Reading Time: 98 Minutes

Title: Stone of Theia
Author: MykkiTno
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Drama, Family, Mystery, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel
Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape/Sirius Black
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Incest, Major Character Death, Slavery, Torture, Violence-Graphic, Violence-Against Children/Child Abuse. Depression, Death/Murder, Discussion of genocide/terrorism, Potion control, Mind control, Bigotry, Homophobia, Sexism
Author Note: Warnings explained. re: Major Character Death – as it pertains to time travel, and references to canon deaths for those that remember the alternate timeline, plus a few extras in new Timelines. re: Incest – discussion with Pureblood families – Draco/Harry could be considered 2nd cousins.
Alpha: Hourstillnoon. Shout out for Alphaing the story for me, and stopping me from spiralling, in addition to my co-workers (Vi and Sav) for letting me ramble. This probably wouldn’t be the story it is without your help and patience.
Word Count: 139864
Summary: After the war, haunted by Grimmauld and suffering from dreams and visions, Harry finds himself in an otherwise empty room, except for a rune-covered table and a crystal ball. Not understanding the significance, he grabs the ball intending to throw it.

The next thing he knows, he’s holding an amulet, there’s a ring on his finger, and he can hear Sirius pounding on the wall. Offered a chance to change things, he knows nothing will be the same again.
Artist: Coco
Artist Appreciation: I want to thank my artist again for the beautiful work they did. It’s humbling to see how the story I crafted can be visualized by others

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CHAPTER SEVEN

August 21st, 1995

“You absolute tosser!

It’s taken me five days to find the words to write you back, and I still don’t know how I will react face to face.

You saved my life and that of my mother by doing whatever you did, and I will forever be thankful. You tried your best before, but we both know the ministry was corrupt.

It is entirely possible that the Black family magic saw something worse in that future that brought us back, though admittedly, it does make me leery that Aunt Bella is included in those who know.

Mother swears she wasn’t always like that. There had been a time when Bella had been joyful and sunny, though she suffered from night terrors that grew progressively worse until Bella was trying to manage them on her own because everyone had stopped believing anything she said. The last happy memory mother has is when Bella would have been sixteen, the summer mother got her Hogwarts letter, and Bella took her there, her other sister refusing to go, to Black Lake, a family manor any could access. Mother says they were only there for the weekend, but it was the happiest and most carefree she’d felt in a long time and has never achieved since. One of the things that stood out to Mother was Bella’s insistence that she always honour family. ‘Keep it close, teach it to your son, guard it zealously, and stay always pure so that you will be saved.’ Within a week of that visit, Bella changed. It was gradual but noticeable- odd things that screamed something was wrong, but mother never found out what….

Sorry, I started rambling, and my mother has already despaired over the opening salutations – she doesn’t know I contemplate sending a howler. Still, I wasn’t sure where you were and had vague memories that it might be a Black property with other individuals. So, I tried to explain it was us, but I don’t think she understood.

And if you don’t understand, I need you to know that even without saving my life and then doing your damndest to keep it breathing, all I ever wanted was to be your friend.

You mentioned understanding family in a way you hadn’t before, and I understand and sympathize with that feeling. Assuming my position as the Patriarch of the Malfoy line has been a humbling and eye-opening experience. It has made my resentment for Lucius grow with every tutoring session I have had with my ancestors.

What I have learnt horrified me and made me understand how far my recent ancestors had fallen and what would have happened if I’d been a willing participant in Lucius’s plan. You see, the Malfoys, while considered ancient, aren’t as old as most expect. We originally came to England with William the Conqueror, twin siblings; the girl, Kandance, married a man named Sergio, who took her name after the King legitimatized him, petitioning magic to start their own branch of family magics. Magic agreed and named them Guardian of Avebury.

If you don’t know what that is, it is where one of the largest known ritual circles is; it’s also the area where Arthur was crowned, which I can confirm.

I know my duty to myself, my family, and the realm, but more importantly, I know my duty to you. I won’t make the mistake Lucius did, and I’m infinitely grateful you reached out; it calmed my mother down knowing the Patriarch of her line still acknowledges her inclusion.

I will follow you to the ISM on September 1st, so I hope you are amenable to at least sharing some courses. I want to prove I’m more than words and my name. I want my second chance and would be proud and honoured to do it as your friend.

Lord Draconis Armand Malfoy

Guardian of Avebury

PS: the dragon patronus, should that be taken literally as your name implies, or could it potentially mean something more?”

Harry lowered the letter, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the postscript, and shifted in his chair, thankful that Medea was the only one to see his reaction.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Draco Malfoy, at least not beyond an unbelievable and unexpected relief that he was alive. Objectively, in 1995, Harry knew he was and had seen proof of that in the automatic announcement of his claiming the title. Yet receiving a letter back in response to his own settled something inside of him that he hadn’t been aware of. The lack of compulsions and loyalty charms he’d been under probably made him question things outside his immediate surroundings. Still, it was a somewhat startling revelation that he was almost embarrassed about his obliviousness.

It was evident that on some level, he’d always found Draco Malfoy attractive, or maybe not that at eleven, but he had been fascinating. He had been the first wizarding boy he’d met, and while he hadn’t necessarily liked Draco’s personality, he had still been drawn to him.

Yet when they got to school, Harry’s interaction with Draco had been agonistical, but never because either of them had started it. It was Ron. It had always been Ron. The rejection on the train had been Ron’s fault; the stupid duel and the subsequent retaliation had been defensive. Ron laughed at Draco’s name and offered Harry up in the duel. It was all horrifyingly apparent that Ron had done his best to keep Harry from being friendly with Draco. It was a depressing thought.

A knock on the door drew his attention, and Harry looked up to find Sirius leaning casually against the jam, regarding him with a pensive expression. “You’re looking pretty serious. You alright, pup?”

Shrugging, Harry dropped his eyes to the letter and admitted. “Just thinking.”

“You want to talk it out?” Sirius asked, striding into the room and sprawling in the chair opposite the desk.

“I don’t know if it even makes a difference anymore.” Harry said quietly, “It’s not like I can change the first four years.”

Sirius frowned. “Is this about Ron?”

“Yes. No. Kinda.” Harry said, huffing in frustration. “It’s mostly me thinking over past interactions with Draco and realizing Ron was the instigator and antagonist in most of them.”

“Okay?” Sirius said slowly, confusion evident, though his eyes dropped to the letter, making Harry sigh and push it across the desk.

His godfather took it and read it, face blank though his eyes were lit with amusement when he finished it, “he doesn’t seem to hold you any ill will for what happened.”

“No, it’s just my guilt.” Harry muttered, “I feel like an idiot, though. I was obsessed with the git in my sixth year, I stalked him all over the school, convinced he was up to something, and even though I was technically proved right, there was no satisfaction in it.”

“There was just a sea of despondency?” Sirius asked quietly.

“And regret.” Harry rubbed a hand over his face and looked at his godfather. “Did I ever tell you Draco was the first person my age I met in the wizarding world?”

Sirius shook his head, so Harry continued, “he was already at Madam Malkin’s when I arrived to get my robes, and I remember thinking he was beautiful, and it fascinated me. It’s easy to see how he was just as nervous as I was, but I think it was a class of two social classes. He didn’t know how to react and fell into pureblood behaviours of acceptable social norms. Of which I had no clue. Luckily, I wasn’t feral with how my relatives treated me.”

“They aren’t your relatives,” Sirius retorted darkly but waved Harry off and nodded for him to continue.

“I remember not getting his name and regretting that. Maybe if I’d had it, we could have struck up some correspondence for the rest of the summer because he could have taught me a lot. And sure, it might have included some biases, but it would have felt fair, given Hagrid had done a good job of turning me from Slytherin. It was like I already had a preconceived notion or idea that if I went there, I’d turn out bad, just like Aunt Petunia always claimed. I know I tried blaming Draco for it, but it was my guilt for rejecting his offer of friendship.”

Sirius’s eyes widened the longer Harry talked, but he frowned at the end of the sentence, “How did you reject his offer of friendship?”

Harry flushed in shame and lowered his head, “I refused to shake his hand.” Harry flushed deeper at Sirius’s hiss, “I know it was wrong; I regretted it instantly, but I was between a rock and a hard place. I had Ron whispering in my ear and Draco looking at me in betrayal. My fears and insecurities rose to the forefront, remembering Hagrid’s warning that no witch or wizard sorted into Slytherin turned out good, and it was one of the things Draco had bragged about. He knew before stepping into Hogwarts, and I knew nothing but biases and prejudice.”

Harry laughed suddenly, hollow and harsh, “I’m an idiot. Can I get a time turner and go back and knock some sense into my younger self?”

“And confuse yourself more now and possibly break time itself?” Sirius asked in amusement, “No, pup, you can’t.” He raised an eyebrow, “You can, however, explain why you’re an idiot, or well, more of one than you previously were, even if you have the defence of potions and compulsions.”

Groaning, Harry ran his hands through his hair, tightening it for a second before feeling the familiar caress of Medea as she worked to smooth him, “Hagrid would have recognized Draco, or at least made the correct assumption on who his parents were, right?”

“Yeah, he would have.” Sirius admitted, “Even as a baby, Draco was every inch a Malfoy except for the Black eyes.”

Closing his eyes, Harry wanted to cry, even knowing it would do no good, “They turned me against him on purpose.” Sirius only hummed encouragingly, and it was like the floodgates opened. Recounting it, it was Harry who broached the four schoolhouses with Hagrid. Hagrid neglected to tell him how to get on the train, the Weasleys’ interception – a pureblood family with three children in school, and two graduated, yet they took the Muggle entrance? Ron claimed no seats left on a magical train that presumably shrank or grew depending on the number of enrolled students.

It had been planned from start to finish, and knowing what he knew now, both how it ended and what he was learning spying on the order, it broke his heart. They’d used his naivety, lack of knowledge, and understanding against him, moulding him to be what they wanted.

“Hadrian.” The sharpness in Sirius’s voice brought Harry out of his swirling thoughts, and he blinked in surprise to find Sirius leaning against the desk in front of him, wiping the tears from his face. “You got lost in your head, pup.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered softly. “It just- It hurts knowing none of it was real, and sure, given the evidence I’ve seen since being back, it should have been obvious…”

“But understanding and accepting are two different things? I get that.” It was a bitter response and made Harry look at his godfather.

“I’ve been having some of the same realizations. Things I should have questioned more the first time but let others convince me were the results of overexposure to the dementors. Weird memories of incidents in school that I don’t remember happening but knowing they did because they’re too real to be a dream.”

Harry nodded to the couch at Sirius’s admission, “Let’s get more comfortable.”

“I don’t need to bother you with my stuff. You already have enough on your plate.” Sirius protested even as he let himself be led over to the couch.

“While I realize technically your chronology is older than mine age-wise, mentally we’re about the same, Sirius. Also, as your Patriarch, you gave me the job of being the one to be responsible for you. It’s not just a duty; it’s a joy to have a family I care about. So, talk to me. What are you remembering?”

***

A spasm of emotions crosses Sirius’s face, “My mother, she changed.” Sirius shook his head and swallowed, “She was kind once, loved us, and we knew it. Reggie and I were kept sheltered and played with each other and our cousins, but for the most part, we only ever met other kids at special events. Yet we never cared because Mother was always there. It was slow and gradual, but she changed the year I turned 8.” Sirius raised a shaking hand to his cheek, “she slapped me, I don’t know what I did or if I’d done anything, I just remember her backhanding me and telling me not to back talk. I don’t think you can imagine what I was like as a kid. I had to teach myself to be loud and boisterous. I taught myself to be brave….”

Sirius’s eyes fluttered shut, hiding the tears he hadn’t shed, “I was the odd one out, including Bella’s issues as a teen. I preferred reading and being alone, and when I received my Hogwarts letter, I craved being alone. I spent three years being tortured by my mother, and at first, I thought I must have done something, but by the end, I concluded she didn’t need a reason.”

Sirius opened his eyes, silver eyes darkened with grief, “I had no intention of going against my family’s deeply seated beliefs but knew Slytherin wasn’t for me, so I assumed Ravenclaw and was happy with that, but the hat called me brave for going against family tradition and next thing I knew it was calling out Gryffindor.”

Frowning, Harry leaned forward, watching Sirius, feeling somewhat shaken by the history. It was nothing he imagined, having thought he’d already learnt everything.

“Cissy, being in her fifth year, had Prefect duties, so I sat alone on the train. I remember a boy with messy hair coming into my compartment with a sunny, friendly grin.”

Closing his eyes, Harry swallowed hard. “Let me guess, he knew your name.”

Inclining his head, Sirius agreed, “said we’d be best friends, and offered to introduce me to two other boys; though he apologized for their half-blood status, he said they were good ones.” Rubbing a hand over his face, Sirius sighed. “That first train ride should have given me an indication of what the next seven years would be like because deep down, I hated it. James was too loud and boisterous, Peter copied everything James did while making goo-goo eyes at Remus, and Remus was either quiet and acted put upon, brooding or silent.”

Tilting his head, Harry summoned a container of whiskey and two glasses, filling them half full, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Sirius shrugged, “It’s all messed up, incidents and history all muddled in my head, but I still don’t understand why the hat refused to consider my request. I remember James being thrilled with the coop, but the rest of the students were suspicious, given my family, and the teachers, while not hostile, were quick to condemn me, and Dumbledore would get me off. I decided, sometime after figuring out what Lupin was, used it to my advantage.”

“When did you figure out what Lupin was?” Harry asked curiously; that information was not something he’d thought to ask.

“Just before the end of the first year, a person can miss only so many moon cycles before you start asking questions. Honestly, I was terrified and had even started a letter to my parents, begging for rescue or demanding a resort-”

“Resort? That’s a thing?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s old, though, I doubt Dumbledore would allow it now. There used to be a table at the front- before my time, but Bella used to talk about it, which was considered no man’s land and could be used to request a resort. Or used in the event of a house shunning,” Sirius explained, waving a hand dismissively, “not that it matters to you; you’ll get into the ISM.”

Ignoring the flutter of nerves at the thought, Harry sipped the whiskey. “Finish your story, Sirius.”

“I never finished my letter. I know I didn’t because I know it was never sent. My parents, no matter what they thought of me, or I believe they thought of me, would never have stood for a werewolf to be in the school, even as a student. Yet I never thought to question it, and three days later, I found myself researching Animagus in the restricted section. Not that that got rid of the fear or anything, but the more I researched, the more in control I felt, and the moodier Remus got. In hindsight, it’s almost bizarre how defensive and combative Remus got. By the time I transformed for the first time, at the end of the fourth year, I realized he was offended by the Grim.”

Harry made a face, “he wanted to dominate you and found he couldn’t.”

“No, he couldn’t, and when he tried and failed to get James turned against me, he upped the campaign against Severus, yet always stayed in the background, pushing and prodding then claiming we had to be the faces of the Marauders because as a werewolf he’d automatically be blamed.” Sirius said tiredly, staring at the amber liquid he had yet to drink, “the strange thing about the memories and dreams, is I know I didn’t tell Sev to find Moony, I was in the hospital wing all day from an allergic reaction, Madame Pomphrey couldn’t figure out.”

Harry glanced at his godfather when Sirius said ‘Sev’ but didn’t call attention to it. He was not sure what it meant and focused on the allergy. “Did you know you were allergic to anything?”

“Two things, neither of which is commonly found in the UK and definitely not within Hogwarts.” Was the quiet admission, “avocados and dander from camels.” Sirius huffed out a laugh, “The avocados didn’t bother me. My family wouldn’t have imported them in, but the dander…. It broke nine-year-old me’s heart. At the time, I wanted to be a curse breaker; one of my last good memories of my mother and where she was ‘normal’ took Reggie and me on a tour of Egypt; on the third day, I broke out in hives, cutting our trip short.”

Snorting a laugh, Harry shook his head, “You realize now they have allergic medication you can take, right?”

Sirius made a face. “At nine years old, taking a potion every day just to live as a curse breaker felt like too much work and not worth the hassle.”

Considering the cocktail of potions the two of them were on currently, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to argue the logic of a nine-year-old, “Fair, so you know you didn’t tell Professor Snape, so what happened?”

Sirius knocked the drink back, shaking his head, “Don’t know. James came in carrying Severus at around 1 am. I was doped out of my head, and the next thing I knew, I had both Dumbledore and McGonagall standing over me, demanding to know why I thought it a good idea to send Sev to his death. I vehemently denied doing it, but neither one believed me, and it took me three days to convince Sev I had nothing to do with it, though it took an oath.”

“But he seems to believe otherwise now….” Harry said slowly, frowning in consternation.

“I know, and our last interaction was, I guess, I’d have to call it odd.” Sirius admitted, “he was genuinely horrified learning you had lived at the Dursleys.”

Harry topped up their glasses, “and his reaction to Ginny and the diary, I don’t think he knew about that, at least not beyond a diagnosis opinion and was furious no one had listened.” His frown increased. “His recent interactions with everyone seem odd; he’s also not snipping and commenting about me specifically.” Harry didn’t know what to think. He knew what the man had done in that other future, but was there more to it than what had been presented? “I think we need to have a conversation with Professor Snape.”

Startled, Sirius lifted his head and shook it as if breaking his thought process, “Why?”

“In that other future, he gave me memories before he died, of his friendship and, well, I guess most would call it love and obsession of my mother, but it doesn’t feel right. He vowed to protect my life, and he has practically every year since I walked into Hogwarts, but something isn’t adding up.”

Sirius made a disgusted face and gagged, “Sev wasn’t in love with your mother! She was his sister. They did a blood-binding ritual when they turned fifteen.” He flushed and glanced away, “Please never repeat this, but Sev doesn’t like women like that.”

Harry frowned in confusion, looking at Sirius again, who avoided eye contact resolutely. It was like a light bulb went off in Harry’s head, and he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. “I deeply regret having this conversation. I’m way too young to know about anyone’s sex life.”

Sirius burst out laughing, “That’s all you have to say?”

Face still red, Harry shrugged, thinking of a pair of silver eyes. “I think I’d be considered a hypocrite, considering I feel like I’m in the same situation.”

“Ah….” Sirius said and offered an understanding smile, “I don’t know how much Muggle views have changed on same-sex relations, but in the Wizarding world, they’re viewed mostly favourably – even in pureblood families, considering most have the magical power to do rituals to acquire children.”

Since Harry hadn’t considered relationships in any fashion, at least not beyond an abstract idea since he’d been back, he swallowed, “Considering I will have to marry at some point, it’s good information to have.”

“I’ll pull some books from the library,” Sirius offered, glancing at his stack on the desk. “Do you need the education orb updated?”

“I think I need to make a plan for things I need versus what I want.” Harry admitted slowly, “I think—no, I know I panicked learning about the regency, but hodge-podging random subjects isn’t working.”

“A plan might be a good idea,” Sirius said after a glance at the books again, making Harry flush when Sirius chuckled but didn’t call out Harry’s selection of random books. He still didn’t know why gardening in the 12th century and Mosaic law were necessary.

A hesitant look crossed Sirius’s face before he pushed aside his discomfort. “Have you asked Pendragon his opinion?”

Harry frowned momentarily, “Oh, um, not really. The relationship with Pendragon is different than the one with Medea. She’s always there in my head, but she only tells me things I need to know at that moment and sometimes helps me link information I already know or have. In rare instances, she will directly tell me something, like taking control of the wards.”

“So, you do control the wards?” Sirius asked in apparent confusion. “Why hasn’t anyone noticed?”

“They have, and they haven’t.” Harry admitted and said dryly, “I am having the wards zap anyone on the path to losing their temper.”

Sirius choked, “What?”

Harry shrugged, “I also have them zapping Remus, but they assume it’s the changes to Grimmauld. Moody can see the reworking I’ve done, and they assume I’m responsible, but they don’t understand how.” He paused briefly, “Honestly, Moody’s getting a kick out of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man so amused.”

“Could he be recruited?” Sirius asked curiously.

Shrugging, Harry continued, “As for Pendragon, the best way to explain his merging is we became one. I imagine when I find myself in a situation where the protocols are engaged or invoked, his knowledge will be available, though the dream sharing is fascinating.” He paused and glanced at his godfather, “I fly as a dragon.”

Sirius froze and stared at Harry, his mouth opening slowly, “Harry, is Pendragon your Animagus form?”

Eyes flashing purple, Harry laughed as Sirius grabbed him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. ” That’s amazing. I can’t wait to see your form.”

***

August 21st, 1995

Dear Draco,

Thank you for replying. I honestly wasn’t sure if you were going to, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.

We have seven years of horrible history between us, and I don’t think being offered a second chance to change the last three years makes up for what I’ve allowed to happen. We can sit here and discuss the semantics if you wish, but allowing Ron to control the narratives of our interactions without protest puts me in the wrong. I will do better this time, and I think you’ll be pleased with my efforts so far.

I obviously can’t tell you where we are. Dumbledore set the Fidelius, and I don’t want him alerted that his plans have already failed. (Given his ministry issues, he should suspect something, even if he doesn’t fully understand the complications my titles bring to his life.) But I digress. I’ve been able to affect the wards in a way that has made the guests feel very uncomfortable and probably unwelcome. It is somewhat glorious. Watching full-grown witches and wizards run around for four days, unable to use magic, has been the highlight of my summer. Who would have thought tea was necessary for survival? Maybe if you join Sirius and me in Rome, I can show you the memory in a Pensieve?

It was interesting to note your mother has the same stories as Sirius over Cousin Bella(and no, I can’t believe I’m saying that, but my tutor is very invested in teaching me proper protocol no matter the personal opinions of the individual involved.) maybe you could ask your mother if she has different memories of Walburga because Sirius does. He says she started to change the year he turned eight. If my math is correct, that would be the same year your mother got her letter to attend Hogwarts, and the time Cousin Bella changed. I’m unsure, but it feels like a pattern, one I don’t like the direction it’s leading.

On a less emotional note, if not as frustrating a topic. Given my lack of wizarding education and knowledge, I’m still working through the package information provided by Gringotts for course selection at ISM and feel overwhelmed. I know it’s technically our OWL year, and if I were going to Hogwarts, I would do better than the seven I had originally. But given I’m not, the options available seem overwhelming.

The structure ISM has for courses is almost mind-boggling, given Hogwarts’s rigid and utter lack of options. Gods love my godfather, but unfortunately for both of us, his inability to explain how the ISM works, given his experience, has made it so that I had to request a meeting at the ISM, which is set for the 25th. Then, I’m undergoing three days of intense testing to find out where I am physically, mentally, and magically, though thankfully, they consider personal interests when choosing the subjects. It honestly reminds me of the A-Levels, I was warned of when I went to Muggle school. Thankfully, they provided mock tests, but I still feel overwhelmed. I certainly never studied like I am currently for my OWL, and it’s one instance where I’m grateful I grew up Muggle-born. The history and math I grew up with were shocking in the study pack.

Sirius and I have planned to travel to Rome, but those plans are in flux as I wrap up a few unfulfilled plans first. We’re travelling via floo to Gringotts and obtaining a Portkey through the bank. Ragnok said ‘Whenever I show’ is fine.

However, that leaves me with a question: Do the Malfoys have a home in Rome to use? I know you said you would apply and join me at the ISM, but it seems unfair to ask that of you and force you to stay in the dorms when you could join me at Mávros. Your mother is invited too, and I have sent a letter to that effect, though I would again understand if the possibility of living together would make you uncomfortable. If you do take me up on my offer, I feel obligated to inform you in advance that we will probably have another guest there, possibly two if I can arrange a meeting with no one here being the wiser.

I know Severus Snape is your Godfather, but I honestly don’t know what you think or feel about the man or what you remember about him. I suspect he’s not the man we thought he was or portrayed as.

Though I guess that could be said for anyone I know, which makes me wonder, can house elves be influenced by wizards, not their masters?

I’m unsure if this topic is sensitive, but I have concerns about Dobby, the Malfoy elf I “freed” in ’92. He has spent the last three years working in the kitchens at Hogwarts, and in that other future, he came when I called for help, but Aberforth implied he sent the elf to me, so I’m unsure what to think. Is there a way to test an elf’s loyalty?

Hadrian Brenin

Duke of Warwick, Comte Mávros, etc., etc.….

PS: I will draw my titles out for all their worth; I just haven’t decided which one to save for last.

Harry.

The scandalized huff Draco received from his mother made him realize he’d growled as he finished Harry’s evening letter and felt himself blush.

“Sorry, mother.” He handed the letter over and sniffed in exasperation, “He’s admitted that he’s toying with me, and it’s frustrating.”

“Evidently,” Narcissa replied dryly, offering the letter that had arrived for her.

Draco accepted it, skimming the shorter letter that made him feel somewhat better about the correspondence he’d struck up with Harry, and glanced at his mother, who was still reading the letter. “Would you object to staying at Mávros?”

“Not at all, Dragon. Lucius couldn’t be bothered to purchase a manse in Rome, so we always stayed at a hotel. A private family residence would be a wonderful change, especially considering I believe it’s one of the lost Black Homes.”

Draco frowned and glanced at his mother, “lost? How does a home become lost?”

“I suspect the same way they always do. Someone, probably the lord at the time, lost the directions.” Came the careless reply, “Though, with the Black family, I imagine it’s a tad more complicated, considering Medea slept.”

“Is it possible we’ve forgotten homes?” Draco had to ask, bemused by the little moue that twisted Narcissa’s lips.

“It’s always possible there’s a manse or something in France, but Rome? Not likely. The strict guidelines for wizarding homes mean those homes are ancient in every sense of the word. They’ve been there since the conception of the Wizarding Senate, which still governs the body of the ICW without an Emperor, of course. I imagine that if Harry’s been informed by Ragnok, but if not, he’ll be in for a surprise when he opens the manse, as he’ll receive an automatic summons to take up his Magistrates duties.”

“Of course, he has an automatic seat in Rome.” Draco huffed, flopping inelegantly against the back of the couch.

“Draco, I know we didn’t fully discuss Harry’s first letter, but we both know what his claiming the Brenin name means.”

“Of course, I know what it means!” Draco protested, sitting up. “I wasn’t sure if we acknowledged it, considering he hadn’t released it publicly.”

“Whether he releases that information publicly before his 25th birthday is his prerogative, but we know our duty, and we will support Hadrian in any way.” Narcissa’s tone held a hint of finality she commonly never portrayed, preferring to fall back on pureblood manners.

Draco nodded dumbfounded as Narcissa stared at him. “I know that, Mother. I won’t, can’t go against him again.” He swallowed and dropped his gaze. “The first time almost destroyed me, and I’m not talking about how it ended. It-it was agonizing in a way I can’t describe what I suffered, accepting that foul magic. It was like something inside was rendered to ash.”

A smooth, warm hand touched his cheek, and he blinked at his mother’s concerned face, not having heard her move. “Why did you never tell me?”

Shrugging, Draco avoided eye contact. “My circumstances were of my own making, and nothing could be done to change it.”

“That’s not how-Draco. What happened to us was Lucius’s fault. He chose to serve, and unfortunately, we paid the price.” Narcissa chided gently, thumbing his cheek.

“I could have run, mother. I had the option, though admittedly, I don’t know how far I would have gotten. I chose to come back to the manor after Father’s arrest and willingly knelt at that monster’s feet,” Draco said stiffly, covering her hand and pulling it from his cheek. “And please don’t tell me what I let be destroyed; I’m not ready….” He trailed off, rising from the couch, only stopping because his mother grabbed his hand.

“Draco, if your Veela-”

“Mother, I said, please don’t.” Draco pleaded, “I have, at best, a year before the Veela becomes an issue, and it’ll be fine.”

“No, it won’t.” Narcissa insisted, tugging him to sit down, “Living with your ideal mate without acknowledging it or telling them isn’t fair; he won’t understand his instincts when it comes to you.”

Draco sighed heavily, exhaustion filling him as he let his head lull back against the couch again, not wanting to talk about the Veela side, even if he knew he should. “What do you think he meant about Severus?”

Narcissa’s lips thinned at the subject change, though she allowed it, a little frown forming on her brow, “beyond him being your godfather? He completed his mastery in potions in July 1981…” she trailed off, frown increasing and blinked in utter confusion, “and I remember Severus was in the process of brokering a contract to work for the DOM.”

Confused himself, Draco lifted his head, “How in Merlin’s name did he go from brokering a deal for the DOM to working at Hogwarts?”

Helplessly, Narcissa shook her head, “I don’t know.”

***

August 22, 1995

Biting back a sigh of irritation, Severus settled in the breakfast nook of the newly renovated kitchen, watching the rest of the order members arrange themself around the table, complimenting Molly on the changes.

It would have been insulting to the person responsible if not for the increasingly angry twitch of her eyebrow, showing she hated being praised for it and admitting she had nothing to do with it. Severus suspected Molly was terrified to accept the praise, lest the house zap her because now that it had been pointed out, he could feel the changes.

Glancing around the room, Severus watched Albus sweep in, his eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in silent contemplation, leaving him standing just inside the door, his jaw slackening in apparent confusion.

“You’ve done remarkable work, my dear,” Albus said, shaking himself as he walked around the room and assumed the chair at the head of the table.

Severus felt the flutter of the privacy wards being erected and hid his eye-roll, suspecting that no matter what the headmaster cast, Grimmauld would find a way around it anyway, and no one would believe it possible.

Molly sighed tiredly, “It wasn’t me, Albus; it’s the house. I have no control or say in what happens, and I’d prefer we just drop the subject lest I’m held prisoner for another four days.”

“The house held you prisoner?” Diggle asked hesitantly as he paused, pouring a cup of tea.

“It’s no matter.” Albus intoned, brushing the subject aside. “I apologize for missing the last few meetings, so let’s get this underway so we’re all in the same place.”

Albus accepted the tea Molly had made for him, selected a scone from the plate in front of him, and looked around the table. “Who would like to go first?”

Bill Weasley cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, “I’ll start.”

Perking up in interest, Albus carefully set the scone down. “Have the Goblins chosen a side?”

The curse breaker shifted again and coughed, “They’re still declaring neutrality, vehemently, I might add, but unfortunately, my usefulness as a member will be diminished severely after this meeting, and I suspect the only reason I wasn’t forced to provide an answer immediately is to provide you this information.”

Albus frowned in confusion, a look that everyone at the table echoed, “I’m not sure what you mean, my boy. Your skills as a curse breaker are remarkable, and what news and gossip you provide from the bank gives us directions in which to focus attention.”

Bill sighed and ran a hand down his face, “I should mention before I forget new security measures are being implemented. What those are exactly, I’m unsure, but they are extensive, and I understand less than half of the runes they’re adding to the network.”

“So, it’s not their language?” Albus asked in confusion.

“The Dverger has two official languages, Headmaster.” Bill explained politely, “The one taught to the curse-breakers, which is considered ‘modernized’ and their native language, which we aren’t taught. The problem with understanding the runic work is determining how many languages they’ve combined.” He paused and cleared his throat again, “I must admit it was a personal fixation, but the Runic Master is just that, a Master. I lost track at six but couldn’t tell you what languages I understood.”

A deep sigh of disappointment filled the air. “That is unfortunate, my boy. It would have been beneficial to have that information. Please explain what you mean by your usefulness. What other news can you provide?”

“I have until the end of August to decide about my position within Gringotts, as all employees are being mandated to undergo a ritual cleansing and then renew their contracts under an unbreakable vow.” He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the table. “There is speculation amongst the human employees that the Dverger are backing an unknown faction, but I have no proof to verify that.”

Muttering broke out around the table, yet Albus ignored it, breaking a piece of his scone off, popping it into his mouth, and chewing and swallowing before asking. “And there is no way to find out the validity of that speculation?”

Shaking his head, Bill toyed with his mug. “I’ve been told that until I provide my decision, I’m on paid leave, and no employee not of the Dverger nation is allowed into the bank unless it has to do with personal banking issues.”

Fiddling with his teacup, Albus tilted his head. “And you don’t think there is a way to renegotiate the contract without the vow?”

“No; the ritual is being conducted by the Shaman’s Covenant, the Vows before Ragnok.” Bill’s finality amused Severus, and he watched the shock drift around the order members’ faces.

“They can’t force you to sign a new contract if you already have one,” Hermione said firmly, lifting her head from the page transcribing the meeting.

Severus watched her for a few minutes, wondering why she was still participating after her grandiose speech the other day. The fact that he’d felt momentarily bad for the girl slowly curdled in his stomach, trying not to view what looked like a 180 with suspicion. Sending an honest plea to the Lady that Ms. Granger was still involved for the same reason he was. That she was spying from the inside because Harry certainly deserved better than what everyone here planned or wanted.

“I don’t have the patience to explain Dverger contract law, Hermione. The Dverger have the legal and magical authority to dissolve any employee contract when not officially assigned to a team.” Bill said flatly, eyes flicking to the headmaster, which made Severus smirk, understanding instantly it was Dumbledore’s fault Bill Weasley was in his current circumstances. At the headmaster’s request, Bill must have asked not to be assigned to a team so he could spy when not working at his desk.

“So those on a team don’t have to do this? Can’t you just get assigned to a new team?” Hermione demanded in growing confusion.

“No, I specifically requested a desk job to stay in England and help, but even if I hadn’t, the Dverger would still have been able to do what they’re doing. They’d just have to provide a full thirty days instead of the fifteen.” Bill explained in irritation before focusing on Albus, “I know it’s important work we’re doing, and I know most people don’t understand wanting to work for the Dverger, but I’m good at what I do, so I would like to keep my job. I will be available for things until the 31st, but after that, I won’t be attending meetings.”

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Albus said placidly, summarily dismissing Bill’s statement, “I’m sure we can work around the vows. I’ll see if we can find another avenue to get a copy of the runic work applied to their network.”

Bill frowned but didn’t reply, grabbing a sandwich from the plate Molly deposited onto the table.

Albus looked around the room again, focusing on a dark-haired witch sitting next to Dedalus Diggle. “Emmeline, what news from the ministry?”

“It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but Ministry Fudge has agreed to Delores transferring positions into the Department of Education so she can assume her position as the DADA professor, and they’re currently working with legal to get the contract to give her legal immunity as requested.”

“That’s wonderful.” Albus smiled, pleased as if he hadn’t already known. “Be sure to inform her that we don’t want anyone permanently harmed; we just need to encourage the boy to fight.”

Emmeline nodded. “She’s aware and has the perfect method to ensure our goals are met.”

“Good, good.” Albus nodded and looked at Hermione. “And Ms. Granger, your plans?”

“I think the best thing to do, considering the curriculum plan, is to start at Defence Club,” she said slowly with a little frown of concentration, “it is a fact Harry is a natural at Defensive magic. If I wait a few weeks after the term begins, I can start planting the idea of having him teach us, and if necessary, I’ll plan the lessons.” She glanced at Ron, who was trying to stuff food into his mouth and glared simultaneously, “Ronald just has to keep his temper under control; we don’t want to antagonize Harry this year.”

“I know what I’m supposed to do, ‘Mione.” Ron grumbled around a mouthful of food, “I’m not stupid.”

Hermione looked at him like the statement was debatable but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her attention back to the headmaster and said, “I’ve only encountered one issue.”

“And what is that, my dear?” Albus asked curiously.

Hermione’s eyes flicked briefly to Molly before speaking, “The circumstances with the house have complicated matters, as I’m no longer able to access the potions room to brew the necessary binding potion for the contract I planned to have everyone sign so that the club couldn’t be discussed.”

Albus frowned but didn’t address the lack of access and waved a hand, “No worries, my dear. I’ll ensure you have the potion needed.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Hermione replied dutifully but spoke again, “What about the education we should have received? It was implied that this would have no adverse impact on my OWL but given the subject matter and the lack of what is being taught, I must admit to a bit of concern.”

Albus smiled gently, “I see you’ve already read the books for the term, Ms. Granger. While the subject is somewhat lacking, I’m sure with your dedication to your schoolwork, you’ll do wonderful in it.”

A frown creased Hermione’s eyebrow, but she didn’t argue. The pleased little glint that usually appeared in her eyes when she was praised was missing, and Albus chose not to address the lack, turning his attention to Moody.

Severus tuned out the conversation, not caring about the guard rotation in the Hall of Prophecies or who visited. That wasn’t part of his duties for either side, for which he was thankful. Prophecies concerning others were useless in and of themselves, and the one passed down the Prince line was considered more fable and myth than true prophecy now. However, he remembered being fascinated by it as a child when his mother would whisper it on stormy nights.

“What are we doing about the Malfoy situation?” Someone asked, drawing Severus’s attention.

“I don’t under what you mean, Arthur.” Albus intoned carefully, “I’m unaware of any issues surrounding the Malfoys.”

Severus stared at the back of Albus’s head, curious if the old man was serious. The expressions on everyone else’s faces indicated that he was. Somewhere in everything that had happened, Albus Dumbledore had missed Draco, assuming the Lordship from his father.

Arthur exchanged a look with Molly and Remus, licking his lips hesitantly, “It was released the day after the trial that Draco Malfoy claimed the title.”

Albus froze, eerily statuette-like, before he turned fully in his chair to stare at Severus, who only shrugged, “I’ve been neither called nor summoned, so I have no information regarding the situation.”

Albus narrowed his eyes as if trying to see past his shields, and the flicker of irritation that grew in the cold blue eyes made Severus inwardly smile. “You don’t think it could be a ploy to remove attention from Lucius?”

Severus folded his hands, shrugging, “If it is, I’ve been uninformed of the plan.” He paused and added, “But considering it was published in the titles section, I would assume it’s a legitimate claim, though the question remains if Lucius survived the experience. There has been no notice of death and no way Lucius would abdicate. So, at the risk of assuming, I believe it was a ritual disownment. Which I understand is an extremely traumatic and painful experience to be ripped from the family magic, though probably a different sort of jarring than a magical judgment, and not familial.”

The satisfaction at seeing Arthur flinch was as beautiful as the scowl that crossed Molly’s face at the reminder of what had happened to Arthur’s Uncle at the end of the first Muggle War. Garth Junior had made the wrong choice and had been summarily judged by magic. The stripping of their title was still felt today in the bloodstain on their magic and their financial struggles.

Albus matched the glare on Molly’s face, so Severus settled back in his chair. “As for the Dark Lord, he’s been silent since the trial, probably waiting to see what else is reported before making a move. He intends to acquire the prophecy from the Hall of Prophets. Still, I have no inside information on that and, in truth, have been given no assignments beyond gathering information about what you are up to.”

“He knows you’re a spy?” Remus demanded heatedly.

Severus rolled his eyes, “he believes it was at his request that I joined Albus, so of course he knows.” He lifted an eyebrow and couldn’t stop the sneer that spread across his face. “Which Albus also knows, considering it was his plan which allowed me to spy in the Dark Lord’s ranks unless you’re suggesting you don’t trust the headmaster’s decisions?”

“That’s enough, Remus,” Albus said, turning around, effectively dismissing Severus, and continued over the werewolf’s sputtering. “How goes your recruitment campaign amongst the werewolf camps?”

Remus grimaced bitterly, “Not very well. None of those I talk to are interested in working with Maester Belby to improve Wolfsbane.” He lowered his head, shoulders hunching, “I’ve received an official warning that if I persist, I will be formally challenged and charged under criminal law for incitement, harassment, infringement, and suspected usurpation.”

Albus dropped his teacup, and the tea splashed across the table. Five cleaning charms hit the top, vanishing the evidence, as the headmaster laid a trembling hand flat on the table and asked. “The Counsel?”

The werewolf nodded, a flush climbing his neck, “I never even thought of them as I set about my civic duty, and it had started well. I would have been optimistic and said great, even. People were listening, asking for the pamphlets and data, and eager to hear about my journey…” He trailed off and shook his head, “There was a young mother. She had two children, and she seemed inspired and excited. The kids loved talking to me but shunned me when I returned after the full moon. The kids ran from me, and the mother turned her back after glaring at me hatefully. I still don’t understand what went wrong, but the village elders approached me and gave me the warning.”

Inside, Severus was laughing, though he was careful to keep his face devoid of any amusement; the idea that Remus and Dumbledore had both forgotten that Magical Creatures, while subject to severe suspicion, had their counsel not subjected to English politics was hilarious. It was an internationally recognized body supervised zealously by the Veela courts. Their stance on fairness and impartial judgment was more renowned than that of the current body of the ICW and more in line with what King Arthur had accomplished with Camelot, based on the original principles of the Senate that make up the body of the ICW today.

“I have a question, if I may, Albus?” Dedalus Diggle spoke into the silence after Remus finished speaking.

“Yes, my friend?” Albus asked, directing his attention to his longtime friend.

“I apologize for questioning everything, but are we sure Mr. Potter hasn’t claimed his family’s title?”

Albus jerked at his friend’s question, apparently startled even as he shook his head, “No, my friend, it’s impossible. James didn’t claim the title before his death, meaning Harry cannot claim it until he’s at least seventeen, though if Voldemort isn’t defeated by then, we will do our best to ensure Mr. Potter doesn’t know that. As the last scion of the house of Potter, I believe the family magic may prevent Harry from fulfilling his destiny.”

A couple of people frowned but didn’t comment, though Moody leaned forward, “Are you sure, Albus?”

“Of course I am,” Albus replied blithely, not explaining how or why, he was sure. “Do you doubt me?”

“Yes.” Moody replied bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring straight at Albus, “Given everything that has happened since his trial and the vow he’s made, I’m starting to believe he knows more than you think.” Alastor said, taking a swig from his hip flask, “It’s also making me more inclined to believe him-”

“He’s a fifteen-year-old boy!” Molly snarled, interrupting the aged Auror.

“Who was blindsided by the Ministry and took a vow on his magic, producing a fully corporeal Patronus. You do the same and vow that your daughter is not corrupt, and I might believe you.” Moody snapped back, glaring at the woman who dropped her eyes, hands fisting at the table as she flinched. “That’s what I thought. You can’t because you know I’m right.” He turned his glare on Albus, who was looking decidedly uneasy, “I know fighting the Dark Lord is important, but listening to your conversation tonight is leaving me with a whole lot of doubt, and I can’t help but feel you’re setting up that boy just to prop yourself up.” Moody rose to his feet, “and I can’t in good conscience be a party to that, the light doesn’t sacrifice children, and that’s what it appears to look like to me.”

“No, Alastor, that’s not-”

“Make a vow then, Albus.” Moody responded coolly and lifted an eyebrow when the man didn’t move, “You’re so invested in keeping Potter under control. You’re using us as chess pieces in a game we don’t understand nor have the rules for.”

“We need you, old friend.” Albus pleaded gently. “Your magical prestige is phenomenal, and your success rate as an Auror is second to none.”

“It is.” Moody agreed. “But I’ve never sacrificed a child to get where I am, and I’m not about to start now.”

Moody shifted around the table, limping towards the kitchen door, and threw a laugh over his shoulder as a light encompassed his body. “Sentience means living. Grimmauld isn’t going to let you attack someone they know to be an ally, but you might want to update Albus on the situational issues you’ve had, including the fact you can’t use magic in the home.”

Moody stomped through the kitchen door, leaving a stunned silence in its place, and while Severus was curious to see the fallout, he slipped out unobserved as the room erupted in chaos again.

***

CHAPTER EIGHT

Stepping outside the doors of Grimmauld, Severus couldn’t help but be disappointed that even though he’d followed the old Auror from the kitchen at the same time, he’d still managed to miss him, though he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to discuss with him either. Alastor hadn’t been as overtly hostile as Severus had expected, but nothing was going as expected.

Severus wasn’t sure how to explain it, but he knew that none of this had happened before. Potter’s trial hadn’t ended in a bloody dragon patronus, Draco hadn’t disowned Lucius, and Sirius wasn’t as horrible as he remembered, though Remus was more than creepy. Plus, the house had never liked anyone, and the old elf certainly hadn’t laughed silently in the corner as the Order freely discussed their plans for Potter when he could overhear them.

Sighing, Severus wiped a hand over his face, strolled down the steps, stopping with a hiss as his mark burned, and swore at another difference from ‘before.’

As the pain receded but didn’t disappear, he drew his wand and disapparated with a near-silent pop, reappearing at the gates to what was a Muggle home. It was so unexpected that Severus could only stare, unsure and hesitant, as he shoved everything, he suspected was future knowledge behind the tightest Occlumency shields he could erect and pushed open the gate.

Wards slid over his skin, making his teeth ache and his gut churn with nausea. Still, he strolled forward, mask firmly in place, ignoring the bowing sycophant at the door and swept inside, lip curling in disgust at the layer of dust and grim, somehow worse than Grimmauld had ever gotten.

Following the tug of magic, Severus strolled down the hall, entering the large room and easily slipping into the rank and file, noting curiously that Lucius’s spot was indeed vacant, but didn’t look around, keeping his attention focused on the Dark Lord sitting in the only chair in the room.

The man in question did his best to hide his anger but was clearly enraged. His fingers were tapping out a staccato tempo on the arm of the chair, waiting for the stragglers to arrive.

Severus was grateful he’d left the order meeting when he had, as the red eyes swept past him, noting his presence, and called him forward in a hissing voice that caused the snake to lift her head from where she coiled near his chair. Keeping his mask firmly in place, Severus knelt and went to kiss the Dark Lord’s robes, but the wizard held up a hand. “You are young Draconis’s godfather?”

“I am, My Lord.” Severus responded, “I’ve not had much chance to see him this summer, given the old fools scrambling at the Ministry.”

Voldemort waved that off and regarded Severus with glowing red eyes, “You are aware of the events that have occurred.”

It was probably rhetorical, but Severus answered, “Only the speculation and announcement in the papers, my lord, if my godson has written, I’ve not been to Hogwarts in the last week to receive it.”

A hiss of displeasure left the slit of a mouth, but he snapped his fingers, and a second later, a figure threw themselves at the ground in front of the Dark Lord, repeatedly kissing the hem of his robes. “Enough, Lucius.”

It took everything Severus had not to look, keeping his gaze on Voldemort, who allowed a ghost of approval to flick across his face at his restraint. “Come, stand at my side, my friend, see what your godson has done to his loving father.”

Hiding his unease at the situation, Severus did as ordered, waiting until he was next to the Dark Lord to look at Lucius, who straightened at a sharp command from his master.

Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of looking at Lucius. Not even the expected image of the same man prepared Severus, and he knew his mouth gaped in horror at the physical changes, automatically dismissing the apparent signs of torture. Gone was the long signature white-blond hair that signified a Malfoy, and in its place was plain yellow straw colour hair, matted and dirty, like he hadn’t bathed in the weeks that had passed. The cold gray eyes that had caused more than one man to buckle and bow were now a swamp brown, ordinary and plain, and probably the worst sort of visual shame Lucius had suffered.

It honestly couldn’t have happened to a vainer person, the knowledge making Severus smirk in amusement and turn to the Dark Lord, dismissing Lucius, “My Lord?”

“Yes.” The blood-red eyes roved over his face before meeting his eyes, lit with curiosity, and Severus let him see what he thought of Lucius’s punishment. Voldemort’s face twisted, appearing torn as he tapped the arm of the chair again. “Do the rest of the fathers treat their sons the same?”

Severus heard the uneasy shifting and waited for a beat before responding, “I only know of Draco. Being both a potions master and his godfather, I was often called in to administer healing when Lucius went too far in his efforts to correct his son.”

“You think Lucius was too harsh?” Voldemort asked curiously.

“I do, my lord.” Severus replied evenly, “There is no justification anyone could give for crucioing a nine-year-old until his nose and ears bled.”

The flash of rage in Lucius’s eyes was genuinely amusing, as it morphed into pain as his mouth opened on a silent scream as Voldemort’s wand slashed at the man, the same curse erupting from the tip of the wand. It was a pity that it wasn’t held until Lucius bled, but Severus didn’t want him dead, at least not by Voldemort’s hands. No, he wanted that pleasure himself; if there was one thing in this world that Severus loved unconditionally, it was his godson, and he’d hated being unable to do anything to protect him.

“Do you know anything about the wards around the Malfoy manor?” Voldemort asked curiously, lazily flicking his wand but not casting anything.

Severus shook his head. “Unfortunately, my lord, if Draco has assumed control of the wards as I suspect he had to remove Lucius from them, they’ve already been altered.”

“Pity….” Voldemort jerked his wand, Lucius’s mouth dropping open on a soundless scream that ended just as abruptly.

“Could you approach young Draconis about a possible alliance?” Voldemort asked over the gasping at their feet. “Maybe in exchange for the life or body of his father?”

“I can try, my lord, but if Draco believes me in alliance with his father…”

“He knows?” Voldemort demanded, rising to his feet and shooting multiple spells at Lucius, who couldn’t whimper as his body twisted painfully on the ground.

Waiting until Voldemort lowered his wand, Severus responded, “Lucius took great joy in terrifying Draco, implying he’d find no safety with me.”

Growling angrily, Voldemort looked at Severus, “I need to get into that manor. I entrusted personal items to Abraxas years ago, one of which I know is still there. Lucius has already been punished for destroying one, but I need the other.”

“My lord, would I be allowed a few days to see if I could arrange a meeting? Draco may be hesitant to trust me after everything.” Severus questioned, meeting the Dark Lord’s eyes and seeing a black book and what looked like a golden cup. The cup he had no clue about, but the image of the book was followed by the vision of a basilisk, and Severus was never more grateful for occlumency than he was at that moment. It would serve no one if Voldemort suspected he’d gleaned the surface thoughts, and he was utterly terrified because he understood what they were instantly and knew without a doubt he hadn’t known any of this before, even if he still couldn’t explain how he learned of the before, yet Dumbledore had. Dumbledore knew and hadn’t shared….

“You have until a week after school starts,” Voldemort instructed, “and if he hasn’t agreed to a meeting, given you are his Head of House, insist on one when school starts, but I expect to hear promising news within days of the first.”

“Of course, my lord.” Severus agreed easily. “Is there anything else you wish me to do?”

Voldemort frowned but nodded slowly. “If nothing else, see if you can convince him of the necessity of using the Malfoy library, and maybe while you’re spying, you can slip into the Black’s library and find me information on soul transference rituals and ward structures.”

Nothing could make Severus question the rituals, so he nodded easily at that, but he did need to clarify the meaning of the ward structures, “a clarification about ward structures, my lord?”

“Yes.” Came the biting hiss.

“I apologize, my lord,” Severus bowed low, “I just need to know if you mean a ward within an object, person, or building space. They have different principles and steps to ensure no cascade effects happen.”

“You know of warding?” Voldemort asked in surprise.

“Not enough to be considered an expert by any means, my lord, but I’ve dabbled and researched it, wondering if different potions can enhance it.” He answered honestly. It was true, after all, not that he would admit to failing. It was the basis of alchemy and Nicolas Flamel’s approach to creating the Philosopher’s Stone.

“It would be for building structures, specifically Azkaban and the Ministry. Potter ruined my return and shook their complacency by undertaking his vow. I want to shatter the security they believe they’re implementing.”

“Very well, my lord. I will send a letter to Draco when I return home and visit the Black libraries to see what information I can glean.” Severus said, bowing low once again.

It was a relief to step back when Voldemort waved a dismissive hand without the Crucio, which hit Lucius again, and started talking over Lucius’s panting gasps as the curse lifted.

Resuming his place in line, Severus willed the meeting to hurry along; he wanted to go home, have a drink, try to sort out his memories, and hopefully figure out why he had two sets of memories.

As a fourth torture curse flew, Severus focused on the meeting, chiding himself for getting lost in his head as it took a minute to catch up with the discussion.

Unsurprised that the Dark Lord was irritated with all the suggestions of large-scale attacks to remove the spotlight from Potter and shine it on his return. They didn’t have the numbers to attack Diagon Alley or even the Ministry.

Feeling a warm, comforting sensation on the back of his neck, Severus stepped forward and bowed again, trying not to flinch as red eyes glared at him hatefully but with interest.

“You have an idea, Severus?”

“I do, my lord,” Severus replied tactfully and swallowed the sudden wave of nerves, “it is a regrettable fact your return was understated, and while that may have been the original plan, you can turn it to your advantage.”

“How?” The growl was so unsnake-like that Severus was taken aback momentarily and couldn’t help the flustered confusion that swept through him. “You know you need a visual declaration that not only was the boy telling the truth of your return, but that you are the most powerful wizard in the world.”

Red eyes narrowed into slits, arms loose at his side, “explain!”

“Cultivate him, my lord. Turn him from the side of light and make him your own.” The reply was simple, and even though he showed no outward reaction he was screaming in his head, “what the fuck?”

Voldemort reared back in shocked surprise, yet instead of casting, he regarded Severus intensely, “How would you propose going about that?”

“It is well known that the boy wants his godfather cleared, and if Lucius had been smarter, he would have proposed that as an avenue long before your return; he has had two years to accomplish that. It is entirely possible that if he’d cleared Sirius Black, he could have had two willing recruits that would have gladly joined you.” Severus explained calmly, “while that isn’t viable given Lucius’s disgrace, you do have Wormtail, the true traitors of the Potters and the reason you were cursed previously.”

Red eyes lifted from Severus to glare towards the back of the room, the hissing name of Wormtail echoing around the silent room, sounding unnaturally loud.

There was the sound of scrambling and muffled sobbing as Wormtail hit the ground hard, the impact of his knees felt in Severus’s teeth as he groveled loudly.

“Be silent!” Voldemort snapped, the rat doing as ordered, but he also stopped breathing, slowly turning red, “What do you think, Wormtail? Should we send you to the Ministry and have your good friend cleared?”

Wormtail clutched his throat and turned from red to blue before he dropped forward, gasping harshly for breath, “My lord, please, no, please, I’ve been faithful. You’re most faithful-“

“You’re a coward and have always been a coward, Wormtail, though you have your uses.” The Dark Lord countered, amusement playing on his features, “Who should guard, Lucius? If I follow your suggestion, Severus. I have neither time nor the inclination for that.”

“Give him to another to prove their faithfulness, my lord.” Severus replied, shrugging, “I would offer myself, but with school starting, I haven’t the time….” He trailed off and glanced at the man lying on the ground, tears tracking down his face, “though if you have no objections, I have several experiments that require a test subject.”

Perking up at that, Voldemort turned to regard Lucius as well. “Will they kill him?”

Carelessly, Severus smirked, “They’re experiments for a reason, my lord.”

A matching smirk appeared on Voldemort’s face, but he regretfully shook his head, “The idea has merit if young Draconis has no interest in his father. Nott?”

Thaddeus Nott knelt without a word, though he grimaced painfully as he did so, “How may I serve, my lord?”

“Do you treat your son as Lucius did?” Voldemort asked the question deceptively innocent.

“Never, my lord.” Thaddeus denied fervently, “he’s my only son, my lord, and I genuinely loved my wife; she died a few months after having him, but I could never hurt him because of that.”

“Hmmm…” Voldemort hummed tunelessly, “Admirable. Most people often blame the child.”

“My child never asked to be born, my lord; he was a gift to my wife and me, and I rejoice every day for his life and continued health.”

Severus refrained from reacting, wanting the man to shut up. It might have been the truth so far as Severus had observed, but there was such a thing as too much honesty regarding the Dark Lord. It was a mistake to give the man so much leverage, as while he might not act on it now, he would in the future if Nott displeased him later.

“Take Lucius when you leave, imprison him, but feed him, keep him healthy until I require him again,” Voldemort ordered, turning back to Wormtail, an unholy amount of glee shining from his eyes, red slits that they were. “Do you think I could turn Harry Potter to my cause, Severus?”

The answer in his head was a resounding no. Still, he responded carefully, “Mr. Potter has become somewhat disillusioned with the headmaster; he’s been denied his place in the wizarding world by being kept prisoners with his hated Muggle relatives all his life, and while it might feel like a gift, I don’t propose killing them for him. He had a particular code of honour I don’t understand.”

“Pity. It would have been satisfying to offer that as another gift.” Voldemort said, ropes shooting out of his wand and encompassing Wormtail. “You are ordered to cooperate when questioned by the Aurors, Wormtail, but leave the reasoning for your appearance to yourself; it wouldn’t do to provide them with all the answers. Additionally, you are not permitted to transform or attempt to escape at any time. Do you understand, Wormtail?”

The rat sniffled, snot and tears mingling together on his face as he whimpered pitifully, and strangely, Severus could only feel a sense of giddiness at what he’d accomplished as they were dismissed, someone else given the honour of ensuring Peter was found in the atrium of the Ministry at noon tomorrow.

***

August 23, 1995

The battle lines had already been drawn when Sirius wandered into the kitchen that night for supper. The clear divide in front of him made him wonder briefly what had happened before he ignored the sullen, silent crowd gathered at the table and joined Harry and the subdued twins in the breakfast nook.

Asking as he slid into the seat, accepting the heavily laden plate Kreacher appeared with, “What happened?”

Glaring at the crowd, who did their best to avoid his direct gaze, Harry slapped a special edition of the paper on the table, “a matter of opinion and one I vehemently disagreed with.”

Not even attempting to argue in their defence, Sirius unfolded the paper, eyes widening as they jumped from the moving image to Harry’s face again, then darted to the headline brandished across the top of the page.

“ARREST OF DEADMAN GIVES CREDENCE TO POTTER’S TRUTHS!

This article was initially planned to be written about the Ministry’s controversial decision to appoint Dolores Umbridge as the DADA professor at Hogwarts for the start of the September, but to our surprise upon arrival for our meeting set for noon, when we floo’d into the atrium it was to find it swarming with Aurors, led by newly reinstated Alastor Moody who in the past was also a DADA professor. However, there are some whispers that he never taught anything for the year, as he was being kept prisoner. By whom it is still unknown, but suspicions are slowly growing here that Mr. Potter may not be as crazy or as deranged as previously reported.

The hullabaloo was the active arrest of Peter Pettigrew, a known friend and confidant of the Potters who had reportedly been killed by the famed Sirius Black, who was labelled the Potter’s secret keeper. Something that was collaborated by Albus Dumbledore fourteen years ago when Mr. Black was sent to Azkaban.

To confirm Mr. Potter’s vow, this reporter has done their due diligence and confirmed that Mr. Black was sent there without a trial. The report and evidence at the time were circumstantial and heavily redacted. In my opinion, he was placed there due to public opinion rather than any proof.

When Auror Moody apprehended the trussed-up Pettigrew, the man burst into tears and listed his crimes, starting with his joining with what the ICW would consider a terrorist faction…. The DMLE, and Ministers’ office declined to comment and recently reinstated Chief Warlock Dumbledore to this to say, “It is a sad day, and though justice will prevail, forgiveness and redemption are crucial in a right and just society. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

A low, threatening growl that was more subtonal than noise vibrated his chest as Sirius crumpled the paper and threw it across the room. Incendioing it with a furious glare, his eyes were suspiciously bright. “Bastard deserves to be kissed.”

Humming in agreement, Harry cut into the steak on his plate and waved a negligible hand towards the silent table on the other side of the room. “The sheeple disagreed, parroting the headmaster.”

Sirius glared at them in return, unsurprised when Remus met his eyes, the look in them familiar and reminiscent of the time before his first successful transformation into Padfoot.

When Remus did nothing but glare, Sirius glanced at Harry, who shrugged, amusement glinting in his green eyes. “It was the strangest thing; anyone who argued randomly lost their ability to talk.”

Sirius grinned as he picked up his utensils and turned his attention to the twin redheads, who kept their heads lowered.

Understanding the family’s complications, Sirius nudged their feet with his own, waiting until they lifted their eyes and blinked at the unexpected rage burning in them. Waving a hand, he erected a silencing bubble. He offered an understanding smile that was probably more of a grimace, but at least they matched it and leaned across the table, “I understand from Harry you two plan on opening a storefront for your jokes?”

Surprise flashed across the twins’ faces, and they glanced at Harry questioningly, who lifted an eyebrow. “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.”

A flicker of confusion swept their faces, though Sirius lifted his glass in a silent toast, saying, “Should have nicknamed you Chaos, Prongslet.”

Smirking, Harry shrugged, shoved a forkful of potato in his mouth, and nodded towards the twins as they had a silent conversation, darting looks between them for a long time. “Put them out of their misery, Padfoot. They’re trustworthy.”

“Did Harkins say, Padfoot, George?” Fred asked slowly, the silence in the kitchen growing heavier as the sullen stares bore into them from the crowded table, which comprised the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, and the Tonks family.

“I-I do believe he did, Fred,” George said slowly, eyes darting between the two black-haired men, one with silver eyes, the other emerald green, and admitted, “I’m just not sure I believe what I’m hearing.”

Sirius grinned, lowering his drink to the table, “Mischief’s Managed then?”

“Oh, sweet Merlin.” Fred breathed while George gaped, mouth opening and closing.

“If you’re Padfoot, who-” Fred cut himself off, closed his eyes and asked softly, “Prongslet, your dad was Prongs?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed quietly, “Remus is Moody, Pettigrew is Wormtail. They were the Marauders.”

“How long have you known, Harry?” George practically whined, staring at Sirius in a way that made the older man shift uncomfortably.

“It’s hero worship, Sirius. No need for alarm. Fred and George found the map in their second year.” Harry reassured the older man and smirked in amusement when Sirius glared at him. “I figured you could give them a few pointers on their products, but I also wanted to discuss something else with them.”

“Product discussion should wait until later. I’m sure Grimmauld will help you sneak about,” Sirius said cheekily, “Molly doesn’t need more ammunition to use against any of us.”

“Too right,” George growled, shoving a roll into his mouth and moodily taking a bite.

“What did you want to discuss, Harry?” Fred asked curiously, eyeing the table like Harry, narrowing his eyes as Ron gestured angrily at Hermione.

“I’m going to ask if you decide to leave Hogwarts before you finish this year, transfer to the ISM instead of just quitting,” Harry said seriously and then held up a hand when the twins opened their mouths to protest. “Also, meet me on the landing beside Walburga’s portrait.”

“Why?” Came the duel echo from the twins.

“I want a private conversation,” Harry said mysteriously, turning his attention to the rest of his dinner.

Sirius shook his head, not understanding how Harry remained so calm about everything. Then he felt Medea’s reassuring flutter and relaxed into the embrace, letting the conversation between the twins wash over him.

It was later after the twins had been escorted through the family section and sent through the floo to the bank, that Sirius was leaving the conspicuously empty kitchen when he ran into Severus Snape, the dark eyes regarding him with something other than his trademark sneer of hate.

It was a look that recalled the scent of lemon grass, moon posies, and the sweetness of dragon berries and left Sirius wanting something he couldn’t explain.

“Good evening, Severus,” Sirius said, trying to hide the breathlessness in his voice. He knew he had failed miserably when amusement danced in the same dark eyes that roved over his face.

“Sirius,” The other man dipped his head, “May I speak with you privately?”

Heart fluttering unexpectedly, Sirius swallowed and glanced around, knowing instantly that the kitchen and any available rooms were out, not knowing where any of the occupants were in the house. “Will you trust me?”

Severus unconsciously fidgeted with the sleeves of his robes but nodded, accepting Sirius’s hand. The warmth from the surprisingly smooth palm was as familiar as the coarseness of Sirius’s hand, and he stared dumbly at the clasped hands, feeling the sting of tears, he once again couldn’t explain. He awkwardly cleared his throat and tugged, “It’ll be in the family sections. It’s the only place I can ensure complete privacy.”

“Very well,” Severus replied, following along, not tensing as Sirius led him to what he knew would look like a solid wall.

***

Opening the door to the family library, the lights flared to life, and the fireplace crackled merrily in the hearth as Sirius reluctantly released Severus’s hand, swallowing awkwardly as he waved a hand at the chairs, “Did you want tea or-“

“Something stronger, I think,” Severus replied carefully, lowering himself into a surprisingly comfortable chair, aged and dated as it was.

Needing something to do, to calm the nerves the slight smile of amusement on Severus’s face caused, Sirius walked to the wet bar, grabbed two tumblers and a bottle of Ogden’s whiskey, and brought them back to the matching set of chairs, sitting opposite Severus and poured them both a drink.

It took ten minutes of silence before Sirius broke, and he cleared his throat, wincing at the noise. “You said you wanted to talk?”

A humourless laugh left the other man, and he dropped his head to the back of the chair, “I do. I don’t know where to start or if you’ll believe me, and I have a request, though it is selfish of me to ask.”

Startled, Sirius glanced at the man, eyes travelling the arc of his neck and feeling his cheeks flush. “Which is easier to start with?”

“Probably my request, but it feels distasteful speaking of it when I believe the personal is more important.” Severus admitted, lifting his head, “I’ve been tasked with two impossibilities and a third that could depend on your answer.”

“I’ll help in any way I can, Severus.” Sirius offered recklessly, the flush in his cheeks growing darker, though he didn’t take it back as Severus regarded him with a look he couldn’t decipher but did answer, tone flat, indicating his distaste.

“I need access to the Black Library, specifically books related to soul transference and structural warding.”

Sirius blinked and nodded dumbly, “I’ll point out the other entrance to the family wing, but you have free rein of the library.” He paused and flicked an eye to the portrait on the wall, “I’ll see if I can get permission to the Lord’s private stock for you as well.”

Nodding his acceptance, Severus took a drink of whiskey and sighed, “He also wanted me to approach my godson about an alliance, as he entrusted two dark objects to Abraxas. One has been confirmed destroyed, but he also wants the other piece.”

“Draco won’t go for that,” Sirius said bluntly.

“Indeed.” Severus agreed, not questioning his statement.

Warily, Sirius knocked back his drink, scrubbing a hand down his face. “So, what was the second impossibility?”

“Access to the Malfoy library, but as Draco has not written, I’m unsure of what he thinks of me, considering Lucius’s threats of my double life.” Severus replied with a snort, “Hence the two impossibilities.”

“Do you have a deadline on Draco?” Sirius asked, turning to gaze into the crackling fire.

“Within a week of Hogwarts starting. It’s why I hope to have something to offer for that failure.” Severus said warily, topping up their glasses, then leaned back to stare at Sirius. “You look better, healthier than you did at the start of summer.”

“I-ah, thanks?” Sirius replied dumbly, a little confused, still not feeling the urge to snap back. He explained honestly, “Harry arranged for me to see his account manager at the bank, who arranged a ritual cleansing.”

“Did Mr. Potter undergo a ritual?” Severus asked carefully.

Agreeing with a slow nod, Sirius picked his words with care. “He had a lot of issues from living with his relatives; it was the result of those that jump-started the whole thing.”

Dropping his eyes, Sirius swallowed, “My issues stem from the combination of my time in Azkaban, but also recent compulsions, loyalty hexes, compounded by memory lapses.”

“In what way?” Severus asked with interest, but not in a suggestive manner because he wasn’t fishing for blackmail material but in genuine interest.

“My family, primary. I have two conflicting accounts, if you will, of my mother. Her portrait collaborated both sets of memories and apologized for her behaviour, but I’ve also been having some from school.” It felt good to share with someone other than Harry. That it was Severus, he was sharing this with made him want to squirm, but not out of embarrassment or discomfort. He didn’t know how to explain it, but the hesitant satisfaction in the dark eyes made him want to fidget.

“Could-I-may….” Severus trailed off with a groan, dropping forward to bury his head in his hands after setting his empty glass on the table.

Sirius wasn’t sure precisely what Severus was trying to ask, though he knew what he wished it to be, and blurted without thinking. “It wasn’t me. That night with Moony, I-I was in the hospital wing. I remember trying to say it wasn’t me, and it took days for you to believe me, and it was only when I recklessly took a vow that you apologized and believed me.”

“I know,” Severus stiffened noticeably, lifting his head from his hands. His voice was hoarse. “What else?”

“I grew up sheltered and protected as the Heir. I knew my duty and believed that – even though it hurt – my mother was training me on how I should be taught.” Blinking tears from his eyes, Sirius focused on the drink he picked up and knocked it back, “It would probably surprise you to know I was rather bookish as a child. That’s why I expected and wanted to be in Ravenclaw. I loved to read and learn, which saved me from the lessons my mother liked to impart.”

“But you ended up in Gryffindor,” Severus said rhetorically.

“I was horrified.” The admittance was soft and breathless, twisted in sorrow, “But then this kid I’d met on the train was sorted after me, and he bounded over excited as can be, claiming he knew we’d be best friends.”

Sirius met Severus’s eyes; a shared grief reflected in them, and he swallowed hard. “I knew by the end of the first year what Remus was. I remember writing a letter to my parents because—Merlin, I was terrified.”

Severus closed his eyes and drew a deep breath that seemed to catch in his chest. “What happened?”

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped Sirius, and he collapsed against his chair, slouching inelegantly, “I never got a chance to send it. I don’t know who took it, but it disappeared, and the next thing I knew, I was looking up Animagus in the library’s restricted section. What I remember most about practicing in secret is the scent of lemon grass, moon posies, dragon berries.” Sirius answered, voice cracking and cleared his throat before continuing, “The smell I get from you, and I can’t explain it. It’s random and confusing because no one was there.”

“I was,” Severus whispered, his voice calm again, but when Sirius looked, he appeared wrecked, his expression twisted in grief and regret.

“I…. Severus?” Sirius whispered, shaking his head, but instead of snapping, Severus stood and moved to sit before him, hesitating for a second before reaching out and taking his hand, meeting his eyes.

“I gathered potion ingredients for extra credit and found the glade where you practiced.” Severus explained gently, the exact opposite of his public persona, “I’ll admit to some alarm the first time I saw a Grimm, but Siri, you were overjoyed to see me, bounded up to me, wiggling in excitement at what I learnt was your accomplishment.” He lifted an eyebrow and squeezed their joined hands, “It’s not every day a fourteen-year-old masters the Animagus transformation.”

Feeling like he was on the cusp of something indefinable, Sirius swallowed, “Why don’t I remember?”

“You spend over a decade tortured by dementors, Siri,” Severus replied dryly.

The dry response shouldn’t have been funny, but Sirius couldn’t help but snort a laugh, “not my finest moment.”

“We both know it wasn’t your fault,” Severus said evenly, “As for Padfoot, you’d stay as the Grimm, but we’d meet up every fortnight or so, leading me to more varied ingredients. It took you almost a year to trust me, but when you did, you explained why you sought the Animagus training and offered to share the knowledge.”

“Did you take me up on it?” Sirius asked in interest, staring at the man his memories told him was his nemesis, but something else told him he was so much more.

Severus shook his head, reaching up a hand to touch the side of his neck, “You saw my scars and told me that they’d appear as white markings on the body and pointed out the ones on Padfoot’s belly to prove the point.”

Recognition and a flash of remembrance lit inside Sirius’s head, and he swallowed, “A panther, you would have been a panther.”

Nodding, Severus offered a weak smile, “A somewhat impressive animal, but impossible to hide the story of my childhood.”

Emotionally wrung out, Sirius ran a hand through his hair, “Why didn’t- don’t we remember this? I don’t even know when I told James or Peter about the transformations, and it doesn’t explain why that thing with Moony happened in the seventh year.”

Severus breathed out heavily, expression twisting in something like betrayal, “We were both used and manipulated. It’s only been in the last week or so that I started searching my memories.”

Stilling at that, Sirius lifted his head, “Since Harry’s trial?”

“Yes.” Came the easy agreement, eyes flicking away for a moment before returning to his, “But I- this will sound so bizarre, but I know there was a different outcome of that trial, Sirius.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked slowly, feeling a fizzle of something slide down his spine.

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” Severus deflected easily, “You asked about the incident?”

Sirius nodded slowly, “I did.”

“Would it surprise you to know we’ve had this conversation several times? Once when it happened, and again after graduation, and now.” Severus asked conversationally, reaching around to snag the whiskey and topping up Sirius’s glass.

“I can’t say it would, no,” Sirius said flatly, taking a drink.

“I can’t tell you when you informed James or Peter, but Lily was the one who berated me for allowing you to make a vow, wanting to know why when I ‘knew’ what he was already,” Severus admitted, shame creeping up his face, “It was only as she was yelling at me, that I remembered, and I knew the person I ‘spoke’ with wasn’t you.”

“How?” Sirius asked curiously, the feeling of standing on the cusp of something expanding to send sparks racing across his skin.

“Two reasons, but I think you’ll only need one.” Severus offered, taking the whiskey from his hand and setting it on the table beside him. Severus took his hands, thumbing the bracers and pushed his magic into them.

The bracers—Sirius couldn’t remember putting on or ever taking off—heated up. The previously hidden runic array lit with a faint glow, and an audible click echoed in the room; they fell off, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Sirius swallowed hard, tears blurring his vision, and he blinked rapidly even as Severus slowly traced the intricately braided band dulled with age on his wrist. “The person didn’t feel of my magic, Siri.”

“I—” Sirius felt one tear, then another roll down his cheeks as Severus lifted his wrist, whispering an incantation. A matching bracer appeared and fell off, showing a matching band. “Lily was the binder in our seventh year, Sirius. We had plans to complete the handfasting after our masteries, but…”

Sirius tugged his hand free, whipping desperately at his face, expression horrified, “What the fuck? Sev? I forgot we hand-fasted.”

“I forgot too,” Severus offered, trying and failing to be soothing, his expression filled with regret, “but again, it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation. We had it after I was forced to join Riddle.”

The name made Sirius frown, tilting his head minutely before he offered a short wince and called out, “Harry,” somewhat desperately, not taking the comfort provided by Medea. “Sorry, I- Merlin- no, I can’t use that, Salazar’s worse, Blessed Lady, this is fucked.”

A befuddled but amused expression crossed Severus’s face, “You’re not freaking out like I thought you would.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m freaking out, but silently. Medea seems to like you, but if I start yelling and shouting, one of two things will happen. Either Medea will take you as a threat, or Harry will, and they’ll both react, neither of which will get me laid later.” Sirius hastily replied, flushing scarlet, “That’s if-I-I honestly need a new person to swear by.” Sirius finished maniacally, trying not to sound as deranged or as crazy as he probably appeared, finishing breathlessly, “I don’t know if that whole hand-fasted thing is something you want to continue, but I want to kiss you.”

Surprise flashed across Severus’s face, “You- it’s been fourteen years, Siri.”

Taking a breath to still the nervous energy, Sirius nodded in agreement and slid forward in his chair, rearranging their hands until he could clasp them together, “It has, but I’ve been- since Harry’s trial, things have been different, you seemed to have realized that. I don’t know if it’s because of this…” He traced the band reverently, a smile turning the corner of his lips, “But after everything we’ve gone through, together and separately, I think we owe it to ourselves to try.”

“I-” Severus cleared his throat and averted his gaze, blinking rapidly, “You don’t understand what I’ve done, Sirius.”

“You’ve survived, Severus.” Sirius whispered, “There are things we haven’t discussed yet. But I know you survived longer than I did, and you still managed to help, Harry, when it mattered.”

Tears filled Severus’s eyes, his head shaking minutely. “I’ve been a bully to him, Siri. The worst sort of bully. You should hate me on principle for that alone.”

“You have,” Sirius agreed gently, letting go of his hands to reach up and brush a tear away, “I think, like me, if you undergo a ritual cleansing, you’ll find you’ve been influenced unduly, Sev.”

“How can you believe-”

“Did you know Harry was living with Petunia?” Sirius demanded, interrupting whatever Severus would say, unsurprised when he shook his head. “We both know the type of woman Petunia Dursley neè Evans was, I sincerely doubt she improved with time, considering Harry agreed to move in with me an hour or two after meeting me, and that was after believing for most of the year I was the one responsible for his parent’s death.”

Severus swallowed, shuddering, “I don’t know if I deserve a second chance.”

“Fuck that!” Sirius snarled, “Get Tobias Snape out of your head right now, Severus. I died thinking we hated each other, and fuck if I’m going to do that again. This is our second chance, and we’re taking it.” Sirius frowned, then flushed, “That’s if you can stand to be with someone who’s been subjected to torture via dementors and had their education stop at the age of 20, leaving them that age, metaphorically speaking.”

An arrested expression crossed Severus’s face, and he pulled back to peer at Sirius, licking his lips, “Were you the one responsible for his sudden death?”

A surprised laugh escaped Sirius at the randomness of the question, but he didn’t bother asking for clarification and shook his head, admitting, amused, “I was the alibi.”

“Lily?” Severus asked in wonder and had to blink away more tears. “She never said anything.”

“Plausible deniability,” Sirius responded with a shrug, “she had no trust for the Ministry even then, and if you’d given any indication, they could have arrested you on suspicion and with the mark on your arm…”

Severus sighed and nodded, “I think the only thing that saved me from being a suspect was that I was sequestered for my mastery.”

“Which Lily explained to the Aurors, who responded to your mother’s demand to investigate.” Sirius said, “Not that they did much. In truth, I always suspected they obliviated the Muggle cops and listed it as an accidental death.”

Inhaling slowly, Severus relaxed his shoulders, “I don’t care what you’ve suffered, as it was through no fault of your own, Sirius. As for maturity, you’ve always been older than you present to the world. So, how will we work on our second chance if I’m in school teaching for nine months of the year, and you’re trapped here?”

“I can tell you, but first, I want a kiss,” Sirius whispered, his heart suddenly pounding as Severus regarded him through dark, glittering eyes.

It felt like time slowed down as Severus leaned forward, brushing their lips together once and then twice before deepening the kiss with a groan that mingled with a low growl that was out of place.

Sirius’ eyes flew up as Padfoot responded to the threat instinctively, letting out a subtonal growl that echoed around the room just as a flicker of movement caught the edge of his vision, hand coming up and casting a shield automatically as a spell slammed into it.

The yell came from nowhere as Remus ripped off the invisibility cloak, “You’re supposed to be mine, Sirius! You were always supposed to be mine!” Before either man could respond, Remus took a step forward and gasped as he crumpled, body twitching painfully.

Staring at his former friend in horrified shock, Sirius grasped Severus’s arm, drawing in painful breaths, and burst into tears as an enraged Harry entered the room through the floo.

***

CHAPTER NINE

Getting the twins out of the house was ridiculously easy, though they looked at him suspiciously as they entered the fireplace.

It was immensely satisfying to watch the surprise mingled with horror replace the suspicion as he called out the designation and offered a cheerful wave, making them laugh as they whirled away, gesturing rudely.

He was still chuckling as he sat down, the grin sliding off his face as Grimmauld told him Sirius was taking Severus to the library and glanced at the portrait on the wall showing the room. He didn’t want to spy on their conversation, feeling that a lot of it would be things they’d prefer to keep private, but while he believed Severus Snape had changed, and he knew what he had done and sacrificed for him in the future, Harry didn’t quite trust the man just yet.

Absently rubbing the back of his scar-free hand, Harry pulled the prep test forward, trying to avoid and ignore the conversation that hadn’t even started.

When he realized he’d read the same question five times without retaining a single word, Harry acknowledged he’d failed to ignore the conversation his godfather was having, entirely invested in listening to their tragic history.

The parallels between their history and what he beginning to suspect were his and Draco’s weren’t exactly hard to miss, though it did make him wonder if that Potions book in the sixth year was planted or a happy accident. One, Dumbledore exploited by not listening to his concerns regarding Draco’s behaviour. Sure, Harry knew now that while, yes, Draco was up to something. There was also the undeniable fact that there was always another side to the story, and Harry had failed to see it that day, so convinced he was right and justified. At least until that spell had left his lips – thankfully in English, he glanced at the slim volume on his desk and closed his eyes. He’d hate to see the results of a simple spell done in Parseltongue, never mind that one.

Shaking his head, he pushed the prep test away and snagged Draco’s last letter, smoothing it out, still unsure how to respond.

“Dear Harry,

It’s entirely unfair how you’re dragging out the titles, but given what you have gone through, I’ll allow you the fun. Though I recognize the last name, I am unsure what can top that revelation and trust me, I’ve tried.

Having said that, if you haven’t done it yet, I recommend talking with the Dverger about protection and checking the family vaults for any unfulfilled marriage contracts, because once it becomes known who you are, those families will come out in droves. Better to be ahead of the game, so to speak… which reminds me I should look through my vaults just in case.

I jest, mostly. Though I could easily envision coronation robes, but I digress.

Mother and I have had more discussions over past family members, and it’s distressing to realize how Medea sleeping may have affected them in some way. It’s almost miraculous that the Black family survived as long as it did without direct access to the family magic. Many things might not have happened as they did.

As for making things up to me? Harry, you must know what happened in the future? If not literally, then subconsciously. Mother and I both died, leaving you the sole Black survivor. Sure, it could be argued that Andromeda and her grandson survived, but from what my mother tells me, she turned away and walked willingly from the family.

It would explain why neither she nor her daughter remembered and why you trusted no one but Sirius in the house. Medea knows they’re untrustworthy, and from what I understand of family magics. They know. It’s them we have to place our trust in; without that trust, what happened to the Black ancestor who forced Medea to sleep will come to pass again. Though I don’t know if she’ll fight to save herself a second time.

Now, moving on: you said something about the necessity of tea for a witch or wizard’s survival? I’ll have you know, Comte Mávros, if you remove access to my tea, words will be had, and a war will be fought. Tea is an absolute necessity, though barbarian that you are, you probably prefer coffee, black coffee at that(shudders). (Please share the memory; I need a good laugh.)

As for joining you in Rome, I’ve already submitted my application, and I’ve the same test date as you. So, please send word when you leave, and Mother and I will follow, gratefully accepting your invitation to live with you – our arrangements here have already been made.

That brings me to my next point: I have conflicting memories of Severus. He is my godfather, and I know he did his best to try and protect me; yet, in moments of self-pity and loathing, it doesn’t feel like it was much. I know he was the one who assigned prison guard, citing it as punishment, and while it’s true I never had to torture anyone, it was torture for me to care for the prisoners they kept.

Will I object to his presence? No, he has as much right to freedom as I do; I can’t begrudge him that. His sacrifice for the defeat of Riddle gives him that forgiveness, and I will do my best to remember that upon meeting him again.

The second point, though loath to write it down, and I wouldn’t if my mother wasn’t picking away at me from across the table to write it. You need to look up information on Veela because I am one, and my inheritance will come into play when I turn sixteen. While that is a few months out, it may become necessary information because, at the risk of being blunt, I find you attractive. So please, I beg you to look up what that can mean…

As for Dobby, I don’t know why you never figured it out, but I ordered him to save you in the second year. When you freed him from Lucius, I suspect he snuck a bond on you; he would have needed to survive as he did. Being around you at Hogwarts probably made it stronger, but if you have any fears he’s been influenced by Bumblebee, order him to the Elf Conclave for healing; being bound to you, he will have no choice but to obey.

One additional thing I would like to mention before closing this letter, and only because of the work stoppage at Gringotts. (Which I suspect has something to do with you.) Anyway, it means the team of curse breakers I wanted to hire to clear out the manor will not be available until sometime in September. Still, I have a particular object here that is giving me the creeps, and I need it gone, preferably yesterday. I don’t know for sure what it is, and I’m also 110% sure I don’t want to know, but it’s the same thing that went missing from Bella’s vault near the war’s end.

Please tell me what to do with it, and I will, without hesitation.

Your loyal friend

Draconis Malfoy, Earl of Avebury

PS: That’s how you sign a letter. Now, I’m off to search the vaults in the manor for forgotten contracts; I’ll send you designs of acceptable coronation robes soon.

Draco”

Setting the letter down, Harry ran a hand over his hot face, glanced at another book on his desk, and knew his face turned pinker. He knew that the innuendos and flirting could be just Draco’s cheeky side coming out, something Harry had never had the opportunity to learn before, but what he’d read so far in the only volume of Veela in the house he had set down in embarrassment. Draco’s blunt recitation that he found him attractive and what the book implied meant a different set of circumstances, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to contemplate. It would either depress him or make him enraged that he’d lost the chance the first time around.

Feeling a gentle brush from Medea, Harry shook his head and cleared his throat, focusing on the letter again, wondering where to start his own.

The duality of having Medea in his head had taken getting used to. It was weird having information drop in his head when he needed it the most. It’s how he’d won most encounters with the Weasleys or Lupin, so he was extremely thankful she allowed and even encouraged him to learn independently without forcing him to know something just because it would expedite things.

With Pendragon, the duality wasn’t what he’d thought. He’d understood abstractly that his merging with Pendragon would be different, but the concept of two becoming one had gotten lost in translation. He had memories – and sometimes the feelings – as if he’d been there. It was often disconcerting to realize he remembered an event of Arthur’s, though he was thankful that it only seemed to happen when he slept. Pendragon correct that for now, their knowledge wasn’t the necessity he needed.

Shaking his head to get his thoughts in order, Harry lifted his pen from the paper, a shiver of apprehension sliding down his spine as he reread the paragraph.

“Listening to our godfathers talk is probably the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, and that counts the torture I’ve experienced. It’s rage-inducing learning what they have suffered, both individually and collectively. The fact that outside influences kept them apart, and I can only speculate that it’s because of me, or at least the idea of me, makes it all the more difficult to hear.”

Harry swallowed and ran a hand through his hair after dropping his pen, knowing he shouldn’t be writing this. It was too personal, but the parallels wouldn’t leave him alone.

He already suspected that his encounters with Draco had been manufactured and manipulated, but to what end? To keep them apart? To keep Harry corralled into the fate Dumbledore chose?

The fireplace flared before he could contemplate it further, and he cast a silencing charm only he could hear over and organize his papers as the twins stumbled through, one after another.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t overly surprised by the shell-shocked expressions they wore and quickly rose to his feet.

Ushering them to the couch, he summoned a tea tray and fixed them individually, adding an extra sugar for George and a lemon wedge for Fred, then settled in to wait for them to speak.

“How do you tell us apart?” Fred asked, confusion, lacing his tone as he held up the lemon wedge, expression matching the torn and twisted one on George’s face.

Shrugging helplessly, Harry blew out a slow breath, “I hated being treated like I was invisible growing up, and while it’s not the same. I imagine people look at you and assume that because you look identical, everything about you is, too.” Harry leaned forward, toying with the signet rings hidden by his hand, “I know Fred prefers sour candies and detests pumpkin juice, while George, you love anything pumpkin, don’t like sweets overly much unless it’s sugar in your tea. You like different shades of green, though your mother won’t make you anything in green, hating the colour herself, and it shocked you completely when the first sweater she knitted me had green yarn. Fred loves cats, but George is allergic-“

George held up his hand and shook his head, tears filling his vision, “We get it, I-I just don’t understand how you do.”

“I’ll admit, I cheated at first, though it was completely unintentional. It wasn’t something I was aware of doing, but I tagged you with my magic and learnt by observation.” Harry said softly, “I know I could have asked, and you would have probably messed with me, though a secret part of you would probably have appreciated the gesture. It felt more important to figure it out for myself, as, like I said, I hated being treated like I was invisible.”

A bitter laugh emerged from Fred, and he wiped his eyes, “You know, you’re the first person who figured it out without asking? Even our parents can’t tell us apart, and I often suspect they had to use bracelets or something to prevent mix-ups when we were little.”

“Except when we lost opposite teeth at the same time.” George muttered mulishly and shook his head, “How did you know to send us to the bank?”

“Sirius.” Harry replied simply, “he mentioned the Prewitt Lordship and your uncles, who explained that they were also magical twins. I wrote to Ragnok and requested an inheritance test on your behalf because if I’m right, someone was preventing you from claiming a title that should be yours by right.”

“There is something wholly different about you,” Fred said, rolling his eyes, sucking on the lemon and ignoring his tea.

“Well, an egomaniac has been set on controlling my life in some form or another since my birth. I’m entitled to be a bit of a shit.” Harry replied with a smirk, snagging a cookie.

George sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Well, it appears a similar circumstance exists in our case. Great Aunt Muriel has held the seat in proxy since our uncles died. We don’t know for sure, but suspect her memory has been tampered with because, technically, as the oldest living member of the Prewitt line, she held Guardianship over us.”

“Ragnok is going to summon her to the bank, claiming an audit needs to be done, and explain the situation and offer a ritual cleansing.” Fred continued as George took an uncouth gulp of tea, “Thanks for offering us one, but Ragnok said our weekly flushing draft has prevented any sort of potions tampering, and most mind magics slid off of us because of the twin bond.”

Harry frowned, “You’re not taking that on faith that it can’t happen in the future, right?”

“Oh, no.” Fred rushed to expand his sentence, waving his hand, “We haven’t officially claimed the titles but had a set of rings commissioned by the bank to prevent most potions tampering, installed with an emergency port key.”

“So, what happens now?” Harry asked slowly, glancing between them. “I imagine the news is unexpected and imposes on your plans.”

George groaned and dropped his head against the couch back. “It was totally unexpected, putting a pin in our joke shop. We already decided to learn what we need, hopefully with Great Aunt Muriel’s tutoring.”

Feeling grief over the delay in their plans, Harry dropped his gaze to stare at the floor, sighing when George gripped his forearm. “Talk to us, Harry, because George is right. You are different, and while it is possible Sirius told you about Gideon and Fabian, I don’t think that’s the whole truth.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped him, making him shake his head, “I wish I could tell you. You’ve been the loyalist friends I’ve had in school, outside Luna and Neville.”

“How do you know, Luna?” It was overlapped by Fred, who whispered, “You definitely know more than you telling.”

It should have been telling that they didn’t ask about Ron or Hermione, but it wasn’t.

“Maybe I do, but given the unfortunate circumstances of your status, I’m sadly unable to share,” Harry admitted, sympathetic when Fred responded bitterly.

“Blood traitor.”

“We plan on disowning the Weasley name.” George admitted, “Ragnok already told us it will probably be required before we attempt to claim the title.

Harry dipped his head, eyes flashing purple, holding up his hand to forestall their reaction, “Wait to talk to your Great Aunt, please.” Harry begged gently, “I don’t want to be responsible for you being nameless if she suggests waiting to assume the title.”

“I-“ George trailed off with a frown that Fred matched and continued the sentence, “That’s fair, but you have to keep in contact with us during the school year.”

Startled, Harry jerked his head up, “what?”

Devious matching smiles crossed the twins’ faces. “A trend seems to be spreading amongst some of the heirs of highborn families, as a number of them have applications for consideration with the ISM.” George explained, amused, Fred following up the sentence, “Ragnok has our application filled out, but is waiting until the meeting with Great Aunt Muriel first before sending them off.”

“Oh….” Harry trailed off, trying to remember who or if anyone had left Hogwarts the first time, and drew a blank, realizing he didn’t know that many students or even his peers in his year to accurately figure it out. “Did Ragnok say who?”

“And break client confidently? Not bloody likely.” Fred snorted a laugh, “and I doubt I’d have anything concrete to offer before you leave.”

Harry glanced at the portrait as he heard his name spoken in alarm, focusing on his godfather’s conversations for a moment before looking back at the twins and rising to his feet. “You’re right. I will be leaving soon, probably within the day, so I can assure you that Grimmauld will allow you to hide out in the family section as long as you are respectful, and she’ll hold your letters for you until you can receive them privately.”

The twins rose, “Are you sure? We don’t want to impose, Harry.”

“It’s not imposing if I’m offering, and Grimmauld actually likes you two.” Harry reminded them gently, picking up a small stack of books and holding it out to the suddenly wary-looking twins.

“By like, you mean hugs and kisses and not fry and zap, right?” George asked hesitantly.

Grinning, Harry shook, “Not exactly, but close enough, considering she duplicated a couple books for you two to read before you left.”

Exchanging looks, Fred finally reached out and accepted the books, flipping them over to read the titles in the spine, eyebrows lifting in surprise, showing George, who breathed softly. “We’ve been looking everywhere for books on Animagus training. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry returned, “Don’t worry about anyone seeing the contents either; the rest of the household is still being punished.”

“We’ll keep them in our room anyway. No one visits us there anyway.” George said seriously, hesitating briefly before asking, “Will you close the house when you leave?”

“If I do, it won’t be immediately, though I may leave it open as a safe home for people displaced by the war,” Harry responded honestly, watching the understanding light their eyes as he answered one unspoken question without words.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Mom’s gonna have kittens, Fred, and we won’t be here to see it.” George grinned in amusement, though Fred continued to look serious, an expression Harry wasn’t used to seeing on his face.

“For what it’s worth, know that you have our support, and we’re serious about learning what we need to sit in the Wizengamot.”

Feeling a swirl of emotions not all his own, Harry twitched towards the fireplace and swallowed, “Your trust in me means more, and I hope you know that.”

Fred nodded in agreement and gestured vaguely to the study door, “is it safe to venture forth?”

Grateful that they seemed to understand, Harry took a quick inventory of where everyone was and nodded, “Good luck, guys, and take care of Gringotts. They’ll get the letters to me.”

“All the luck to you as well, and thanks again.” They replied in unison, slipping out the door as Grimmauld heaved and flexed, making Harry stumble towards the fireplace and step inside, trusting the house to put it where it wanted him because she was pissed, and her fury was invoking his own.

***

The fury coursing through him was momentarily distracted by Sirius bursting into tears. The twitching whimpers of Remus Lupin, half hidden by an invisibility cloak, drew his gaze, and he took a step forward, growling low in his chest.

Severus jerked like stung and somehow managed to drag Sirius half out of his chair before dropping to his knees in wide-eyed shock, staring at Harry in a sort of dawning comprehension that sent a shiver down his spine.

Then Severus spoke, “A prince to an extinct line in a different time. Subject, servant, friend, then brothers bound in blood and love. They wept at the betrayal and honoured him in death. Our ancestors served with honour and without reserve, the line living on until the last descendant is born. Trapped by vows most foul, they’ll be torn between two until a third enters the board, and you’ll be the first of the inner circle to know of the return. Freedom will be had in acknowledging the flashing purple eyes that proclaim him your king.”

Harry flushed, rolling his eyes, letting the black scales erupt up his neck and dipping his head, “Are you acknowledging me, Severus Snape?”

“I-“ Severus swallowed and glanced at Sirius who had stopped crying and was regarding the potions master with a blank and neutral expression. “I never believe it was me, and that first life….” He trailed off and closed his eyes, “Why didn’t you come the first time?”

“I don’t know.” Harry admitted, coming to stand in front of Severus, “I don’t know if it was the hands of the Moirai or something bigger-“

“What’s bigger than being King?” Severus demanded, voice sharp and waspish.

A humourless chuckle escaped Harry, and he sighed long and heavy, “That ring that cast the wasting sickness, did Dumbledore ever say what it was?”

“A youthful foley he never expected to find.” Severus responded instantly, eyes calculating before they fluttered shut, “That book, it was true?”

“Every word,” Harry agreed, pausing and adding, “or so I assume. Hermione and I visited Godric’s Hallow and met Nagini, who appeared as Madame Bagshot, though we didn’t realize that at first, and there was a note from Rita along with the book, thanking her for the memories.”

“Did he actually manage to reunite them?” Severus asked, dread coating each word.

“Only one person has the power to reunite them, no matter what the legends say.” Harry responded evenly, “They’re mine, Severus. They’ve always been mine.”

The potion master released a slow breath, “And you’re king on top of that?”

“Regent,” Harry corrected but nodded, “Amongst a few other titles, all passed down through my mother, a pureblood witch, hidden in her squib uncle’s home to protect her.”

Severus’s mouth fell open in shock, “what?”

“Both her parents were magical, three of four grandparents were magical, and one was a squib, and so on….” Harry shrugged, unconcerned, “It was an enlightening revelation that I would be willing to share if you’re interested?”

“What’s the price?” Severus asked flatly.

Harry smiled, “the price is your freedom to make your own choices going forward, Severus Snape. I make no demands on you as if I were just another master.”

Confused, Severus shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts, “but I’m not free.”

“Do you want to be?” Harry asked curiously, “Because I can free you right now if you wish?”

“You mean remove the mark?” Severus whispered in sudden understanding.

Inclining his head, Harry waited, knowing Severus had to work through this himself and decide on his own.

“I’ll have to leave England, but I don’t know what that will do to my vows to Dumbledore,” Severus whispered.

“Severus, those vows aren’t to Dumbledore; they’re to my mother,” Harry explained gently, kneeling in front of the older man, earning a look of horror he suspected had more to do with his title than the conversation. “And I imagine if you followed Sirius and myself, you’d keep your vows intact.”

“Follow you where?” The demand was weak and barely there. The apparent desire for freedom overpowered everything else.

“I take my entrance exams to the ISM on the 25th.” Harry admitted, “Though, as a fair warning, Draco and his mother will be there with us.”

“What?” Severus questioned in confusion.

Harry grinned at the perplexed expression on Severus Snape’s face and explained gently, “So one of the drawbacks to this sort of time travel is those of Black Blood, remember, though that does, unfortunately, include Bellatrix but not Andromeda or her daughter, though due to memories from Sirius and Narcissa, we’re unsure of Bella’s true allegiance.”

Severus looked highly skeptical, though he didn’t argue, holding out his arm and pushing the sleeve up, “Remove it, please. I- I can’t stomach having his taint in my skin any longer.”

Harry gripped his arm, turning the mark up to see, and frowned at it briefly before snorting in disgust and disappointment, though he’d never tell them that.

Letting his hidden wand slide into his hand, Harry laid it on the side of it and whispered the incantation in parseltongue.

The satisfaction that flooded Harry as the snake withered and disintegrated into dust was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He met the relieved face of Severus, who swallowed hard, body shuddering as emotions long suppressed dancing across his face as he whispered, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I think if anyone had the right to call me by my given name, it’s you, Severus.” Harry returned as he rose to his feet, “But in either case, you are very welcome.”

Severus continued to stare at Harry, his pale face revealing the reverence Harry hated, but he understood, though he was loath to see it on his face. “I’m still just Harry, Professor, and while chronologically I may be three years older than I am now, I’m still very much a teen and woefully lacking in a true understanding of the position my titles place me in.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind, though I am pleased you are continuing your education,” Severus replied dryly and pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly before sitting in the chair he’d previously vacated.

The soft groan from the werewolf drew Harry’s attention, and he paced towards Remus Lupin, who rolled onto his back, staring up at him, eyes unseeing as he continued to twitch painfully.

“You can let him go,” Harry ordered steadily, watching the werewolf slump bonelessly to the floor, breathing hard.

Feeling Pendragon rumble threateningly in his chest, Harry squatted and tilted his head, voice cold when he spoke, “What’s the olde law for broken guest right, Mr. Lupin?”

“What?” Remus’s voice shook in confusion, head jerking hard against the floor, and he gazed up at Harry with fear slowly building in his eyes.

Gazing back, Harry knew that it wasn’t the human half that was afraid. Moony seemed more aware of Harry’s true nature than he’d thought.

It made Harry smile. A smile that apparently wasn’t as friendly as he attempted to be, as Remus swallowed hard, mouth opening soundlessly.

“Well, I asked a question,” Harry demanded, resting his hands on his knees as he inspected the werewolf.

“Banishment or death, depending on the offensive.” Remus finally gasped, eyes filling with unshed tears, “You wouldn’t do that to an old friend of your father’s, would you?”

“Would an old friend of my father’s attack my godfather?” Harry countered, “We already had one betrayal in the quad; why not one more?”

“Pet-Peter didn’t mean to.” Remus whispered, “he was afraid. He always was.”

“He should be afraid.” Harry agreed simply, “Because if Riddle doesn’t kill him when he goes to attempt a breakout on Azkaban, I will.”

“No. You can’t.” The denial was shocking and harsh, “he can be redeemed, shown the light.”

“He’s a blood traitor and a coward. The only redemption he’ll find is if he can pay Charon.”

Remus blinked in confusion, “there is no such thing. That’s a muggle belief.”

Startled, Harry laughed and glanced at Sirius, who looked equally surprised, even with the dried tear tracks on his face.

Risking a glance at Severus Snape, who looked as perplexed as Sirius and offered a shrug, “The only thing I have is the magical education has been distilled even amongst our own kind.”

Humming thoughtfully, Harry rose to his feet and twirled his hands, lifting the werewolf up, setting him in a chair, and sitting across from him, “Here are a few simple truths, Remus Lupin. The River Styx is as real as I want it to be.”

The two men made a noise in tandem, but Harry ignored them, watching the skepticism fill Remus’s face, though there was a patronizing edge to it as if he couldn’t wait to point out how wrong Harry was.

“I know about the potions, compulsions, and memory modifications. I know what you, yourself, have planned. I even know Dumbledore’s wants and wishes regarding me as he directs the order. I’ve known for weeks and have been as uncooperative as possible while biding my time.”

“I’m sure-”

“You believe Sirius is yours because you want the title.” Harry interrupted and offered a sarcastic smirk, “I just don’t understand how you think that’ll work?”

A smug expression crossed Remus’s face, “It’s Arcane Law; the submission of a Grimm means they belong to the one who subjectivized them.”

Harry frowned and tilted his head, “You realize there is a flaw in that, right?”

“There is not!” Remus snapped, “I won.”

“You won shit.” Harry returned evenly, “Sirius submitted to nothing but the illusion and compulsions of mind-magic, cast not by you but by Dumbledore.”

“That’s… no, that’s not right.” Remus denied, shaking his head.

“Then why are you trying to impregnate Tonks? Whose idea was that?” Harry demanded and smirked at the expression that crossed the werewolf’s face. “They used you, and you were so greedy you didn’t even notice. You think if it’s a boy, they’ll allow a werewolf Proxy to the title?”

A hesitant, almost fearful look crossed the Remus Lupin’s face, and he licked his lips, “How do you know this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry brushed him off, “I also know about the plan to try and entrap me, though I’m not sure what the end game is, as Dumbledore wants me dead. Defeats the purpose of being seduced by Ginevra Weasley if I’m dead before we’re married, right?”

“I…” Remus trailed off with a look of confusion.

Harry leaned forward, “Ron’s always been self-absorbed, so it’s easy to see his inclusion. Promise him a little money, and he’ll follow you into hell. Yet, I don’t understand Hermione’s role in this whole debacle.”

“In what way?” Remus asked, no longer denying anything, though Harry couldn’t figure out what he was thinking as his face went blank.

“Well, she’s always fought for injustice – the whole S.P.E.W thing last year is a case in point, even if she doesn’t understand how detrimental that would actually be to the species, and it shames me how not one of you has informed her she’s campaigning for the extinction of a magical race,” Harry explained, scanning Remus’s face and there in the flash of gold, Harry knew Moony figured it out, and flashed his eyes purple, watching Remus jerk back in fear and confusion.

“What is Percy Weasley’s role within the ministry?” Harry demanded, the subtonal growl underlying the words.

“Arthur- he- invoked family obedience. Percy has no choice but to do as ordered.” Remus whispered, eyes widening in horror as the words passed his lips.

“And William?” Harry asked, “Is his family prepared for him to lose his magic when he’s pressed to continue spying on the Dverger?”

“It’ll be a loss, but Dumbledore is too pleased having a spy within their domain to let him go.” Remus admitted, “It’s the only reason Molly allowed him to apply and accept a job there.”

Harry growled and knew by the rapidly paling features of Remus that black scales had erupted over his face, “And the twins?”

“Like Gideon and Fabian, they’re uncontrollable and unpredictable, but we can’t risk alienating them completely because they are the only ones who qualify for the Prewitt title.” Remus’s voice was raw as if the words scrapped against his throat as he fought to stop talking but could not.

“I would assume then that the order is scrambling at Mad-Eyes abandonment,” Harry questioned, watching the flare of anger overtake the fear for only a second.

“Albus assures us he’ll return.” Remus ground out, glaring for all he was worth.

“And what about James Potter?” Harry asked, voice flat, and expanded the question when Remus looked at him blankly, “Was James aware of everything?”

“At first?” Remus shook his head, “No, Dumbledore has been planning this for a long time. I don’t know the details, but James didn’t become aware of everything until Lily became pregnant.”

“Thus, invoking the prophecy,” Harry finished bitterly, “and he forced them to marry?”

“No, James was all for it. He loved the idea of being the acknowledged father of the saviour.” Remus denied it, adding more as if trying to explain James’s culpability so that Harry would understand. “But then he changed; Dumbledore was enraged for weeks because they both backed out of the order. Lily wanted nothing to do with it and actively fought your destiny.” Remus shrugged, seemingly unconcerned anymore about what he was sharing. “I was away a lot, part of the cover story to make Sirius the Secret Keeper.”

“But then they chose Peter?” Harry asked.

“Yes!” Remus snarled, rage coating his face, “The three of them set Peter up for failure like they expected him to betray them.”

Harry laughed in shock and shook his head in disbelief. “That makes no sense. That’s like suggesting James and Lily knew they would die.”

“Of course, they knew!” It burst out of Remus desperately, “Dumbledore ensured it. To get you, they needed to die. It was an accepted act of mercy for the greater good.”

“Ah, there it is, the Greater Good.” The bitterness in Harry’s tone made Remus’s head jerk back, and Harry folded his arms, “You realize that saying is a translation from Gellert Grindelwald’s Für das Größere Wohl?”

The arrested expression that crossed Remus’s face made Harry roll his eyes and rise to his feet. “Well, I think I’ve learnt all I need to today… we’ll meet again, Remus Lupin.”

“What?” Remus asked in confusion as the spell fell away, freeing him, “You’re just letting me go.”

“Sadly, I must; your body would cause too many questions,” Harry replied with a frown and glanced at Severus. “I hate to ask. I know memory charms won’t work, but will Legilimency?”

An almost feral grin crossed the potion master’s face as Remus went white, swaying where he sat, “Yes, it would.”

Harry waved a hand to the werewolf, “If you would, please. He’s of more use to me alive.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Severus replied silkily and rose to his feet, pulling his wand on the werewolf and waving it gracefully, immobilizing him.

A few minutes of silence passed, but when Severus withdrew, his expression twisted into growing rage. “Before I do, you should be aware that the wolf understands who you are.”

“I know.” Harry replied, fixing the cuff of his robes, “Is it his plan to try and bite me or Remus’s?”

“I don’t know.” Severus admitted, “his mindscape is all twisted and overgrown. He has no actual communication open with the wolf, though, on occasion, the wolf will try to take control; it’s not lasting.”

“Wolfsbane?”

The question was rhetorical, but Severus answered, “Probably, the main ingredient is poisonous to werewolves.”

“It makes the wolf submit!” Remus snapped angrily.

“Yeah, which is why the elders threatened actions through the creature counsel, right?” Harry asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow when Remus blinked in surprise, “Yeah, I know about that too. There are no secrets in this house, Remus Lupin. Have you figured out why yet?”

Remus jerked his head in a negative, and Harry smiled knowingly, “Moony does, and it’s pissing you off too.”

The growl that emerged from the werewolf ended in a small yip. As Harry responded, the house reverberated in kind, “I’m the patriarch of House Black, Remus. You and whoever is in on the plan to acquire the title will never hold it…”

“What are you?” Remus asked, ignoring the statement about the Black title.

Harry grinned as smoke emerged from his nose and curled around his face as scales erupted over his skin, “being Mávros isn’t enough?”

“You’re doing something to me!” Remus snarled fear, and something like growing regret built in his eyes.

“No, Remus, I’m not.” Harry countered and then smiled, strolling towards the door, “Moony just understands the hierarchy in the room, where I’m at the top.”

Remus gaped after him in confusion, but Harry ignored him and turned to face Severus, “Sirius and I will be leaving for Rome. I’ll arrange with Gringotts to have a portkey waiting for you. I imagine you’re going to lay the ground work for your disappearance, just be smart about it, sir.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Severus said, with a short bow, “I’ll deal with the werewolf first though.”

Nodding in agreement, Harry opened the door and swept from the room, he wasn’t least bit curious about what happened next and knew if he was to build a working relationship with Severus Snape, he needed to trust he’d do the job properly.

***

Severus followed Sirius down the hall with a nervous energy he couldn’t shake. He desperately wanted to be alone to process, but he knew he needed to speak with Potter to clear the air and clarify a few hazy future points.

It would also be a good idea to continue his talk with Sirius, but the other man wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he wasn’t sure how to interpret that. He didn’t think it had anything to do with what Severus had done to Remus because, technically, it could be argued that he did it on his king’s orders. Harry had freed him, which meant more to Severus than any official title he carried or went by; strangely, it had earned his undying loyalty. Hopefully, the sort of loyalty Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore both hoped he’d show.

Sirius knocked on a door and opened it without waiting for a response, leaving it open for Severus to follow, which he did, shutting the door behind him.

A deep sigh sounded from the man behind the desk, drawing Severus’s wandering eye from the decor. He focused on Harry, who was setting his quill down with a tired expression filling his face.

“I’ve been up since five, having gotten very little sleep, and I’m bloody exhausted, so I hope this is not an integration.”

“Don’t know, pup,” Sirius answered, the forced cheer in his voice making Severus wince at the fakeness. “Sev said he thought it best to talk at least once before arriving in Rome.”

The boy’s face went curiously blank, raising the hairs on the back of Severus’s neck at the display, a complete reversal from his emotional responses two months ago.

“Where did you put Lupin?” Harry asked, directing the conversation.

“Kreacher deposited him in his bedroom,” Sirius replied, throwing himself across the couch and kicking his legs on the back. “Though I was tempted to have him tossed in the Thames, I figured it would draw too much attention.”

“It would have if Kreacher had listened to you,” Harry replied, mildly amused.

“Kreacher loves me!” Sirius protested half-heartedly, making Harry laugh in genuine amusement.

“Not as much as he loves me,” Harry replied, picking up the glass of whiskey at his elbow and offering his godfather a beaming smile, who pouted.

Severus cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to them, and while he hated the guarded look that entered Potter’s eyes, he had questions, and while he had some answers, he needed more. “What-what happened after I died?”

Green eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, and Harry tossed the whiskey back like he needed the liquid courage to reopen them and met his gaze, waving a hand expressively. “I-“ Harry swallowed, “too much and not enough; we won, but not without cost. The celebrations lasted weeks, but every time I tried pushing for more information on the changes, they’d regulate me to some party until I just stopped asking. Within a month of the war ending, I’d basically barricaded myself in this house, which is when Medea started haunting my dreams. Ancient events of her life and those of the Black ancestors were beautiful and horrifying. It got worse when they were intercepted with dreams of things that had happened in this house during the war.”

Harry dropped his gaze, trailing a finger through the condensation that pearled off the glass, “I barely knew what was happening on any given day, never mind the time of day. I rarely slept, but the last time I did, it wasn’t a past event. It was a future one. I watched the Black family die on the tapestry, both Narcissa and Draco’s names blackened out, and I knew it meant everyone had lied to me.”

Severus didn’t flinch when Harry lifted tear-filled eyes, though the torment in them made his stomach twist painfully as Harry finished his voice barely a whisper.

“I woke up and knew I couldn’t let it happen. What I thought I could do, I have no idea. But I let the house guide me, and she let me here to this room, where I watched an actual projection of Medea being forced to sleep and the death of the lord responsible. Once it was done, the house drew me toward a hidden room with a crystal ball. It was the only thing in the room, and I’ll admit I was enraged. It felt like a mockery of everything I’d already lived. I intended to pick it up and smash it when Medea spoke, and here we are….” The last syllable faded into a surprisingly soft, easy silence that filled the room.

“You reference the house and Medea but act like they are separate entities.” It wasn’t a question, but Harry nodded and shifted forward, summoning two glasses and the bottle of whiskey from the sidebar, “they’re separate. Medea is the embodiment of the family, the holder of every blood member’s comprehensive knowledge and memory. When Medea was forced to sleep, so was the spirit of the house, who willingly empowered the heart stone upon her death. Her name was Revna, who married Bedreive’s grandson and was the great-great-granddaughter of Boudica with all of her knowledge.”

The soft, reminiscent telling was startlingly beautiful if tragic, and Severus took a drink of the whiskey he’d been given, his movement breaking whatever hold Harry was under as he blinked away unshed tears, “sorry, the memories sometimes rise up, and I get lost in them.”

“It appears to be a heavy burden,” Severus replied neutrally, earning a huff from Harry.

“I think I prefer it to whatever being Regent means.” Harry knocked back his drink and set the glass down, meeting Severus’s eyes, “I don’t blame you or hate you. It’s easy to see how we were all manipulated on a giant chessboard, but none of us had the rules for it.”

Startled at the bluntness, tears sprang to Severus’s eyes, and he shook his head in denial, “I was horrible to you.”

“Through no fault of your own.”

It shouldn’t have felt like absolution, yet it did and left Severus more confused than before.

The look on Harry’s face implied he understood because the man – and that would take a while to understand- smiled gently, “Severus, you hand-fasted Sirius in your seventh year. That tells me more about the man you were than any actions you took during my school years.”

Severus frowned and glanced at Sirius, who quickly looked at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact.

Harry spoke, voice commanding in a way that used to grate, “I could offer apologies for listening in on the conversation, but I wouldn’t mean them. It was a matter of security that still needs work, for which I apologize. Lupin shouldn’t have been able to make it into the family area without invitation.”

“I don’t blame you for that.” Severus waved him off, “For all his faults, Lupin has always been intelligent.”

Harry grunted but didn’t argue, “Will you come to Rome?”

“If you’ll have me, yes,” Severus replied, rubbing his bare arm hidden under his robes. “Sirius will let me use the library to research information for Riddle, which I plan to send via owl before I leave. Hopefully, the news of my disappearance from Hogwarts will be kept from him for at least a week afterwards.”

Harry frowned and nodded, “It’s possible. I’m unsure who or how many yet, but several heirs have transferred to the ISM for Sept 1.”

Severus lifted his head, blinking in surprise, “really?”

Nodding, Harry glanced at the whiskey and then the clock and heaved a sigh, waving his hand to banish the glass in front of him, “Yeah, I know of myself and Draco obviously, but according to the Weasley twins, it appears to be a trend.”

“You don’t seem pleased,” Severus said carefully.

“It unsettles me.” Harry admitted and ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I desperately need sleep, but before that, I need to give Kreacher some orders, if there is nothing else?”

“No, not tonight, pup.” Sirius said, rising to his feet and moving across the room to set a hand on Severus’s shoulder, “There will be plenty of time for you two to hash out any issues in Rome.”

Deflating just a bit, Severus nodded and stood, then hesitated, “Your mother was my best friend and the sister of my heart, Harry, and in a better world, I might have raised you with Sirius. So, I want you to know I am sorry for how I’ve treated you, and I want to get to know you as just Harry, not only as my king.”

The startled expression followed by a visceral want that flashed across Harry’s face was worth everything at that moment, and Severus swallowed before offering a short bow, “Good night, Your Grace.”

“Good night,” Harry replied automatically and let them leave. The door locking was unsurprising as it shut behind them, leaving Severus wondering if Harry would sleep tonight. Somehow, he doubted it, suspecting it would be a long night for all three of them.

***

Albert Perkins had been the Azkaban warden for close to forty-five years and had seen prisoners come and go, more often in a body bag, but that was beside the point. He knew what was normal; it was almost like a routine, and he was comfortable with the mundane routine of his life. It was easy and calm, filling out reports, cleaning out a cell when necessary, and doing daily rounds on each level. It was at that point in his career that even dementors no longer bothered him, not their presence or requests for assistance; it was just a minor deviation in the life he lived. Even reading the paper that his house elf reluctantly delivered each morning hadn’t bothered him; the ministry was corrupt, and the sky was blue. Next week, they’d hate on someone else. So, Albert knew what was normal and routine, even expected.

Receiving a summons to inspect prisoner number 93 meant nothing, at least not until he confirmed who Number 93 was in the records, and that made him sigh in resignation. If he had one complaint about his job, it was the lack of magical transport. He hated walking to the top of the jail in the wet, gloomy cold, but he needed to. It was his job, after all.

With a tired breath, he made it to the top, the dementors keeping their distance so he could do his job and unlock the door. The breakout from a few years ago forced a few additions to the jail, but that still seemed like a waste of time—specifically and selfishly, his time.

The first indication that not all was right in Azkaban that morning was the child-like weeping that drifted down the hall. Its innocence was at odds with the location and the apparent guilt of the prisoners, but he didn’t let that bother him as he strolled down the hall, silently counting the numbers on the outside as he did so.

Stopping outside the cell that contained Number 93, Albert lifted the lantern higher, casting the light inside the cell. The expected lunge missing as he caught sight of the curled ball in the corner of the cell, and he could only frown in confusion at the deviation and structure of his life.

Screaming was normal.

The mad cackle or lunges and shouts of rage? Familiar.

Silence? Not a cause for concern. It happened; prisoners needed to sleep sometimes.

But, even in the rare instant of silence, the expectation that the Black madness would emerge again was accepted.

This though? This wasn’t normal, familiar or even expected.

What threw Albert for a loop wasn’t any of those things. It was the voice of a little girl pleading politely to send a letter.

***

 

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