Chapter Text
The sun was unhidden by cloud today, a rare occurrence for the Scottish Highlands, even in summer. Helena sighed, lifting her hand and casting it beyond shadow, into sun. She felt nothing. Even as her fingers wove carefully through the silken threads of sunlight, she felt nothing.
Helena longed to feel the warmth of day like she used to.
Undeath was... monotonous. The sun rose then fell. The moon woke then slept. Seasons passed like drops of rain. Yet years dragged on like lengths of yarn. Yesterday, today, tomorrow; they were all the same to her, whether she liked it or not. And she didn’t. Time both slipped through her fingers and stuck to her hands. There was nothing she could do to change the hourglass’s neverending dribble of sand. There was nothing she could do to reach the end of eternity faster.
Helena eyed the forest beyond the Hogwarts grounds. The tree leaves were all singing in a choir, while the aging spring flowers danced to their songs. Summer was nice. She’d died in the summer.
Just like little Harry...
Helena closed her eyes as a gentle sting threatened to roll down her cheeks. She swallowed. The memory of the boy’s cry and recoil only further strengthened the tear welling up.
She hadn’t meant to be cruel. She’d just... lost control of herself... of her temper... again...
Helena could still hear her mothers lectures on handling erratic emotion with more care. She’d always said time would let her grow out of it. Apparently not. All time did was give her more to regret.
A breeze whistled through the tower. Helena opened her eyes. Oh. She could see stars. She’d missed the sunset. No matter. Another would come.
Helena turned and descended the stairs, floating over the steps like a child on a slide. If she put this off too long, a decade might pass. She sighed. Apologising was yet another skill her mother had falsely promised came with age.
On the rare occasion Helena was forced to swallow her pride and apologise to another being, she was usually direct and referred mostly to facts. Often she twisted the wording of said facts to work in her favour more than technically ethical, but she wasn’t sure wit would work on Harry. Sure, children were gullible, but they were also stubborn and not quite old enough to comprehend the nuances of logic. Even first years had trouble with that, so she wasn’t convinced a six year old would be any more receptive.
No, this would have to be a proper apology. A promise woven with explanation and empathy. She hadn’t meant to hurt Harry, but had, and was sorry. She hadn’t been angry at him, just upset at the way he was thinking and- no. She hadn’t been angry, but upset... and... and... expressed that poorly? Yes. That was better.
Rehearsing the lines in her head, Helena lost track of her direction and floated aimlessly down corridors and through walls. She hadn’t intended to wander into the professors lounge, and though she’d love to say time had cured her of pesky startling, it hadn’t.
“Helena, there you are.”
Helena squealed, twisting around to see a smirking Severus Snape sitting amongst a pile of cushions. He held parchment in his hand, a quill and inkwell abandoned on the tea table he sat behind. Helena scowled, crossing her arms.
“What are you doing here?” she spat. “Is your life truly so pitiful you’d rather spend your holidays here than at home?”
Severus dropped the smirk, reflecting Helena’s scowl back at her.
“I’ve no time for this,” he sneered, waving the parchment in the air. “When did Harry appear here? Albus isn’t answering his Floo and I’m trying to figure out how this could have happened, but nothing is making sense!”
Helena frowned, “You refer to the boy?”
“Who else would I be referring to!?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well I thought it rather obvious that the boy had died, so I figured you must have meant something else.”
Severus cursed, slamming the parchment on the table and jumping to his feet. His index finger shoved right in Helena’s face.
“With that boy dead, the war may very well start back up again! And when word gets out that the boy's own relatives did this, the Dark Lord's followers will end up martyring him for their case against muggles! When did he appear here!?”
Helena raised an eyebrow. She was not a fan of Severus Snape. He was sharp and quick witted, sure, but he was combative and acted like the world owed him. The world owed no one anything. Well, perhaps except Harry. He’d deserved better.
“Time is fickle,” she said plainly. “Perhaps a day or two ago, I don’t know. Nor, do I see what a child's death has anything to do with a war already won.”
“That boy is Harry Potter!”
Helena shrugged. “That name means nothing to me.”
Severus seethed, his face turning red.
“Don’t play fool with me, Ravenclaw! He’s the one that got rid of the Dark Lord! All that boy-who-lived nonsense!”
“I pay no attention to altercations between mortals,” she struck back, turning her nose up. “Besides, all you living people said the Dark Lord died. Wars don’t return without their leader.”
Severus said nothing, and Helena turned back to him, her eyes narrowing curiously.
“Unless... he didn’t die?”
Severus swallowed. Sighed. Then flopped unceremoniously back on the lounge; his head in his hands.
“Albus seems to believe the Dark Lord will return. He refuses to expand on how, but he’s insistent on the matter and says that boy is fundamental to his defeat. With Harry dead...” he trailed off, shaking his head, muttering nonsense.
Helena paused her tirade, filing this news away for later. She glanced down at the parchment on the table. It was a scribble of crossed out notes, lines and circles. Most of it was related back to own initial wonder, of what could possibly cause a muggle-raised child to refuse passing and remain a ghost. He didn’t seem to have any worthwhile ideas, though one note stood out.
“What this about being sorry? Who have you failed?”
Severus looked up, his head titled at first, his brow furrowed, then he followed Helena’s line of sight and he clenched his jaw. He snatched up the parchment and shoved it into his robes.
“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “I’m going to find Albus and hopefully he can shed some light on things before-”
“Will you report them?” Helena interrupted, causing Severus to look up, confused. She clarified. “The muggles. Will you report them and make sure they’re punished for murdering the boy?”
Severus swallowed, his eyes darkening.
“They’ve destroyed my last link in this world, to the only person I’ve ever truly cared for,” he spat. “If the ministry won’t, I will.”
---
Harry was buzzing! He couldn’t believe it! He was going to see a unicorn! A real life unicorn like in the fairytales! He was floating across the grounds between Friar and Helena, hands in theirs to make sure he didn’t accidentally float away (he had the first time). That in itself was already fun too, he was flying! And now he was going to see a magic animal!
There was part of him that still felt a little nervous that Helena might get mad again. But only a tiny bit, she’d explained with very kind words that sometimes grown-ups’ feelings get too big and come out as shouting, the same way children’s feelings come out as tears. She’d been angry at uncle and aunty for being mean to Harry, rather than Harry himself. Harry felt that made lots of sense, and she’d even said lot’s of sorrys and I love you’s, along with a big cuddle.
The Dursley’s never, ever said sorry for yelling, and they definitely didn’t give him hugs or tell him they loved him.
“Are you ready?” Helena asked as they approached the edge of the forest. It was like there was a giant invisible wall separating the castle grounds and the forest. He couldn’t see very far inside, but it was very beautiful even from here. The trees were as big as the Dursley house! Maybe even bigger! And the plants and bushes were all different types of green, all shaped in different ways. There were even flowers! And not like the single dying bush of red roses aunty had, these were like a rainbow and they all looked completely different.
“It’s beautiful,” Harry murmured, jaw dropped, eyes darting side to side and up and down. He’d never seen a forest before. Harry tugged Helena and Friar’s hands.”Can we go in now? Please?”
“Of course,” Friar replied, and Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He focused really hard on going ahead and a moment later he was leading Helena and Friar straight into the undergrowth. It was just as pretty on the inside as it was outside.
He could hear birds chirping, and the trees swishing and-
“Look,” he squealed, letting go of Friar's hand and throwing it out in front of him. “It’s a butterfly!”
And it was a really lovely one at that. It had blues, yellows and reds all over its wings.
“Indeed it is,” Helena chuckled. “If memory serves me correctly, that one is called a Peacock Butterfly. It’s got some lovely colours, doesn’t it?”
Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on the creature as it fluttered away. He could-
“Watch where you’re going Harry,” Helena said gently as Harry’s arm was tugged. He looked away and realised he’d accidentally started floating towards it.
“Oh,” he giggled, correcting his course. “Sorry.”
“That’s alright,” Helena grinned back, and they continued through the undergrowth.
Harry ended up seeing all kinds of animals as they tracked along. Rabbits, birds, deer, foxes. He especially loved the deer. One had big branch-like horns that Helena called a st-ag, and a smaller one without called a d-oe. They were all fluffy and covered in little white dots that looked like snow. They were friendly too, coming right up to sniff them and say hello.
They floated for ages and ages. Harry was glad they were floating because if they were walking his legs probably would have fallen off by now. Even just floating, he was starting to get a bit sleepy, there were just so many new things to see and learn his brain was almost turning off. Almost.
In the corner of his eye, amongst the leaves and rocks on the ground, a little flash of red caught his attention. He glanced over and his grin reached his ears. It was a snake! It had pretty red and black zig-zags down its back, and was sitting on top of a rock, right in one of the few beams of sunlight getting through the treecover.
“A snake!” Harry exclaimed, breaking free of Helena and Friar's hands and diving for the little creature. He dropped to the ground, landing firmly on his feet before crouching down beside it.
“Hello snake, I’m Harry,” Harry said excitedly.
The snake's eyes fluttered open and it raised its head, staring at Harry like he’d grown two heads.
“Ssspeaker?” the creature hissed softly. “Two legged sssspeaker?”
Harry nodded, “Do you have a name?”
“What’ssss nameeee?”
“That’s alright, I’ll just call you... um... Poxie! Like Mrs Figg’s cat.”
The snake laid its head back down against the rock, but kept one eye on Harry. Harry was about to compliment its very lovely red scales when he noticed that Helena was suddenly crouching beside.
“I didn’t know you spoke parseltongue, Harry,” she whispered, a gentle hand rubbing his back. “It’s a very rare skill. Aside from Salazar and his descendants, I’ve not met many.”
“What’s pass-el-tung?”
“You speak to snakes.”
Ohhhhh. Yes, he could. Normally he was a bit afraid to tell adults about his scaly friends, but he was fairly sure Friar and Helena would be ok with it. After all, they were three magic ghosts that could light candles with their brains. That had to count for something, so Harry nodded, gesturing to Poxie.
“Snakes come to the Dursley’s, and we talk in the garden.”
He reached out to stroke her scales, they always felt so soft and smooth. He pressed his fingers to her- Oh... He didn’t make contact. His fingers passed straight through. Harry's face dropped and he snatched his hand back to himself.
“I forgot,” he murmured, still staring longingly at the pretty red scales.
A soft hand pressed gently to his back; Harry relaxed against Helena’s touch and let her draw him into a hug.
“I know,” she breathed. “I’m quite fond of animals myself. It was heartbreaking realising I could no longer pet them.”
Harry nodded, wiping his eyes before any tears had a chance to make themselves known. This was supposed to be a happy day. He was seeing a unicorn. A real magical creature from the stories. A beautiful, pure animal that-. Oh... Harry stilled.
I can’t pet the unicorn either...
The sting returned to his eyes. This wasn’t a happy day after all... he glanced at Poxie, who was still lounging lazily on the rock... he spoke to her in a choked up voice...
“Are there g-ghost snakes I could see?”
He waited. Hoping. Praying. Begging. To no avail. Poxie shook her head and something inside Harry’s chest shattered. He loved animals... he loved petting snakes... and even Mrs Figgs kitties... and puppies... and feeding birdies... and...and...
The tears he’d tried so hard to push back earlier, came streaming out and down his cheeks. He gasped for a breath but his throat was blocked with a painful lump. He tried to swallow it away, but it wouldn’t go. It just kept rising and rising until it burst out of him as a sob. He pressed his face to Helena’s shoulder, letting her dress absorb his tears and as more and more snotty sobs clawed out of his throat.
It’s not fair...
“Oh, sweetheart,” Helena cooed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Harry choked.
“I can’t touch P-Poxie,” he cried. “Or k-kitties. Or the unic-corn...”
Harry hated being a ghost. He couldn’t play with animals, he couldn’t draw cause he couldn't hold crayons, he couldn’t eat food and would never get to try cake, or caramels, or chocolate, and worst of all, he was dead and still couldn’t see his mummy and daddy.
Harry’s throat continued to sting as his eyes kept weeping. Helena was rubbing his back the way he’d seen Petunia do for Dudley when they ran out of ice cream. It was nice, but Harry really wished his own mummy was doing it.
“You really like animals, don’t you Harry...”
He nodded.
“T-They’re my f-friends...” he sobbed. ”I-I want to h-hug my friends...”
Harry had always loved animal hugs. They were the only hugs he ever got, and now he couldn’t have them anymore. He shoved his face back into Helena's shoulder, another wave of gasps and cries on its way. She said something, but he didn’t hear what. He also heard Friar’s voice, but he was too quiet to make out the words.
He’d never had any people friends because Dudley always bullied them away, so the next closest thing was animal friends. Mrs Figg was a very strange lady, but her kittens were playful and they loved cuddles. When Harry was avoiding Privet Drive, he often spent time playing with puppies at the local dog park. He rarely had food for himself, but it was easy to find bugs and worms to feed birdies with. And there were always the snakes that slithered into his path, of whom he always had lovely chats with.
“Harry?”
That was Friar, speaking much louder now. Harry didn’t move, but managed to get out a muffled “hmm?”
“There is... what if one creature that ghosts can touch. One that you could pet or play with.”
Harry glanced up. “What c-creature?”
Friar was kneeling beside Helena, his face broken up into more feelings than Harry knew.
“Well... they are like horses... but also sort of like snakes too.”
Harry sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Like no legs?”
Friar smiled, but shook his head.
“No, they have four legs just like a horse, but instead of horse hair, they have black skin that's like a snake's.”
Harry perked up. “Like snakes!? Soft and smooth?”
Friar nodded and Harry wiped his eyes again, a teeny tiny smile creeping between his cheeks.
“And do you know what bats are? What they look like?”
Harry nodded, “I saw in Dudley’s animal book.”
“Well, these creatures have great big wings, just like those of a bat.”
Harry tried to imagine it. Smooshing his memories of horses, bats and snakes into one, but it wasn’t quite working. The horse remained covered in fur, but with a snake head and giant snake tail. He also kept picturing butterfly wings instead of bat wings. But still, it sounded very interesting, and... I could give it a pat...
Harry looked at Helena, back at Friar, then out into the forest. “What are they called?”
“Thestrals.”
---
Helena held her breath as Harry stepped another foot closer to the herd of resting Thestrals. He was barely three feet from the nearest one. It was laid down, hiding in the shade of a great Scottish Pine, its big, round eyes, black as pitch and deep as night, staring straight at Harry.
Helena had never been fond of Thestrals. She witnessed the death of her grandfather very early in life and had often seen them skulking around. She’d always feared them, found them unsettling, their skeletal bodies sent shivers up her spine at every glance. Considering Harry was only six, about the same age she’d been when she first saw a Thestral, she’d been expecting a similar response.
But Harry had cheered. His eyes lit up and grin grew, his nervous mutterings overwhelmed with high pitched glee. He adored the pretty creatures, gushing over how cute they were. He’d kicked and squirmed, begging to get closer and give one a hug as if these giant, skeletal beasts were mere puppies.
Harry put another foot forward; he was just barely beyond touching distance now. The Thestral's gaze never left him, documenting his every move, calculating his next step. Harry crouched down and reached out with a gentle hand. It eyed the hand carefully as Harry's quiet voice muttered soft encouragement.
A moment passed, and it lifted its head forward, snuffing at him. The creature reared back and a great huff of air rushed out its nose. Death recognised death. It launched forward, and pressed its head into Harry's palm.
Helena let out her breath, as a sweet giggle erupted from the little boy stroking the beast. His whole body glowed, his transparence brightening the space all around as he cooed.
The Thestral snuffed again, pushing its head right down into Harry's chest as he scratched behind its ears.
“So nice!” Harry squealed, his voice running off in a ramble. “And smooth! I love her! Or him! Is this one a boy or girl?”
Helena smiled warmly
“I believe that’s a boy, Harry,” Friar called out, before turning to Helena and muttering, “I’ve actually got no idea.”
She just laughed, her eyes still on Harry as he glowed. His tiny fingers wandered over the creature’s neck, ears, legs, and wings as his eyes shone like stars, wide with awe and adoration.
It was a sight she’d never forget. Then Harry turned to her, beaming and waving his whole arm in the air.
“Helena! Helena! You have to come! Look!”
She and the Thestral locked eyes for a moment, and that familiar icy shiver clawed up her spine. Helena swallowed.
Dear mother, help me.
How could she say no to Harry?
Helena stepped forward. Once, twice, thrice.
The Thestral's eyes remained on her, its head tilted slightly as she made her approach; curious about the new visitor. Harry snatched up her hand the moment he could, pressing it to the Thestral's skin. It was, just as Harry said, soft. The skin as smooth as silk. Up close she could see the resemblance to snake skin. Perhaps more accurately, it was just like that of a dragon. The touch wasn’t unpleasant, and she allowed herself a moment to brush her hand back and forth.
The bony horse huffed under all the attention.
“He loves you too,” Harry giggled, and Helena couldn’t help smile as his joy infected her.
---
Lottie was proud of the life she’d built here. Her house was mostly clean, her garden was mostly grown. Spring had brought colour and life to the whole home, and as summer endured, so did she and her daughter, Alana. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was a loving one that she’d never regretted once.
She leaned back on the chair on her front porch, staring up at the clear sky, a rarity in Little Whinging. The sunlight was fading, though the heat of day lingered, and she could just make the twinkling of a few stars.
Alana was asleep, the exhausted girl having fallen asleep the moment Lottie placed her in her cot. They’d had a busy day, a good day. She’d called in sick and spent the whole day playing with her little girl.
Lottie sipped her tea, a smile on her face.
She was just watching the end of day work rush of cars driving home, when a loud, blaring siren grabbed her attention. That was odd. She couldn’t smell any smoke, and crime around here was quite rare. Her heart ached as she glanced across the road to Mrs Figgs home, praying it wasn’t an ambulance for the kind lady. She was odd for sure, but Alana loved playing with her kittens.
Lottie shook her head, taking another sip of tea to calm her nerves.
It’s unlikely to be for this street.
But... as the minutes passed, the sirens got louder and louder. She sipped and sipped. The sirens ringing in her ears like a nightmare. Her eyes kept finding their way back to Mrs Figgs home, and her stomach twisted more each time they found the fence. Her heart was thrumming.
It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.
She lifted her mug to her lips and tipped it back, but nothing came out. Oh. She’d finished that... quickly. Mrs Figg is fine. Lottie's grip around the mug tightened, her eyes tracing the faded floral patterns on the ceramic. The lilies. The roses. The pansies. The-
Lights flashed in the corner of her eyes. Oh god. They were red and blue. Lottie stood up, shuffling down the steps into her front garden as three vehicles rushed down the street. An ambulance. A police car. She gasped, her heart clenching as the lights coloured the whole of Privet Drive red and blue.
And then they stopped. Not in Mrs Figgs driveway, but out the front of number four. The Dursley family residence.
For a brief moment, Lottie breathed a sigh of relief, before horror once more took over. They had two young boys. And Petunia and Vernon. Who was hurt? And why was a police car there alongside the medics? What was going on?
The Dursleys were just a few doors down from Mrs Figg, and she couldn’t see what was happening. Did they need help? Though she knows it was a reckless decision, and in hindsight she shouldn’t have left Alana alone in the house, she was too overcome with worry to think and raced toward number four.
As she approached the perfectly manicured Dursley garden, she heard shouting. Arguing. Vernon was at the front door alongside Petinua, facing down two police officers and a paramedic. The other two officers standing guard in the garden, tasers in hand.
“-let us inside to search the property, you will be placed under arrest. We have a warrant and will use force if necessary.”
Lottie stopped. What?
“This is MY HOUSE! I will not have you riffling through our belongings when we’ve done NOTHING WRONG!”
Vernon was bright red, his face so scrunched up Lottie could barely make out his eyes, nose or mouth. And Petunia wasn’t any calmer, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed so tight they were white, and her eyes narrowed so sharp they could slice bread.
They officers tried once more politely, but when Vernon raised his hand, they promptly turned him around and cuffed him. Lottie couldn’t believe it. The Dursleys were strange and standoffish, and the anger permeated from the house like a bad smell... but what could possibly have happened to get Vernon arrested? How could he dare to even raise his hand to a police officer?
Petunia shrieked obscenities, demanding they leave her property, only to get herself cuffed too. The police in the garden held them down, as the others rushed inside the house, the paramedic close behind.
The screaming started next, childish cries screeching louder than the sirens had. Her mind jumped ahead and the blood drained from her face. She put a hand over her mouth. Had... had they hurt the boys? That would explain the police... and... and...
Lottie was frozen to the sidewalk as the wailing continued. Then she heard more sirens. Then she saw more lights. She watched in horror as another three police cars parked out the front of the Dursley house.
Petunia and Vernon were escorted to a car each and promptly disappeared into the night. Out of the remaining car a few more officers jumped out and ran straight into the house. A boy was brought out the front door not long after, the blond one. He was still shrieking, tears running down his cheeks as his shaking hand held an officer's hand and he was also brought to one of the cars.
A memory of the small black haired boy forced its way to her front of mind. He was the only one not accounted for. And only one child was in tears. No...
One of the officers noticed her watching and wandered over.
“Did you ever overhear disputes?”
“Did you ever witness or suspect violence?”
“How often did you see Harry?”
“Did Petunia and Vernon show the boys affection?”
The questions flew over head as quickly as the tears fell down her face. She tried her best to answer, but the more she spoke the more guilt stirred. Yes, there were disputes, arguments occurred most days. She’d once witnessed Petunia hit Harry on the backside with a wooden spoon... but... many parents did that, right? And yes, she often saw the black haired boy, Harry, in the front yard doing... chores... pulling weeds, cleaning the car, washing windows... But no... that meant nothing... kids did chores, and besides, Petunia and Vernon were always cuddling and holding the boys, taking them out for adventures and playing in the front yard.
“Both boys?”
Lottie swallowed, realisation dawning on her. She scoured her memories for Harry being loved, but she found nothing...
“No...” she breathed. “Just the blond boy...”
The officer wrote that down and the questions continued.
“Is Harry alright?” Lottie blurted out at some point. It was completely dark by then, the stars were clear and the cold had well and truly set in. She was shivering.
The officer said nothing, his pen hovering over the paper with his lips drawn tight. Lottie waited, and waited. But no answer came as her question fell dead in the silence.
Movement at the front of the house caught Lottie’s attention. A paramedic and an officer had emerged. They were carrying something between them.
A stretcher.
Lottie’s heart stopped.
The stretcher was draped in a white sheet.