmerta. “You are convinced that he’s not a charlatan? That he is truly the son of a Lily Evans from another world?”
Lily huffs and folds her arms crossly over her chest. “I have told you repeatedly, Severus, that I can feel that he’s my son, not to mention I have told you everything about how he arrived in this world and how the Ministry is helping to solve the spell that brought him here! I don’t appreciate the lack of trust in my word!”
Snape seems to finally get that he’s annoyed her, because his face rearranges itself from its resting arsehole face to a slightly conciliatory expression. “My only concern is that you, Lily. His advent to this world put you in hospital!”
“He had no choice in how he came into this world,” Lily states firmly. “That was the work of King Arthur and Merlin,” she holds up a hand, “I was at the Wizengamot and saw the spirit of Arthur myself, Severus.” She sighs heavily. “Please make an effort to get along with him and Hermione. They’re both lovely and they will be a part of my life.”
“Until they return to whence they came and break your heart in leaving,” Snape says brusquely. “Surely it would be better for you to remain at a distance?”
Sirius hides his own reaction behind his impeccable Black public mask of indifference, but he can’t deny that Snape’s concern, as poorly presented and worded as it is, is a valid concern. He’s wondered himself at how much it is going to hurt when Harry and Hermione inevitably leave them.
“Even if my magic wasn’t screaming at me to be close to him,” Lily retorts, “I would never give up whatever time I have with him nor Hermione while they’re here.”
Sirius nods in agreement.
“Then I will tolerate them for your sake,” Snape says.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “How generous of you, Snape.”
Harry and Hermione arrive back, preventing Snape from making any other comment. They hand out drinks before retaking their seats.
“Perhaps we can start over?” Lily suggests, pointedly looking at Snape.
Snape arches one eyebrow and sniffs. He lifts his drink, a dark ale. “Thank you for the drink,” he says dryly.
Harry nods. “I appreciate that this is an unusual situation, but I hope that we can find common ground in our want to make Lily’s life happy and comfortable.”
There’s a quality to the words that makes Sirius believe that Hermione has coached him in what to say rather than Harry himself coming up with it.
“She is my only concern,” Snape allows.
“Then we’re agreed,” Harry says. He turns to Lily. “I didn’t get the chance yesterday to ask how your class on the trip to the moon landing went?”
“Wonderfully!” Lily’s demeanour brightens with the question. She launches into an account of how her Fifth Years had all been sceptical until she’d shown them the film of the moon landing.
Hermione asks her a follow-up question and they’re occupied with the discussion until their food arrives.
Somehow between the four of them they manage to keep the topics to general discussions and non-controversial debates while they eat.
They’re almost at the end, meals finished with drinks down to their dregs, and Sirius has a small amount of hope that they might remain civil for the whole event when Snape speaks again.
“Lily has informed me that you were proclaimed Knights of Avalon,” Snape says. “An unusual appointment without a designated mission.”
Lily sets her glass down and glares at Snape. “Severus, I told you that Harry and Hermione’s mission is not our business unless they request assistance.”
“But there is a mission?” Snape asks slyly.
Harry regards Snape with a measured look. “Did Lily tell you that I knew your counterpart back on my world?”
Snape stills. His long fingers clench on his mug of ale. “She did.” He glances towards Lily briefly. “She had no further details than that.”
“No,” Harry says, “I thought it best not to burden her with the knowledge of what an arse my Snape acted.”
Snape flushes bright red.
“He and my mother were childhood friends,” Harry says, “they grew up together and she was thrilled to find someone who was able to tell her about magic. They sat together on the train but at the Sorting, my mother went to Gryffindor and Severus Snape went to Slytherin, as had every member of the House of Prince before him.”
“We made a pact,” Lily interjects, “didn’t we, Severus?”
Snape nods slowly.
“There was a very intense rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin,” Hermione picks up the story, “stoked further by the tensions from a dark wizard rising.” Her brown eyes are solemn and pinned to Snape’s face. “Slytherin, led by the purebloods in that House, sneered at the muggleborn in the school, called them mudbloods. Friendships with any muggleborn was very much discouraged within Slytherin.”
“For a while, my mother and Snape continued their friendship, just kept it to their muggle homes during the holidays and out of sight when at Hogwarts, but tensions got worse,” Harry continues. “My father had three friends in Gryffindor, they styled themselves as the Marauders, pranksters. But as the Slytherin started to attack students in the corridors and the staff did very little, their pranking began to be retaliatory and as violent; they were bullies.”
Snape huffs. “It seems James Potter is the same in every world.”
“In their Fifth Year, my mother tried to help Snape after an attack from the Marauders and he snapped in his anger and humiliation and called her a mudblood,” Harry says in a hard tone. “It was the final straw for my mother who ended their friendship.”
Sirius isn’t surprised by the twin looks of horror on Lily’s and Snape’s faces.
“My father lost his mother at the beginning of the Seventh Year,” Harry says, “it made him grow up and he and my mother started dating. That was the final straw for Snape who in his anger sought out the dark wizard and swore his fealty to him.”
“I see,” Snape murmurs, looking down at the table.
“Our wizarding world went to war soon after,” Hermione says, “the Dark Lord was terrible, many people died. James and Lily married and fought on the side of the Light. Unfortunately, Dumbledore in interviewing a Divination Professor in a pub, heard a prophecy foretelling of a champion who could defeat the Dark Lord. The young Severus Snape overheard part of it and ran to tell his master.”
Snape flinches.
“When he realised that he had placed a target on my mother, he was horrified,” Harry says almost gently. “He hated that she had married my father, but Snape still loved her. He went to Albus Dumbledore and begged him to protect her. Dumbledore manipulated him into being a spy. But it wasn’t enough. I was barely over a year old when the Dark Lord attacked my family, and both my parents were killed defending my life.”
Snape gasps.
Lily is pale. She’s heard the story before, Sirius muses, but there is something about this retelling which is rawer and more brutal than the words Harry has used before.
“And still, Dumbledore would not release Snape, he made him vow to keep me safe,” Harry continues. “He hated me. He hated protecting the son of the schoolboy rival he loathed. He hated that I lived and my mother did not.” He holds Snape’s gaze. “But for all that, he did keep me safe. He played spy again when the Dark Lord returned. He did Dumbledore’s bidding right to the end. He used his last breath to tell me that everything he had done, he had done for the love he still held for my mother.”
“Oh, Harry!” Lily murmurs reaching out her hand.
Harry catches hold of it and squeezes it gently.
“Why tell me this?” Snape asks in a growl.
Harry gives Lily a reassuring glance before turning his gaze back to Snape. “Because Lily loves you, and it would hurt her to lose you.”
“And it would be wise to learn from our Snape’s mistakes,” Hermione says briskly. “He ended up the slave of two masters, hating his life, bereft of friendship. I would be wary of anyone promising you whatever you desire for the price of spying.”
Sirius suppresses the smile at the clever way she’s called Snape out, because it is clear that he was fishing. Dumbledore probably, Sirius thinks, but perhaps the counterpart dark wizard of Harry’s life is already courting Snape too.
Hermione stands up. “It was interesting to meet you. Harry, I’d like to visit the shops before we return to Hogwarts.”
Harry nods. He lets go of Lily’s hand. “We’ll see you back at the castle, Lily.”
Sirius refrains from leaving with them. He figures they can do with some time to get their equilibrium back. He pins Snape with a knowing look.
Snape sighs and lifts his hand from the table. “Albus wants to know their mission.”
“Severus!” Lily sighs and shakes her head.
“He feels that the Black and Potter families have made the pair mistrust him in a way they did not when they first arrived,” Snape says.
“I think they have their own reasons for keeping Albus at a distance,” Sirius says. He downs the last of his own drink and sets the glass down with a small thump on the table. “There’s a war brewing, Snape. Loyalties are going to be tested. You need to consider where your loyalties lie.”
“He’s my mentor,” Snape protests.
“And if you had to choose between Lily or him?” Sirius says pointedly. “Knights of Avalon are appointed for the good of the world. If Albus wants to help, I’m sure his counsel would be welcomed if he was upfront about it.”
Or at least, Harry and Hermione would be grateful to have his manipulations out in the open rather than the Headmaster trying to manoeuvre behind closed doors.
Lily nods. “I definitely don’t want you to use our relationship to do Albus’ bidding to spy on Harry and Hermione because he feels excluded.” She puts her hand on Snape’s arm. “But I don’t want to lose our friendship the way Harry’s mother and her Severus did.”
“I don’t want that either,” Snape says quietly.
“Then perhaps you have some thinking to do about how we keep that friendship because my family magic demands I help him, Severus,” Lily says. “There is no choice to be made because in every way that matters to magic, he is my son as much as he was hers.”
Snape quails under her fierce look. “I know how demanding family magic can be, I just…” he lifts his hand, “why did it have to be Potter?”
Lily pats his shoulder. “I’m under the protection of the Houses of Black and Potter, Severus. James has already apologised to me and I’m certain, given the chance, he’ll apologise to you.”
Snape slumped back in the booth; misery was written all over him. Sirius had no sympathy for him.
“I have to get back,” Sirius says politely. “I have marking I want to get completed.”
Lily stands up and gathers her coat. “I’ll walk back with you.” She dips down to buss Snape’s cheek. “I do love you, Sev.”
Snape grimaces but nods. “I will always be your friend, Lily.”
Lily smiles tightly and Sirius escorts her to the door. They walk back in silence. Sirius can see Lily is lost in thought and he is mulling over the fact that Dumbledore is already trying to sway Snape into spying. He wonders what other similarities exist between their world and Harry’s.
The couple have stuck with their original plan to provide the big picture without the details – a wizarding war, but not the named individual who was the dark wizard; Harry as a prophesied child, but not the details of the prophecy. He wonders how long they’ll be able to sustain their boundary – if they can even sustain the boundary with the pull of their magic to their duties as Knights of Avalon. The night before had been the first time he’d heard about their own dark wizard attacking a unicorn herd.
Lily sighs as they reach the door of the family quarters. “Do you think there is any hope of Sev doing the right thing?”
Sirius winces at the question and doesn’t hide it. “I think he loves you, and I think he’s heard what will happen if he loses you. Maybe that will be enough to deter him from cutting off his nose to spite his face.”
Lily nods unhappily and taps her wand on the door to give them entry.
Crookshanks pads over to rub his head against her legs and she stoops to pick him up. The cat purrs happily in her arms.
“I always wanted a cat,” Lily muses.
Sirius is about to reply when the Floo flares.
James’ head appears in the flames. “Hello, Knight Pad!”
Lily rolls her eyes and kneels down in front of the hearth. “We don’t call it that!”
“You should!” James protests. “I got Sirius’ note. Can I come through?”
Sirius waves him through and Lily scuttles out of the way, losing her furry friend in the process.
James enters and vanishes the Floo powder in a graceful way. “Are Harry and Hermione about?”
“They went shopping after lunch,” Sirius informs him. “If you’re here with news about the unicorns, we should probably wait on them.”
“What’s this about the unicorns?” asks Lily, frowning.
Sirius realises that Lily probably hadn’t heard. She’d been at the other end of the table from Hagrid and had retired early when they’d gotten back to their quarters after dinner. He’s just finished explaining it to her when Harry and Hermione return.
It takes a few minutes to get everything sorted, but the four of them are soon sat in the common room with warm drinks of hot chocolate and some biscuits.
Sirius notes with hidden amusement how James and Lily have gravitated to one sofa, Harry and Hermione to another. He’s happily ensconced in the most comfortable chair in the room.
Godric sleeps stretched out in front of the fire, Crookshanks curled up beside him.
James clears his throat. “Right, so the unicorn situation…”
“I still can’t believe someone would take a unicorn foal!” Lily says. She blushes. “Sorry, James, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
James waves away her apologies and offers a smile. “I’d be happy to never speak of this.” He sighs and sips his chocolate. “I must ask that you are all discreet about this – the information is part of an ongoing investigation.”
“Just before Christmas, we had a report of a unicorn being slaughtered in a herd down in Cornwall,” James says. “Moody’s had the Aurors doing surveillance off and on with the herd in Hoggle Forest ever since.”
“There was an attack the second night after we arrived at Hogwarts,” Harry says, his eyes distant as though he’s looking back into the past. “I woke up and you were in the infirmary with Remus.”
James blinks and nods slowly. “That’s right. Bertie, Pete and I were keeping watch and had invited Remus along.” He takes another sip. “Seven masked people apparated into the middle of the herd. We were about to intervene when the centaurs arrived to defend the herd, then Remus got attacked…”
“I remember you telling us about Charlus and my grandfather about it at our family meeting,” Sirius says. “Didn’t Charlus think that Tom Riddle might be behind the attack?”
And Harry outright flinches.
The room falls silently.
“Harry?” asks James, setting his cup down and leaning forward to look at the boy who was his image save for Lily’s green eyes. “Was Riddle the Dark wizard who started the war in your world?”
Harry’s lips flatten and Hermione’s hand slips into his.
Sirius shifts drawing their attention. “I know you both have had your reservations about telling us too much and affecting things here, but…” he holds Harry’s gaze firmly. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”
Harry and Hermione turn to each other, seeking a decision which they make in a single look.
Harry nods and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Yes,” he says grimly, “it’s time.”
Chapter 6: Searching for Unicorns
Chapter Text
Harry congratulates the Hufflepuff Captain, Elena Dagwood, for the surprise win against Slytherin. The Hufflepuffs’ chatter brightly as they make their way back into the Players’ Hall. He has no doubt that the party in the Hufflepuff common room will be loud that night.
The Slytherins had played the better game, but the Hufflepuff Seeker had caught the snitch before the score had become too high.
The Slytherins look unsurprisingly mutinous as they make to file past Harry back into the Players’ Hall. He whistles to bring them to a halt and has them form up.
Geraldine has a comforting arm thrown around their Seeker, a Second Year called Marcus Ogden, a distant cousin of Tiberius Ogden, one of Charlus’ political bloc.
Simon Flint, the Slytherin Captain, glowers at Harry. “Sir.”
“You all played a good game,” Harry praises the team, sweeping his gaze over the despondent group. “You flew well, your runs at goal were tight and well-executed, and your bludgers were well-timed and disruptive to the Hufflepuff’s play.”
A few of the students straighten with his words, the praise soothing the hurt of defeat.
“Flint,” Harry says, prompting the Captain to look at him. “Your strategy to focus on getting a high goal score was the right one with an inexperienced and young Seeker playing against a more experienced and older Seeker. I would have played the same. One point to Slytherin.”
Flint breathes in deeply, his sixteen years old face going a ruddy red colour.
Harry dropped his gaze to the devastated Ogden. “You assisted the Chasers in every goal today, that was well done and you also get a point to Slytherin.”
Ogden brightens.
“When you’ve got more experience under your belt, you’ll know how to assist and how to keep watch so you can quickly react if the other Seeker goes after the snitch,” Harry notes.
One of the other Chasers, Warren, reaches out to pat Ogden’s shoulder.
“However,” Harry says, “today it wouldn’t have made any difference because the snitch decided to be contrary and popped up right next to the Hufflepuff Seeker.”
All of them groan at his blunt words.
“That’s the nature of the game,” Harry consoles them. “Sometimes the better team doesn’t win.”
The mulish looks are mostly gone.
Harry nods and waves them into the Hall. “Off you go and clean up. Have a think about what you might improve next game when you play this strategy.”
They really should have had one of the experienced Beaters tracking the Hufflepuff Seeker and disrupting them if needed.
Harry follows the Slytherins inside and heads to his own small changing room. Usually he’d head to his quarters, but he rarely gets time alone and the last few weeks since he and Hermione have shared the detail of what had happened on their own world with their families have been hectic enough that he appreciates the opportunity. He has no doubt that given how the entire family had come out for the game, since its landed on a Sunday which is when they usually visit, that his quarters will be overrunning with people.
Harry strips and heads into the shower, enjoying the rush of hot water over him for a long moment. He lets it chase away the chill of flying in the February Scottish weather. His mind drifts.
The unicorns have disappeared, retreating deep into the depths of the forest. Hagrid had been inconsolable the day it had happened. The Aurors are still patrolling the herd’s previous stomping ground which is upsetting the centaurs.
Harry thinks the unicorns are smart. The deeper forest is not for the faint-hearted or unwary. The attackers won’t find the rest of the herd as easy to prey upon.
The Aurors’ investigation has stymied.
Harry sharing the information about Riddle hasn’t made a difference to events yet, he muses as he reaches for soap. He’s a little disappointed in truth. It had turned out that Charlus and Arcturus had already approached Head Auror Moody with their suspicions about Riddle. When James had originally shared about the attack with his father and Arcturus, they’d both recognised that the number ‘seven’ was favoured by Riddle who they’d attended Hogwarts with.
But Riddle is nowhere to be found.
Harry believes that Riddle is hiding behind his followers as he always did. But both Charlus and Arcturus have been wary about assuming that those followers will be the same as Harry’s world, even if they acknowledge that the same agenda and power which drew people to Voldemort will likely attract those who Harry has identified.
And truthfully, Harry cannot say what Riddle is intending.
Hermione had called it right when she had noted that when Voldemort had attacked the unicorns, he’d done it to drink their blood and increase Quirrell’s chances of maintaining the possession.
Voldemort had been nothing more than a wraith without Quirrell. There’s nothing to suggest a similar disembodiment has happened already to Riddle.
Sirius, Lily and Hermione have set about finding every piece of magic that might involve a unicorn foal to see if that could give them clues as to what Riddle was intending. Each spell and ritual they find is more horrifying than the next.
Harry shudders.
He washes off and steps out of the shower, drying himself off with clean fluffy towels. He dresses quickly, knowing that if he doesn’t make his way to his quarters shortly, someone will be sent to find him.
He still checks on the student changing rooms before he heads out and finds them deserted except for a house elf who is happily cleaning up the mess left behind by unthinking teenagers. He jogs back upstairs and heads home through his office.
His family are all gathered in the main common room.
He smiles at the sight of them. He remembers the first meeting they’d had with the Potters sat together, and the Blacks sat together, with Lily missing altogether. They’d been firmly two groups. The scene he walks into is the opposite of that, although the generational difference is making itself known.
Charlus, Dorea, Arcturus and Minerva are in the main sitting area. They’re in the midst of a discussion, Arcturus gesturing with the glass of wine he’s holding.
The younger generation are at the dining table with Lily, Regina and Hermione one side, and James and Sirius, on the other. There are stacks of books in the centre of the table with each of them reading. A long roll of parchment is laid out in front of Hermione. There is a distressing number of scribbles on it.
He diverts to greet his grandmother and grandfather; to shake Arcturus’ hand and to exchange a quip with a smug Minerva who knows the Slytherin’s have lost ground in the Quidditch cup.
Finally, he slides into the empty seat next to James, opposite Regina. “How’s it going?”
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m depressed,” James quips. He points at the bookstack. “You know who should be here for this? Remus.”
“Is he still abroad with the werewolf packs?” asks Sirius. “I thought he would have returned by now.”
“Bertie thinks he’s romancing someone,” James waggles his eyebrows.
“Really?” Harry says. “Anyone we know?”
“Some French werewolfie,” James says, pushing his book to one side and wandlessly summoning the next to him. “He keeps writing about how wonderful Adelaide has been to him.”
“Good for him,” Sirius says mildly.
“Pete’s more sceptical,” James muses. “He thinks Remus is still upset about my being angry with him rather than being embroiled in some torrid love affair, but then Janice broke Pete’s heart last week so he’s completely down on any idea of love and romance.”
“Janice Travers?” Sirius frowns. “I didn’t think he would be her type.”
“He’s not,” James replies, “hence the broken heart. I think she took pity on him when she agreed to a date because Bertie’s dating her friend, Elaine.”
“Bertie’s dating Elaine Kirkby?” Lily whistles. “He’s brave.”
“He is?” asks Harry, bemused.
“Four older very protective brothers,” Sirius says. “We were at school with Liam. He’s an Auror, isn’t he?”
“He is,” James says, grinning. “He keeps glaring at Bertie in meetings. I think Moody’s about to snap about it.”
Harry and Hermione exchange an amused look. Harry wonders if people thought he was brave for dating Ginny with her six older brothers. Probably, Harry thinks, although surprisingly none of her brothers had really ever given him a hard time about dating her.
James sounds cheerful enough about his friends, but the family magic gives away that James is missing Remus. Harry gets the sense that Remus is his closest friend out of the Mischief Makers. Which, he muses, makes the bump in their friendship caused by Remus finally admitting that Sirius had not attacked him in their schooldays all the more unfortunate.
Hermione sets the book she’s reading down and scribbles something on the parchment. “I can’t believe how many banned potions use unicorn ingredients.”
“Unfortunately, I can,” Lily says. “Severus gave me four books yesterday, all with potions using unicorn parts.” She shudders delicately.
“Not so surprising when you consider the tamed herds were created to supply ingredients,” Sirius says, “willingly given, of course.”
“You can still use willingly given unicorn parts today legally,” Regina notes, tossing her black hair. “There’s a French perfume company who have a unicorn hair in every bottle.”
“Remind me never to buy it,” Lily mutters.
“I wouldn’t buy it anyway,” Regina grins. “Even with the unicorn hair, it still smells awful!”
“Honestly, I think this is turning into a search for a needle in a haystack,” Hermione sighs. She tucks a strand of caramel hair that has escaped her bun back behind her ear.
“Let me take a look at what we have so far,” Harry suggests.
Hermione passes over the parchment.
Harry starts to scan it, vaguely aware of Hermione requesting drinks for the table from one of the house elves.
Potion, potion, potion, Harry muses. He can guess why Hermione had focused on potions. Riddle had been great at Potions and there were unsubstantiated rumours that he had done his Mastery abroad in Potions.
He picks up the light ale that pops in beside him and takes a large swallow. His eyes alight on a ritual and he almost chokes. He clears his throat and takes another fortifying sip of ale as he reads through the ritual notes once again.
The certainty that this is what Riddle wants settles into his bones. He’d spent too long connected to the monster not to understand him.
“I think I have it,” Harry says interrupting the murmur around him.
They all stop to focus on him.
All of them.
The older members of the family turn to look at him.
He swallows hard. “I think I know why Riddle wants the unicorns.”
He ignores the concerned glances they all exchange – he’s certain that he’s not fully shielding his horror in their family magic. Charlus and Arcturus rise quickly and make their way to the table, Dorea and Minerva just a step behind them.
Sirius and James rise from the table to give their chairs to the older ladies.
Harry takes a deep breath. “Here,” he points at the relevant ritual on the parchment before he hands it off to Charlus, “the Aeterna ritual. If performed under the light of a full moon it is said to convey immortality on the recipient of the ritual.” He shifts to face James who hovers standing at the end of the table. “You said one of the unicorns in the Cornwall herd was slaughtered?”
“Yes,” James says. “One of the younger stallions was cut to ribbons with a slashing spell.”
“He needed the blood of a unicorn for the ritual,” Harry says. “It was the first element needed for the ritual. A unicorn stallion foal is also needed, but he also needs the foal’s mare. They’re both to be sacrificed in the ritual, painted with the blood of the first one he killed, and he’ll drink their blood.”
“One thing I don’t understand is why he didn’t just go back there?” asks Lily.
“Security was tightened on the Cornwall herd,” James notes, looking sickened. “They are part of an official Ministry preserve. The security wards were updated to prevent apparition inside any of the animal enclosures. More security measures were placed around the herd, and only official preserve employees were given permission to be anywhere close to the unicorn herd.”
“The herd in Hoggle Forest the only one which remains outside the protection of a preserve,” Minerva adds. “The centaurs are bound to provide protection to them as part of their original agreement with Hogwarts to live within the forest. It’s always been believed that the centaurs and the proximity to Hogwarts was enough to deter any attackers.”
“James,” Charlus says quietly, “you experienced the first attack on the Hoggle herd. Were they aiming to abduct two of the herd or were they attempting to slaughter one like they had done at Cornwall?”
James is silent as he considers his father’s question. He finally sighs and runs a hand through his mess of hair. “They were seeking to corral them in hindsight. Their spells were meant to cause distraction and disruption. They sent the herd running in different directions.”
“And only the foal was taken in the second attack,” Dorea muses. “Which means that the herd fleeing further into the forest is the right protection. He needs the mother of the foal.”
“They may have been able to mark her in some way,” Harry says.
Hermione nods. “Or he could use the foal’s blood to identify her if he gets close enough. He wouldn’t have to kill it, just extract enough for the Finder spell.”
“Why this ritual and none of the others?” asks Sirius quietly.
Harry gathers his thoughts for a moment and takes a sip of ale. He sighs. “My Riddle was completely obsessed with immortality. It’s why he created horcruxes, soul containers with a remnant of his soul inside of them which worked to keep his spirit tethered to the Earth even when he was disembodied. We’re not certain he has made horcruxes here. If he hasn’t made any, he’ll be searching for a different way to cheat death.”
“Some of the ones we know about were not made yet time wise,” Hermione adds. “In fact, there are only three possible horcruxes if he had made them if things had followed the same path as our world: his family ring, his old school diary, and Hufflepuff’s cup.”
“Four,” Harry corrects gently, “he got the locket from Smith too.”
“Right,” Hermione says.
“Hufflepuff’s cup is the treasured heirloom of the Smith family,” Dorea says. “Jeremiah Smith inherited it from his great-aunt; he shows it off every time the Smiths have a party.” Her voice held the exasperation of having been shown it multiple times.
“Slytherin’s locket has been missing for years,” Sirius says. “The Gaunt family had it last, but it wasn’t listed in the items confiscated when the last member was imprisoned for murdering the rest of them.”
“Riddle’s mother was Merope Gaunt,” Hermione tells him. “She had the locket and pawned it for money when she was cast out for being pregnant with a muggle’s child.”
“We should track the last known whereabouts of Merope Gaunt,” Arcturus says.
“Riddle grew up in the London orphanage, just off Diagon Alley,” Charlus says. “He always claimed a blood relation to Slytherin and Peverell.”
“The Gaunts descend from Cadmus, the second brother,” Sirius says before Hermione can tell the gathering. “The Potters descend from Ignotus. The relationship is probably far enough removed that Riddle doesn’t show up in your family magic.”
“Which is a blessing,” Harry says fervently. He’s slowly getting used to feeling his family through his magic. He shivers at the idea of having Riddle entwined in it all.
Hermione huffs a little. “Our Riddle hid the Gaunt family ring under their old shack. It was cursed. Professor Dumbledore was the one to retrieve it in our world and the curse ended up killing him.”
“Well, at least we know the ring won’t have the Resurrection Stone here,” Harry says, looking across at her.
“The Resurrection Stone?” James frowns at him. “Are you talking about the myth of the Deathly Hallows?”
“They’re not a myth,” Harry says.
“What are they?” asks Lily. She sits back with her arms folded. “I’ve never heard of them before.”
“It’s a tale about our ancestors, a children’s story,” James replies, nudging his glasses up his nose. “There were three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus. The tale goes that they were hunting a dark wizard and came to a wild river that they had to cross. They built a bridge and crossed safely, and on the other side, Death appeared to them.”
“Death?” questions Lily sceptically.
“Children’s story,” emphasises James, “anyway. Death congratulated them for escaping his trap and granted them each a boon. Antioch wished for a wand that will always cast true so Death pulled off a branch of the nearby elder tree and fashioned it into a wand. Cadmas wished for a way to see his just dead sweetheart, so Death took a river stone and made it a portal to the dead.”
“And Ignotus, our ancestor, requested an invisibility cloak so Death took his own cloak from his back and gave it to him,” Charlus continues. “Antioch was arrogant, boasted of the wand and was killed for it, a thief stealing it away. Cadmus brought back his sweetheart and wasted away talking only to the spectre of her. Only Ignotus escaped Death by hiding under the cloak, but when he was a man grown old with a gaggle of grown children and grandchildren, he took off the cloak and welcomed Death.”
“There’s a historical account of the three Peverells eliminating a dark wizard with powerful magical items,” Sirius says. “They disappeared afterwards and Ignotus, the surviving brother from that fight, would never say what happened to them.”
“A legend came about that if someone could find the Hallows, they’d become the Master of Death,” Charlus finishes.
“I think it would be sensible for us to find the objects we think Riddle turned into his horcruxes,” Harry says, pulling them back to that topic. He squirms a little in his seat because he knows exactly where the Hallows are, and he’s not prepared to give away that secret, not even to his family, yet.
Hermione shoots him a knowing look at his deflection. “Harry’s right, we should find them, but he and I think that it’s unlikely that he has created horcruxes here.”
“Why?” asks Minerva bluntly.
“Because I checked with Horace about a week ago,” Harry admits. “I told him how our Professor Slughorn had given unwittingly given a dark wizard, when the wizard was student, the knowledge of how to make horcruxes never believing he would. Horace swore on his magic that he had never had a discussion with any student about horcruxes.”
“Frankly, it doesn’t matter if he has or he hasn’t,” James says. “I think Harry’s very likely right about the ritual. Something feels right about it.”
“Agreed,” Regina and Sirius say together.
There’s an echo in the family magic.
Seers, Harry thinks trying hard not to be creeped out by it.
“If it was a different ritual, we’d likely have had the foal’s body dumped somewhere by now,” James adds.
“We need to find the unicorns,” Hermione says firmly. “We need to find the mother and protect her as much as we can.”
“And we need to rescue the foal,” Harry says.
“How do you propose we find the herd?” asks James, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “I’ve been in that forest patrolling with the other Aurors. It’s impenetrable beyond a certain point unless you’re an animal.”
They’re all quiet as they consider his questions.
“The Hidden Lands,” Regina says breaking the resulting silence. “The Temple of Avalon is said to be somewhere in the forest. Vivien is said to have closed the borders to all but her kin and true magical creatures. It’s possible that they’ve retreated there.”
“To paraphrase our cousin, Reggie, how do you propose we find it?” Sirius asks. “We have nothing but myths to follow.”
“Let’s break for some dinner and conversation which focuses on other topics,” Dorea suggests. “It might well be that once we’ve had a meal and some rest tonight that we’ll come up with clearer solutions.”
“A sensible suggestion,” Minerva agrees.
Harry’s lips twitch with amusement but he complies as Dorea harries them all into clearing the table of books to make way for food.
It’s not too late when they retire.
Hermione sits at her dresser brushing her hair. She’s taken to wearing the top of his pyjamas while he wears the bottoms. It stirs Harry’s blood to look at her in his clothes. Yet, he pauses as he takes her in.
Her mind is elsewhere, a distant look in her eyes as she methodically pulls the brush through her loose hair.
Harry sits close by her on the bed and waits until she surfaces from her thoughts.
She startles a little as her gaze meets his in the mirror.
“Are you thinking about the unicorns?” Harry asks gently.
Hermione heaves a sigh and puts her hairbrush down. She turns to face him and shakes her head, reaching out with her hands.
He takes them in his.
“Do you remember before we came to Hogwarts how Dorea asked me if I wanted to search my family out?” asks Hermione softly.
Harry nods. “You said you were going to ask her to check on them to make sure they were well, but you didn’t want to know anything more.”
“Sirius apparently realised that he hadn’t heard anything about looking up my family, so he checked in with Charlus and Arcturus a couple of weekends ago,” Hermione sighs. “Dorea asked me earlier when we were waiting for you after the match if I wanted to know what she found.”
Harry holds her hands, his thumbs rubbing soothingly over her knuckles. Hermione’s relationship with her family is complicated. Back on their world, the actions she’d taken to keep her parents safe during their horcrux hunt had seen them act coldly towards her when she’d restored their memory. They hadn’t even sent a card or present for her birthday. She had deserved a lot better, Harry thinks fiercely.
“William and Mary Granger are dentists in Surrey,” Hermione says with the air of repeating a report she had learned by rote. “They are non-magical, although William’s mother is a squib.”
Her lips twist and he remembers how she had told him about how her parents had fallen out with her paternal grandmother soon after she started at Hogwarts.
“They have no children,” Hermione says and drops her gaze to their hands. “I don’t exist here.”
Harry raises her hands and kisses the backs of them gently. He holds onto them tightly as he meets her gaze.
Her beautiful eyes are filled with tears she won’t shed; she’s upset at her absence in this world.
“It explains why I haven’t felt another Hermione in my family magic,” Hermione says sadly.
Harry presses his lips together briefly. “I don’t exist here either. Maybe magic knows that we need each other as friends, because the honest truth is that I wouldn’t have survived to be twelve without you, so maybe magic is waiting for my parents to get their act together, or for you to come along so it knows I can be born with you as my friend.”
Hermione huffs.
James and Lily are spending more time together and getting along very well even with Snape being around more. Harry suspects James is trying to drum up the courage to ask Lily for a date.
He shakes his head. “Or maybe Merlin’s magic wrought some side-effect that we don’t know about. Maybe he made it so that we are here, and they are not. Or maybe the laws of the universe determined that without an old wizard having a say.”
Hermione bites her lip. “We should really check in on how the Ministry is going on deciphering the spell. I meant to spend more time on it myself, but…” she sighs wearily, “who knew marking could take up so much time?”
Harry smiles. He kisses her hands again. “We can’t do everything.”
“I know, I just…” Hermione grimaces. “We have this mission given to us by Arthur to protect this world against an unknown Evil. We’ve barely scratched the surface on that! We’ve barely even come to terms with what it means to be Knights of Avalon!”
She pulls away and Harry lets her go as she stands up and starts pacing.
She gestures at him. “We’re still getting used to family magic and knowing where our family is and how they’re feeling at any given time! How they know about where we are and how we are!”
Harry pulls his own face at that because the family magic is weird. For all he likes the idea of knowing if one of the people he loves is in trouble, he also doesn’t like that people know how he feels at given moment.
“Then there’s the spell which brought us here and which will take us years to unravel so we can work out to get home! We don’t have any time to work on it and why? Because we have work!” Hermione stops in front of him and throws up her hands. “Why did we think taking jobs here was a good idea?”
“I seem to remember access to the library came into it,” Harry reminds her dryly.
Hermione shoots him a look and drops to sit beside him on the bed. She loops her hands around his arm and leans against him. He rests his own head against the top of hers.
“Do you think we’re getting distracted with this whole business about the unicorns?” asks Hermione. “Arthur told you Riddle wasn’t the Evil. Maybe we should be leaving this to the Aurors.”
Harry kisses the top of her head. “I think we’re right where we need to be.” He tangles their fingers together. “I think maybe I’ll go talk to Hagrid about the unicorns tomorrow. He knows the forest better than anyone. Maybe he’ll have an idea where to start.”
“Good idea,” Hermione murmurs. She straightens suddenly and stares at him.
“What?” asks Harry.
“He wasn’t at the match!” Hermione proclaims. “And he hasn’t been to dinner this past week.”
Harry starts to frown. Her words tug at his memory for some reason.
“I saw him in the library this morning, Harry!” Hermione says and slaps a hand over her mouth as though she could take the words back.
Harry gently pulls her hand away from her mouth. “Hermione?”
“Do you remember,” Hermione says with only a touch of hysteria in her voice, “do you remember the time our Hagrid barely came into the castle and lurked around the library? Do you, Harry?”
And the memory crystalises in Harry’s head so sharply he blinks in shock. “No,” he automatically denies the possibility, but…
“Yes,” Hermione says, a mad glint to her eye, “Hagrid has a bloody dragon’s egg!”
Chapter 7: The Centaurs
Chapter Text
Hagrid had a dragon’s egg.
Or more accurately, he’d had a dragon’s egg until Harry and Hermione had gone down to his hut the day after the Quidditch match and faced him with the fact that he could not keep a dragon in a wooden building. Luckily, the story of their own Hagrid giving up Norbert to the dragon sanctuary in Romania had inspired Hagrid to give up his own egg.
The contrast in how they’d handled it was startling to Harry.
On his own world, Ron had been bitten by the dragon before they’d managed to convince Hagrid. Then, it had been him and Hermione carrying the very heavy crate (who knew baby dragons could be so heavy!) through Hogwarts to the top of the tower to get it away with the help of Charlie Weasley and his friends. Merlin, the loss of points in the aftermath of being found out after curfew because they’d dropped the invisibility cloak had been shocking!
This time, as soon as Harry and Hermione had validated that their theory was correct, Sirius had arranged everything with Arcturus and two Black house elves had safely seen the egg to Romania.
In fairness, Harry muses, they had been children when they’d had to deal with their first dragon egg, and it hadn’t helped that Hagrid had actually hatched the egg and they’d had a dragon to deal with. Their first experience had given them a lot of helpful ‘what not to do’ notes for dealing with their second.
Sirius had been very amused by their worry about the legalities of it all. Apparently, having an egg, being in possession of one, was not illegal. Buying or selling dragon eggs wasn’t illegal either except in Asia where the dragon industry was highly regulated. In Europe, it was only illegal for individuals to be in possession of an actual dragon, but an organisation with the proper licensing was fine.
Harry had quizzed Hagrid about how he’d gotten the egg. He vaguely remembered their Hagrid getting it in exchange for information about how to get past Fluffy. There was no three-headed dog guarding a trapdoor this time, but there was a missing unicorn herd.
Hagrid had admitted that he’d exchanged the egg for information about the forest. He was oblivious to the idea that to give information about the forest was to give information about the unicorn herd, but even Harry had to admit that the sage advice Hagrid had given to the person offering the egg had been fairly useless…
“I told ‘em the best folk to speak to about the forest is the centaurs!”
Centaurs.
Which is why, Harry muses unhappily, there is a group of them up early on a Saturday morning, trudging through the forest to speak to the centaurs themselves. At least they had managed to get the group down to a reasonable number.
Harry had originally planned for just himself and Hermione. That had died an immediate death because Sirius refused to hear about them going alone. His argument that he felt he needed to go with them gave them enough pause not to argue about it. They had read enough to know that if a Black Knight wanted to come along on a mission that they should not argue.
James had insisted that he be part of the group as an Auror. His presence gave them the cover of having an official Ministry guard – something that James had gotten signed off with Moody in secret.
Talking Regina and Lily out of coming along had been more difficult, but they had acquiesced in the end when Hermione had pointed out that if their group got into difficulty, they would need somebody sensible to ride to the rescue.
Luckily, Charlus, Dorea and Arcturus had agreed that tromping through Hoggle Forest was the work of the younger generation.
Harry follows the path Hagrid has recommended. It’s well-trodden and the cold winter weather has kept the ground firm and hard beneath their feet. Harry is very grateful for his sturdy hiking boots.
Both he and Hermione have chosen jeans, jumpers and insulated parkas for the outing. Harry carries a rucksack with supplies to supplement the emergency trunk which is always attached to a strip of leather around his neck. Hermione has her satchel with her bottomless handbag contained within. If they get into trouble, they’ll be prepared.
The scent of the wood reminds Harry a little too much of when he had flown through the forest with an injured Hermione after their abrupt entry into the world through a portal from their own. Godric nudges his hand briefly offering comfort before he bounds ahead once more. The grim is ecstatic to be off the leash and allowed to roam.
“At least someone is having fun,” comments Sirius dryly.
“You should try becoming an animagus and having a go yourself,” James suggests cheerfully.
“Who says I’m not an animagus?” Sirius retorts.
All of them shoot Sirius a curious look.
“I take it you’re not a grim like Padfoot,” Hermione says matter-of-factly.
Sirius shakes his head. “I am an animagus and that’s all I’m saying.”
“I’m guessing you aren’t a housecat,” James remarks, “although I can see you as a black cat.”
Sirius simply smiles and doesn’t respond to the jest.
“I’m tempted to change into Prongs,” James says. “I might be warmer that way.”
Hermione hits him with a warming charm. “I told you that your Auror robes were insufficient.”
“Moody was the one who insisted I wear them,” James points out, shoving his glasses up his nose. His frame relaxes slightly as the warming charm does its job.
“Even though you are ostensibly on a secret mission?” asks Sirius dryly. He had dressed sensibly albeit in the wizarding version of Harry and Hermione’s rather more muggle clothing. He had dragon skin trousers and a warm jumper under a heavy woollen outdoor robe that had a high neck.
James grins at him. “Moody is Moody.”
The path emerged into a large clearing.
“This is the herd’s usual grazing ground,” James informs them as they come to a stop.
Harry looks around the clearing with interest, but it really just looks like any other part of the forest.
“Is this where the attacks took place?” questions Hermione, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“Exactly,” James says. “Aurors are patrolling every few hours and the Ministry set up an alert ward for apparition around the clearing after the second attack.”
“Why not after the first one?” asks Sirius.
James shrugs. “Beats me. We all suggested the wards in our reports after it happened, but word came down that Crouch didn’t feel it was necessary since the attack was thwarted and he felt it was unlikely that the hooligans responsible would try again.” He sighs. “He still thinks that this whole thing is nonsense. It’s why the ward is for apparition only and not for people walking in.” He gestures to their group.
“Director Crouch does like to think his is the only view that matters,” Sirius says.
“He’s a giant pain in the arse,” James says. “He’s more interested in politics than in actual law enforcement. He keeps trying to get Moody to retire and he ignored him to put his toady Scrimgeour in as Head Auror.”
“You’re not a fan of Scrimgeour?” asks Hermione accepting the water canteen from Harry and taking a large gulp.
“He’s a good Auror,” James allows, “but he’s also a political animal. He’s made no bones about his ambitions.”
“Does he want to be Minister, by any chance?” asks Hermione, amusement coating her words.
Harry grins at her.
James rolls his eyes. “Sometimes your knowledge is a pain in the arse.”
“What’s Crouch’s relationship with his son like here?” asks Harry, wondering if the family magic will make a difference to how the father-son relationship evolved compared to the very dysfunctional relationship Bartemius Crouch had developed with his own son.
“Difficult,” James says, destroying that small hope. “Crouch doesn’t listen to his family magic and he’s a hard demanding man. Barty Junior is smart and he’s a good duellist, but he’d rather be working for the DOM than the Aurors. He’s also not the type to settle with a woman, and his father has been trying to marry him off for years.”
“He’s gay?” asks Hermione bluntly.
“He is,” Sirius says. “Regina was in his class at Hogwarts. Junior had a mad love affair with Warren Gibbons for most of their Seventh Year. It ended when his father found out about it and threatened to prevent Junior from ever speaking again to his mother.”
James stares at Sirius. “How do you know all that?”
“How’d do you think I know?” Sirius retorts.
“Regina,” they both say in unison.
“She and Junior were friends,” Sirius says. “I think Director Crouch once approached our grandfather to arrange a marriage, but I’d already got Grandfather to agree that he wouldn’t arrange us, especially not Reggie.”
“Are arranged marriages still a thing?” Hermione asks with a frown.
James shakes his head. “They’re very rare now and it’s usually only with the most traditional families who still attempt them.”
“Laurence Marchbanks was arranged with Colleen Bulstrode in our final year,” Sirius says. “They married, had the heir Griselda really wanted out of the arrangement, and promptly split up all very amicably. Bulstrode got independence from her family as a married woman under the auspice of another house, and Laurence is off sleeping around Europe with whatever bloke he fancies.”
Harry and Hermione exchange a similarly bewildered look.
“Well, I suppose if it works for them,” Hermione murmurs. “I take it being gay isn’t acceptable here? It was just becoming more acceptable in our world.”
“Oh no, you can love who you like,” Sirius says, “you just have to do your duty to your family and its magic first.”
“People should just love who they like and that should be the end of it,” Harry says, wondering how they’d gotten onto the subject in the first place.
Sirius and James both blink at him.
“We’re off topic,” Harry continues, determined to get them back to the reason why they’d all trudged for a couple of hours through the forest, “when the first attack took place, what exactly happened?”
James blinks again. “Uh,” he takes a breath and gathers himself. He points to their right. “Remus and Bertie hid behind those trees. The unicorns usually tolerate my animagus form and Pete’s, he’s a black footed ferret, Bertie’s black bear not so much.”
“Nor Lupin’s wolf, I assume,” Sirius adds dryly.
James sighs but nods.
“Anyway, Remus and Bertie hid, I was just in front of them, and Pete was munching on nuts somewhere off to the right,” James says. “The group of wizards apparated straight into the centre of the clearing.” He pointed again at the spot. “There were seven of them. The herd scattered as they started to fire spells at them, trying to separate a foal and mother from the rest.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I wish I’d realised that back then!”
“It may not have made a difference,” Harry points out. “Even if you’d reported it, would you have been able to argue with Crouch for more wards or Auror patrols?”
“Probably not,” James concedes.
Harry pats him on the shoulder. “So, they appeared, starting shooting…describe their appearance to us.”
“Black wizard robes with raised hoods, high necks, tight long sleeves, and they all wore a faceless white mask under their black hoods” James reports, “they were all the same, like a uniform. You couldn’t actually tell if they were witches or wizards.”
“Sounds similar. They were called Death Eaters by our Riddle,” Hermione says, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “But then he called himself Voldemort, so it was all very pretentious.”
James grimaces. “Before we could intervene, the centaurs arrived from the back of the forest.” He gestures towards the treeline. “They started shooting and Remus got hit by a stray arrow so we grabbed him and left.”
Harry hums. “Was the arrow stray?”
“What do you mean?” asks James, frowning. “You’re not suggesting the centaurs deliberately targeted him?”
“I mean, would the centaurs know that you’re animagi rather than just creatures of the forest?” asks Harry. “Do they have a way of determining that?”
“Or knowing it?” asks Hermione, backing him up. “You used to roam in the forest every full moon with Remus, right?” She wagged a finger at him. “Which was an entirely stupid thing to do. Remus might have accepted you as pack, but if he had come across a threat or someone else, he could have attacked them.”
James flushes bright read. He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “My Dad said the same when he found out after we left Hogwarts.”
Harry raises his eyebrow at Hermione because he’s never realised that she felt that way.
Hermione shrugs. “Remus almost ate us! Padfoot legitimately saved our lives running him off. I told him and Sirius off before you got to Grimmauld Place that Summer.”
He can believe that she did.
Sirius looks very amused at the idea of Hermione berating his counterpart.
“The centaurs might have known,” James allows.
“One more thing to ask them then,” Harry says. He offers Hermione the water canteen again and after everyone has had the opportunity to drink some water, they move off.
The path leads them along the edge of the clearing.
Godric runs over with something in his mouth as they get to the far side, causing them to pause.
He drops his find into Harry’s palm.
Harry ignores the slight drool of saliva and frowns at the old silver pocket watch. It looks battered and plain; there isn’t a telling crest or name etched into the outside, and while Harry doesn’t feel a compulsion to open it, he doesn’t think it’s sensible to do so either. It doesn’t feel like a horcrux, but there is something magical about it.
“Any Aurors say they’re missing a pocket watch?” asks Harry, showing the others.
“No,” James says, peering at it. “But it does look like a family heirloom.”
“Maybe one of the attackers dropped it,” Hermione suggests.
Sirius nods. “They either haven’t realised it’s missing yet, or they have to know that the area is being watched now and figure they can come back for it later.”
“Well, we can see if we can trace it,” James says excitedly. “It’s the first useful lead we’ve gotten!” He pulls an evidence bag from his Auror’s robe and Harry drops the watch into it.
Hermione points her wand at his hands and in the next instance he feels the sting of a disinfectant cleaning spell.
Harry shakes off the tingles and pats Godric’s head. “Good boy.”
They move forward.
The centaurs’ territory borders the unicorns’ former clearing and it isn’t long before their advent down the path is stopped by a scout moving out of the trees and into the path.
The centaur is a younger male; blond haired and handsome. He’s not someone Harry recognises.
“Greetings,” Harry says politely. “We would like to speak to the centaurs about the recent attacks on the unicorn herd.”
The centaur bowed. “Greetings to you both, Knights Peverell,” his gaze sweeps over Harry and Hermione, “I will escort you and your men to Magorian.”
“We’re just men now?” asks James in a side-whisper to Sirius.
“At least they called us men and not servants,” Sirius whispers back to him.
Harry swallows his chuckle and follows the centaur scout. “May we know your name?”
“I am Kanan,” the centaur says. “Grandson to Calum, the one who Sees.”
Harry breathes in deeply. He knows the centaurs follow their Seers; it is part of their culture, a religion to them. It had been the reason why Magorian had hated Firenze teaching at Hogwarts. He glances over to Hermione.
She sends him a reassuring look and leans in. “I was just thinking about Umbridge.”
Harry’s lips twitch. Leading bigoted Delores Umbridge to the mercy of the centaurs had been one of Hermione’s most brilliant plans. His smile fades recalling the rest of that night; of losing his godfather through the veil and Dumbledore finally telling him of the prophecy.
Hermione reaches out and he snags her hand in his, appreciating her wordless comfort.
“That’s so cute!” James coos behind them.
Harry rolls his eyes, but he smiles again.
They walk for what seems to be an unreasonably long time and Harry is certain that the scout has taken them on a few diversions to confuse them instead of taking a direct route.
They emerge from the forest at the edge of the centaurs’ village.
Harry looks around, curious.
To his left and right are sturdy wooden cabins, raised up from the forest floor about a foot or so. They have wooden tiles on the roof with small stone chimneys. There are tiny windows made of a misty glass. As they pass the front of the building, he can see a small wooden ramp up to a wide porch and the front door.
He can also see that the buildings are set out in an arc. He has a feeling that the positioning is something related to the stars.
He nudges his glasses up his nose as they continue to walk past building after building. He counts thirteen before they emerge into what is likely the centre of the village.
There is a huge building to his right – a meeting hall, Harry muses, perhaps doubling as an official building. There is also a wide stretch of grassland like a village green in old rural villages in England that Harry has seen on television shows.
Kanan leads them to the hall and Harry isn’t surprised when three centaurs emerge from the building to meet them just outside of it.
He recognises a younger version of Magorian stood to the left. The dark-haired, chestnut-coloured centaur was the centaurs’ leader on his world.
In the centre is an older black centaur with a broad chest and powerful muscles. His black hair is shaved close to his head, and his tail is braided and bound with a gold thread.
On the right is an old centaur. His wispy hair is completely white and his pale skin is wrinkled. He wears a simple brown tunic around his torse, tied with a leather belt and holds a staff in his left hand.
Kanan bows to the three. “Elders, I have brought the Knights of Avalon and their companions to you as Seen.”
“You have done well, Kanan,” the oldest of them reply. “Return to your post.”
Kanan bows again and walks away before Harry can thank him for guiding them to the village.
“I am Calum, the one who Sees,” he gestures to the others, “Magorian, the one who Hunts, and Josiah, the one who Leads.”
Harry bows and the others follow him. He straightens. “We are honoured to meet with you,” he says politely. “I’m Harry Potter, Knight of Avalon. This is Hermione, my wife, Knight of Avalon. Sirius Black, Baron Blackthorn, and James Potter, Wizard Auror and heir to the Earldom of Gryffindor.”
Calum hums. “Well met, Knights and wizards.” He points his staff at the hall. “Come, we will talk inside.”
They were led into the hall.
It was a large airy space with doors to the back.
Calum positions them in the centre of the hall and lowers himself to the floor with his legs folded underneath it. Magorian and Josiah follow him.
Harry looks over at Hermione who nods, and they sink to the floor, sitting cross-legged. Harry shrugs off his rucksack and places it on the floor beside him. Sirius and James are only a beat behind them.
Calum nods, satisfaction gleaming from his milky blue eyes. “The Emrys tore you from your world to protect ours, honoured Knights, but the reason you come here is not the Evil you seek.”
“It is still Evil,” Harry replies, taken aback at the centaur’s words.
“We are sworn to protect this world,” Hermoine says. “Yes, we have our mission, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to ignore everything else.” She smiles. “Besides, Harry has a whole hero thing; he’ll save everyone he can.”
“And you?” Magorian asks brusquely. “What do you offer, female?”
James and Sirius bristle and Harry bites down on his own lip to stop himself from responding to Magorian’s baiting question.
Hermione looks over at the young centaur with a cool expression. “I’ll stand by Harry and help him in whatever I can.”
“Truthfully, she’s the reason why we succeed more often than not,” Harry adds.
Magorian glowers, but he subsides at a hard look Josiah sends him.
“If you do have any information on the Evil we do seek, we won’t say no to that either,” Harry continues. “Any help the centaurs can provide to us will be deeply appreciated.”
“You expect us to simply provide our information for free?” asks Josiah, stopping Magorian from speaking again with another hard stare.
Harry catches Josiah’s gaze. “I’d like to think that the centaurs would help us protect the unicorns without demanding payment because Godric Gryffindor tasked them with that protection as part of the agreement for the centaurs to settle in the forest. There is a foal missing.”
Josiah nods slowly. “We are tasked with their protection, this is true. That we failed to protect the little one, that is also true.”
“As it was Seen,” Calum intones.
“What can you tell us that will help bring the foal back safely and keep the rest of the unicorns safe?” asks Hermione bluntly.
The three centaurs exchange a quick darting look and Calum takes the lead.
“The unicorns had retreated to the Temple of Avalon,” Calum says. He picks up his staff and taps it on the ground.
An image appears in the centre of the loose circle that that they’ve made. The temple is a tall stone building not dissimilar to a church; it has a bell tower at one end. The grassy plains around it are filled with unicorns.
“The way to the temple has been hidden for centuries, since Arthur was taken to Avalon to recover from his fatal wounds,” Calum continues. “There is a hunting party of wizards in the woods, trying to find the path.”
“Why haven’t you brought them to the attention of the Aurors?” asks James.
Calum peers at him as though he’s a small child who has said something stupid. “Name a wizard in charge who will take us at our word without proof, Viscount Potter? Even the Busy Bee requires proof.”
James sighs. “Please know that the Knights, and both Baron Blackthorn and I will take seriously anything you wish to raise in the future.”
Calum hums. “The day is coming, Viscount Potter, when you will need to make a choice between your soul’s calling and the work you do. Choose wisely.” His eyes drift to Sirius. “You should listen more to the Black Knight beneath your skin, Baron. It will show you the way. It has walked the path before.”
Harry feels a frisson of nerves. Sirius’ status as the Black Knight is only known within their small Black-Potter family group. That Calum knows is a little disconcerting.
Sirius raises his eyebrows, but slowly nods.
“You will need a Priestess to grant passage through the shield that hides the temple,” Calum continues.
“My sister,” Sirius murmurs.
Calum nods. “She has inherited Vivien’s legacy.”
Harry has a sense that they’re not going to get much more from the centaurs. Since they’ve said that Sirius will know the path, it’s clear that they’re not going to provide a guide themselves.
“Did you see anything the night of the attacks that might help?” asks Harry pointedly.
Calum turns to Magorian. “Do you have anything you wish to impart?”
“They were wizards,” Magorian all but snarls, “what more is there to say?!”
“Why did the centaurs target our animals the night of the first attack?” asks James bluntly.
Magorian frowns. “We targeted wizards.”
“My friend Remus Lupin was hit with an arrow,” James says tersely.
“He is a wizard, is he not?” Magorian says. “We care not for the wolf inside of him, and his recklessness in coming into the forest on the nights of the full moon angered some. Perhaps someone took advantage of the situation to make a point.”
A literal point given it was an arrow, muses Harry, and if he guesses right, it wasn’t Magorian, but he knows who it was.
James looks as though he’s about to argue, but Harry puts a hand on his shoulder.
“There is nothing else about the attacks you wish to tell us?” asks Harry again, holding Magorian’s angry gaze with his own.
“Nothing!” Magorian says.
Josiah sighs and looks at Magorian with disappointment. “You said one of them stank like decay.”
Magorian looks away and crosses his arms in a huff.
“Decay as in possession?” asks Hermione, her face creasing with confusion. “That…that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Or perfect sense if something happened to him abroad,” Harry murmurs. “We’ve assumed he’s the same as our world in the time of my parents, but perhaps he’s more like he was at the beginning of our war.”
“Dangerous rituals may have dangerous consequences,” Calum intones. “The stars saw the blood of innocents spilled to try to correct a mistake made when tracking a lost treasure. A woman scorned by one greedy wizard might leave a trap for another.”
“Right,” Hermione says faintly.
“There is nothing more to say on that which brought you here,” Calum says.
“And of the Evil that we are here to defend against?” asks Harry.
Calum smiles. “Visit me again when the planet has moved full circle from your arrival. I will tell you all I See then.”
With that Calum lurches to his feet and walks away. Magorian follows after him, his tail flicking furiously giving away his anger.
Josiah sighs. He carefully stands as they do. “Come, I will show you the path to Hogwarts. It is time for you to leave the forest.”
They gather their things and fall into step with Josiah as he leads them in the opposite direction of the way they’d entered the village.
He points at the wide pathway. “If you stay on the path, this will lead you to the Lake and I am certain that you can make your way from there.”
“Thank you,” Harry says politely.
“Josiah,” James says, drawing the centaur’s attention just as he is about to turn away. “How did the foal get separated?”
“There was a delay in our response,” Josiah says. “By the time Magorian and the others got to the herd, the foal was already netted and caught. We were only able to prevent the attempt to capture its mother. The scout responsible for the mistake has been punished.”
“Are you certain it was a mistake?” asks Hermione directly. “The wizard we believe is behind this knows how to charm and corrupt others into doing his will.”
Josiah frowns. “I still believe it to be an error, but I will heed your words, honoured Knight.” He bows and leaves before any of them can say anything else.
Like any conversation with a centaur, Harry thinks disgruntled as they leave the centaur village behind them, they’ve learned something – they just need to figure out what it is that they’ve truly learned.
Chapter 8: A Surprise Attack
Chapter Text
Harry drowsily surfaces from sleep. He reaches out to Hermione and his hand hits an empty space. The surprise of her not being there startles him awake. He sits up abruptly and confirms he’s alone in the bed.
It’s unusual for Hermione to wake up in the middle of the night. She has the occasional nightmare, but they have been far and few between. She’s even shyly confessed that she has much less with Harry sleeping beside her.
He reaches for his glasses and pushes them on so he can see better in the dim light of their bedroom. She’s not in the room and Crookshanks is missing too. The kneazle usually sleeps at the end of their bed unless he’s commandeered Godric’s doggy bed.
Godric perks up from said doggy bed and gets to his feet. He shakes out his shaggy coat and pads over to demand pets as Harry shifts to sit on the side of the bed.
Harry pats Godric for a long moment, wondering where Hermione has gone. He hopes she’s still in their suite. They’d quickly realised that Harry’s old version of the Marauder’s Map, secreted away in his survival trunk, doesn’t work for this Hogwarts. It doesn’t work on this world. Hermione thinks she might be able to get it to work, but it’s not a priority with everything else they have on their plate.
Harry shrugs into a dressing robe and pushes his feet into comfy sheepskin slippers. He heads out of the bedroom, through the bathroom and into the living space.
He breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Hermione curled up on the sofa, Crookshanks on her lap. Her hands are wrapped around a mug of what Harry thinks is probably warm milk with cinnamon. Hermione still tends to eschew sweet things when she wants comfort; her dentist parents’ disapproval of her eating sugar has had a lasting effect.
She looks up from staring into the fire and almost starts as she realises that he’s in the room. “Harry.”
“Hey, you weren’t in bed,” Harry says.
She sets her mug down and scootches over to make room for him, much to the dismay of Crookshanks who jumps down and settles himself in front of the fire.
Harry slides an arm around her and drops a kiss on her cheek. “What’s on your mind?”
“Everything and nothing,” Hermione sighs. She snuggles into him. “I keep thinking about home.”
Harry pulls her a little closer. “Are you thinking about anything in particular?”
“Maybe,” Hermione bites her lip. “Ron is going to hate us getting together.”
“I doubt many of the Weasleys back home are going to be over the moon about it,” Harry says, with a touch of despondency.
He loves the Weasleys. He’d drifted apart from them after his exile to the muggle world. He knew Ginny would never react well to Harry marrying Hermione. She had been the one to break it off, but he suspects that she intended for them to try again at some point. And Ron…
Harry had stayed away from Hermione as a romantic prospect for years because of her on-off relationship with Ron.
“What prompted you to think about Ron?” asks Harry.
“You know how I stepped in for Minerva’s First Year and Second Year Transfiguration class today so she could attend that Transfiguration Conference in Paris?” Hermione says.
Harry nods. Sirius had taken the other two classes for Third and Sixth Year. He knows Hermione is immensely honoured that Minerva asked her to be a stand-in.
“Charlie was in the class and…” Hermoine sighs. “He looks like the spitting image of Ron when we were eleven.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why it affected me so much just…” her voice trails away.
The fire pops and crackles in the silence.
“I know how you feel,” Harry admits in a low voice. “When I met Bill and Charlie for the first time here, I couldn’t get away from them fast enough either.” He grimaces. “And they are great kids.”
“They’ve signed up for your flying-for-fun practice sessions, haven’t they?” asks Hermione, amused.
“Yes,” Harry pokes her gently. “You should come along.”
The two sessions he’d put on in the evenings to give the students time to practice outside of lessons had gone down very well.
“Flying is not fun, Harry,” Hermione says firmly.
Harry grins at her. “You could fly with me. That would get the school talking!”
“Don’t joke!” Hermione smiles at him. “If the Hufflepuffs coo any louder at us, they’re going to start attracting doves thinking it’s a mating call!”
Harry laughs and he’s gratified when she grins unashamedly back at him.
They shift, cuddling into each other more.
“I’m sorry you were disturbed,” Hermione says after a while. “We have a busy weekend coming up, you especially.”
They were chaperoning in Hogsmeade the next day, and there was a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw on Sunday.
Harry looks at her and sees her peeking up at him. “I’d rather be awake and comforting you then stay asleep oblivious to you being upset.”
Hermione kisses him softly.
Their kiss turns into something deeper, and they shift, stretching out along the couch, Harry carefully holding her, as they touch and touch and…
Harry eases back gently from their kissing before they can get too heated. “I want to go to Bournemouth at Easter break,” he blurts out.
Hermione’s eyes widen as she stares up at him. She blinks for a long moment and starts smiling. She stretches out underneath him and he stifles a groan.
“You want to do our fake honeymoon?” asks Hermione, her voice bright with laughter.
“Yes,” Harry says firmly. “I want us to be somewhere other than Hogwarts when we go any further.”
Hermione kisses him and nods. “I agree.” She nudges his shoulder. “In which case…”
“Back to sleep,” Harry sighs.
There really is no graceful way for him to leave the sofa. He stumbles off it in a lurch which makes Hermione giggle.
They go hand in hand back to bed and settle under the covers spooned up together. It feels like there is a blink and Harry is asleep.
He wakes up with Hermione’s magical alarm loudly proclaiming that it is time to get up.
They make it down to breakfast in the common room and find Lily already at the dining table with tea, toast and poached eggs, and a carafe of orange juice.
Lily closes the work folder she had open and sets it aside. She picks up her knife and fork as the house elf pops in for their breakfast orders.
Hermione requests her usual porridge and Harry orders a full English.
His wife and pseudo-mother both give him a sharp look at the order.
“We’re chaperoning!” He proclaims. “I need the energy!”
Hermione sniffs. “I suppose you do have a full weekend, so a full breakfast is warranted.”
“Thank you,” Harry says dryly.
There is a noise at the top of the stairs and a moment later Sirius appears. He joins them at the table sliding in beside Lily and opposite Hermione.
The house elf pops back with breakfasts for Harry and Hermione, and Sirius places his own order for a full breakfast, eyeing Harry’s plate hungrily.
“How’s your search for the path to the Temple going, Sirius?” asks Lily.
Harry looks up from scooping up mushrooms and darts a look at Sirius. The History Professor has spent every night in the Hogwarts library trying to find something in the old and dusty books about Hogwarts and Hoggle Forest that will prompt his memory.
“I think I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I’m not going to find the answer in a book,” Sirius sighs. “I’m going to head to Blackthorn, Regina’s going to meet me there and we’re going to do a Seeking.”
“I wish I could come along and observe that,” Lily says.
Hermione nods. “I find Divination entirely woolly so it would be interesting to see a real Seeking performed by people with actual gifts.”
“Unfortunately, even if you both weren’t headed for chaperoning, I’d have to refuse,” Sirius says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “The type of Seeking we’re doing requires all in the room to be gifted.”
Hermione huffs. “Well, that rules me out. I don’t have any kind of gift for Divination.”
“It was the one class she walked out on,” Harry recounts, recalling the moment with amusement. “I wish I’d followed her.”
“I dropped it in the first week,” Lily confirms.
Sirius sighs dramatically, his grey eyes twinkling. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
“Even more so since you won’t let us watch,” Hermione comments wryly.
Whatever retort comes to Sirius is lost as the house elf delivers his breakfast.
Harry sips on his coffee appreciatively. He sets it down. “So, you’re hoping the Seeking will help you recall the path as the Black Knight.”
Sirius nods as he tackles his food. “There is a magical bond through the inheritance of the position. Hopefully I can tap into that.” He grimaces. “We’ll probably going to head to Tintagel for the Seeking after Blackthorn. Cador lived there as did his grandson. The psychic resonance is stronger there.”
Harry chews on a piece of sausage thoughtfully and swallows it down with another gulp of coffee. “Hopefully we can find the temple and protect the unicorns before anyone else finds them.”
“I have a feeling the centaurs will lead them in circles,” Sirius muses.
Lily tidily places her cutlery on her plate and picks up her tea. “Do you think a centaur could be helping them, Harry?”
“It’s a concern,” Harry says simply. “Dark Lords are seductive in what they promise – power, a false freedom, status. We warned Josiah and he’s aware they might be betrayed.”
Lily finishes her tea and stands up. “Well, I’m going to finish getting ready. Shall we walk down to Hogsmeade together? Sara asked if she could join us since she’s chaperoning too.”
Harry and Hermione both nod in lieu of speaking. They know Lily and Sara sit together at most dinners. The two single ladies have built something of a friendship.
Sirius waits until she’s out of earshot before speaking. “I bet you any money that Lily and James will meet up in the village.”
“Nobody will take up that bet,” Hermione rejoins. “They’ve been exchanging a lot of letters in between James’ visits, and he visits a lot.”
“I can’t imagine Snape’s happy about that,” Sirius comments, with a note of concern.
Harry shrugs. “He’s been decent enough the last couple of times he’s come over to visit Lily.”
But he can’t deny that he’s a little worried about Snape’s reaction himself. He thinks Snape is mostly reconciled to the fact that he and Hermione are part of Lily’s life and inner circle; that she’s accepted Harry as family, and by extension the protection of the Black and Potter families.
He also can’t deny that Snape reconciling himself to Harry is a far cry from Snape reconciling himself to James, and further to James as Lily’s romantic interest.
He and Hermione share a concerned look.
“You know it’s creepy when you two do that,” Sirius says.
Hermione rolls her eyes. She drops her napkin down and stands up. “I’m going to finish getting ready too.” She kisses Harry’s forehead and heads upstairs.
Harry mops up the last of his egg with his final piece of toast. He’s glad of the hearty breakfast.
“Harry,” Sirius murmurs, “be careful in Hogsmeade.” He sighs. “I can’t stop thinking I should just stay here today.”
“Consider me forewarned,” Harry says seriously. It would be foolish to discount Sirius’ feelings. “You need to go and do the Seeking.”
“And if something happens?” asks Sirius.
“Hermione and I have been protecting ourselves for a long time,” Harry points out. “Maybe Riddle is going to try something today. It wouldn’t surprise me. He has to know it’s only a matter of time before we find the unicorns and make sure they are out of his reach.”
“Has Hermione made any progress into finding out if Riddle is disembodied?” asks Sirius.
Harry shakes his head. “Nothing beyond starting to collate the rituals and spells that could have done it.” He waves his cup at Sirius. “As much as I hate to admit it, I miss having a spy in Riddle’s camp.”
Sirius grimaces. “Well, until we identify who is in his camp here for certain, it’s going to be difficult to infiltrate it.”
“Talking of spying,” Harry says, “how goes it with Dumbledore?”
Sirius shakes his head. “Badly.” He pushes his own plate aside, finished with breakfast. “I think he’s waiting to see if I’ll give up your secrets.”
Harry tilts his head as he considers that. He’s not surprised that the Headmaster is more suspicious of Sirius. Sirius is living with them, working with them, and helping them yet hasn’t yet given away anything to the Headmaster.
Harry and Hermione themselves have hardly spoken to Dumbledore since they arrived back at Hogwarts, except about school matters. Harry’s had more interaction with Horace than he has with Dumbledore.
“We could agree with Charlus and Arcturus telling him something,” Harry suggests. “Maybe our mission to protect the unicorns and targeting who is behind that. Dumbledore knows I fought a dark wizard on my world, if we lead him to believe I was brought here to fight the same wizard it might be enough to satisfy his curiosity.”
“It would make sense, and he’s going to have to tackle Riddle himself if he wants to enact his political agenda,” Sirius says. “Riddle is a rival in the same way Grindelwald was.”
Harry nods. “Let’s discuss it tomorrow when everyone is here for dinner after the match.”
They both excuse themselves and head towards their separate suites to finish getting ready. Harry’s somewhat amused to find Hermione has been distracted by a book and has to rush to finish her ablutions.
They opt to walk down to Hogsmeade and enjoy the crisp Scottish air. The sun shines overhead in a pale blue sky, wisps of white clouds above them although there is a lower grey cloud in the distance threatening rain.
Harry is content to walk listening to Lily chatter with Sara and Hermione about an article Lily is writing for her Charms mastery.
They are barely beyond the gates when the patter of feet hurrying towards them from behind has Harry instinctively turning, Godric following his lead, a warning growl in the grim’s throat.
Kevin Locke holds his hands up in surrender. “Apologies, I thought I might join your party walking down to the village as I’m also on chaperone duty today. I haven’t had the chance to speak to many of my colleagues since starting my position.” His eyes flickered to Lily before returning to Harry.
Harry swallows down the automatic refusal spurred by his desire not to have anyone but James interested in Lily. It’s not his world, he reminds himself, and Lily can choose her own suitors.
He glances over at the ladies to see what they think of the addition to their party.
“Of course,” Hermione says politely. “We’re in much the same boat although we have the advantage of family at the castle.”
“You do have an advantage,” Sara says dryly.
“A great advantage indeed,” Locke says, sweeping his hair back. He smiles at Lily. “Did I hear you debating the position Shelly has taken on the long-term viability of a Happiness Charm?”
Lily nods. “It’s my latest Mastery assignment…”
Harry tries to tune out the discussion, (Lily continues to include Hermione in the debate which eases Harry’s discomfort a touch,) and focuses on enjoying the walk. He nods as a group of students hurry past, shouting a hello to him.
Sara falls into step on the other side of Godric and grins at him. He’s reminded of Oliver’s smile.
“You notice they didn’t say hello to the rest of us?” Sara notes. “You’re clearly their favourite teacher.”
“I don’t know about that,” Harry says. “I think most of them just appreciate I rarely set essays.”
Sara smiles again. “I know you said the other Professors were welcome at the flying practices, have you had any takers yet?”
“Minerva joined us last Thursday,” Harry says. The Head of Gryffindor’s love of Quidditch and flying is somehow even more fervent on this world than his own.
“Ah, I see Professor McGonagall’s love of flying hasn’t diminished since I graduated,” Sara quips echoing his own thought. “Well, I’d love to join the next practice. I played as a Chaser when I was at Hogwarts, I kind of miss flying.”
“You’re more than welcome,” Harry says.
They chat about the Quidditch league and the upcoming game between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws for the rest of the walk. At one point, Hermione shoots him an amused knowing look, and he’s reminded of how she used to do the same when he’d get lost in Quidditch talk with Ron.
With how much Locke is trying to impress Lily, Harry is surprised when Locke declares he’ll do a first patrol around the village if they all want to take some time to shop and before any of them can say anything hurries away.
Sara frowns. “That was weird, right? I mean, I’m not the only one who thought that weird.”
“Definitely weird,” Hermione agrees.
Lily shrugs. “I think Kevin’s assuming it’s a patrol like the Aurors do which it is not. Why don’t Sara and I take the North side of the village and you two stay South? We can meet up for lunch at The Three Broomsticks at noon.” A blush appears on her cheeks. “James mentioned he might be able to come along around that time.”
Harry doesn’t look at Hermione for fear of bursting into laughter. He nods. “Noon at the Broomsticks.”
They wait until Lily and Sara are out of sight before chuckling.
The rest of the morning passes without much drama. There are a few student squabbles to put out. A Third Year Hufflepuff manages to sprain their wrist falling off the pavement.
Hermione gives her first aid and they consider sending her back to the castle using one of the emergency infirmary portkeys Dumbledore provides to the chaperone teachers. Harry considers them a security liability, but he admits that in a peacetime environment it’s a useful way to get the student quickly to medical help. In the end, Amy Bones successfully argues to stay in the village.
Lunch in the pub is busy, but James has charmed Rosmerta into saving them a booth. Locke is nowhere in sight and while Harry is relieved, he does feel a little guilty at excluding the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.
James smiles a welcome at Lily and gets up to seat both the single ladies while Harry seats Hermione.
It’s a wonderful lunch. The fish pie is exactly what Harry is craving to combat the cold that’s seeped into his very bones after a morning in the last of the winter chill.
Sara excuses herself cheerfully to head over to a small boutique, Lily agreeing to meet her there to continue their patrol.
Harry downs his butterbeer and checks the time. They do need to get back to…
The ground shakes.
Harry puts his empty glass on the table, already sliding out of the booth. “Giant?” he asks Hermione.
“Maybe,” Hermione says shrugging on her coat quickly. “Let’s hope it’s not a dinosaur.”
James lifts his wand and shoots sparkles to draw everyone else’s attention. “Everyone! Stay in the pub until we have this matter investigated!”
“I’ll stay and ensure the students are safe,” Lily says as Harry turns to ask her to do just that.
“You keep her safe, Godric!” Harry pats the grim and hurries after James who is already at the door.
They hurry into the street.
The ground shakes again and…
Hermione turns to her left and grabs Harry’s arm. “There!”
It’s a troll.
A large ugly troll.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Harry mutters.
Hermione frowns. “Harry, the last time a troll was set loose…”
“It was used as a distraction…” Harry realises. The forest. Riddle and his followers are looking for the unicorns and the key to where they are… “They’re going after the centaurs.”
“Are you certain?!” asks James, staring wild-eyed at the two of them.
“We have to go help them,” Harry says. There’s a gut-deep feeling that if they don’t help, the unicorns will be lost.
“I’ve got this!” Hermione says, determinedly, turning back to face the troll at the other end of the street. “You two GO!”
James takes out a whistle and blows it sharply. “Aurors should be on their way.” He looks at Harry. “Do you…”
Harry takes hold of James’ arm and apparates them.
They appear without a sound in the centre of the centaur village, just outside the hall.
It’s chaos.
They arrive into the middle of open warfare.
To their left, a group of centaurs, which includes Josiah, is fighting off three wizards and a black centaur…to their right, another three wizards are holding off a group of centaurs led by Magorian, casting spells which the centaurs are blocking with swords. In the distance, civilian centaurs are running for cover…a mother protects her young son, huddling over him by the side of the hall, scared to run through the fighting to safety…
“You help Josiah!” Harry shouts over the noise of the battle. He doesn’t wait to see if James follows his order, already running.
He shoots a hard stunner at the first masked wizard in front of him, sliding across the icy hard ground to stand next to a young centaur warrior. The stunned wizard disappears in a swirl indicating an emergency portkey.
Harry sets his jaw at the tactic which ensures there are no prisoners left to interrogate even as he throws up a shield to protect the centaurs from the spells the other two wizards still fire. His magic surges under his skin, not chaotic but controlled…
Magorian immediately understands the value of the shield and orders his centaurs to fire arrows as he throws his staff in the direction of the wizard closest to him.
The staff causes the wizard to dart to his left and…
Harry fires a silent powerful disarming spell which smashed into the mask and removes it from the face of…
Rodolphus Lestrange…
Harry quickly fires another spell to stick him into the earth and…
An arrow finds Rodolphus’ wand hand slamming through it and sending him into the ground. He’s alive, conscious and stuck…
There’s a crack of apparition and Sirius appears.
“Help James!” Harry shouts as he turns his attention to the remaining wizard in his own group who turns and flees towards the same path Josiah had shown them the previous weekend. The centaurs are already moving to chase him though and…
Something catches Harry’s attention on the far side of the village.
A single wizard stood alone.
For a second they are both still and…
The wizard snaps out his wand and the Killing curse sails through the air…
Harry’s eyes widen as he calculates the trajectory and…
He barely conjures the slab of stone to halt the path of the spell, diving across the space between him and Lestrange…
The stone explodes with the strength of the curse, shattering into pieces and swamping Harry with dust.
He hits the ground hard.
He shakes off the impact, coughing and vanishing the debris around him…
Lestrange is gone.
Harry turns sharply back to the lone wizard and…they’re gone too.
Damn it!
Satisfaction thrums deeply within the family magic and Harry knows Hermione is safe and pleased – the threat of the troll in Hogsmeade presumably handled.
Harry focuses on his own fight.
He runs towards where Sirius and James are holding off two wizards, fighting side by side with the centaurs who are targeting the one centaur who had helped the wizards.
Harry is about to reach them when a blond centaur suddenly charges him from behind. Harry glances back at the pounding hooves and only just manages to roll out away from the slashing sword in time to keep his head.
The blond centaur charges him down again.
Harry wonders if he’s possessed or controlled or if he’s found a second collaborator with Riddle…
He holds his free hand out and…the sword of Gryffindor smacks into it.
He parries the sword thrust of the centaur; once, twice and smacks away the sword to bring his wand to bear.
The sleeping spell is overcharged but it works.
The centaur drops to the ground.
Harry flicks his wand and the centaur’s sword flies away to the other side of the clearing. He binds him in strong rope and…
“JAMES!” Sirius shouts…
Harry snaps around and…
There is a third rogue centaur charging his father with a sword and…
James is too focused on the fight with the wizard in front of him, spell fire crackling across the space between them…
Sirius blasts the wizard in front of him back towards the treeline to free himself to help James and the wizard disappears in a swirl of portkey magic…
Harry knows he’s going to be too late…
He sends a powerful blasting curse across the clearing towards the path of the charging centaur and…
It hits!
The centaur falters but lurches forward desperately…
James knocks his wizarding opponent to the ground and they portkey away. James spins around, eyes wide as he registers the new threat, and…
The sword runs through him.
The centaur yanks the sword out and falls to the ground. Harry snaps chains around him, his focus on James.
James’ hands rise up to cup his bloody wound and he crumples…
Sirius catches James before he hits the ground, but staggers and drops to his knees, his silver eyes wide with dismay.
Harry yells his father’s name. He skids to a halt beside Sirius and James, dropping the sword in his hand to the ground. His hand shakes as he reaches out to touch James’ arm.
The family magic is roiling inside of him, James’ pain resonating through the bond, screaming a warning of imminent death…
“Is he…”
Sirius looks at Harry with urgent intent. “You can save him! You need to use the family magic!”
Harry presses his lips together briefly and nods. “Tell me how!” he demands fiercely.
He won’t lose James.
Not on this world.
Not again.
Chapter 9: Healing
Chapter Text
Harry holds his hands steady over James’ bleeding wound and lets the family magic roll through him.
It spills out in a rush of gold to encompass James’ too still body. James flinches deeply, a jerk of his body that almost dislodges Sirius’ hold on him. His eyes roll up in his head as he finally loses consciousness.
But the wound begins to heal, and Harry pours his tangled feelings into keeping the magic working. He pours in his love and care for this James, built over the brief weeks and months of their knowing each other, mixed with the filial love and desperate longing for his own father.
James’ wound heals rapidly in front of him, tissues and muscle knitting back together until finally new skin appears and the fresh jagged scar turns from bright red to silver.
Harry slumps back, drained and tired as the magic finally stops.
Sirius runs a diagnostic and nods. “He’s sleeping. He might sleep for a while. That was a bad wound.” He looks over at Harry and frowns. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” Harry says honestly. He glances around them and sees the centaurs have set-up a protective circle.
Josiah steps forward and bows. “You have our gratitude for coming to our aid, Knight Peverell.”
“Thank you for your protection while I healed Viscount Potter,” Harry says, pulling on the last of his energy to stagger to his feet.
Sirius carefully lays James down on the ground and stands. “His body is resting while it absorbs the healing magic you provided. We need to get him to Hogwarts. Ariana can check on him.” He snaps out his wand and a milky Patronus of a panther appears. “Go to Grandfather and tell him all is well and to bring Charlus and Dorea to Hogwarts.” He looks over at Harry. “We all realised you and James were in danger, only those who know where the village is could apparate. I think they went to Hermione instead.”
Harry takes a deep breath. His shielding is tattered and he can sense an almost overwhelming amount of worry resonating from multiple family members; it threatens to overwhelm him. He reaches out to Hermione and takes strength from her certainty that he is safe and she is safe. He takes another deep breath and focuses on sending a wordless rush of reassurance back through the ethereal bonds and shakily rebuilds his shield.
Harry looks unenthusiastically at the path. He’s not really up to walking all the way through the forest. “Will the Hogsmeade emergency portkeys work from here?”
“Yes,” Sirius says.
“Before you leave, we should speak on this attack by wizards, Knight Peverell,” Josiah says.
Harry and Sirius exchange a quick glance.
“I’ll take James and come back as soon as I’ve got him safely handed off to Ariana,” Sirius offers.
Harry nods. He delves into his pocket and pulls out one of the portkeys, handing it off to Sirius. He watches as Sirius stoops to hold onto James and with a muttered password, Sirius and James disappear.
“Here, Knight Peverell,” Calum appears beside him with a potion vial.
Harry takes it and looks at the standard labelling from the infirmary at Hogwarts; Pepper-Up potion. He uncorks it and downs it. The potion works immediately, flooding him with renewed energy. He takes another breath to centre himself.
His gaze sweeps around the village.
The centaur children are being led from the hall where they must have sheltered by their relieved parents.
A group of centaurs stands around the chained rogue who had almost killed James and a second group is over by the centaur Harry had sent to sleep. There is a third group huddled around a downed centaur form – the centaur who had originally been fighting alongside the wizards.
All of the attacking wizards are gone, and Harry wonders if Magorian has managed to chase down the one who ran for the path out of the village.
“What happened?” asks Harry bluntly.
“You were correct to warn us of betrayal. Hurron led the wizards to us,” Josiah says, pointing towards the third group. “They demanded to know the path to the temple.”
“They attacked when we refused to answer,” Calum adds. “Hurron alongside them.”
“He has paid for his crime,” Josiah intones grimly.
Harry grimaces as he realises Hurron is dead.
“There was one wizard who remained apart from the others,” Calum says, “one with the stench of decay upon his soul and body.”
Riddle, thinks Harry. He tilts his head. “Decay upon his soul and body?”
“His soul is a ruin,” repeats Calum, “and his body will soon perish because of the wounds inflicted upon him by the daughter of Rowenna, despite the mortal anchor he has created which helps him keep his flesh.”
Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “How do you know that?”
“I was able to See it when I laid eyes upon him,” Calum explains. He shakes his head. “The stars have been silent on this.” His blue eyes meet Harry’s. “To destroy Riddle one must destroy the anchor in the living.”
Of course they do, Harry muses tiredly. He rubs his forehead. So, Riddle is still in his own body and has created a mortal anchor in something or someone living. The most likely something is Nagini if she exists in this world. Perhaps she won’t, Harry muses.
It had come out in the wake of the war that the snake had once been a witch whose chaotic magic had formed into something called an obscurial which had turned her permanently into her snake form.
The whole thing has always sounded fantastical to Harry’s mind, but the cure for chaos magic exists in this world where it didn’t in his. He thinks it’s more likely that Nagini doesn’t exist in snake form here. He wonders if she would have still become involved with Riddle as a human.
He sighs.
Charlus and Arcturus might have a way to find her.
“We do not know if the others who attacked you and Viscount Potter are truly traitorous or under a compulsion,” Josiah says, pulling Harry’s attention back to the present.
“I’ll take a look at them,” Harry says.
Sirius suddenly appears with a barely audible sound.
Everyone startles for a moment, panic rising again before swiftly draining away. Harry presses a hand to his pounding heart.
Sirius clears his throat. “Apologies.”
Josiah waves his hand. “Knight Peverell was going to examine our remaining rogues for compulsions.”
Sirius nods. “I’ll take the one who attacked James if you want to examine the one who charged you?”
Harry agrees. He heads over, Calum pacing beside him, and a glance towards Sirius finds him being escorted by Josiah to the chained centaur.
Harry’s attacker is still out cold. Harry runs a basic detection spell that Moody had once taught him. A red mist forms above the centaur’s head. It’s the result for an Imperious curse.
“He’s being controlled,” Harry states for the benefit of the hovering centaurs around him.
Harry wakes up the centaur who snarls at him before he casts another spell to give the centaur’s own mind a chance to overcome it.
The centaur shakes his head from side to side almost violently before he lets out a deep shudder. “What…what has happened?”
“Peace, Jason,” Calum says. “A wizard cursed you and Knight Peverell has freed you.”
Harry removes the rope binding and Jason lurches to his feet.
Jason trembles with the effort of standing and another centaur hurries to his side to help steer him away.
There’s a commotion by the path and Harry readies himself for a moment for another fight before Magorian and a few of the returning centaur emerge in a clatter.
A brief look towards Sirius finds the chained centaur being led away at sword-point.
Harry and Calum head towards where Sirius stands with Josiah as Magorian rides up to report.
“The coward disappeared from us on the path,” Magorian states angrily. His eyes flash with fury at Harry. “Hurron was corrupted by your kind!”
“Hurron was corrupted by a dark wizard, Magorian, as was Filipe,” Josiah says in a hard tone. “Watch your words with Knight Peverell!”
Magorian is barely chastened. “I will see to Filipe’s imprisonment ahead of his trial.” He barely nods to Josiah and stomps off.
“Forgive him,” Calum murmurs, “his father was killed by a wizard. He has never forgotten it.”
Harry sighs. “I understand his anger.”
Kanan rides up, bowing lowly to his elders and handing Calum a mask. “We found this upon the ground near the Hall.”
Calum thanks him and Kanan rides away. Calum examines the white mask briefly before offering it to Harry.
Harry gingerly takes it and Sirius conjures up a bag to place it in.
“We should hand this off to the Aurors,” Sirius says. “Hermione sent a message up to the castle. She’s overseeing the students’ return from Hogsmeade. The troll was dealt with?”
There’s a note of bewildered query in his voice that has Harry smiling.
“There was a troll,” Harry explains. “Someone sent it into Hogsmeade as a distraction from the fight here.”
“But you knew to come here, Knight Peverell,” Calum says, his eyes bright.
“We’d seen that tactic before,” Harry says dismissively. He casts another look around the village. “I wish we’d been able to capture one of them.” His brow lowers. “At least I got a good look at one.”
Sirius nods. “The problem is going to be keeping them from coming back without additional security. The Aurors are going to want to investigate. They were already in Hogsmeade.”
Josiah grimaces, folding his arms over his impressive chest. “I do not want more wizards patrolling in our village. It will only inflame tensions.”
“Your security depends on people not knowing where the village is, correct?” asks Harry.
Josiah nods. “Only those we lead here will find the way.” He sighs heavily. “I was not aware apparition directly into the village was possible. While I am grateful for your aid, I fear that it poses a problem for us.”
“We could ward the village against apparition,” Sirius suggests.
“It will not deter those on foot,” Josiah points out.
“The Fidelius,” Harry says, the idea popping into his head. “We cast the Fidelius.”
“Centaur magic won’t be able to hold the secret, it’s a wizarding spell,” Sirius counters, shaking his head. “The arithmancy is all predicated on a wizard being the Secret Keeper.”
“I’d be willing to do it,” Harry offers turning to Josiah. “I hope you would trust that I would never tell anyone you do not wish to know the secret of the village.”
Josiah holds his gaze for a long moment. “The Emrys chose you well, Harry Potter.” He looks to Calum who nods.
“He has my vote, the One who Leads,” Calum says.
“Then we do not need Magorian’s vote or voice in this,” Josiah says. “Knight Peverell will be our Secret Keeper as the Friend of the Centaurs.”
Harry sees Sirius’ surprise and realises the title has formal meaning. He’ll have to ask later what exactly he’s signing up to as a Friend of the Centaurs. He bows. “You do me a great honour.” He turns to Sirius. “Are you up to casting the Fidelius?”
“I can do it,” Sirius says. “Sit and rest a moment while I lay the ground runes.” He turns to Josiah. “With your permission?”
“You have it, Black Knight,” Josiah says. He gestures towards the closest path. “I will escort you so your task is not impeded.”
They walk away and Harry conjures a chair for himself. He sits down, weary. He’s feeling every muscle he used in the fight and from his channelling the family magic.
“I’ll bring you some refreshment, Knight Peverell,” Calum says.
“Harry,” Harry says, “please call me Harry.”
“Harry,” Calum smiles and walks away towards the Hall.
Harry closes his eyes and uses the time to rebuild the shields around his magic, to corral the family magic as Charlus had taught him so that the bonds are manageable. He checks on each loved one as he does, finding Hermione resolute and stubborn, and Lily worried. Charlus and Dorea are a mix of relieved and anxious; they’re close by. Likely at Hogwarts with James, Harry muses.
Arcturus is further away; determination and authority resonates through the magic. Regina is tired and seems very distant. Harry wonders whether Sirius had deserted her at Blackthorn when the danger to Harry pinged through the same magic that he’s using to check on her.
The clip-clop of hooves approaching has him opening his eyes.
The young mother who had been trapped outside of the Hall offers him a mug and Harry takes it, thanking her. She blushes shyly and heads back.
The mug is filled with fresh milk laced with honey and red berries. It’s the centaurs’ version of a milkshake or smoothie, Harry muses. He drinks the whole thing with relish.
Sirius arrives back as he finishes the final gulp.
Harry gets to his feet and banishes the chair. He sends the mug back to the Hall with a wave of his wand.
“We’re ready,” Sirius says. “I’ve cast it so that all within the circle will know the secret immediately otherwise there will be mass confusion.” He turns to Josiah. “Harry will need to give you a message to share with the scouts who are outside the village. You should destroy the paper once they know of it.”
“It will be done,” Josiah says.
They face each other.
Sirius casts his wand in a sharp movement up and to the right and…
“Fidelius! The centaur village is located in Hoggle Forest by the Black Lake beyond Gryffindor’s circle!” Sirius intones.
Magic falls over the village in a cascade of white.
Sirius’ silver eyes meet Harry’s. They glow with power.
“Do you accept the vow of the Secret Keeper, Harry Potter, Lord Potter-Black, Earl of Peverell, Baron Ravenshold, Knight of Avalon?” Sirius asks.
“I do,” Harry says, holding up his own wand to his heart. “I swear on my magic to keep this secret safe from those who would do the centaurs harm; to never tell a living being of the secret that the centaurs do not wish to know. I do this as the Secret Keeper.”
“Fidelius!” Sirius sweeps his wand down and to the left.
The magic sinks into the ground.
There is a snap deep in Harry’s magic and he knows it’s the secret settling in. He takes a deep breath as he staggers under the weight of it.
Sirius is beside him in an instant. “I think it’s time to get you to Hogwarts. You need to rest.”
“I’ll write the message and then we’ll leave,” Harry promises.
He’s soon provided with parchment and a quill. He writes the secret quickly and hands it over to Josiah.
“If you have need of me, please send for me,” Harry says.
Josiah nods and bows to Harry. “Thank you for your service, Knight Peverell.”
Sirius holds out the portkey to the Hogwarts’ infirmary and Harry grasps it with a frown. He really, really hates portkey magic.
The portal takes him in a swirl and he almost loses his balance on landing, but Sirius catches him before he can fully fall. Sirius guides him to a bed and he isn’t surprised when he raises his swimming head that he finds Charlus and Dorea turning towards him from their seats at the next bed which a still unconscious James occupies.
“Harry!” Dorea pushes out of her chair and side-steps it to reach him. She hugs him tightly before stepping back and cupping his face. “You are a miracle, Grandson.”
Harry flushes. “I only did what you would have done if you’d been in my place.”
She kisses her cheek. “I’m still thankful it was you by his side.”
“Sirius helped me,” Harry deflects. “If he hadn’t guided me, I might not have been able to save James.”
Sirius waves away the praise. “You’re the one who channelled the magic.”
“Dorea, release the boy so I can hug him!” Charlus orders cheerfully.
Dorea rolls her eyes, but she steps aside and immediately hugs a flustered Sirius.
Charlus draws Harry into a warm hug. “Thank you for James and for returning safely to us.” He moves back and darts a look at his son. “Ariana says…”
“Ariana says it may be more than a day before he rouses,” Ariana bustles over.
Harry’s a big fan of Dumbledore’s sister. She’s a good healer and he concedes to her chasing the others away from the bed to examine him.
“You’ve got a good case of magical exhaustion, Harry,” Ariana says exasperated. “Have a good meal tonight and rest your magic for the remainder of today. You may want to consider having Sara substitute as referee tomorrow. You’ll be tired.”
“It’s flying,” Harry immediately protests. “It’ll be fine.”
Ariana looks as though she’s about to argue, but the doors to the infirmary open and Hermione hurries in.
Harry slides off the bed and takes a step towards her, but Hermione is faster than he is. She’s in his arms between one breath and another.
“Thank Merlin!” Hermione says fervently. “You’re alright!” She kisses him deeply for a long moment.
Harry eases back to check that she’s fine and in one piece. There’s a streak of dirt across her cheek that he rubs away as he cups her face. “Troll all handled?”
“She knocked it out with its own club!”
The gleeful exclamation has Harry looking away from his wife and realising that she hadn’t been alone when she’d come in.
Bertie Croaker and Peter Pettigrew stand off to the side.
Harry smiles at them. He’d met them a couple of times while he and Hermione had been at Potter House, but their work at Hogwarts hasn’t presented them with too many opportunities to get to know James’ friends better. In some ways, Harry is pleased that they haven’t had time. He finds a decent Pettigrew difficult to assimilate with the traitorous snivelling Death Eater minion of his own memories. Not to mention, Sirius is never entirely comfortable in the presence of the other Mischief Makers despite the apologies he’s received and Harry’s very much on Sirius’ side of that.
“Bertie and Peter responded to James’ summons,” Hermoine says simply.
“You knocked it out with its club?” Harry repeats, amused.
Hermione’s eyes are bright with laughter. “A tried and tested method.” She sobers a touch and looks over at James.
Harry follows her gaze. Somehow, he isn’t surprised to find Lily hovering on the far side of the bed, her attention on James’ prone figure.
“How is he?” asks Hermione.
“Resting,” Ariana says firmly. Her sharp gaze turns to Harry. “As you should be.”
Before Harry can reply, a limping Locke enters helped by Sara, drawing Ariana’s attention. On their heels is Dumbledore.
The Headmaster looks calm on the surface, but Harry knows Dumbledore and he can see the simmering banked fury in Dumbledore’s blue eyes and tensed expression.
“Professor and Instructor Potter,” Dumbledore says formally. “It is good to see you looking well. Professor Black provided a brief summary of events when he arrived in Hogwarts with Auror Potter, but I would appreciate a full debriefing.”
“We should probably take an official statement on what happened with the centaurs,” Bertie adds. “Lady Peverell let us know why James wasn’t in Hogsmeade, even though he’d summoned support, but given his injury I’m sure Scrimgeour and Crouch will want a full report.”
“Perhaps you should take everyone back to your office, Albus?” Ariana suggests briskly from the other side of the infirmary where she’s examining the output from Locke’s diagnostic. “The infirmary is hardly the place for such a discussion.”
Dorea pats Charlus’ arm. “You go with them, dear. You can tell me everything later.”
Charlus kisses her cheek and nods.
Lily looks up. “Headmaster, if I may be excused? Hermione will be able to inform you of anything that happened in Hogsmeade relevant to my own experience.”
Dumbledore nods. He looks over at Locke briefly. “I’ll get your briefing later, Professor Locke.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much to say, Headmaster,” Locke says sheepishly. “When I heard about the troll at the other end of Hogsmeade from a fleeing student, I started to run to help, fell and twisted my ankle.”
Sara flushes as Dumbledore’s attention is drawn to her. “I sheltered in a shop until the troll was dealt with. I was escorting some students back when we came across Professor Locke. He decided his injury was fine to walk back with the students rather than taking a portkey here.”
Ariana clears her throat. “Since you actually have a broken ankle that perhaps was not the best decision.”
“Ah,” Locke grimaces.
Ariana looks pointedly at her brother.
Dumbledore nods. “You’re also excused then Professor Wood, Professor Locke. If everyone else can follow me, please.”
They all troop after Dumbledore.
Harry is grateful for the comforting touch of Hermione’s hand in his. Charlus and Sirius are just behind him, Bertie and Peter behind them.
They enter the office and find that there are others waiting in the room.
Dumbledore shows a flicker of surprise as he turns to Snape who is standing beside the hearth. “Severus?”
“You have visitors, Master Dumbledore,” Snape replies evenly. “Minister Bagnold, Head Auror Scrimgeour, Senior Auror Moody and Lord Black agreed to wait here for you in your office.”
Arcturus’ gaze immediately goes to check on Sirius before it returns to Harry and Hermione, roaming over them as he checks they’re fine.
Harry offers him a reassuring nod and smile.
Bagnold looks stern. Her fussy blouse with its oversize bow looks terrible and the style doesn’t suit her stately figure at all. At least her no-nonsense grey suit does fit her well.
Scrimgeour looks puffed up on his own importance. His hard gaze falls on Bertie and Peter. Moody’s gaze sweeps over all of them.
“I’ve had disturbing reports, Albus,” Bagnold says crisply. “We thought it best to get briefed immediately.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore says smoothly. “I was just about to get a debriefing myself while Aurors Croaker and Pettigrew took the official statements.”
It takes a few minutes for introductions and for them all to get seated. Harry, Hermione and Sirius are together on the existing sofa, while Arcturus and Charlus sit on conjured chairs next to them. In front of them, Dumbledore sits on a chair in the centre, flagged by Bagnold on one side and Scrimgeour on the other. Moody, Bertie and Peter stand to the side of Scrimgeour. Snape continues to lurk in the back despite having no reason that Harry can see for being there. The house elves have brought refreshments and Harry sips on his glass of water gratefully.
“Perhaps we can start with what happened in Hogsmeade,” states Scrimgeour.
Hermione clears her throat and briefly outlines the arrival of the troll. “Harry and I believed it was a diversion tactic to draw attention away from another attack. We’d seen it done before on our own world.”
“Senior Auror Moody tells us that he gave permission for Auror Potter to escort you through the forest to speak to the centaurs last weekend,” Bagnold says. “Are we to assume that this is part of the mission our King set out for you as Knights of Avalon?”
Hermione glances at Harry.
Harry clears his throat, remembering how he and Sirius had talked about suggesting the mission was Riddle. “Hermione and I battled the same dark wizard in my world that now endangers the unicorns and who attacked the centaurs. I believe that is part of why we were brought to your world.”
“As you can see our knowledge of events on our own world gave us insight into what was likely being attempted here,” Hermione adds, backing up Harry as she always does.
Dumbledore nods. “It makes sense of why the King appointed travellers from another world to the cause rather than one of our own people.”
Bagnold inclines her head.
“You said you realised it was a diversion tactic, lass?” Moody prompts.
Hermione turns to the grizzled Auror. He has a few scars from clashes with criminals, but he isn’t the scarred survivor of the First Wizarding War that Harry met as a young boy.
“Auror Potter called for assistance to help me deal with the troll and left with Harry to provide him with back-up,” Hermione continues. “Professor Evans had remained with the students in The Three Broomsticks, I first directed students away from the troll and into dwellings where they would be safe. Auror Croaker and Auror Pettigrew arrived, and we were able to form a perimeter to prevent the troll from traversing further. According to my diagnostics, the troll was under a compulsion. We attempted a tri-fold stun with spells from all three of us and when that failed, I determined that using the troll’s own club to knock it out would be the best course of action.”
“Which she did,” Peter says gleefully again.
“We were able to guide the troll’s descent when it collapsed, ensuring no harm to buildings, people or the road infrastructure,” Hermione continues. “Auror Croaker sent for a containment team from the Department of the Regulation of Magical Creatures and I began to evacuate the students back to Hogwarts believing it was best to get them away so the authorities could handle the troll.”
“That was very well done, Professor Potter!” Bagnold says effusively. “You are to be commended! Do you not agree, Albus?”
“I do indeed. You are certainly to be commended, Professor,” Dumbledore smiles at her warmly. “Your actions helped to safeguard our students and the populace of Hogsmeade.”
“If you want a job in the Aurors, lass…” Moody begins and ignores the glare Scrimgeour sends his way.
“I’ll leave that to others,” Hermione says primly.
“Perhaps you can provide a reasoning as to what happened when you left your wife, Potter?” Scrimgeour growls.
“Lord Peverell,” Charlus snaps out tersely. “You will address him as Lord Peverell, Knight Peverell or Instructor Potter, Head Auror.”
Scrimgeour’s cheeks go a ruddy red colour. “My apologies,” he bites out.
Harry has a feeling Scrimgeour is anything but apologetic.
He sighs and recounts events at the centaur village. At one point Moody steps aside to Floo order other Aurors to bring in Lestrange for questioning.
Hermione’s hand tightens on his as he makes his way through the attack of the rogue centaurs and Bagnold gasps out loud when he tells them of James’ injury.
Dumbledore looks at him speculatively when he talks of healing James with the family magic. Harry knows he’s given away just how powerful he is, but it is unavoidable.
Sirius briefly takes over to explain bringing James back to Hogwarts as Harry takes a needed gulp of water. Harry picks up the account again, leaving out the speculation over Riddle’s decay and the likely living anchor. Sirius chimes in as they finish with their casting of the Fidelius.
“I was wondering why I couldn’t remember where the village was,” Hermione murmurs.
“I assume you can give the secret to those of us who have been in the past?” asks Dumbledore.
“With the permission of the centaurs,” Harry replies firmly. His energy is fading fast. “I’ll provide the memory to you of Rodolphus Lestrange as evidence, but I suspect that his Dark Lord will have already taken steps to remove him from the possibility of an arrest.”
“You think he’s sent him abroad?” asks Scrimgeour gruffly.
“I think he’s killed him,” Harry says bluntly. “If it is the same Dark Lord as my own, he has little tolerance for failure.”
“You will tell us all you know about him,” orders Scrimgeour angrily.
“Of course,” Hermione says, meeting his furious gaze with one of her own. “Once we determine a proper Council and all take the appropriate vows.” She gestures. “While all here may be trustworthy, the Dark Lord’s influence corrupted the Ministry and Aurors in our world. We should make certain that if he does have spies among you that we limit when they might learn.”
“A wise perspective,” Bagnold says sharply before Scrimgeour can reply. She shoots him a hard look.
“If you have no more questions, I’d like to follow my healer’s advice and get some rest,” Harry says bluntly.
Scrimgeour looks like he’s going to argue, but Charlus stands up signalling the end of the meeting and the rest follow him.
Hermione snags an arm around him as they make their way out of the office and Harry leans into her strength. By the time they reach their quarters, Sirius is supporting him on his other side and all but carries him up the stairs.
Harry focuses on one foot in front of the other until he’s tucked up in bed. The last thing he remembers is Hermione dropping a kiss on his forehead and then, nothing until morning.
Chapter 10: Interlude
Chapter Text
James knows he’s dreaming.
The last thing he remembers is the shock of the blow from the sword. He’d been flooded by overwhelming pain and horror. His last memory is looking down and seeing his hands stained red with blood.
In his dream he stands on the battlements of a castle, the Pendragon banners flying overhead. He looks out into the distance and sees nothing but green rolling hills, dotted with woodland and wildlife, with an occasional hamlet nestled in between corners.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” says a voice beside him.
James glances and startles at the sight of the King, a tall blond man dressed in a shining chest plate of amour with a red cape held with a Pendragon pin. He drops to his knee, bowing his head. “My King.”
“Rise, James of the House of Gryffindor, kin of my kin,” Arthur says warmly. He clasps James’ shoulder briefly.
“Kin?” stutters James, desperately trying to recall his family tree.
“My half-sister Elaine married Cai of Caerfyrddin,” Arthur says. He searches James’ eyes. “You did not know?”
“We knew her name as Elaine,” James says honestly, “but not of her relation to you.”
Arthur hums and wags a finger. “Too often people forget Igraine was my mother as much as Uther was my father.” He stares out into the landscape. “Mothers are deeply important, James.”
“Mine is the best woman I know,” James agrees. He shifts to look out as Arthur does. He feels uncertain in the presence of his King, shaken by the revelation that he’s actually related to Arthur.
Arthur nods. “I’ve brought you here to the place in-between where Camelot waits for the return to the world because I have need of you, James Potter.”
James frowns, concern flooding him. He tries to reach for the family magic to check, but everything is too foggy and distant. “Is Harry alright? Did he get injured or…”
“Harry is well,” Arthur places his hand again on James’ shoulder. “He has protected the centaurs from the wizards who attacked. He is my Champion.”
James notes the self-satisfied tone that Arthur uses and his banked anger for Harry stirs. “You know you ripped him away from his world!”
Arthur’s face flickers with surprise at James’ sharp tone. “I brought his heart to aide him and comfort him,” he says simply, “and in truth there was no other way.”
James searches Arthur’s face. He sees his sincerity and certainty, but he still can’t help but feel aggrieved on Harry’s behalf. “Harry has been through so much already in his life. He deserves to rest, not to have to fight again! It’s not fair to ask him to protect our world!”
Arthur hums. “I do not disagree,” he says, “but Merlin Saw and Cador Saw…there was no other way our world survives than with this Harry Potter standing in front of the Light and protecting it from the Dark, with his sworn love beside him.”
James feels helpless at the sense of destiny that rings in Arthur’s words. Deep down he knows it’s futile to try and change Arthur’s mind about Harry. In many ways he doesn’t want Harry’s existence in their own world undone. He loves Harry.
“You feel a father’s protectiveness,” Arthur states crisply. “His father, his James Potter, gave his life trying to save his son and his wife.”
“I would do no less,” James admits. He can’t imagine the scale of the fear which had filled his counterpart, but after the fight in the centaur village, that moment of being stabbed through and knowing Sirius and Harry might still be vulnerable to attack…he thinks he now has some idea.
Arthur nods. He turns in the direction of the castle. “Walk with me, James.”
They step away from the battlements and into the castle in a blink of an eye.
James takes in the throne room with awe.
Large Pendragon banners drop from the rafters and the floor is a tiled mosaic depicting a fierce battle at Badon Hill. The throne itself is a simple wooden chair placed on the floor and not on a dais or stage. The crest of Pendragon is burnt into the wood.
Arthur stands in front of his throne with his large sword, the pommel resting easily in his hands, pointed down at the floor. “For Merlin’s magic to work, we could not allow a Harry Potter to be born in this world.”
James stares at him uncomprehendingly. “What?” he finally asks.
“In all the worlds but this, you and Lily Evans are married and have a child born in the seventh month of the year when the wizard calling himself Voldemort rises,” Arthur says.
James doesn’t know how he feels about that. He is…far too enamoured of Lily to pretend otherwise. He remembers knowing as soon as he met her that she was the woman he wanted to marry, yet he’d accepted when they’d left Hogwarts that nothing would ever likely happen between them. His dislike for Snape had kept their relationship adversarial at Hogwarts and they’d just been too adrift in their circles and lives since to be anything other than passing acquaintances.
Harry’s arrival had changed that. He’s the best of the both of them. They can see what their children might be when they look at Harry.
James thinks Lily would accept a courting gesture from him now. Except if there is magic involved in keeping them apart…
He looks at his King. “What was done to prevent us marrying?”
“In truth, it wasn’t much,” Arthur says, a tinge of regret in his voice. A tap of his sword against the stone floor and a very familiar Sorting Hat appears. “It was Godric’s final mission as a Knight of Avalon; he spelled the Hat to Sort Lily Evans into Ravenclaw and you to Gryffindor.”
“And Snape?” asks James. “Was the Hat spelled to place him with her? He went to Slytherin in Harry’s world.”
“The Hat sent him with his friend,” Arthur says with a chuckle. “He chose her rather than Slytherin. If she’d Sorted to Gryffindor, he could not have followed – his own prejudice and fear of his mother’s wrath would not have allowed it. The Hat would never have placed him there.”
James grimaces. He knows from Harry that Lily had been a Gryffindor in his world, and he can see if they’d been in the same House, if Snape had been a Slytherin and that had led to a deterioration of Snape’s friendship with Lily…he can see how he and Lily might have found their way to one another by their final year.
He sighs, turning over the information in his head. “You said the magic to bring him here meant he could not be born here.”
Arthur nods.
“Is the same true for Hermione?” asks James.
“I am afraid so,” Arthur murmurs. “A single time-locked spell ensured that her father and mother were not together to create a babe when she might have been conceived in this world.”
He looks more than regretful which calms something in James’ spirit.
“Will there be further interference in my relationship with Lily?” asks James.
Arthur shakes his head. “Whatever happens now will be by your own free will and only swayed by the normal ebbs and flows of events. Riddle will still cause trouble; Evil still walks.”
James nods slowly. “Should Harry be getting involved in this Riddle business or should we be focusing on the wider Evil?”
“Harry has no choice but to deal with Riddle, he is Fated to defeat Riddle.”
“But only on his own world,” James argues, and takes a moment to wonder that he is arguing with his King. He breathes in deeply to calm his sudden attack of nerves. “Harry is not Fated here surely.”
“Merlin thought Fate likely to believe otherwise; Harry is always her Chosen,” Arthur says. “In every world, Fate moves Her Hand and only Harry Potter can defeat Tom Riddle.”
James sighs. He really wishes Harry did not have to carry that responsibility again. All he could do, he muses, is make sure that Harry has the support and help he needs. “Did you bring me here to explain about why I’m not his father in this world?”
“Not entirely,” Arthur says, “but you are kin and were owed the explanation nevertheless.”
James blinks and they are in a forest, stood on the edge of a clearing. Ahead of them is a black stag. He’s a beautiful creature with a full set of black antlers – a true King of the Forest in a way that Prongs is not.
“Cador was my half-brother, he died protecting me in the final battle,” Arthur says fondly. “His Sight came from wild magic. Our mother’s line was rumoured to descend from the Wild Huntsman himself.”
“There is a theory that Merlin was descended from Gwyn ap Nudd,” James says.
Arthur huffs a laugh. “He told me once it was a story his mother told to justify her laying with his father.”
James smiles. He regards the black stag with interest. “So, Cador was an animagus stag?”
“All the Black Knights are,” Arthur says, holding James’ gaze intently.
James thinks of Sirius’ panther Patronus. He had thought that it would be Sirius’ form, but apparently not. His cousin is a Black Knight and therefore has a stag animagus like James himself.
“What is lesser known is that for every Black Knight, there is a White Knight that rises,” Arthur says softly. He nods towards the idyllic clearing.
James turns sharply and his breath catches in his throat as a white stag emerges from the far forest.
“Cador had Cai,” Arthur says, “and his grandson had Galahad. The Black Knight’s purpose is to stand beside my Chosen and protect them, but the White Knight…he is the one who protects the Black Knight.”
James wonders why this lore is never spoken of in the wizarding world. He wonders if Sirius knows about the White Knights. He probably does, James realises.
“Merlin and I,” Arthur murmurs, “we did not fully understand the ripples the family magic would make. Some small, some large. People lived who might have died, a cure for chaos magic when there would be none otherwise. A man born who would have been otherwise a woman, and a woman who might have been a man. Changes that shifted events just that little further off track than the original tapestry intended.”
James can understand that. The differences between his world and Harry’s are immense because of the family magic.
“In this world, the existence of family magic changed a vital brotherhood that I would see set right,” Arthur says.
James looks over at him.
Arthur nods towards the clearing again. “In every world but this, Sirius Black was never rescued by Arcturus. He endured his mother’s abuse and his father’s negligence. He rebelled and Sorted to Gryffindor knowing that the friend and cousin he’d finally met on the train would go there. And when he was but sixteen in years, after his mother tortured and beat him, he ran away to him, the boy who had become his best friend, his brother in magic, James Potter.” He returns his gaze to James. “In every world but this, James asks Sirius to be Harry’s godfather.”
James swallows hard.
Before Christmas he couldn’t have imagined such a world. He’d unfairly hated Sirius because of how the Blacks had hurt James’ mother. He had targeted and bullied his cousin during their school years. He’d refused an official rapprochement between their families believing Sirius had been involved in attacking Remus.
But with Harry’s arrival, the truth had come out and things have changed.
James likes Sirius. He might have acquiesced to Sirius’ request to build a real familial relationship out of duty, but he’s spent a lot of time in Sirius’ company since and he enjoys being with Sirius.
Moreover, he can talk to Sirius about things that he cannot with the other Mischief Makers. Not just the secrets they keep about Harry and Hermione; not just the secrets of the Blacks, but the stress and strain of being the heir of an Ancient and Noble House.
He contorts his face in disgust because even thinking such a thing feels snobbish and unfair to his friends, but he can admit in this place in-between that as snobbish and unfair as the thought is, it is also the truth.
He can imagine a world where he and Sirius became as close as brothers.
“I would see you and Sirius regain your brotherhood, James,” Arthur says warmly. “I would see you become the White Knight to his Black.”
He remembers the fight and standing shoulder to shoulder with Sirius defending the centaurs. They’d fought seamlessly in synch, as though they had been doing so for eons.
“My mission will be to watch his back and provide him with protection as he helps Harry and Hermione?” James checks.
“And to provide him with fellowship,” Arthur says. “He is building a friendship with my Knights, but Harry and Hermione are not of his world and his relationship with Harry is complicated due to Harry’s feelings for his late godfather. My Black Knight carries the burden of his Sight.” He grimaces. “Their experiences on their world have blighted Harry and Hermione’s view of such gifts.”
James can’t deny that. “Anything else I should be told or know before I agree? I mean, it won’t stop me from courting Lily or doing my job or…”
“You will need to consider your work at some point, the duties of a Knight may need to take precedence one day and you will need to make a choice,” Arthur says, visibly amused, his eyes twinkling, “but nothing to impede your courtship of the lovely Lily Evans.”
“Right,” James vaguely remembers Calum had alluded he’d need to make a choice about duty when they’d met with the centaurs before. It sounds though that he’ll need to make that one sometime in the future. If there is nothing else…he takes a deep breath and holds the gaze of his King. “I accept.”
“Then kneel, James Potter,” Arthur orders.
He went to his knee and…
They were back in the throne room.
“You swear that your wand and your magic will guard Camelot?” asks Arthur, his words resonating with power.
James swallows against the nerves in his belly. “My wand and magic will guard Camelot,” he swears.
“Rise then, kin of my kin, as the White Knight,” Arthur declares.
There’s a ghostly cheer echoing around the room followed by the thunderous stamp of a hundred feet on stone.
Magic fills the air and James shivers.
“Have more of a care for your own life in future, Knight Potter,” Arthur reaches out and clasps his shoulder. His blue eyes remain intent on James’ as the hand on his shoulder squeezes gently. “We will meet again.”
James blinks and…
He’s opening his eyes to a familiar ceiling; the Hogwarts infirmary. The lights are dimmed and he thinks it might be nighttime.
“James?” his mother’s voice pulls his attention to his left.
She looks worried.
He reaches out weakly, and she captures his hand in hers.
“Dear boy!” His mother kisses his knuckles and smiles at him through her tears. “You’re safe in Hogwarts, James. Sirius brought you after Harry healed you in the centaur village.”
James hums.
A sound to his right has him turning his head and he finds Lily sitting in a chair beside his bed.
“Lily,” James croaks. He feels his heart pound in delight at finding her there. That has to mean something doesn’t it? That she stayed with him?
Lily smiles and she reaches for the water jug and pours him a glass.
Between the three of them, they manage to get him situated sitting up and resting back on what feels like a mountain of pillows.
“Harry?” he asks.
“Sleeping,” his mother replies. “He was magically exhausted. So was Sirius although he was hiding it better. Once he helped Harry into his bed, he all but collapsed into his own. Your father is holding watch with Arcturus in their quarters.”
James nods. He turns back to Lily. “The troll?”
“All handled,” Lily says dryly. “Hermione took care of it by knocking it out with its own club.”
James blinks.
Ariana crosses the ward floor and Lily moves aside to allow the healer to check on him. By the time she’s finished and left, James can feel the pull of sleep tugging at him.
“Sleep, James,” his mother says.
And he lets himself fall.
It’s morning when he wakes again.
Lily is gone. He assumes Ariana chased her back to her own bed. His mother is napping on the bed next to him and his father is in the chair his mother had occupied.
There isn’t much time to exchange anything more than a brief handclasp with his relieved father before Ariana arrives. His parents are hustled out to get their breakfasts and James is swept up in a whirl of treatment.
He’s back in bed soon enough, feeling as whiny as he did when he was twelve and he’d fallen down the main stairs and been confined to the infirmary.
Harry and Hermione arrive just after he finishes his breakfast, and he greets them cheerfully. His eyes run over Harry, checking that he’s fine as Hermione explains his mother and father are resting and will be along later.
Harry looks tired, but his eyes are clear, and his voice is resolute when he insists that he’ll be fine to referee the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw match even as Hermione rolls her eyes at him.
James pouts. He was really looking forward to the match.
Hermione leans over and pats his hand. “Ariana has said that you can attend if you rest. We’ll bundle you up and use a wheelchair to get you over to the stands. She’s mostly concerned that your body has time to absorb the healing without you running around at your usual pace.”
James sighs. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Well, if I’m stuck here for the morning maybe you can let me know what happened while I was out of it.”
Hermione grins at him at him as she takes the seat Lily had used and Harry pulls up another to sit beside her. Her tale of taking down the troll makes him laugh. Harry explains setting the Fidelius with Sirius and he nods with satisfaction.
“You did the right thing,” James says. “The centaurs need the protection.” And if he never learns the secret and never returns to the centaurs, that will be fine by him.
Harry smiles. His eyes suddenly dart to the clock. “I should go and open the Players’ Hall. I hope you make it to the game.”
“Me too!” James says fervently. He stares longingly at the blue sky beyond the window.
They’ve barely left when Sirius arrives. For a moment James wonders if it was planned.
Sirius pauses by the end of the bed, his brow creasing as he looks at James.
James looks back at him, confused at his perusal. “Sirius?”
His cousin finally slides into the chair his mother had occupied the night before. “It’s good to see you looking well.”
“I have you to thank for that,” James says with genuine gratitude. “I know Harry saved my life because you were able to direct him on how to use the family magic.”
“You were lucky that he’s incredibly powerful,” Sirius says quietly, his silver eyes sombre. “Your wound was a fatal one. I’m not sure I would have had the power to heal something like that even using the family magic.”
James nods slowly accepting that.
“Unfortunately, the Ministry now knows just how powerful he is too,” Sirius says.
James listens as Sirius details the meeting that had happened in Dumbledore’s office. Sirius is just as unhappy that Dumbledore knows how powerful Harry is as much as he was upset about the Ministry, James realises.
And he’s right to be. Their Ministry might not be the cesspool that Harry describes when he talks of his Ministry of Magic, but James isn’t blind to the fact that there is corruption and politics at play in their own.
“We’ll need to protect him more,” James says out loud.
Sirius nods. He arches an eyebrow. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
James looks at him blankly.
“Your magic shines with the mark of our King,” Sirius says.
“It does?” James’ eyes widen in alarm. “Uh…”
“White Knight?” asks Sirius archly.
James sighs heavily, slumping back into his pillows. There is a rush of relief at Sirius guessing and knowing.
“It’s a heavy thing having the regard of our King,” Sirius says softly.
“It was the most incredible experience of my life and the most terrifying,” James admits with a laugh.
Sirius smiles. “I was eleven when he visited me in my dreams for the first time.”
“Does he visit a lot?” James blurts out the question in shock at Sirius’ words.
Sirius shrugs. “Not that often, but more than I had thought would happen. My ancestors’ accounts of being the Black Knight didn’t really mention it, although both Cador and Conway lived during the King’s own lifetime. Dream visits were not necessary for them.”
“Are there any accounts from the White Knights?” asks James.
“You should check your library and vault,” Sirius advises. “I see books on our shelves that Reg and Grandfather do not.”
James regards him contemplatively, a stray thought running through his head. “You Saw my becoming the White Knight, didn’t you?” He strives to keep any note of accusation out of his tone.
“There’s a prophecy about the Black Knight and the White Knight in the DOM,” Sirius says.
James lets the shock of that settle before he speaks. “What?”
“I figured after listening to it that you were the most likely candidate,” Sirius admits. He gestures. “We never had the type of relationship before Harry where I could tell you, and we’re still getting to know each other. I thought I had more time to tell you.”
James sighs. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I might not have believed you.” He shakes his head. “I hardly believe it happened to me and I was there!”
They sit in silent for a long moment.
James sighs again. “You said there’s going to be some kind of War Council forming around the Riddle mess?”
“Yes,” Sirius says grimly. “With the attack on the centaurs and Riddle’s presence there, Harry feels they have no choice but to tell what they know from his world. The Council is a good way of ensuring Riddle doesn’t corrupt those who will act to take him down, but it’s not a perfect failsafe.”
“At least I can keep an eye on things as an Auror,” James says. “I’m in and out of the Ministry every day.” He looks over at Sirius. “And you guard his back here.”
Sirius nods.
They say nothing more because they’re in Dumbledore’s territory.
James wonders when he started to think of Dumbledore as an enemy.
There’s noise by the door and James breaks into a grin as Bertie and Peter walk through the main infirmary doors. They must be on duty, he muses, as he takes in their Auror robes. He watches as both do a double-take at the sight of Sirius by his bedside and cast a glance at each other as they head over.
“Bertie! Peter!” James smiles at them even as he ignores the unsettled feeling in his gut at their interaction. “It’s good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you too, Prongs!” Bertie says.
Peter nods before he shoots a glowering look at Sirius. “Of course, if you’d waited for proper back-up rather than a Professor of History, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten skewered in the first place!”
Sirius rolls his eyes at Peter and gets to his feet. “I assume as you’re in uniform you’re here to take my cousin’s statement, Auror Pettigrew?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I’ll leave you to it.” He nods at James and departs.
James shoots Peter a hard look.
“What?” says Peter, folding his arms over his chest belligerently.
“Sirius helped to save my life,” James says mildly, “you owe him an apology for that remark.”
Peter huffs. “I’m not apologising to Black, Prongs.” He stares at him. “You know there was a time when you would have loudly agreed with me that he’s nothing but a pompous arrogant prick.”
It was James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Haven’t we all left the schoolboy posturing behind? And if we haven’t, isn’t it time to do that?”
“We just miss you, Prongs!” Bertie cuts in before Peter can retort. “You’re spending all your time with Sirius or with Harry and Hermione.”
“Don’t forget Lily!” Peter adds in a mocking lilting tone.
“You’ve hardly spent any time with us outside of work for weeks!” Bertie continues.
“Not to mention Moony is still abroad because you two fought over Black!” Peter snaps.
James holds up his hands. He regards his two oldest friends with a clear eye. He can see their discomfort at his new alliances, and he can understand it.
“Firstly,” James says firmly, “Moony is abroad because Dumbles asked him to go treat with the werewolves. I told him clearly that he didn’t have to remove himself from England even if I wasn’t ready to forgive him.”
“There isn’t anything to forgive…” Peter began.
“Yes, there bloody is!” James snaps back.
Peter’s eyes widen.
“You may not care, Peter, but my family’s honour was endangered by Remus allowing me to think that Sirius was behind his attack,” James says strongly. “I advised my father not to accept a rapprochement with my mother’s family because I believed him. Had I not found out the truth and had the Blacks not been courteous enough to allow us a second chance to respond to their proposal, our magic would have been damaged by the dishonour, and that would have had political implications!”
“Since when have you been bothered about politics?” asks Bertie, not even bothering to hide a whit of his bewilderment.
“Since my universe-travelling son arrived in our world in need of my protection,” James bites out. “Sirius said you were both present in the meeting in Dumbledore’s office, can you really say that Harry and his wife should just be left to fend off the likes of Scrimgeour and Bagnold, and forgive me, Bertie, but your Uncle, by themselves?”
Both of his friends look somewhat chastised.
“I know I explained this when the rapprochement happened and I’m glad you followed my request then to apologise to Sirius,” James says, “but maybe I didn’t explain it well enough. Sirius’ only request as compensation for my treatment of him was that we build a familial relationship as cousins and that he had my oath to do that seriously.” He pauses. “No pun intended.”
Bertie snorts.
“That means spending time with him,” James states firmly. “He and I are both united in protecting Harry and Hermione; we have a common cause.”
He can see how his words are beginning to sink into their heads even if Peter still looks stubbornly tense.
“I will spend time with you,” he promises, “but you should also give Sirius a chance. He’s a decent bloke under his whole public Baron Blackthorn persona.”
Peter huffs. “If you say so.”
Bertie shoots Peter a look. “We’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask,” James says taking a conciliatory tone, “and I will also try harder.”
“Fine,” Peter says briskly. He stabs a finger at him. “But I’ll be holding you to your word!”
Bertie nods in agreement
“Mischief managed then,” James states. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “What happened with Lestrange? Sirius says Harry identified him.”
“In the wind,” Peter says tersely. “Your mad cousin, Bellatrix, said she hadn’t seen her husband in days and had no idea where he might have gone.”
“His weird younger brother’s gone missing too,” Bertie says. “They could stay in hiding for a while.”
“Tremendous,” James says. He rests back on his pillows and wonders if he can take a nap for the next year.
“Talking of Lestrange,” Peter says. “We still have to get your statement, Prongs.” He grins at James’ disgruntled expression.
James sighs heavily and submits to the questioning. His gaze drifts back to the sky outside and promises himself, he will make it out to the match.
Chapter 11: Strategic Plays
Chapter Text
The snitch is up by the Ravenclaw stand, hovering over the banner.
Harry has been intently not looking at it since he spotted it twenty minutes into the game.
Luckily, the Gryffindors are keeping him busy in his referee role. Since Charlie is not allowed to participate as a First-Year, they don’t have a great Seeker and Arnold Orwen is really, really terrible. Their Captain has unsurprisingly gone for the same tactics the Slytherins had tried, namely scoring enough goals that it won’t matter if the snitch is caught by the opposite side.
They’re on track because the Ravenclaw team is terrible. Their one good player, Harriet Widdecombe, is a Seventh-Year, Captain and Beater, and is trying her best to rally her Chasers to no avail. Her Seeker, a bored Sixth-Year, Ravin Parvarti, sits on his broom, pointed in the wrong direction and playing no part in any of the plays.
Harry sincerely wishes that someone sees the snitch and catches it. He’s definitely feeling the battle he’d fought the day before and he’d rather not have Hermione berate him for insisting that he was fine to referee anyway.
It’s another twenty minutes before Orwen catches sight of the snitch and shoots off after it, Parvarti flying after him in pursuit. Parvarti is good enough that he dodges a bludger, a near-miss with a goal hoop, and still catches the snitch before Orwen. Unfortunately for Ravenclaw though, the Gryffindors have managed to score enough that losing the snitch is not enough to lose the match. They yell triumphantly as Harry blows the whistle on the game.
He follows his post-match routine – praise and commiseration where it is due – and heads back to his quarters wanting nothing more than a long soak in a tub, something comforting to eat, and to find his bed again.
His quarters are packed with family as always after a match.
Hermione takes one look at him and sends him off to have his long soak.
When he comes back down for dinner, he finds most of the family are gone. Sirius and Regina are hunched over books in their respective comfy chairs, and Hermione is curled up with another huge book on the sofa with Crookshanks.
Godric comes padding over for petting as Harry settles himself beside his wife.
“Where is everyone?” he asks.
“Charlus and Dorea took James home,” Hermione says. “He was completely exhausted after the match.”
Harry can empathise.
“Lily went to spend some time with Severus,” Hermione continues. “He came over after the game briefly.”
“Grandfather decided to have an early night,” Sirius says, looking up from his book. “He’s spent a lot of time wrangling the Ministry. It’s worn on him.”
Harry nods. He taps Hermione’s book. “Good read?”
“Interesting,” Hermione says sincerely. “It’s the oldest known reference here to magical alternative dimensional theory. Director Bell thinks it’s good grounding for trying to untangle some of the arithmancy in the spell that brought us here. Regina brought it over from the Black library at Tintagel.”
“It was just gathering dust there,” Regina comments, looking up from her own large tome.
“What are you reading?” asks Harry, accepting a mug of hot chocolate from the house elf that pops by.
“Madame Scorpio’s Treatise on Divine Seeking,” Regina says dryly. “We need more methodologies. We’ve tried the ways we know with no success at finding the path to the Temple. So far, I’ve not found very much.”
“Me either,” Sirius shuts the book he’s reading with a snap and sets it on the side table. “To be fair, I think they’re all just variants of the same type of Seeking that we’ve tried already.”
“What have you been trying?” Hermione asks.
“It’s an old technique,” Regina replies cheerily. “You fill a wooden shallow bowl filled with fresh water, place it in the centre of a ritual circle, light a circle of candles around you and sit there trying to commune with the universe to search the past with your Gift.”
“That’s why you have to be Gifted to be part of the circle for that Seeking,” Sirius adds.
Harry vaguely remembers the practice from his Divination lessons with Trelawney.
“We even tried using the ring as a focus point,” Sirius remarks tiredly. “It has definitely travelled to the Temple.”
“And nothing,” Regina remarks with a sigh. She rubs her forehead. “I think we could have been successful, but the way is fogged.”
“Magic,” Hermione muses. Her eyes widen suddenly as she’s evidently hit by a thought. “Could the Temple be under a Fidelius?”
Sirius and Regina look at her sharply.
“Not the Fidelius,” Sirius says, “that particular spell wasn’t invented back then…”
“But something similar to obscure it and hide it even in memory?” Regina muses out loud. “That is entirely possible.”
“Why would the centaurs and unicorns be able to find it if it’s hidden that way?” asks Harry bluntly.
“Maybe it was obscured in the minds of witches and wizards rather than all magical beings,” Regina theorises. Her fingertips tap restlessly on the book she still holds.
“If we did a Seeking with that in mind?” asks Sirius out loud.
“Maybe we still would be unsuccessful,” Regina says. “We’re looking for the secret so the magic protects it.”
“What if you weren’t looking for the secret, but for the memory of the obscuring spell being cast?” asks Hermione.
They both look at her again.
“If you can see the spell, you might be able to work out how to counter it when you Seek the pathway,” she continues.
“It’s worth a try,” Regina says.
“If we assume Merlin or Vivien was involved with this spell, we may need more power than the two of us in the circle,” Sirius says. “It could need a coven.”
Regina nods slowly. “Seven of us?” She gestures towards the sofa. “We have four of us here.”
Hermione holds a hand up. “Some of us aren’t Gifted, remember?”
“Not necessary in the coven method,” Sirius says.
“Six with Lily and James,” Harry adds, “I’m sure they’d want to take part.”
“And the seventh?” asks Sirius. “You know Lily will want to ask Severus.”
“He is a powerful wizard,” Regina rejoins, waggling her eyebrows.
Sirius’ expression is so appalled that Harry starts laughing.
“Wasn’t the Temple created by witches?” Hermione asks.
Regina nods. “Legends say it was created by Mab, Queen of the Fae.”
“So, it would follow that you need more witches than wizards in the coven,” Hermione says. “Perhaps only witches.”
“Perhaps,” Regina tilts her head as she thinks about it. “But our family blood and the magic of being Knights, having Arthur’s blessing, could be a factor too.” She chews on her lip. “I say we try with us and…and perhaps Dorea. She can stand as Crone, Lily as Mother, yourself Hermione as Maid.” She waves a hand at Hermione. “It doesn’t have to be literal; it just means a young woman and you’re still younger than Lily and I. I’ll stand as the Priestess. The other three of you will stand as Arthur’s Knights.”
“That makes sense,” Hermione agrees. Her eyes flicker to Harry. “Next weekend then? It gives us a week to rest and discuss the ritual more.”
“I think that’s sensible,” Regina says.
“Can we assume that Riddle and his band won’t hunt the unicorns in the meantime?” asks Sirius.
“Ours relied on hiding and shadows to build his power,” Harry says. “He lost the skirmish with the centaurs – he didn’t realise they would have aid, and he wasn’t ready to have one of his inner circle revealed. I think he’ll go to ground for now, but if his body is hanging on by a thread, he’ll need a remedy and soon.”
Hermione blows out a breath. “It’s times like these that I really hate that we don’t have a spy in his camp.”
“True,” Harry says, “Snape was a complete dick, but his spying was useful.” He pauses. “Well, more for Dumbledore than us, but Dumbledore would sometimes share.”
“I think your guess is a good one,” Regina says. She folds her arms over her chest. “Word is that Narcissa asked Bellatrix to move out of Malfoy Manor.”
Hermione hums.
Harry slides his hand into hers gently. He knows the mention of Bellatrix and the Manor will have stirred old memories.
“They’re in lockdown mode, then,” Hermione says, “as we suspect.”
“Do you think Bellatrix is the anchor that we think he needs?” asks Harry, thinking out loud. “Our Bellatrix was completely obsessed with him. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was already planning a wedding if he’s killed off her husband.”
Hermione’s nose wrinkles. “I really don’t want to think about them together like that!”
Regina gives a mock shudder. “I really don’t want to think about Bellatrix being with anyone at all!”
Sirius nods. He gestures over to Harry. “You said Locke disappeared at Hogsmeade and came back injured?”
“He said he fell off the pavement,” Harry shrugs. “It’s suspicious, but…” he thinks back to how they’d zeroed in on Snape as a suspect despite Quirrell’s weirdness. “I don’t think we can rule him out, Voldemort will definitely have someone here as a spy himself, but whether Locke is the anchor or a Death Eater or just a Professor…” he shrugs again.
“And he wasn’t the only one missing,” Hermione comments. “Sara left the lunch before we did.”
“Well, if you go on the principle that he has someone here, there were a number of new recruits after the Christmas break,” Sirius says.
“Locke,” Harry murmurs.
“Sara,” Hermione adds.
“Wilde,” Sirius says. “He also joined after Christmas.” He frowns. “Professor Glass was new to the staff in September. The rest of us have been here for at least a couple of years.”
“Wilde and Glass were not on chaperone duty at Hogsmeade,” Hermione notes. “We have no idea of their whereabouts during everything.” She looks over at Sirius. “I don’t think I’ve said more than a handful of words to either of them. How well do you know them?”
Sirius shrugs. “Professor Glass keeps to the Divination Tower. I think I’ve spoken to her only at staff meetings and once at dinner when there was a guest and she was asked to change seats. She sat in Harry’s seat as we didn’t have a Flying Instructor.”
“She’s well-respected,” Regina asserts. “Grandfather considered her as a possible mentor for me when I started to have visions after Grams died.”
“I know Lily’s gotten to know Sara well,” Hermione says with a frown. “She seemed very decent at the lunch.”
Regina smiles. “It sounds to me like you all need to socialise a bit more as staff.”
“Merlin, no,” Sirius retorts.
Harry chuckles at his appalled expression.
Hermione grins. “You’re not wrong, I have no idea how we’d make time for it if nothing else, but Regina’s right we should make an effort over the next few weeks to get to know them more. If one of them is a spy or the anchor, we need to establish who.”
“It’s dangerous,” Regina says sombrely, closing her book. “If they realise you are digging into them, they may attack you.”
They all take a minute to ponder on her true words.
Hermione sighs. “Lily already has an in with Sara, we can use that.”
“I can talk to Locke,” Harry suggests. “I could suggest a Duelling Club.”
“I could take Glass,” Sirius says, “but that means telling her I’m the Black Knight and I’d rather that stay within the family as much as possible.”
“I could do it,” Regina suggests. “I can approach her about a Mastery. The only problem is that it would take more time than maybe we have for me to establish any degree of closeness.”
“I could approach her for help,” Hermione sighs. “She already knows I’m a Knight of Avalon and I can say I want to learn more about the Sight now to understand better since I didn’t end up taking Divination and I’m very sceptical.”
“That sounds feasible,” Sirius says approvingly.
“Which leaves Wilde,” Harry murmurs.
They’re all silent for a moment.
Hermione frowns. “He’s Runes and Magical Craft, right?” She nudges Harry. “It would make more sense if you approached him, maybe on help with broom repair or design.”
“I could take Locke,” Sirius suggests, “Duelling Club would be a good approach and you could still get involved in it, but you’ve got the best pretext for building a relationship with Wilde.”
Harry nods slowly. “Sounds like a plan,” he says and is caught out by a large yawn.
Hermione pats his arm. She gazes at him sympathetically. “Come on. Let’s get some food and you can crash.”
He doesn’t argue.
They talk of lighter topics over the cosy dinner they sit down to eat – a satisfying roast beef dinner followed by Harry’s favourite treacle tart. Hermione steers him up the stairs almost immediately afterwards much to Regina’s amusement.
He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow.
The next morning is a flurry of lessons and he leaves it until the end of the day to head over to the Runes classroom. He looks through the open door and finds Wilde sitting behind a large desk at the front of the classroom making his way through a stack of essays.
“Professor Wilde,” Harry knocks politely on the doorframe. “May I come in?”
Wilde looks up and blinks at him, confusion writ over his face before his expression clears and he smiles widely. “Of course, dear boy!”
Harry smiles and walks up to the desk. “I wondered if you had some time to talk about an idea I had?”
“Please, sit and save me from this marking terror!” Wilde quips with a twinkle in his rheumy eyes.
Harry grins and takes a chair from one of the student desks, pulling it up beside Wilde. “I was thinking about introducing a broom maintenance and design element to the upper flying classes, but I never took Runes myself and thought you might have some ideas about how I can go about it?”
Wilde’s face lights up.
Harry is surprised when they spend a very enjoyable time working out a new joint project for the Fifth-Year Rune students and the Flying class. They have a draft proposal committed to parchment when a familiar Hogwarts house elf pops in beside Harry.
“Professor Hermione sends me to remind you dinner is soon, Instructor Harry,” Kitsy says.
Harry thanks her and as she pops away casts a tempus spell. They only have twenty minutes before they need to be in the Great Hall.
“Ah,” Wilde says regretfully, “we were so close to being done!” He looks over at Harry hopefully. “After dinner?”
“I think my wife will expect me back in our quarters,” Harry says, smiling to take the sting out of the decline.
Wilde chuckles and nods. “I’ve never taken a wife, but I recall they do insist on time with their husbands!” He sighs. “It’s a shame we can’t continue discussing it over our meal, but Albus will not allow for freer seating at dinner amongst the staff – he does so like people staying in their usual spots! Armando was not so rigid.”
“Armando?” Harry raises his eyebrows at the name. “You knew Headmaster Dippet?”
“I served under his tenure as Professor of Runes and Magical Craft,” Wilde confirms cheerily as he starts to clear up his desk in preparation for them leaving for dinner. “I believe my previous working relationship with Albus is why he invited me back when he was left stranded with Finn’s desertion to Durmstrang.”
Harry nods absently. “Did you know a student by the name of Tom Riddle?”
Wilde seems a little bemused at the question, blinking in surprise. “The Head Boy?” He nods. “Not as well as Horace, he favoured the boy very blatantly, but he was in my class. A good student, I recall.” His gaze sharpens suddenly on Harry. “Is there a particular reason you ask about him?”
“He was a prominent wizard on my previous world,” Harry deflects. “I’ve yet to hear his name here though and the information Hermione and I found has him abroad.”
“European tours straight after graduation used to be the done thing,” Wilde recalls nostalgically. “I made my own trek many, many years ago.” He pauses and hums. “It is surprising that Riddle has been away for so long. He was very ambitious. Perhaps he found his happiness somewhere along his journey.”
“Maybe,” Harry demurs.
He wonders if Wilde knowing Riddle puts him more fully into the suspect group. He had seemed genuinely surprised to be asked about him. Which, Harry thinks, would not be the case if he’d taken part in the attack on the centaurs.
He focuses back on Wilde. “Shall we head to dinner?”
They chat amicably on the way about the new project before parting ways at the staff table, Wilde heading to his seat while Harry slides in beside Hermione, nodding a hello to Hagrid already seated.
“Good talk?” asks Hermione, already digging into the main dish on the offer, a chicken casserole with delicate herb dumplings.
Harry nods and helps himself. “Did you know Professor Wilde used to work here when the Headmaster was Armando Dippet?”
Hagrid snorts. “Old Ambrosius worked ‘ere for years. He was ‘ere teaching Runes when I was a student.”
“Was he?” Hermione exchanges a pointed look at Harry because her mind has flown to the same place he did. “Well, we should invite you both for dinner sometime,” she says to Hagrid, “I’m sure you both have some great stories about Hogwarts back then.”
Hagrid grins and he launches into a story about a prank involving grubworms.
Sirius joins them when Harry is almost finished with his meal. He nods at them both. “Headmaster Dumbledore has asked for us to meet with him in his office after dinner. The Minister will be there.”
“The Council?” asks Hermione under her breath.
Sirius nods, as he places his napkin on his lap and fills his plate from a fresh serving of casserole. “I think so.”
Harry focuses on finishing his own meal, taking a slice of apple pie for dessert.
The Hall is a buzzing cacophony of students and he lets his gaze drift out to the tables.
The Slytherins are talking amongst themselves apart from the odd one or two who sit with a book determinedly ignoring their fellow students. Sylvestre is holding court amongst his year group, Josephine hanging off his arm, but he can see Geraldine frowning heavily at whatever is being said. He wonders what briefly before moving on.
The Ravenclaws are mostly reading, with a few groups of friends debating topics between themselves. At the end of the table, a glum Georgina sits staring at her food. Ravenclaw is at the bottom of their Quidditch table after the match. He makes a note to talk with her in their Flying class the next day.
The Hufflepuff table, by contrast, is happily chattering away with nothing of note drawing Harry’s attention.
Gryffindor is loud as always. Bill and his friends are ensconced in a fierce discussion of some kind in the middle of the table. Harry’s eyes narrow when Harriet darts a furious look over to the Slytherins.
Trouble.
“Something’s brewing,” Hermione comments.
A quick look at her reveals she’d followed his gaze.
“As much as I hate to say it, we have other things to worry about than the Gryffindors and Slytherins getting into a prank war with each other,” Hermione says softly.
Hagrid huffs beside her. “Won’t be the first time and won’t be the last!” He smiles at them. “Ah, Bill’s got a good ‘ead on his shoulders. He won’t lead them into too much trouble.”
“The key words being ‘too much,’” says Hermione dryly.
They finish their meal, Sirius murmuring he’d get dessert in their quarters after, and make their way up to the Headmaster’s office.
It’s not a surprise to find Severus Snape lurking in the back of the room. Harry wonders at the relationship between this Dumbledore and Snape. His versions had been tied by Snape’s vow and Dumbledore’s need to control the board, but these versions…
One more thing to put on their list to investigate, Harry muses.
Dumbledore welcomes them in and waves them to the conference table he’s set-up for the meeting before he goes back to the Floo and calls the Minister.
Harry takes one seat with Hermione and Sirius flanking him on either side.
She enters with the Director of the DOM, Gared Bell, the Director of the DMLE, Crouch, and an Auror team consisting of Moody and the Mischief Makers including James. Harry is relieved Scrimgeour is not part of the group. The final person through the Floo is Griselda Marchbanks, the Chief Witch.
They arrange themselves around the table, Marchbanks sitting at the head of the table while Dumbledore situates himself at the bottom. Bagnold sits to Marchbanks’ left, opposite them, with the Directors taking seats on Bagnold’s side; all the Aurors stand behind them.
Harry’s not thrilled at Dumbledore’s position which signals some kind of seniority and leadership.
Marchbanks sniffs and peers down the table. “Headmaster, we agreed your counsel would be useful and for you to have a place on the Council in return for us using Hogwarts as a safe place to meet.” Her eyes flicker to where Snape is leaning against a wall. “We did not agree that your acolyte should be present.”
Severus looks towards Dumbledore and Dumbledore nods. He leaves the office without a word.
Marchbanks hums and turns her attention back to the table. “Auror Potter, Professor Black, my understanding is that as the heirs to your respective Houses, the Earl of Gryffindor and the Earl of Grimmauld have both acquiesced to you representing their interests in this matter on this Council. Correct?”
“Correct, Chief Witch,” James answers. “With the caveat that we are able to continue to discuss matters on this topic with trusted members of our families.”
“We’ve accounted for that in your vows,” Marchbanks says.
Dumbledore doesn’t look happy, Harry notes.
“Right,” Marchbanks says. She motions at Moody. “Do a surveillance sweep, Alastor, and make sure there is nobody listening to us.”
Moody grumbles under his breath, but his wand is out and doing the diagnostic spell anyway. He nods satisfied.
Marchbanks taps her own wand on the table and parchments appear before them.
Harry picks his up to read it.
“I, name/title, swear by my family magic that I will hold the secrets of the War Council to which I am assigned or else lose my magic and my life.”
Sirius nudges his own parchment towards Harry.
“I, Sirius Black, Baron Ravenshold, swear by my family magic that I will hold the secrets of the War Council to which I am assigned, allowing exceptions for trusted members of my family magic, or else lose my magic and my life.”
Harry glances toward Hermione. She gives him an encouraging nod.
Harry looks at Marchbanks and nods himself. “Hermione and I’ll need to follow Sirius’ format so I can speak to my family members in confidence. Shall we do this?”
They took turns.
Marchbanks went first. Each of the Ministry followed. Dumbledore was next. Sirius went before Hermione. She made her vow and Harry was left.
He held up his wand and made the vow. He felt the family magic rush through him, accepting the promise.
He took a deep breath. “Everything myself and Hermione are about to say today is a secret of this War Council to which we are all assigned. Does everyone accept that?”
There was a chorus of agreement.
Harry looks at Hermione briefly for strength and she gives him a tremulous smile.
“When I was fifteen months old, a Dark wizard styling himself as Lord Voldemort attacked our home in Godric’s Hollow,” Harry begins. “My father died trying to save us. My mother took me to the nursery and enacted a protection spell using the sacrifice of her own life and magic to trap Voldemort. When he cast the Killing curse at me, it rebounded and disembodied his soul.”
Hermione reached for his hand and he held it.
“I was rescued from the rubble, and with my godfather falsely accused of aiding Voldemort, I was sent to live with my mother’s non-magical family,” Harry continues, “I lived unaware that I was known as the Boy Who Lived in the wizarding world and revered as the one who had defeated Voldemort.”
“What an appalling thing to call an orphaned child!” Marchbanks says.
Harry smiles his thanks at her. “I’m not particularly fond of the moniker.” He rubs his forehead. “At eleven I received my invite to Hogwarts, came to the school, made some really excellent friends…” he shoots Hermione a grin.
She rolls her eyes at him.
“…and battled with the wraith of Voldemort who had taken possession of a Professor,” Harry finishes.
“It was the beginning of the Second Wizarding War,” Hermione says, a slight lecturing tone to her voice. “Over the course of our school years, Voldemort threatened Harry at every turn. He was protected by death from actions he’d taken before his rise to power in the First Wizarding War. It wasn’t until we were at the end of what would have been our Seventh-Year that we were able to neutralise those and Harry defeated him in a duel.”
“Our world is not an exact match for what is happening here,” Harry says. “Events are muddled. We think your Voldemort is already physically fragile, perhaps not a wraith, but that his physical body is damaged and his hanging onto it by a thread, even though he hasn’t had his first rise to power yet.”
“Moreover, there are similarities to events we encountered at Hogwarts with Voldemort when we were eleven and twelve that seem to be happening in a slightly different way here now,” Hermione says.
“Fate is a jealous Mistress,” Dumbledore says. “If Harry was meant to lead the battle against this Voldemort, then Fate may have moved to ensure that it happens now in our world now that he is here.”
Harry notices how James flinches a little at that. He sends him a reassuring look and James smiles back at him grimly.
“You speak of Voldemort. Charlus and Arcturus came to Moody with a theory that the wizard behind the unicorn attacks is Tom Riddle just after Christmas. You identified Lestrange when the centaurs attacked, a known associate of Riddle.” Bagnold says bluntly. “Is Tom Riddle the wizard behind the mask? Is he the one who waged war on you in your world as the Dark Lord Voldemort?”
Hermione’s hand tightens on his.
Harry takes a deep breath. “Yes, and I believe I’m Fated to fight your Tom Riddle just as I was my own.”
He sees the conclusions Bagnold and Dumbledore draw, the smug small smiles that give away that they think they’ve worked out his Knight mission. They’ll let them think that. It gives them cover. And even though Riddle isn’t his mission for his King, it is true that he’s still Fate’s chosen for Riddle.
Chapter 12: Ritual Conversations
Chapter Text
Tintagel has its own harsh beauty, Harry thinks.
The sea churns below him and the wind lifts his hair as he stares out into the horizon. To his left, he can see the muggle ruins of an old medieval tower swarm with tourists who are none the wiser that the actual Castle Tintagel, the official residence of the Earl of Grimmauld, still stands on the cliff to their right, a few miles further down the coastline.
Godric noses his hand and Harry pats the grim’s head fondly. He’d used the excuse of walking Godric to leave the others immersed in discussions about the ritual. He rarely gets time alone for thinking at Hogwarts.
If he’s in their quarters, usually he’s with Hermione or Sirius or Lily, or a combination of them. And he’s not complaining about time with his wife. He loves Hermione, loves being with her. He does have the moments when he’s not teaching and he’s alone in his office, but he’s usually focused on marking or planning or broom maintenance. He rarely has time to just think.
And he needs to think after the past week, after everything that has happened.
Harry pushes a hand through his hair.
The attack on the centaurs was terrible. It’s given him all new nightmares to go with the old ones of the war. Yet he knows given the same choice he’d go to save them every time. He just wishes that he’d been quicker or better so that James might not have been so injured.
He shudders anew at the memory of James bleeding out on the ground…
The secret of the centaurs’ location hums in his magic. He can feel its weight if he focuses upon it. He can see why the Fidelius isn’t used that often. Only the most powerful can tolerate the press of it. He knows now that Wormtail must have intended to keep the secret of the Potters’ location; that in the moment he’d made the vow he had good intentions – magic would not have accepted the spell otherwise. Maybe in the end, Harry considers, the weight of carrying the secret had just been too much for him, or maybe it hadn’t been enough to overcome his fear of not telling Voldemort when the Dark Lord had asked.
Harry's only just lost the tiredness he’s felt from fighting, from saving James, from casting the Fidelius…from stupidly refereeing a Quidditch match the day after.
From making a vow not to reveal the secrets of the Council.
His magic has ached all week.
He’s still not entirely certain telling the Council about their Tom Riddle and the events of the Second Wizarding War has been the best decision.
Harry’s aware that as far as James and Sirius are concerned that he’s done the right thing, and that Charlus and Arcturus are of the same mind. Arcturus had told him bluntly that the more they know of what happened in Harry’s own world, the more insight into what might happen with theirs.
Harry doesn’t know about that. He can’t help but feel that this world moves in a different way; time flows differently; the past is different thanks to the family magic in so many miniscule ways that events will not unfold the same.
He’s comforted by the knowledge that Hermione feels the same.
He takes a deep breath, lets his lungs fill with the crisp sharpness of the cold. It’s not as biting as the air in Scotland, Cornwall is too far South to retain the North’s unique type of cold, but it is bracing nonetheless.
The thing that worries him most, Harry muses, beyond the Evil they’re still to work out, is that there is the weird sense of events repeating themselves with Riddle yet with different twists.
The attack on the unicorns by wizards to gain the beautiful creatures for evil rituals whereas his Voldemort had simply had Quirrell drink the blood.
The troll in Hogsmeade whereas they had battled a troll in a girl’s bathroom.
This Hagrid giving away to a stranger the information that they should talk to the centaurs about the unicorns to get a dragon’s egg whereas their Hagrid had told his mysterious dragon supplier how to get past Fluffy.
Voldemort possessing a Professor whereas they believe the anchor keeping him in his own body is a member of staff…
Strange echoes but distorted by the world they’re in and Harry’s own inclusion in that world through Merlin’s spell.
He shivers.
He hates that his destiny and Riddle’s will always be entangled in whatever universe they’re in. Somewhere across the multiverse there has to be a Harry Potter who gets to live without battling Voldemort. He has always hated how Fate has bound him and Riddle together.
Harry takes another deep breath.
Riddle isn’t his Knight mission, and he hates that he and Hermione feel no closer to finding that Evil than they had before they’d come to Hogwarts, but Riddle is Fate’s mission for Harry.
He’s not getting out of it, and he knows himself too well not to pretend he could entirely leave it to others.
He lets himself feel every bit of resentment towards Fate, towards Riddle, towards himself because he can’t leave it alone, for a very long moment; lets himself wallow in it…and lets it go.
It won’t serve him.
Instead, he lets his mind drift to the other news James has confided – that he had accepted the position of the White Knight, the counterbalance and brother of the Black Knight. There to primarily support the Black Knight.
He can’t help but feel it is another echo – a mending of the close relationship between James and Sirius that they hadn’t been able to build in this world before Harry’s arrival. He’s pleased for them. He’s built his own friendships with both, but he wants them to find the friendship they had enjoyed together in his world.
He’s a little jealous.
Godric whines as though he’s hearing Harry’s thoughts and Harry absently pets him before he stuffs his hands deep in the pockets of his coat.
He wants his friends back. He wants Luna and Neville and Ron, for all that they’d drifted in the wake of Harry’s exile to the muggle world. He wants people to talk to who know him; who were there when their troll tried to kill Hermione, when he battled their Voldemort…
He wants the friends who saw him hurt and bleed to save the world; who hurt and bled for it themselves.
He’s grateful, beyond grateful that he has Hermione. He has no idea how he would survive this experience without her beside him. But while Hermione is his closest confidante, his best friend, she’s never been his only friend, even when they were living in the muggle world together.
He’s never been her only friend.
He blows out a breath.
He’s glad she’s started to build friendships of her own with Lily and Regina, but he knows like him she misses their friends back home.
He worries that he’s too much for her; that being here alone with him will become too much for her.
As if the universe has heard him, Hermione walks up and stands beside him, hooking her arm around his.
“What are you thinking so seriously about?” asks Hermione, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Missing our world, our friends,” Harry admits. He hesitates but continues. “Wondering if I’m enough for you.”
Hermione shifts to look at him. “I am endlessly grateful that I am here with you, by your side.” She pokes his ribs. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“You miss our friends though,” Harry murmurs. “I know I miss them.”
“I do,” Hermione sighs and resumes leaning her head on his shoulder as they stare out at the choppy waves. “We’re making other friends here, but sometimes I just want to meet up with Neville for lunch or have a letter from Luna about her latest escapade. And I miss Ron’s friendship, more for you than me in honesty.”
“I know I’m creating friendships here,” Harry says, “I just miss him.”
Hermione hugs his arm a little tighter.
Harry sighs. “Going home feels like it’s miles away.”
“Because it is,” Hermione says bluntly. “Director Bell thinks we’ll have years here yet, they’ve barely managed to scratch the surface on decoding the arithmancy which brought us here let alone finding a way to send us back. We have no idea how much time will have passed in our own world either.”
“I know we have to make the best of being here,” Harry says softly, “I just…”
She raises her head again. “It’s OK to struggle with it, Harry. I struggle with it some days.” She bites her lip. “Regardless that their intention was to save this world, Arthur and Merlin were so selfish in what they did to us both. We’re very lucky that your families have been so welcoming and protective of us, and even then, there are things set-up which feel too much like we’re just pieces on a chessboard again.”
“Like Black Knights and White Knights?” asks Harry wryly.
“Exactly,” Hermione agrees. “And Regina…Priestess of Avalon.” She sighs heavily. “Not to mention the whole fucked-up thing Fate has for continually making Tom Riddle your problem.”
Hearing her defence of him, her agreement that he has a right to his resentment and struggles, makes Harry feel better, calmer.
“How are you doing with everything?” Harry asks.
Hermione flushes prettily, her cheeks taking on a rosy glow. “Like I said some days are better than others,” she admits. “I love being with you, love being here for you, but sometimes I wish we could forget all about missions and quests and saving people and just be normal.”
“Hmmm,” Harry tugs her into a hug. He smiles a little. “You know you’d be bored within a day?”
She snorts a laugh. “Come on, everyone is waiting for us for dinner. Dorea thinks the best time for the ritual to find the path to the temple will be midnight tonight.”
Harry allows her to pull him in the direction of the castle. “I’m still not sure how Sirius got Dumbledore to agree to us all taking a night out of Hogwarts.”
“It’s not a Hogsmeade weekend,” Hermione suggests, “and I suspect Sirius’ leveraged the need to ensure the safety of the unicorns with him.”
“I still don’t know how Dumbledore convinced Marchbanks to let him on the Council,” Harry complains.
“No doubt with the offer to use Hogwarts as she alluded to at the meeting,” Hermione points out. “As much as I hate to admit it, his office is the safest location for the Council to meet without fear of surveillance, even with a potential anchor for Riddle on staff.”
They wander back through the echoing corridors of the castle to the room they’ve been allocated for the night’s stay. It reminds Harry of a Bed and Breakfast rather than their usual family suites. It’s a simple bedroom with an ensuite bathroom attached. After a quick wash-up, they head to the cosy dining room situated in the main tower.
Everyone else is already seated, Harry and Hermione slide into the remaining two chairs left open beside James.
Harry notes James has taken the seat to the right of his father who occupies the bottom of the table, opposite Dorea. Lily is beside Dorea and Sirius beside her. Arcturus is at the seat at the head of the table, Regina is next to Harry.
Minerva is back at Hogwarts and unable to join them.
The meal is lighter fare – a clear chicken broth, followed by salmon with creamed spinach and baby potatoes, and there is a berry mousse for dessert.
Dorea keeps the topics at dinner on the latest gossip about the unfortunate splinching accident of one of her friends, Esmeralda Flowerbeck, who is laid up in Saint Mungo’s regrowing several bones, and the scandal of the Italian Ambassador’s son running off with a magical circus performer from America.
It is a welcome reprieve from school topics or their more serious discussions.
They retire to the small sitting room in the tower for after dinner coffee, served with a cheese board and bowls of beautifully wrapped chocolates.
Harry ignores the food. He’s had more than enough. He watches in amusement as James offers Lily a chocolate. They’d pulled Harry aside earlier to let him know they’ve decided to court. He’s happy for them.
Harry wraps an arm around Hermione to pull her closer.
“Well, we should speak about what we’re here to do,” Dorea says briskly as her coffee cup clatters into its saucer.
“We should,” Arcturus agrees, “but I think firstly we need to catch-up on discussions and activities.”
“It would be wise to take stock of where we are, Mum,” James murmurs, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Dorea nods.
Charlus clears his throat. “To sum up, Riddle is active. He’s been active since abroad where something happened to lock down a whole part of the Romanian countryside. We think this might have been the event which damaged his body badly enough that his soul barely clings to it.”
“The DOM are speculating that the original ritual he did seven months ago initially helped him stabilise his physical body,” James adds. “They think he left the area as soon as it settled.”
“Aligning with when the lockdown in that part of the Romanian countryside was lifted,” Sirius murmurs.
“But it was a stop-gap,” adds James, “hence why he did another ritual at Halloween.” He gestures from his seat on the arm of the chair where Lily is sitting. “Director Bell believes that ritual created the anchor.”
“But it’s still not stable,” Hermione says, folding her arms over her chest, “or he wouldn’t be hunting unicorns.”
“Director Bell agrees,” James says, “the ritual we think they want to do is the one Harry identified. It involves a mare and her foal. It will make him reborn in essence and immortal.” He raises two fingers. “There are two ways to stop him.”
“The first is to find his anchor,” Harry says, “if we can take the anchor out of play, the ritual becomes unusable. The problem is finding the anchor.”
“We’ve been hypothesising that the anchor is someone sent to spy on us at Hogwarts,” Hermione says, “but his spy might not be his anchor.”
“You’ve been trying to get close to all four Professors who might be suspects,” Dorea notes. “How has that gone this week?”
Harry sighs and rubs his chin. “Professor Wilde was a Professor during Headmaster Dippet’s years. He taught Riddle. But he was surprised for me to ask about him, and surprised in a way that made sense – like he hadn’t been expected to be asked about a student he hadn’t heard about for years.” He shrugs. “Either that or he’s a very good actor.”
“I’m inclined to believe him,” Charlus says. He waves a hand between Dorea, Arcturus and himself. “We were all taught by him. Wilde’s never espoused a traditional platform or politics; he’s always been more focused on his crafts. I’m surprised he came back to teach because he had a terrible working relationship with Albus.”
“Albus grovelled, apparently,” Dorea says. “Minerva told me that much. Finn left them in a pickle and Albus didn’t have any other option but Wilde. He’s only contracted through until the end of the academic year though.”
Sirius clears his throat. “Locke is suspect. His Defence of the Dark Arts speciality is magical creature control.”
“He is an Auror,” James says, “but he was on sabbatical until October last year. Moody says that the request to have him assigned to Hogwarts came down from Crouch when Dumbledore asked for an Auror.”
“He probably asked for either you, Bertie or Pettigrew first,” Hermione says, tapping her chin. “Locke’s likely Crouch’s spy at Hogwarts.”
James nods. “That tracks. Locke’s one of Crouch’s favoured few.”
“He could be spying for both Crouch and Voldemort, we can’t rule him out,” Arcturus says firmly. “According to your reports, he absented himself from everyone early on the Hogsmeade weekend, and turned up injured.”
“What about Sara?” Hermione turns to Lily.
“I can’t believe Sara is the spy,” Lily says, a hint of stubbornness in her chin.
“But she is the only one who has gone out of her way to befriend one of us,” Sirius points out, “and she was similarly absent at the time the troll showed up.” He holds her gaze. “We can’t rule her out.”
“We can’t rule Glass out either,” Hermione says, vexed. “She pretty much turned me away with a whole stack of cryptic nonsense.” She pushed a curl behind her ear.
“What did she say exactly?” asks Regina.
“The snake you seek is already in its lair,” Hermione repeats, “and the wolf hides in its sheep’s clothing. To complete your quest, find the one who will not have lived.” She sighs. “She said that’s all the cards will show her.”
“Is she referring to the spy or the anchor?” asks Dorea, her brow creasing.
“I have no idea,” Hermione says with some exasperation. “This is why I hate Divination.”
“Well, either she deflected like a boss, or it’s clues we can use to root them out,” Regina says thoughtfully. “Who is the snake?”
“Voldemort?” suggests James. “He was Slytherin, and he is his descendant.”
Harry’s eyes widen with a sudden thought – the basilisk! He shoots a look at Hermione and sees when the same realisation hits her.
“Maybe that’s a reference to something else,” she says hurriedly, “we’ll tell you later, but let’s leave that for now as it’s probably not relevant to trying to find the spy.”
They all stare at the two of them, but Harry agrees with her on the relevancy and motions for the discussion to move on.
“The wolf?” asks Sirius, raising his eyebrows pointedly at James. “That could be Lupin.”
“Or another werewolf,” James says firmly. “And Remus isn’t even in the country right now, and was part of my surveillance group during the first attack. I don’t see how he can be either the spy or the anchor.”
“Which leaves the ‘find the one who will not have lived,’” Regina says.
“That could refer to someone who might not have lived except for the family magic,” Hermione says.
“Ariana?” questions Harry.
“Can you see her being a spy for Voldemort though?” asks Hermione.
“No,” Harry admits, “and I doubt she’s the anchor.”
“I think it’s more likely that she was referring specifically to your wider quest with these remarks,” Charlus says crisply.
“So, we’re no further forward on a spy or an anchor,” James concludes with a large amount of chagrin.
“If we can’t stop Riddle hunting the unicorns by taking his anchor out, the second way is to ensure he never finds the unicorns,” Sirius says. “We know that they’ve retreated behind the magical shield of the Temple of Avalon, but there is a path and it is known to magical creatures.”
“It’s why he attacked the centaurs,” Harry says. “He hoped to threaten them into showing him the way. Presumably the ones he did corrupt to show him the way to the centaur village, didn’t just know the path themselves.”
“According to lore, only the Three Who Lead know where it is and they hand it down as one of them dies and another centaur is elevated,” Sirius says. “If I were Riddle, I’d wait for a centaur patrol, and then see if I can corrupt one to bring out Calum or Magorian.”
Harry grimaces, but he knows it’s a strategy Riddle is likely contemplating.
“Or he finds another magical creature who can help him find the way,” Hermione says. “There are the merfolk in the Lake, or the house elves…he just has to think more broadly than the centaurs.”
“There is a risk that if we find a path to the temple, we’ll lead him to the unicorns ourselves,” Sirius says. “That might be his next option.”
“Maybe we can use that,” Arcturus says. “He has a spy at Hogwarts, if we find the path, we can set up an ambush.”
“It’s something to consider,” Charlus says. “Perhaps something to take to the Council?”
Harry blinks as both James and Sirius nod.
“Do we really think the risk is worth it?” asks Regina, bluntly. “I’d rather not put the unicorns’ safety at risk.”
“If we can get there first, we can make sure they are safe under a Fidelius,” Harry says, “but I think this is going to be a race.”
“So, we make sure it’s a race we can win,” James says with a bright cheeriness to break the tension.
Lily rolls her eyes at him.
“Which,” Dorea states in a firm tone, “brings us back to what we are here to do at midnight.”
They all quail slightly under her hard gaze.
“Charlus and Arcturus will provide a guard while we do the ritual,” Dorea begins. “Regina is acting as Priestess of Avalon and will lead it.” She nods to Regina to take over.
“We’ll head to the ritual circle at the top of the tower shortly before midnight,” Regina says. “Dorea has seen that each of us has a ritual robe, you’ll find them in your rooms. Wear them and nothing else except your House rings or other significant jewellery. We don’t need to be sky clad, but the simple robes will help provide unity in our coven.”
Harry hides his wince. He’d seen the robes when they’d arrived and he’s not a fan of wearing of the simple white silk garments.
Hermione shares a sympathetic look with him as Regina continues.
Less than three hours later, Harry doesn’t bother to hide his unhappiness as he dons the robe. He admires Hermione when she exits their bathroom. There is a flush on her cheeks and he knows she feels self-conscious about how the silk is clinging to her curves in the way she pulls at it. He thinks she looks beautiful.
He offers her his hand and they head up the stone staircase to the roof of the tower.
It’s a clear night. There are barely any clouds in the sky and the stars shine brightly above them. The waxing moon is almost full, but not quite there. It casts a silvery light over the pale stone floor.
Regina stands at the edge of the ritual circle. She wears an amulet given to her by her grandmother which is engraved with the crest of the Pendragon. It signifies her position as Priestess.
Harry and Hermione take their positions. Sirius stands to Regina’s left and Dorea stands to her right. Hermione takes the spot next to Sirius and James moves to stand beside his mother. Lily moves to stand beside him and Harry stands between her and Hermione. He knows their position in the circle has been carefully calculated by Regina.
Regina nods and they lay their wands at their feet and pick up the candles there. She lights them with a single wandless gesture.
Harry feels his breath catch as magic stirs around them.
“I call upon the ancient magic of Avalon to hear this plea,” Regina says in a loud voice, “your people call you to service.”
The slight wind disappeared; the air was still.
“Your Chosen need to find the path once hidden,” Regina continues strongly. “I, Priestess of Avalon, call upon the ancient magic to hear this plea; Avalon’s Knights need you.”
Suddenly, the wind picks up in the centre of their circle and sets the dust aloft and spinning in a small whirlwind.
“Let us see Time’s Past!” Regina calls out. “Let us see how the path was hidden!”
Suddenly the whirlwind clears and there is a fog in the centre of the circle which shifts and moves until it forms a static-y picture, like a television signal that flickers.
There are seven people in a circle, just as they themselves are positioned.
A stunning woman with blonde hair, wearing a white robe, belted with a gold chain, and wearing the amulet of the Priestess of Avalon stands as though opposite Regina. Her name is whispered on the wind - Vivien, the Lady of the Lake and High Priestess.
Harry’s breath catches as his gaze lands on the figure next to her, opposite to Dorea. It’s an elderly woman, still beautiful despite her age, with gossamer wings that stretched out behind her. Her name is the next the wind whispers – Mab, Queen of the Fae.
On the other side of Vivien is a man who looks very much like Sirius, mostly dressed in black armour with his helm missing revealing a head of long black hair shot through with grey, and piercing silver eyes. His hands rest on the pommel of the broadsword pointed into the ground – Caden, Cador’s grandson, the second Black Knight.
There is a woman dressed in a white robe with a breastplate of armour engraved with the crest of Pendragon next to him – a beautiful warrior woman with tanned skin, brown hair and eyes. She wears a sword belt with a short sword sheathed at her hip. There is a crown of bronze on her head with a snarling dragon depicted – Guinevere, the Queen of Avalon.
Harry shifts his attention to the Knight standing beside Mab. He is a young blond man, handsome with blue eyes. He is a counter to the Black Knight in his white armour. His hands rest on the pommel of his own sword – Galahad, the White Knight.
Beside him is a stunning woman with vibrant copper hair, green eyes and pale skin. She does not wear an amulet or a crown, but there is a white lily in her hair and she holds a wand. Harry frowns as her name whispers across the wind – Olwen, Lady of Flowers.
Harry shivers as his gaze lands on the final participant, opposite his own position; a wizard with white hair and sky-blue eyes, carrying a staff. He sings with power. Harry swallows hard as he realises who he is – Merlin, the King’s Wizard.
Suddenly, Merlin’s gaze shifts from Vivien and he’s looking straight at Harry almost as though he can see him.
“Chosen, Knight of Peverell,” Merlin says, even as the ritual continues around him, “why are you here?”
And Harry’s heart stutters. Merlin is talking to him. Merlin can see him.
Chapter 13: Finding Unicorns
Chapter Text
Harry clears his throat nervously. “You can see me.”
“I can see you,” Merlin confirms, “and we are standing here talking through time and space in the in-between created by your magic and mine because magic deems your need important enough to transcend the barriers between us.”
“You brought me across world to fight an Evil which threatens Avalon, but I am Fate’s Chosen as much as I am yours,” Harry grimaces even as he says the words. He really, really would prefer not to be anyone’s Chosen – except Hermione’s. “Riddle needs the unicorn mare to kill alongside the foal he already has stolen. He needs to re-anchor his soul and repair his body.”
“We are hiding the Temple of Avalon,” Merlin says, “but we will ensure the unicorns will always have a path to safety.”
“You make an exception for magical creatures,” Harry agrees, “but Riddle targets the centaurs and…”
“And he will corrupt them, find one to take him to the temple,” Merlin’s face grows grave, all the worry lines carving into chasms. “He can never have access to the temple. It holds the doorway to the in-between, to the Camelot that sleeps.”
“Arthur’s resting place,” Harry realises with wide-eyes.
Merlin taps his staff, agitated.
“Riddle won’t stop,” Harry says with certainty.
“He’s a distraction from your true quest,” Merlin mutters, disgruntled.
“Tell that to Fate,” Harry rejoins, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Merlin sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “Fate is a jealous Mistress.”
“So I’m told,” Harry says. “In all worlds, Harry Potter is always destined to fight Tom Riddle. You knew this when you prevented my parents from finding their way to each other.”
Merlin sighs heavily and nods. “But I had hoped that she would find another. There was always a second potential choice.”
“Neville,” Harry states.
Merlin nods. He breathes in. “But Fate has already made her choice again, has she not? This is why you stand here now.”
“Will you help us?” asks Harry.
Merlin smiles sharply. “Seven times past, Seven times future.” He taps his staff twice on the ground. “Knowledge is hidden, Knowledge is unhidden.” He taps his staff two more times. “The circle is formed, never to be broken.” Two more taps. “Return to your time, Secret Keeper, Fate’s Chosen, Knight of Avalon!” His staff slams into the ground one last time and…
Harry blinks and sways once more back on the tower roof, looking into the startled faces of his family as the way to the unicorns settles into his head like an old memory.
A gust of cold wind rushes through and the candles wink out, leaving them standing only in the light of the moon.
Regina clears her throat. She looks tremendously pale and she trembles a little. “The ancient magic of Avalon has answered our call. We thank magic. We thank our circle and leave it unbroken.”
Her words send a warm rush of magic through Harry and he breathes out.
Regina nods. “It’s safe to step away.”
Harry immediately takes a step back and reaches for Hermione. She grasps his hand as she moves to stand closer to him.
Sirius turns to his sister, catching her, just as she stumbles in her footing. “We should get you to bed, Reggie.”
Dorea nods. “I’ll help you.” She pats James’ arm as they pass him.
James offers his arm to Lily. “May I escort you to your room?”
“Yes,” Lily says, her voice shaking a touch. “I’d like that.”
They nod towards Harry and Hermione leaving them alone on the roof.
“Well, the Harry Potter factor strikes again,” Hermione says. She touches her forehead. “We saw you speaking to Merlin although we couldn’t hear what you said. He showed us the way to the temple, the ways to the temple.” She shakes her head. “That was…”
“Crazy?” suggests Harry.
“Crazy,” she kisses him softly. “Let’s go to bed. We’re going to need to be sharp for planning what we’re going to do tomorrow now we know.”
Harry follows her lead.
He sleeps better than he had anticipated, waking feeling better than he had done for weeks. He eats a good breakfast, but notices how Regina in contrast picks at hers and how she brushes aside Sirius’ concern.
When breakfast finishes, Harry follows Regina into the gardens as the others head to the library.
She smiles sadly at him as he approaches, coming to stand beside her in front of a large water fountain of a rearing unicorn. “Would you accept it if I said I didn’t want to talk about it?”
Harry sighs and pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Merlin talked to me. Did Vivien talk to you?”
Regina shakes her head, her single braid, swinging behind her back, and blows out a breath. “Not Vivien, Mab.”
“Oh,” Harry says faintly.
“Mab built the Temple of Avalon,” Regina says. “It’s her protections that keep the doorway to Camelot safe. Revealing its location will bring danger to it.”
“She tasked you with seeing it safe as the remaining Priestess of Avalon,” Harry realises.
“Yes,” Regina says tersely.
“What do you want to do?” Harry asks tentatively.
“I don’t know,” Regina sighs and brushes her fringe back. “I still think finding the temple before Riddle and casting a Fidelius is the right move. I just…I’m not sure it will be enough.”
“We’ll help,” Harry says. “Hermione and I will do everything we can to help.”
Regina smiles at him. “I know.” She places her hand on his shoulder and moves past him, back to the castle.
Harry sighs. He stares up at the cold grey sky and wonders how he can balance everything, if he can balance everything.
If the war in his world had taught him one thing, it was that plans went awry, that things would always go awry more than they would go right.
Harry shakes the thought away and heads inside.
“HARRY!”
Hermione’s shout has him running down the corridor to the Floo room.
Minerva stands there, a fearful expression on her face. “Bill Weasley and Sylvestre Malfoy are missing in the Forest. Hagrid was overseeing a detention and he was set upon. They knocked him out and when he awoke, his attackers were gone and so were the boys.”
“Detention?” asks Hermione, picking up on the word.
“They were caught in the trophy room attempting to duel one another last night,” Minerva says in a clipped tone. “We need all Professors back at Hogwarts to search for the boys.” She glances over to James. “We’ve called the Aurors.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Harry promises. “I just need a moment with my family.” He puts a hand up to delay any discussion. “It’s Council business, Minerva, and you’re not covered by the vows.”
Minerva nods unhappily. “I’ll tell Albus that you’re on your way.” She leaves back through the Floo.
“You think this is a trap?” asks Sirius as soon as the flames die.
“Riddle is luring us into the forest,” Harry says bluntly. “Some of us not involved in the search should head to the temple straight away. You can provide protection to the unicorn herd.”
“I can go,” Regina says, “I should go – I’m the Priestess. The temple is mine to protect.”
“I’ll go with you,” Arcturus says immediately.
Sirius looks torn. “Dumbledore will expect me.”
“And you should keep to your duty as a Professor in this matter,” Charlus says firmly. He exchanges a quick glance with Dorea. “We can go with Arcturus and Regina.”
Sirius nods. “Grandfather…”
“Charlus is right, Sirius,” Arcturus says. “You’re best placed to help Harry and Hermione if you go with them. The rest of you should come as soon as you all can and we’ll get the place under the Fidelius.”
Harry is swept up in a rush of goodbyes. He calls Godric to him.
Once they have boots and cloaks on, with provisions packed away in prepared rucksacks, they’re ready. A moment later they’re through the Floo stepping into Minerva’s office. The Deputy Headmistress nods at them, whirling around to lead them out of her office, out of Hogwarts and across the grounds to the forest.
There is a small gathering of Professors at the edge, along with a small group of Aurors.
Dumbledore is there, staring out into the forest with his hands on his hips, the picture of a fierce wizard. Hagrid sits on a log beside him, sobbing into an overlarge handkerchief, being comforted by Pomona and Stabling. There is a sizeable bump and bruise on his head.
James peels away from them to join the Aurors as Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Lily take their places with the other staff, Minerva heading to Dumbledore’s side.
“This is a bad bit of business,” Filius says.
“No doubt the children have simply run off,” Severus says, annoyance lacing through every word. He sneers at the gathering.
“Severus,” Lily remonstrates with him gently, “Bill Weasley is not the type of child to run off mischievously.” She frowns. “Neither is Sylvestre Malfoy for that matter.”
“Indeed not,” Horace says, wringing his hands. “The parents will have to be informed and Gaius Malfoy will not be pleased at this turn of events.”
Locke is almost vibrating, Harry notices. Sara stands beside Glass, Ariana and Pomfrey. She nods over in their direction. Harry frowns as he realises Wilde is missing.
“If I could have everyone’s attention!” Dumbledore says loudly.
They all turn to face him.
“Earlier today, Hagrid was out with two boys overseeing a detention when he was attacked,” Dumbledore states grimly. “The boys are missing. We believe they’re still in Hoggle Forest. I have sent a Patronus to the centaurs to help us. We will split into search parties.” He motions at Minerva.
“I will return to the school shortly to inform the boys’ parents,” Minerva says. “Healer Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey will remain in the infirmary, and they have provided us with the usual emergency portkeys there. I will also ask for Horace and Pomona to stay behind with me to assist in keeping the students safe in the castle.”
“Thank you, Minerva,” Dumbledore says. “Two Aurors will accompany each search party and…” he pauses as Glass raises her wand. “Yes, Professor Glass?”
“I feel I would be better to remain behind and see if I can locate them through my gifts,” Glass says.
Dumbledore’s jaw clenches. He waves his hand towards her. “We can spare you.” He resumes his speech. “As I was saying two Aurors will accompany each search party. If I may have Professor Flitwick and Evans as our first search party.”
Lily shoots them an encouraging smile and stand next to Flitwick. Harry watches as his father immediately joins them along with Bertie.
“Professor Black with Professor Locke,” Dumbledore continues. “Professor and Instructor Potter together, and Professor Wood with Professor Stabling. Apprentice Snape and I will be our last remaining search party. Please send a Patronus or send up a flare if you need to call for help.”
“Is Professor Wilde not joining us?” asks Locke sharply.
Harry is glad someone else has asked the question.
“He is out on family business today like many of our number,” Minerva says briskly. “He’s not yet returned following my summons to him.”
Harry frowns. He’s certain Wilde isn’t the spy or anchor but he can’t deny it unsettles him that he isn’t present.
They set off, Godric racing ahead into the trees. Harry and Hermione follow him. They are joined by two Aurors who introduce themselves cheerily as Todd and Linus, both mature men with thinning hair, one blond, one brunet. Harry is just pleased that Pettigrew isn’t with them; he’d gone with Sirius and Locke.
“I’m really pleased I decided to wear jeans and a thick jumper today,” Hermione mutters as they follow a path to the left of the one that would take them to where the unicorns used to graze.
“Me too,” Harry says.
There’s a sudden snap to their right and a yell followed by the bright yellow flare of a ‘help’ signal.
They leave the path, cutting through the trees until they emerge in the clearing where they find Sara tangled up with Devil’s Snare. She’s desperately trying to tug it off from around her left ankle and lower leg. It’s starting to creep up her leg.
There is no sign of Stabling or the two Aurors who are meant to be with her.
“Sara?” asks Hermione worriedly. She points her wand at the plant and sets it alight. “Are you alright? Where are the others?”
“They thought they saw something and went off after it,” Sara mutters from the ground. Her face is pale, splotched with red spots of anger. “I tried to follow, tripped and it snagged me.” She waves at the burnt husk of the plant. “I couldn’t remember how to deal with it.”
Harry offers her his hand. Linus stoops to help her too and between the two of them they help her off the ground.
Sara tries to put her previously tangled foot on the ground and winces. “Bugger, that hurts!”
“You should take one of the portkeys, head back to Hogwarts,” Hermione suggests, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
Sara nods and pulls out a sock. “Kippers!”
She disappears in a whirl of portkey magic.
Todd frowns as he stares towards the trees ahead. “’s not right that the others left her here.”
“Let’s keep going,” Harry says. They progress forward steadily. They’ve been searching for another twenty minutes when there is another flare of sparks ahead of them.
Harry isn’t surprised when they find a bleeding Stan Stabling and the two young Aurors who went with him fighting off a cloud of pixies. Godric bounds ahead and tries to bite them out of the air.
Harry raises his wand. “IMMOBILIS!”
The pixies freeze.
Hermione transfigures a crate from a nearby boulder and they sweep the lot of them into it.
The young Aurors collapse in an exhausted heap. Stabling sways and faints.
Todd hurries over to his colleagues while Harry, Linus and Hermione see to Stabling.
“We should take them to the infirmary,” Linus says. “We’ll also need to get those pixies to the Department to see about their rehoming.”
“You and Todd go ahead with that,” Harry suggests. “Hermione and I will meet up with Professor Black and his team. They went to search just to the right of here.”
Hermione and Harry watch as the Aurors apparate out of the forest with Stabling, their young colleagues and the crate of pixies.
Hermione grimaces. “This is all feeling a little familiar.”
“Deadly plant, flying objects,” Harry grimaces and nods. He pushes his glasses up his nose. “So, a troll, a chess game and poison to go?”
“Oh, I hope it’s not another troll,” Hermione says.
Godric leads them on, sniffing the ground every so often before running forward again.
A shout comes from their right and they hurry through the woodland to help…
They find Sirius and Pettigrew battling with a giant. The other Auror lies knocked out on the other side of the clearing.
Hermione heads to see to her while Harry joins Sirius’ side.
“Pettigrew, can you do an over-powered sleep spell?” Sirius snaps as he dodges another swipe from the giant’s massive hand.
“I can do whatever you can!” Pettigrew snarls.
“Then on three all of us together!” orders Harry. “One, two…” he ducks a hand trying to grab him, “three!”
“DORMUS!” They yell in unison.
The three spells impact the giant’s forehead together and slam into him with the force of a small cannon. His head snaps back and…he topples falling backwards and crashing through two large trees taking them to the ground with him.
There is a moment of total silence as they all stare at the felled giant.
Harry takes a deep breath. “Where’s Locke?”
“He ran off as soon as he saw the giant!” Pettigrew answers, furious. “Coward!”
Sirius nods, swiping at his brow. “For a Defence of the Dark Arts Professor, it was a truly disappointing showing.”
“I was disappointing too,” the grumble from the Auror getting to her feet has them all turning towards her.
Hermione has an arm around her as she staggers upwards. “She’s very bruised and needs to see a Healer.”
“I’m fine!”
“You’re finished here, Helen,” Pettigrew says firmly but kindly. “You’ve had a massive knock from that beast.” He sighs. “I’m going to have to take it the Department for containment.” He frowns. “Where are Johnson and Derby?”
Todd and Linus, Harry translates in his head.
“Professor Stabling’s lot got ambushed with pixies,” Hermione replies crisply. “They left to sort Professor Stabling and your colleagues to an infirmary and to contain the pixies.”
Pettigrew grimaces.
Helen gives a sharp gasp and clutches at her hip.
“Right,” Pettigrew says, “you’ll take the emergency portkey to the infirmary, I’ll apparate out with the big guy.”
Hermione offers one of the portkeys she’s carrying.
Helen sighs and nods for Hermione to step back. Her face contorts with pain. “Safety!”
She disappears.
Hermione crosses back over to stand beside Harry.
Pettigrew looks at the three of them. “Stay together and send for help if you need it.”
They all nod.
Pettigrew waves his wand at the giant, transfiguring him into a large log. He places a hand on it. They’re gone in a massive crack of apparition.
“Sensible,” Hermione says. “He’d never have been able to apparate with the mass of the giant itself.”
“Transfiguration was always Pettigrew’s best subject,” Sirius notes. He gestures to the woodland ahead. “Shall we?”
“We’re thinking there’ll be more traps ahead,” Hermione says as they set off again.
“Of course there are,” Sirius mutters darkly. “They must have used our absence yesterday to set everything up.”
Harry looks at him sharply. “You think they planned this?”
“What about Bill and Malfoy’s duel?” Hermione says, frowning. “They couldn’t have planned that could they?”
Harry sighs. “All it needs is for a parent to ask one of the kids to set it up.”
“Malfoy’s?” asks Hermione.
“Or someone close to him,” Harry says. “I’m surprised Bill got himself drawn in though.”
But then hadn’t he gotten drawn in similarly to a fake duel by Draco because Ron had been gung-ho. He can imagine Harriet playing Ron’s role in whatever confrontation happened between Bill and Sylvestre.
Sirius looks as though he’s about to answer when they see a flare of orange lights to their right.
They exchange a quick look of concern but they start running hurriedly towards it. They stop in a weird clearing – it’s more like a widening of the rough trampled path than a true space.
In the centre, James, Lily and Filius are stood around is what appears to be two statues, one of a Hogwarts student and another of an Auror…
Harry swallows. It’s one of the boys, he realises, and Bertie…
They hurry to join them.
Harry takes one look at the boy statue close-up and identifies Sylvestre Malfoy.
“The Medusa curse,” Filius says sombrely. He gestures towards the splintered remains of a tree to their side. “It was embedded into that tree.”
Harry shivers as he scours the ground. There are two shattered mirrors, shard of polished glass in amongst the wood.
“You managed to save yourselves with mirrors,” Hermione says, relieved.
“Just barely,” Lily says, rubbing her upper arms as though she’s cold. “Bertie walked right into it when he rushed to see Malfoy’s statue.”
James grimaces. “We should take them back. The potion to counter the curse will be available at Saint Mungo’s.”
“I will take them with the emergency portkey,” Filius says. He bows a touch to James. “Thank you for saving me from the curse, James.”
“Anytime, Professor,” James says sincerely.
Filius moves so he is touching both statues, his right hand clutches the portkey. He closes his eyes. “Safety.”
They watch him whirl away.
“Onwards together then?” James says. He frowns. “What happened to your lot?”
They explain as they make their search.
They’ve fallen silent by the time they come to a wide clearing with a large metal cage in the centre. They freeze as they take in the wide-eyed scared boy tied up and gagged within it, his bright red hair giving away his identity. Beyond the cage is a large thorny hedge almost as high as the trees, stretching out to block the way forward.
Lily makes to move forward and James stops her with a hand on her arm.
“We need to make sure it’s safe or we might end up like Bertie,” James says grimly. “Sirius, you take the right side and I’ll take the left.
Sirius nods.
They both raise their wands but before they can cast, masked figures emerge from the trees to the far left and right.
Death Eaters.
One after another until all five are lined up beyond the cage and in front of the hedge.
“Five of them, two missing,” James says in a clipped voice.
“We should raise a flare,” Lily says, her voice shaking a touch. “Dumbledore’s party is likely still in the woods and can come and help.”
Before any of them can agree, a frightened cry of an animal in pain rents the air from behind the hedge.
“They’re torturing the foal,” Hermione says, horrified.
“They’re trying to draw the mother out,” Harry says, realising what Riddle is doing immediately. “He must be desperate.”
One of the five masked figures shifts impatiently and suddenly shoots a crack of green magic towards Sirius.
Sirius conjures a concrete slab to meet the Killing curse as they dive for cover behind trees.
Sirius looks over at Harry as the wizards start advancing towards them, towards the cage. “Anyone have a plan?”
Harry grimaces. “Lily, your priority is to get to the cage. Use the emergency portkey and get you and Bill out of here.”
Lily nods.
“James, Sirius,” Harry says, drawing both wizards’ attention even as he reaches into his pocket for his broomstick. “You focus on giving Lily cover and taking out these wizards. If you can incapacitate them, they’re likely to disappear.”
He resizes his broomstick and tuns to Hermione.
She swallows hard and shakes her head. “You’ll need speed. You won’t have it if you try and fly both of us over that hedge.”
“She’s right,” James says.
A yellow spell hits a tree by Sirius and cleaves it in two.
Hermione’s soft gaze meets his before she springs forward to hug him tightly. “You’ll have to go alone, but remember…”
“Friendship, bravery and…” Harry murmurs.
“Love,” Hermione completes. She kisses him and whispers something in his ear.
James coughs as another spell hits the grass in front of them sending dirt into the air. “Go, we’ll give you cover. Everybody get ready and…”
Harry climbs on the broomstick and takes one last look at Hermione…
…and they move.
Harry speeds off, keeping low. He targets the nearest Death Eater with an exploding charm. He manages to blow up the wand in the wizard’s hand and they wink out almost immediately in portkey magic like they had at the centaur village. He ducks a red spell shot his way, and a green, and he yanks back on the broom as he nears the hedge and…
He’s almost vertical and…
Another spell smacks into the hedge by his side and he swerves a little and…
He’s clear and he spins in mid-air before diving down…
The foal is in the centre of the clearing. A masked figure stands over him. There is no sign of a seventh wizard, but Harry knows Riddle might be concealed.
Another spell sizzles through the air as the Death Eater below turns to fight him. He snaps off a spell of his own.
It impacts between them and the foal, driving the masked figure away from it.
He spins around, avoiding the returning fire and dives towards the foal.
The Death Eater stumbles away from the foal as Harry jumps off his broom to land beside the injured creature, wand at the ready.
“Back off!” Harry orders. “The unicorns are under my protection!”
There is an audible snarl and the Death Eater casts a pale blue pain spell towards him. He shields. “ACCIO MASK!”
The mask tears off and reveals…
Sara Wood.
The very person who Hermione had told him not to trust.
Sara twirls her wand and glares at him. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“I assume the real Sara Wood is dead,” Harry states gruffly. “You took her place in Hogwarts to spy for Riddle.”
“She’s alive still, but perhaps not for long,” the cruel smile doesn’t belong on Sara’s face. “Now you have discovered me, I will have to kill you, and if I cannot kill you, she has no need to exist.”
She throws another spell towards him – a cutting spell with no counter. He shoves a nearby log in its path.
The foal is struggling to its feet, weak with pain.
Sara snarls and sends another curse to make the foal cry. Harry intercepts it with a counter. And the next she sends. And the next.
“Enough!” The command comes from the treeline.
Riddle emerges from the shadows. He takes his mask off and throws back his hood. The decay is evident. The skin is grey and shines with sweat. His nose is half-gone along with one of his ears. There are only thin clumps of dark greying hair on his mottled head.
“My Lord,” the witch wearing Sara’s face goes to her knee.
Riddle’s pale blue eyes meet his across the clearing. “Harry Potter.”
“Tom Riddle,” Harry replies caustically.
He can still hear spell fire beyond the hedge. He hopes Hermione is safe.
“Yes, I believe I have you to thank for revealing the weak name my mother chose, to the Ministry,” Riddle sneers. “Soon they will only know me by the name I have chosen, Lord Voldemort!”
“I also told them you made that name up when you were an angsty teenager,” Harry retorts, “nobody’s impressed.”
Riddle bares his teeth as he takes a step towards him. “You will soon regret coming to this world, boy. I will kill you first and then I’ll kill your wife!”
“You can try!” Harry says fiercely. “Your counterpart failed every time.”
“I am not your pathetic version!” Riddle roars. He gestures at not-Sara. “See to the foal! I’ll take care of this boy!”
Riddle attacks with a barrage of spells.
Harry defends himself, but as he counters spell after spell, he finds himself driven away from the foal.
The young unicorn cries out in pain as it is hit with a torture curse.
Harry deflects the next spell Riddle sends his way towards the witch, and it causes her to break off the Cruciatus as she dives out of the way.
Riddle sends a conjured snake towards him and Harry darts away, snapping out Sectumsempra to kill it and…
What if…
Things have been different and yet the same, Harry muses. Traps to find a treasure versus traps to find a unicorn…
The foal screams.
Harry rolls to avoid another spell and leaps…
He tackles Riddle to the ground and grasps his wrists and…
The smell of burning flesh fills his nose.
Riddle growls as he tries to yank himself away…glaring hatefully into Harry’s intent gaze as he holds on tightly, flesh beginning to smoke under Riddle’s robes and…
The foal screams again.
There is a distant thunder of hooves and…
“LET GO OF HIM!” The witch cries out. She shoots a spell at Harry and Harry jerks to avoid it, letting of Riddle and…
Harry dives to the ground to avoid another disembowelling spell…
The thunder is closer, vibrating through the floor of the forest…
Riddle brings his wand to bear on Harry and…
The foal cries…
Harry’s breath catches in his throat and…
A unicorn horn pierces through Riddle’s chest.
There is a moment of shocked silence. It’s as though the world has stopped turning.
Riddle’s face is a picture of stunned disbelief.
“NO!” The witch brings her wand up to kill the unicorn mare who has destroyed the body Riddle occupies.
Harry snaps his own wand up. “EXPELLIARMUS!”
The wand rips out of the witch’s hand and slaps into Harry’s.
Riddle’s body disintegrates and his soul writhes in the air as a formless black cloud as it screams in anger. The witch opens her arms and the black cloud of Riddle streams into her and…
They’re gone.
Harry sinks to the ground as the unicorn mare brays her victory and sees to her foal.
It’s over.
Chapter 14: The Temple of Avalon
Chapter Text
Harry takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. He thinks about his love for Hermione and casts his Patronus.
Prongs stands before him shimmering with magic.
“Go to Hermione,” Harry says. “Tell her I have the foal and its mother. I’ll lead them back to the temple to join the others.”
Prongs canters away.
Suddenly, a low part of the hedge starts to burn…
Harry hurries to place himself between the hedge and the unicorns. He raises his wand and stands ready.
A part of the hedge disappears and…
Harry’s heart pounds in his chest…
James steps through.
Harry bends over double to catch his breath.
James’ gaze sweeps over everything. “We’re good!” He steps forward and Sirius steps through the opening.
They walk over, glancing warily at the unicorns.
Harry straightens. “Hermione? Lily?”
“Hermione took Bill back with Lily,” James says. “She said they needed to see if Sara was being kept hostage in the castle somehow since someone had impersonated her in the search. Lily took a glancing blow which broke her arm, Hermione has some bruises from diving into a bush, but if you check through the family magic, you’ll find that they’re both well.”
Harry remembers with chagrin that he could have checked in on all of them with the family magic.
Sirius nods. “James managed to blast one of them. Whoever it is will only have one arm now.”
James shrugs as Harry looks over at him. “I’ve learned not to take chances.”
“One of them was determined to cut you in ribbons,” Sirius comments.
“Did I thank you for knocking him out yet?” asks James with a grin.
Harry rolls his eyes at their antics. He can see the beginning, he realises – he can see the seeds of the friendship that would lead them into calling each other brothers.
“We need to get these unicorns back to the temple,” Harry says. “The mare managed to fatally wound Riddle’s body when I had him distracted, it disintegrated.”
“His soul survived though?” Sirius asks.
“It formed up into this black cloud thing and went into the witch who was helping him,” Harry grimaces with renewed disgust, “the one wearing Sara’s face.”
“It’s likely that she is the anchor then,” James murmurs. He pushes a hand through his already dishevelled hair.
Harry nods. “We’ll have to go on foot to the temple.”
He reaches for his miniaturised trunk, enlarges it and dives into it for supplies. He hands both James and Sirius fresh water bottles and refills his own. They take a few spare potions before he closes the trunk up. He retrieves his broom, miniaturises it and the trunk. The latter goes back around his neck, and the former he puts again in his outer robe pocket.
Harry approaches the foal and mare with caution and bows to the mother. “Will you follow us back to the temple, my friend?”
She tosses her head and snorts. She sets off, the foal following her.
“I guess she wants to lead,” James says cheerfully.
Sirius looks at Harry. “We’ll make better time if we can canter with her. Do you want a ride?”
“I can get back on my broom…”
Sirius shifts. A huge black stag looks back at Harry and very pointedly turns his head to look at his own back before returning his silver gaze to Harry once more.
“Come on,” James tugs him around Sirius’ body. He helps give him a boost so that Harry can ride the stag.
Harry grimaces. It’s not the most comfortable position but he knows Sirius is right. They’ll make better time with him riding.
James shifts and a wondrous white stag stands next to them.
They hurry after the unicorns.
It’s not that far to one of the magical doors to the temple’s grounds, Harry realises.
There was no one single path, no single entrance. There were doors and paths to the temple left all over the lands once known as Albion if someone knew what to seek.
The unicorns had simply made for the entrance nearest to them.
There was a portal under the Lake near to the merfolk. Another at Stonehenge hidden in the standing stones. A plain wooden door in the derelict ruins of an old fort in Wales. A cave on the Cornish coast. A fairy hill in Northumberland.
Doors all over because the temple was built with the magic of the Fae and has never existed in the world of humanity.
Harry notes that they’ve started travelling uphill and leans forward to balance his weight better. They’re making good time, traversing a good distance of the Forest, moving further and further away from Hogwarts.
He estimates that he’s been riding for almost thirty minutes when they weave through a tightly packed section of trees and come out at a beautiful glen bordered by a steep hill with a waterfall running down its grey rocky side and forming a meandering stream.
Harry figures the water probably runs down to the Black Lake.
The unicorn mare steps into the gently running water and turns towards the hill, her foal follows her.
They pause and watch as both unicorns walk under the waterfall spray and disappear into the hillside.
Harry slides from Sirius’ back and stands by the stream.
A moment later, the white and black stags are once again in their wizard forms. They all look apprehensive.
Harry steps into the stream. Sirius and James follow him as they walk slowly towards the waterfall.
He steels himself for getting drenched and feels Sirius cast a spell to keep them dry a moment before the water is due to hit them.
He walks through the spray and closing his eyes he steps into the rocky side of the hill…
…and out into a peaceful, but wild and overrun garden.
The unicorns are nowhere in sight.
The Temple of Avalon is just ahead of them, a white castle with four towers that reminds Harry of drawings in old storybooks. His breath catches in his throat.
James stands beside him as they look up at the castle walls with its old-fashioned turrets ideal for archers. “Wow.”
“It’s stunning,” Sirius agrees.
Harry feels the family magic vibrate a little and he knows his family is ahead already in the castle. Hermione and Lily feel very distant, and the predominant emotion he senses from both is determination.
They head into the castle.
The castle gate leads them into a small courtyard. The fountains still work, a soothing tinkling flow of water into deep basins in each quadrant. They make their way into the great hall at the end of the courtyard.
Charlus, Arcturus and Dorea stand by the thin tall windows talking quietly. They turn as Harry enters, closely followed by Sirius and James, and their faces break into three different expressions of pleased relief.
Within moments they all find themselves being hugged tightly.
Harry steps back from Charlus and finds himself tugged into another hug with Dorea. When she finally lets him go, Arcturus pulls him in for a brief time.
“Where’s Reg?” asks Sirius.
“Your sister went to explore,” Arcturus says sombrely. “I left her in the Lady’s solar.” He points to the door to the left. “Through that way and down to the far tower. She’s in the basement there.”
There is a strange note to his voice and Harry wonders at it. He sees Sirius do the same because he hesitates.
Sirius finally nods and heads off.
“How did it go?” asks Dorea, her gaze darting to the door as though expecting to see Hermione and Lily.
Harry briefly explains what happened. He’s just finishing when there is a sound by the courtyard door and they all turn in unison to see Hermione and Lily entering.
Harry immediately crosses to his wife. He hugs her close and eases back to cup her face in both hands and kiss her gently.
Hermione looks fine except for a bruise and scrape across her right temple. He places a gentle kiss on the injury.
“You took a bit of a knock,” Harry murmurs.
“I fell on my head,” Hermione says sheepishly. “I need to learn to dive better.” She looks over him critically. “You seem remarkably fine.”
Harry shrugs. “Riddle did a disappearing act but he doesn’t have a body thanks to being impaled on a unicorn.”
“You sound very gleeful about that,” Hermione says, amused.
“How did you get here so quickly?” asks Harry.
“Your wife brought us through the Room of Requirement,” Lily explains.
Harry steps back from Hermione and warmly hugs Lily. She looks tired and grim.
“There was a witch wearing Sara’s face torturing the foal,” Harry says bluntly. “Did you manage to find Sara?”
Hermione shakes her head. “I don’t think it was Polyjuice like Moody,” she says, “I think it was witchcraft of some kind.”
“Sorcery,” Lily says. “Filius says there are a few Egyptian practices that might account for it. He says the Pharoahs used to steal faces from others so they could appear young.”
Harry grimaces. “I take it you reported it to the Aurors.”
“Moody sent Pettigrew out with another couple of Aurors to search Sara’s home flat,” Hermione says. “Maybe they’ll be able to track her down.”
Harry thinks it’s more likely that they’ll never find a body. He feels helpless but there is little he can add to the Auror search.
“Dumbledore arrived back with Snape just before we left,” Hermione says in a clipped tone. “Apparently they picked up Bill’s dropped tie and it portkeyed them into some kind of locked trap where they had to puzzle their way out.”
“All of the party?” asks Charlus, his eyebrows raised. “That seems unlikely.”
“The Aurors with them were left behind,” Hermione says.
Lily nods. “They got stuck in some kind of quicksand.”
“How are the two students?” asks Dorea.
“Bill’s bruised. He says he was briefly knocked out and when he came to, Malfoy was gone and he was tied up and locked in the cage,” Hermione says. “Molly and Arthur were with him when we left.”
“And the Malfoy boy?” asks Charlus.
“Gaius Malfoy was making arrangements to transport Malfoy’s statue home for healing,” Lily says. “He’s going to buy a potion abroad rather than wait for Snape to create it at Hogwarts. He basically said he’ll be sending Sylvestre to Durmstrang for the rest of the year.”
“I can’t blame him for that,” Dorea says. “I might have threatened the same if James had been abducted from the safety of the school during a detention.”
“Stupid thing to give them a detention in Hoggle Forest!” Charlus says. “We always had detentions in the castle. Only the Professors went anywhere near the forest, and then it was usually for potion ingredients.”
Dorea nods and pats his arm consolingly.
Harry notices how Arcturus is staring back towards the door where Sirius had gone. “Is everything alright, Arcturus?”
Arcturus startles as though surprised by Harry realising something is amiss, only for a note of chagrin to ping down their family bond.
Arcturus pinches his nose. “I fear our want to protect the temple has gotten more complicated.”
“What do you mean?” asks Charlus.
Dorea looks at Arcturus with understanding. “This is to do with Regina’s discussion with Mab during the ritual, isn’t it, Arcturus?”
Arcturus sighs. “Follow me.”
They all exchange a concerned glance before hurrying after Arcturus as he strides away, through the door he had directed Sirius towards.
The stone corridor leads to a small room with shelves of books and furniture covered with dustsheets.
Hermione gasps. Harry takes her hand and tugs her away. He has a feeling he’d lose her for days if they stopped. A quick look behind him reveals James doing the same with Lily.
“Later, dear,” Dorea says to Charlus.
They take the next door and move into a stone corridor. There is a beautiful mural on the inner wall depicting scenes of magical creatures in between windows out to the courtyard. To their right, there are occasional doors which likely lead to rooms with hidden treasures.
They ignore all of them as Arcturus continues down the corridor. He opens the end door which leads to the tower and ushers them into the small hallway. A stone staircase is hewn along the wall, spiralling upwards and down.
Arcturus leads them down the stairs and they enter a large circular basement room.
Harry’s attention is immediately arrested by the flowing fountain of magic in the centre of the space, a real sword held in the stone statue of a standing Arthur, his stone hands clasping the pommel of the sword as he had done when he had appeared during Harry’s Wizengamot visit. Gold magic runs rivulets down the stone and disappears into the golden pool of magic in the basin.
This must be the doorway, Harry realises; the anchor of the in-between and Camelot’s sleep; the magic that will one day return their King.
The family magic swells with worry and Harry’s head snaps away from the sight of Excalibur to the far side of the room.
Sirius and Regina are there, hugging tightly, their eyes closed and heads bowed into one another’s shoulders.
Harry can feel their bubbling emotions in the family magic and he shields himself tighter against the raging grief in Sirius and the grim determination in Regina.
He shifts his gaze away from the siblings and looks around the room.
Most of the furnishings still have their dust coverings, but a large white wooden desk sits on the left. There is a closed door in the same wood beyond it.
Shelves fill the right wall in a half-arc, filled with books and tomes, scrolls and parchments.
Arcturus coughs deliberately to get the attention of his grandchildren.
Sirius looks up and blinks. “Grandfather.” He glances around and registers them all. He keeps hold of Regina as they turn to face them, his arm around her back.
Harry can see Regina’s upset in her red eyes and tear-streaked face.
“Arcturus says there’s a complication,” Charlus states briskly.
Sirius nods. “Reg?”
She straightens in her brother’s hold. “A Fidelius won’t work. The temple sits in a magical space where the borders transcend the land. We won’t be able to set the runes properly.”
Dorea nods and breathes out sharply at the news. “I thought as much.”
“Me too,” Hermione says with a sigh. “But the truth is that the only protection the temple has had is gone. Riddle knows that the centaurs can help him find paths here.”
“It’s a miracle that wizarding kind hasn’t stumbled into the temple through one of the doors left behind before,” Lily says.
Regina swipes at her face and shakes her head. “During the ritual, I spoke with Mab, she explained the protections. This is Fae land, neither of the world nor apart from it. It cannot be hidden by the spell of a wizard, only of the Fae. Vivien cast the spell to hide the temple from wizarding kind including a kind of notice-me-not on the doors should they come across them. We were exempted when Merlin cast for us to have the knowledge.”
“You’re descended from Mab,” Lily states, wide-eyed.
“My Grandmother’s maternal line descends from the Fae,” Regina agrees. “I can cast a new protection but it will take another coven ritual.” She takes a trembling breath.
“And what about this upsets you so?” asks Dorea gently.
Regina bites her lip.
“The only way to ensure the safety of the temple is to close the doors or to prevent any magical being from finding them,” Hermione reasons out loud. “Either will take a great deal of power.”
“And it will need an anchor to stay stable, ideally within the temple,” Lily says softly. “Vivien stayed here until she passed.”
Harry swallows hard as he realises what that means: Regina will stay within the temple, within this land of the Fae.
He can see the grief already lining Arcturus’ and Sirius’ faces. Regina will not die, but she will be gone from them.
“Mab believes it best to close the doors,” Regina says. “One will remain open, the one which was always hidden from all magical kind beyond the Fae and their Priestesses.” She gestures to the white wooden door behind the desk. “Beyond it is the bottom of Black Lake.”
The Lady of the Lake, Harry muses. It explains the stories of how Vivien would appear, rising up from under the water.
Hermione clears her throat. “What about leaving all but two doors? The door to the Lake and another?”
“It creates a risk of Riddle finding it,” Regina says. “We cannot take the chance. Only we know the Lake door now and only I can pass through it.”
“Then we do this,” Sirius says roughly, “but we look for other ways that allow us to visit, or you to leave for periods of time to visit us.”
“Or a different way to protect the temple,” Hermione says firmly. “This is not the end of it.”
They all add their agreement and Regina nods, but he can tell she’s not confident of their future success.
“We should prepare for the ritual,” Regina says. “I want to do it at soon in the sun.”
“Won’t it wait a week?” asks Sirius. “You could come back and say your goodbyes? You’ll need your things and…”
“I already packed and I have left letters from my friends saying I am going abroad on an adventure and will be out of contact,” Regina says gently, taking his hand in hers. “I knew before we came what I would need to do.” She cups her brother’s cheek and wipes away the tear that slides down his face. “I have always known my destiny is to live beneath the water.”
Sirius pulls her into another embrace and Arcturus moves to join them, his arms encircling both his grandchildren.
Harry slides an arm around Hermione who swipes tears away from her own face.
For a long moment, the Blacks simply hold each other.
Finally, Arcturus moves back. His eyes are bright and shimmer with tears but he straightens his shoulders. “Let me try something. Mogby to me!”
A female house elf pops into the room and looks around wild-eyed, her ears waggling furiously. “Fae-land!” She whispers.
Regina looks as though she’s about to protest, but Arcturus holds up a hand. “Mogby, I would like to request that you stay here with Regina and attend her. It is a request only, but know that if you accept, she will hold your bond and become your witch. You will live here in the land of the Fae with her.”
Mogby looks to Regina who smiles gently. “Only if you wish Mogby.”
“I wills stay,” Mogby holds out her hand to Regina who grasps it gently. There is a flash of magic between them.
Harry lets a small sigh of relief escape him. Regina will have company and companionship. The house elves. Their popping magic may also still work regardless of the protection, Harry muses. It will help them communicate with her if that is so. They can send parchments back and forth – or mirrors. Maybe the Mischief Makers enchanted communication mirrors the same way his Marauders had done.
Regina smiles brightly, her eyes still damp. “Let’s prepare.”
It feels like it takes no time at all for them to learn the ritual, before they all troop back out of the castle and through the gardens into a wild meadow beyond.
Harry’s eyes widen at the sight of the unicorn herd, peacefully grazing. There are so many of them. Overhead, there is a cry of a hawk and he finds one circling in the blue cloudless sky.
Regina leads them into the centre of the meadow where the green grass is spotted with white and yellow daises under their bare feet.
Mogby has already taken their shoes and socks to the Room of Requirement – Regina will hold that door open long enough for them to leave.
Harry takes place in the circle. Instead of them each holding candles, they all join hands together – nine of them instead of seven as Arcturus and Charlus will be part of the ritual.
“I call upon the ancient magic of Avalon to hear this plea,” Regina begins, “your people call you to service.”
The rustle of the wind through the grass disappears.
“We protect this land,” Regina continues strongly. “I, Priestess of Avalon, daughter of Mab call upon the ancient magic and our own in this ritual to hide the temple; to hide Avalon; we hide all doors but mine, hide and keep hidden this secret within mine own magic, protect all within the temple and its lands. I command it as the new Queen of the Fae!”
Harry feels his magic rising to meet the call, it shimmers on his skin.
Yet…it will not be enough, it will not be enough to do what needs to be done, and…
Suddenly the unicorns move, they race towards them like a whirlwind…
“Stay in the circle!” Regina calls out before any of them can move to counter the unicorns.
Harry watches wild-eyed as the unicorns slow and surround them, pen them in.
And Harry suddenly feels a horn touching his joined hands on either side. He turns his head and sees a unicorn bowing its head at every joined hand so that their horns are placed on top. Beyond them, every unicorn touches another – joined together.
Their pure magic races through the circle like a lightning storm and…
Suddenly there is a boom like thunder and…
It is done.
Harry can feel it down to his soul.
The doors are closed.
Regina takes another breath. “The ancient magic of Avalon has answered our call. Our friends have answered our call. Our own magic has answered our call. We thank magic. We thank our circle and leave it unbroken.”
There is a rush of warm magic around the circle and it ripples out across the unicorn herd.
Regina breathes in and turns to the large stallion beside her. “My thanks, Friend.”
The stallion steps away and leads the unicorns away.
Regina looks first to Sirius and then to Arcturus beside her. She lets go of their hands gently. She waves her hand behind her and a Hogwarts door appears.
“This will lead you back to the Room of the Requirement, but we must hurry,” Regina says, smiling sadly.
She steps to the side.
The rest of them carefully untangle their hands although Harry keeps hold of Hermione’s and he sees James keep hold of Lily’s.
Charlus and Dorea go through the door first, hugging Regina on their way. James and Lily follow.
Hermione and Harry let go of each other’s hand and hug Regina to them together.
“We’ll work this our end and you do the same here,” Hermione says. “There has to be another way.”
“Or we’ll make it safe for you to reopen the doors,” Harry says.
“Take care of each other,” Regina says, tearfully. “Take care of Sirius for me.”
“We will,” they say in unison.
They step away and cast one last look behind them before walking through the open door and into the warmth of the Room of the Requirement.
It’s set up as a simple space – an empty stone room lit with wall sconces either side. Their shoes are all lined up on the right wall.
Charlus and Dorea are in conjured chairs, tying the laces on their boots. James and Lily are pulling on their footwear on the floor.
Harry heads over with Hermione to retrieve their shoes. He’s done pushing his feet into his boots when Arcturus and Sirius step through the door and it immediately disappears behind them.
Arcturus places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.
Harry moves to comfort them and Hermione follows. Their four-way hug lasts a while and when they emerge from it, the Potters are already gone from the room along with Lily.
“Come,” Arcturus says gruffly. “We shall need to armour ourselves for questions and discussions.”
They leave the room.
“You should both head to the infirmary to get checked out from your battles,” Arcturus says, waving a hand between Sirius and Harry. “I have to return home and ensure Regina’s letters are sent and that everything is taken care of so as to not draw attention.”
Sirius nods. “Grandfather.”
“We will prevail, Sirius,” Arcturus says, “and we will be with her again one day, I am certain of it.”
Sirius nods briskly.
Hermione takes Harry’s hand and he squeezes it comfortingly.
Arcturus walks away towards the main staircase and the front entrance. Harry nudges Sirius and the three of them walk to the infirmary.
Their examination is brief.
Ariana is apparently with Bertie’s statue, and it is Poppy who sees to them. She declares them bruised and magically spent. She orders rest and gives them salve before sending them on their way.
They step out of the main doors and almost bump into Remus Lupin.
“Baron Blackthorn, Lord and Lady Peverell,” he stutters. “My apologies.”
“Lupin,” Sirius nods and darts away before anything more can be said.
“It’s good to see you back from abroad,” Harry says diplomatically to ease the awkwardness of the moment. “James will be pleased to see you.”
Remus flushes red. “Yes, I…I’ll be pleased to see him too.” His fingers play nervously with his frayed tie.
“Are you here to see Bertie?” asks Hermione politely.
“I am,” Remus says hurriedly. “Peter contacted me and told me what had happened. A Medusa curse?”
Hermione nods. “I’m certain he’ll be back to normal soon. The Headmaster has asked Severus to make the counter-potion.”
Remus flinches a touch. “Right, Severus.”
“Well, we won’t keep you,” Harry says, desperate to escape the conversation. He nods and offers Hermione his arm.
She takes it and with a nod of her own at Remus, they walk away from the werewolf.
A quick look over his shoulder confirms that he went into the infirmary as soon as they left him.
They’re quiet on the way back to their quarters, tired and heartsore from Regina’s fate. It feels unfair.
The whole day feels like a dream.
The communal quarters are empty and they head to their own suite. A hot shower and some food, Harry thinks. He has no doubt that they’ll be called upon soon enough to debrief with the Council.
He’s almost right.
Just after dinner a house elf pops by and informs them that there is an impromptu staff meeting.
Sirius and Lily are waiting for them by the door and the four of them walk wearily to the staff room.
Harry takes his seat with subdued greetings to the others. The injured Stabling is missing along with Sara. Glass sits huddled in a thick woollen shawl. Locke sits, arms folded, and with a belligerent expression on his face. Filius, Pomona, Horace, and Minerva all wear sombre expressions. Wilde is back from his own family business and sits quietly. Argus Filch lurks at the back wall along with Severus.
Dumbledore sweeps in with a man following in his wake.
Harry looks over the newcomer. Harry doesn’t know who he is, but there is something familiar about him, something in the line of his jaw and the shape of his nose. His black hair is trimmed very short to his head, and he is clean shaven.
“Good, we’re all here,” Dumbledore says briskly. He stands at the head of the table. “Firstly, thank you to all of you for your efforts today in either keeping the castle and students safe, or in searching for our missing students.”
Harry rubs his chin thoughtfully.
“The boys were abducted by a new group of dark wizards, hoping to distract the Aurors from a crime,” Dumbledore explains. “We recovered both boys who were thankfully not harmed permanently or gravely. Still, Mister Malfoy has been removed from the school by his father and will no longer attend. Mister Weasley has been treated and is back in Gryffindor tower.”
Hermione sighs beside him.
“During the search, it was revealed that a witch has been impersonating Sara Wood,” Dumbledore presses his lips together. “Based on the evidence the Aurors uncovered, it would appear that she was replaced before she arrived here. I have turned over all the belongings she had in her quarters to the Aurors.”
Harry exchanges a quick look with Hermione. Neither of them is surprised given their own knowledge, but they can see a ripple of startled faces around the table in some of the other Professors.
“Fortunately, my nephew has recently arrived back from his travels abroad and will be able to step into the position of the Astronomy Professor,” Dumbledore continues. “Let me introduce you to him: Aurelius Dumbledore.”
The man stands and bows his head. He looks up with dark eyes to survey them all as they utter hasty greetings and welcomes.
“Thank you,” Aurelius says with a smile that has the hair on the back of Harry’s neck rising. “I look forward to getting to know you all.” His gaze meets Harry’s briefly before he sits back down.
There is little more to the staff meeting. Dumbledore announces that the Hoggle Forest is now forbidden to students and detentions will only be held in the castle.
It feels a little like shutting the door once the horse has bolted and Harry pays little attention to it.
He leaves with the others as they all filter back to their personal quarters. Sirius excuses him, still heart-torn from earlier events and Lily says a quiet goodnight.
Hermione and Harry head into their own bedroom without discussion.
Harry sits on the end of the bed. Hermione sits beside him and rests her head on his shoulder as their hands tangle together.
“Had you ever heard of Dumbledore having a nephew before?” asks Harry.
Hermione hums. “There was an allusion to it in one of Rita’s interviews about her biography of Dumbledore back on our world. She said that there were rumours of Aberforth having an illegitimate child that he gave up, only the child ended up in the service of Grindelwald.”
“I think he’s trouble,” Harry admits.
“Me too,” Hermione agrees. She sighs. “Today doesn’t feel like a win, does it?”
Harry shakes his head. He drops a kiss on the top of her head and she shifts to look at him.
“Riddle’s a wraith, the unicorns are safe,” Harry says. “We have time to figure out how to defeat him.”
“Time to figure out how to defeat this Evil we’re meant to battle,” Hermione adds. “Time to figure out how we can make sure Regina isn’t trapped in the temple for the rest of her life.”
Harry kisses her and for a long moment they lose themselves to feeling their love and affection, to their friendship, to knowing they’ve both made it through alive.
Hermione eases back and rests her head back on his shoulder. Harry breathes in the scent of her, lets her weight against him comfort him.
Soon, Harry thinks, they’ll go to bed and sleep. Tomorrow, they’ll get up and be teachers. They’ll comfort Sirius. They’ll plan their next step in fighting Riddle, and fighting Evil.
But for this moment, Harry muses wearily, for this night he’ll be with Hermione and hold her; they’ll be together and simply be.
fin.