Feed the Machine

by bellszn

Summary:

After the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War, everyone needs to piece themselves back together, bit-by-bit. Unfortunately, Harry Potter was never a fan of puzzles or Tetris. Especially when the dead re-emerge and he's forced to collaborate with his old, Death-Eater rival.

Or, everybody everywhere tries to move on after the War, while Harry is stuck dealing with a new plot unfolding right under his nose. Multiple points of view!

──❀*̥˚

CANON DIVERGENCE: I do NOT rock with certain character (almost all) deaths, so as an author, I am simply saying No!

Notes:

↑ : New beginnings and free spirits
↓ : Recklessness and being taken advantage of

Chapter 1: THE FOOL

Harry P. - POV

September 1, 1999 ✈︎ Hogwarts Express

 

The start of Seventh Year, 1997, was over before it could even really begin. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had killed the Dark Lord seven months after the fact in May of 1998, right in the entrance courtyard of Hogwarts–but, Harry hadn’t even really had the pleasure of a first Seventh Year. However, come September of 1999, he found himself in a train compartment with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger for the umpteenth time. No longer eleven, their long limbs were stretched out and took up a good amount of space, entangled with each other. And no longer seventeen (or even eighteen), they were scarred by the macabre of war; there were no more chocolate frog cards or cauldron cakes or loud, loving laughter. He felt for the new first years and was saddened that they wouldn’t get to experience the magic of the Hogwarts Express as he once had, but it saddened him even more for those who were experiencing the year of “Do-Over” (as it was so cleverly dubbed), rather than continuing with the next course of education. It was just a reminder of the time lost.

 

He looked towards Ron, whose hand was wrapped around Hermione’s. As if sensing his gaze, Hermione dragged her eyes from the window towards Harry, smiling kindly. “It’s almost funny,” She mused. Ron looked towards her with crinkled eyebrows, movements sluggish with sleep. 

 

“What?” He croaked. 

 

“Well, I spent all of sixth year preparing for NEWT’s. Turns out, I spent seventh year on the run and fighting for my life. It’s certainly one way to get hands-on, yeah?” 

 

Harry winced, but found himself laughing wryly. Even Ron chuckled at this. “Y’know, I always wanted to drop out,” Ron added, half sarcastic. Hermione shot him a glare, but he continued, “Yeah, thought I could scrape by with just sixth-year schooling. Never would’ve reckoned that I’d miss this ruddy school so much.” It was a bittersweet sentiment. The trio fell into silence again. 

 

It was quiet for a stretch of time, before Ron saw an all-too-familiar head of blonde, passing inconspicuously past their compartment. “Oh hell no.” He spat, sending Harry a wild look. Hermione looked towards the door, having not seen what he saw. 

 

" Malfoy. I dunno what he's playing at, but coming back to Hogwarts after being Voldemort's pet? Bloody mental if you'd ask me." Ron said smartly, and Hermione shrugged indifferently. "I saw him on the platform earlier. He's changed. You can see it in his eyes" She argued. 

 

"When I look at his eyes they look just as dead as they have been. All that time on probation, surprised he’s even allowed to do any more magic," Ron said with a huff, trailing off. “Well, Harry, what do you think?" He asked after a moment was spent regaining his track of thoughts.

 

Harry had been staring out of the window, accidentally tuning out most of the ongoing conversation. The darkening sky had black clouds rolling in by the second, and the scenery went by in a blur of greens and blues, but it felt good to just watch and not think or plan or feel. Yet, finally, he glanced towards his friends. "Well…he’s a prat. Always been a prat though, so, I dunno if he's changed. His mum did save my life– Ron. " Harry added, at Ron's clearly peeved look. The ginger shrugged, with the conversation ending with an air of exasperation. Not the first or last time they’d rehash the topic, Harry deduced. 

 

After more moments of silence, Ron spoke up again. "Well, he still-"

 

" Ron!" Harry and Hermione said loudly, and Ron threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m sure there’s more to talk about than Draco bloody Malfoy,” Hermione said with a shake of her head. Ron nodded in agreement, shifting how he was positioned. His leg collided with Harry’s shin painfully, but he continued: “Ow— Shit . Uh, Harry? What did, er, Professor Lupin say about you returning to Hogwarts?”

 

Harry cracked a weak smile at that, the sheer absurdity of the words. “He’s happy if I’m happy, I guess. Super weird I’m living with my teacher, though.” Harry felt suspended at Grimmauld Place, never quite able to shake the feeling of intruding. It was lonely there, something haunted wherever he turned. Harry supposed the only positive to it all was Sirius, and his favorite professor, as strange as it all was.

 

Hermione mimicked Ron, turning to face Harry as well in anticipation of conversing. Her wand was resting loosely in her hand, limp in her lap, and Harry could see that she painted her nails recently.  The gold is a nice color, he thought to himself. He supposed she must have to do something in her free time, living alone and all that…

 

“Why is that?” She asked, breaking his thought. This is why he was perfectly fine staring out the window—his thoughts would run and run once they started and either way, he couldn’t seem to focus. Harry looked up at her in confusion. “What?” He mumbled, blinking.

 

“Why are you and Lupin staying at…you know. I haven't had the chance to ask, as busy as we all are…” She added, as an afterthought. Ron agreed, leaning forward to hear better. Which, really, didn’t make a difference—it wasn’t very spacious in their usual compartment. They could hear when anyone even swallowed, but Harry didn’t mind.

 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Y’know, he’s working to get Sir— Snuffles— name cleared with the Ministry. Really, it’s just being pushed to the back burner, but they’re trying to figure it out. It’s easier when Lupin is close to the source, ‘spose. Kingsley and Tonks are helping tons , y’know, but still…”

 

They all knew that the Ministry wasn’t reliable, even more so now that it was nearly in shambles from the war, reduced to a damn clown show with people trying to save their arses. 

 

Harry went on: “So, uh, it’s all just working out where we are all better off there . I’ve been trying to help where I can, but Lupin really knows what he’s doing, I reckon.” 

 

Ron nodded wisely, “Good man, Lupin is. Reckon he’s a genius. Snuffles could really use a good friend, nowadays, huh?” 

 

Harry nodded. He thought once more about the dark halls of Grimmauld Place, the details carved into the walls and present in the furnishing, the family-tree sprawled along the wall of one of the many rooms; it was the house of the Most Ancient and Noble Blacks. He felt a pang of sadness hit him. When he was in that house, he always left feeling slightly sicker than he had entered, with the portrait of Walburga Black screaming obscenities on his way out—but Sirius? He had to live there, confined. “I think he really wants to get out of that place,” Harry confessed. 

 

Hermione made a noise of sympathy. “I would too. Say, maybe we could help him with the appeal in our down time?”

 

Noncommittal, Harry replied with a maybe , and his fingers twitched around his wand. He wasn’t sure how willing he’d be sharing his limited, already strained, time with Sirius with Ron and Hermione. He looked back out the window.

 

It was starting to get to that time in the day, where he itched to have a fag, and the box in his pocket seemed to get heavier as the thought came and went. He sighed, screwing his eyes shut. It was a filthy habit that he felt much too young to have, but, really, it was just a downward spiral after he had nicked a box from Remus for the first time, some months ago. Too young, but too weary. Subsequently, he quickly discovered the art of hotboxing; the buzz never got much better, but he secretly relished in the feeling of the thick smoke filling his lungs inescapably. Sighing once more, Harry pushed himself up from his seat. 

 

It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to squeeze his way out of the compartment. At this point in their friendship, Ron and Hermione knew better than to ask if he hadn’t brought anything up, and so they turned a blind eye. Thank God, Harry thought to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. It was a bit longer now, almost down to his chin. He ran his hand through the thick strands once more as he trudged down the train cart towards the bathroom. It was a small part of the big train–just a toilet, window, and sink. He closed and locked the door behind him, and then eased himself onto the granite counter, sitting criss-cross. 

 

As his head leaned back to rest against the cool mirror, he breathed deeply in, then out. He could hear his own pulse in his ears, a loud drumming that seemed to bat against his skull when he focused on it too hard. It left him feeling a bone-deep unease. Just how many people would never hear that again?

 

Eyes shut, he blindly reached for the box, only cracking open one eye once it was firm in his grasp. “Thank God,” he murmured again, already feeling some of the tension seep out of him. As he picked one out and lit it with his wand, he idly wondered what the school would have in store for him. He was a man now, nineteen years old, and it felt a little silly that he was returning to Hogwarts at his age and with his knowledge, but it was only for a term. And given the circumstances, he supposed that being eased back into civilian life in this way wasn’t the worst. Just…everywhere he’d turn, every corner and shadow of the castle, was rich with good and bad memories. He just hoped that he’d be able to shove it down and stand strong as a pillar for his friends and the underclassmen.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Maybe it was ten minutes, or maybe it was thirty. But, someone was knocking on the bathroom door. Coughing, Harry slid off the counter and wedged open the window. “One minute!” He called out, rasping. 

 

He was met by silence, the knocking having ceased, before he heard a disgruntled “ Potter? ” from the other side of the door. Harry bit back several curses and put out the fag, promptly transfiguring it into a pen. “One second, Malfoy!” He snapped, trying to recall a spell that’d clear the air. 

 

“You’ve been in here for the better half of an hour!” Draco drawled, and Harry could almost visualize the look of disdain on his pale face. He wrenched open the door in annoyance, and Draco stumbled backwards as if he was leaning against it for support. 

 

“Merlin, Potter, smells like you’ve turned this place into a bloody lounge!” He muttered, righting himself. 

 

“You’ve just been standing out there like a pervert?”

 

“ No ! This is my second time coming back this way, if you must know. Really, it smells awful.” His nose was scrunched up in disgust. With a wave of his wand, the air started to clear. “Thanks,” Harry said gruffly and shoved past him. 

 

“Oi, you’re going back to your compartment smelling like that?” Draco called out as Harry continued to walk away. Gracefully, the brunette held up his hand and flipped him off.

 

When he settled back in with Hermione and Ron, Ron shook his head. “Blimey,” he grimaced. His pale hand tried to waft the scent away. “Sorry, mate.” Harry quipped in response.

 

He felt at least a few tons lighter and a smile crawled onto his face easier. “You see Ginny, at all?” Ron then asked. 

 

“Nah. Must be with Luna, or maybe Neville.”

 

Confusion crossed Hermione’s features and she squinted, brown eyes narrowed in a tense way. “Luna’s here?”

 

Ron quirked his head, appearing more confused than Hermione did. “Uh, yeah? Seventh year, two terms. Ginny, too.” 

 

She pursed her lips. “I saw her at Diagon Alley, I guess I should have figured. But…” she trailed off and bit her lip. “Yeah?” Harry prompted. He felt like he was clearly missing something. 

 

“Well, I saw her at St. Mungo’s most of the summer, the psychiatric unit. I’d thought maybe something had happened,” she admitted nervously. 

 

“How’d you know that?” Ron asked, eyebrows rising. 

 

“I was volunteering there, remember?”

 

“Huh…”

 

Harry looked out the window into the corridor again, mind wandering. He supposed he felt guilty about not writing to his friends more throughout the years, but especially this past year. He felt a strange sense of responsibility for them—maybe obligation would be a better word. Really, he felt a sense of obligation for everything tenfold, recently. 

 

It was as though his list of duties seemed to be increasing, his burdens for the future ever expanding, yet he felt like he was still stuck in the War with no promised time ahead. He was predestined to be a soldier, the words of Sybill Trelawney damning him for life. So, was it really his fault if he had found himself stuck in the spirit of it all? The gnashing teeth and snapping jaw of the fight had been the only constant in his life; the one relationship he’d ever been in was the one with imminent demise. 

 

On his parents memorial, engraved in the stone was “ The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” What could he do now, since he had done just that? 

 

What future was there, for the likes of a martyr? 

Notes:

I have nothing in my backlog, but I've been listening to Zombie by the Cranberries and I thought of this! I think I'll enjoy this WIP, I haven't written for the Harry Potter fandom literally since I was, like, twelve.

Also, this chapter was barely 2k words -- the others will be longer (hopefully).

Published: 4/13/24
Re-uploaded: 5/28/25

Chapter 2: “THIS FEELING I HAVE LEARNED IS DISCONTENT”

Notes:

- chapter title is a lyric from Roots by Grumpster

Harry P. - POV

September 1, 1999 ✈︎ The Great Hall

 

The ceiling in the Great Hall was a swirling landscape of cool colors, bright stars in the night sky winking as they disappeared and reappeared. The insistent chatter of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry population was but a whisper in Harry’s mind. He could pay no mind to it, only finding himself able to stare above him. He could recognize some of the constellations; when things got a bit dull around Grimmauld place, Sirius had taken it upon himself to teach Harry about the stars. Having taken an Astronomy course, he had some prior knowledge, but Sirius seemed to be filled to the brim with information that he never would have learned in class. He had found some comfort in it, but it made him ache in a foreign way. 

 

Like never before, Harry had real family to return to after this term. Of course the Weasley’s were so wonderful and dear to him, but they weren’t his. He had began to realize he had somewhat of a possessive streak, and that part of him was just so fucking pleased that he had his very own family. 

 

Not the Dursley’s, who he was no longer bound to.

 

Not the Weasley’s, who loved him, but not in the rawest way they loved each other.

 

But Sirius Black, and his best friend Remus Lupin. His godfather and his parent-appointed uncle . He could recall being thirteen and being promised a home with them, strange as was. It made his chest swell with emotion, and he finally looked back down at the table, having to swallow around the lump in his throat. The War was over, and he had family to get back to.

 

He didn’t know what he could have done to make Fate so happy.

 

Harry looked around him. The Sorting Ceremony was close to conclusion, and as he looked upon the First Years, he didn’t think he’d ever been that small. But, eight years ago, he’d been in their same place. The only difference was that these children wouldn’t have their youth tainted by terrorism. They wouldn’t be groomed into warriors. They wouldn’t face trial after trial every year. He could see the way some of them stared at him–their eyes were big and watery and filled with awe. It was the same look he’d been receiving for so long now, he could only feel bittered by it. He ripped his eyes away from them and looked towards the staff table.

 

Minerva McGonagall was still Headmistress, and she sat at the center of the table, an unreadable expression on her face as she clapped for the last few First Years who were sorted. He decided he’d go and greet her after the banquet. Beside her, on the right was Professor Flitwick, and to her left was Madame Hooch. He looked further down the table and could spot Professors Sprout and Trelawney. There were several more seemingly unfamiliar faces before he found Hagrid at the end of the table, and he waved, feeling a small grin conjured. Hagrid waved back and beamed happily. Just as he was going to turn back around, McGonagall began to rise.

 

A hush fell over the students as their attention focused on the Headmistress. She tapped her spoon to her cup several times until it was completely silent, then she pressed her wand on her chin, beneath her lips. “Welcome, all, to a new year at Hogwarts. This past year has been beyond anything most of you may have ever experienced, and I sincerely hope these next months here will bring some light to all of our lives. Before we can indulge in this banquet, I have a few things to announce: I am very pleased to introduce our new staff members.” McGonagall paused and turned to look to her right side with a smile, “Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor is Missus Andromeda Tonks!” 

 

The Great Hall erupted into fierce applause, despite ninety percent of the student body not knowing who that was. However, Harry was quite familiar with her, but she had been nearly unrecognizable to him. He sent a shocked look towards Ron and Hermione, who looked back at him with the same amount of surprise, jaws slack. But quickly they recovered and joined the roaring ovation. 

 

McGonagall quieted the Hall once more, and cleared her throat. Trying to muster the same energy, she next announced that the new potions instructor would be Missus Zabini, none other than Blaise Zabini’s mother. The following applause was a bit more hesitant, but the Slytherins whoop ’d more loudly for her than they had for any other teacher. Harry once more looked towards his friends. “I heard she kills her husbands!” Ron whispered, head whipping to the staff table then back to his friends. Ginny leaned in and nodded gravely, “She’s a blood supremacist, I think.” She added, eyes dark. 

 

“Why on earth would McGonagall hire her?” Hermione wondered, eyebrows drawn in concern. Neville leaned into Ginny’s side, “My gran says that she tried to get Slughorn back, but after Snape, nobody wanted the position.”

 

Harry nearly flinched at the mention of Snape. He had a rich history with the late potion’s master, traumatic and complicated. Unable to help it, the scene of Snape choking to death on his own blood, in the dark of the Shrieking Shack, played behind his eyes and he felt so fucking ill. His grip on his wand tightened as he leaned away from his gossiping peers. His mind betraying his heart, he thought of the pensieve. Severus Snape, in his nursery, weeping on the floor and clutching his dead mother. The next immediate thought was the fact that Snape was the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy in the first place. “What a bloody shit-show.” He said under his breath. Ginny looked at him, scanning his features. “Alright?” She mouthed, not trying to bring attention to him. Curtly, he nodded, and mouth backed “You?”

 

She cracked a smile, and looked away. They both knew the answer. Neither of them were alright, but it was bearable for now. His mind just wanted to crawl very far away from the present, but there was no past it could escape to nor future he could let himself fantasize of.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

With Hermione and Ron at Harry's flank, they encroached upon the staff table as the banquet was nearing its end. “Professor McGonagall!” Harry greeted, with Ron echoing brightly. Her sharp gaze snapped towards them, and immediately softened. “Why, good evening,” She said, a lightness in her eyes. “I’m happy you three have decided to return for the semester,” she added. The but hung in the air for a moment, they all were already thinking about it. At last, Hermione cleared her throat. “I’m curious to see how things will play out, with the curriculum.” 

 

McGonagall sighed in good nature. “I will say, it is a headache and a half, Miss Granger. With all the confusion, I’m going to start putting out information for another round career consultations this upcoming week. I don’t suppose you three would be interested in signing up?”

 

Hermione immediately nodded her consent, saying “ Oh, I’ve just been dying to speak to you and Professor Flitwick about an internship…” Having heard the gist of this, Harry turned away with a polite nod of his head, and began making his way to where Andromeda was seated. 

 

“I reckon I should start calling you Professor Tonks?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. He, Andromeda, Tonks (of the Nymphadora variety) and Sirius had spent a large chunk of summer with each other–in between helping the reconstruction of Hogwarts. He felt the same love for her as he felt for the Weasley’s. “Oh, Harry!” She replied with a laugh, reaching across the table to rub his arm.

 

“I, er, barely recognized you,” Harry confessed. Andromeda shook her head and a phantom of sadness washed across her, “I didn’t want to startle any students. Bella- Bellatrix– and I had always, ah, gotten mixed up from afar.” The catch in her voice was unmistakable, but Harry didn’t mention it. 

 

“Ah, right then. Whad’ya say about Zabini being the new Potions instructor?” He asked her.

 

Andromeda shot a discreet glance towards the other side of the table and lowered her voice. “She’s not a Death Eater, at least. From what I’ve heard, she wasn’t even involved in the war effort. That’s saying a lot these days, slim pickings, yeah?” She murmured. Leaning in even further, she said: “She’s Narcissa’s age, I remember her from when she was younger. Our families were cordial, and all. She’s bloody talented, but, well, you know how her son is. Children are the products of their environment.” 

 

Harry squinted at Missus Zabini. Vaguely, he could recall Slughorn mentioning her. She was indeed a beautiful woman, and he could see the resemblance between her and her offspring. “They have the same face,” He pointed out. Andromeda nodded, “Cissy was invited to the wedding, when she’d married his father. Tragic. I heard mumblings that her parents had killed him.”

 

Before Harry could verbalize his horror at this, Hagrid was turning him around with a large hand. “Harry, m’ boy!” He exclaimed. “Hullo, Hagrid!”

 

“How ar’ yeh?”

 

Automatically, Harry found himself saying Just fine. That was probably the one question he hated most, “ how are you?” Well, how was anybody? It was pleasantry, of course, but to him it now seemed distasteful. His head was somewhere far away from Hagrid’s conversation, until Ginny was tugging on his sleeve and beckoning him to follow her as the prefects were starting to lead the younger students to their Common Rooms. “I’ll visit soon.” Harry promised as he left.

 

Mischievously, Ginny pulled him to the side. “Perhaps we should be out on the lash tonight, huh, Potter?” She asked, voice hushed. Since at least fifth year, Harry and Ginny had been sneaking around and getting wasted together; truly, it was a beautiful display of  camaraderie. On the downside, everyone thought they were off snogging, a thought that made both their stomachs twist uneasily. Harry exhaled hard, letting his eyes close. “Merlin knows I need it, Gin. Yeah, maybe.” 

 

“You do seem a bit miffed. It’s…” she hesitated, then continued, “...hard. It’s hard being back here. Just–everyday, we see this place in our nightmares. It’s surreal actually being back.”

 

Harry laughed, and it was a dark, bitter sound. “Yep. I’ll drink to that.”  

 

“Brilliant! Susan Bones has a bottle of Firewhisky in her trunk, I fancy she’ll let us borrow it for a couple galleons.”

 

“I reckon you’re right, Gin.”

 

A high, arrogant, voice ascended from the other side of the corridor. “Now this is just pathetic,” Draco said, yet his voice contained no malice. Ginny scoffed, body shifting into a defensive stance and her wand hand closing around it, and Harry just rolled his eyes with a cross of his arms. 

 

“Now, now, girl Weasel. No need to start heaving hexes in the Great Hall,” Draco scowled, but a hesitant air surrounded him. Harry watched him shift slightly, gaze on him hawk-like, and a hot flash of agitation crawled up his neck and stirred up his gut.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked with a tired sigh.

 

“I want to drink and sulk like the rest of you lot. Nobody around here has a bloody drink to spare, you know.” Draco explained, not quite looking at the two in front of him, the barest crack in his practiced, suave tone. 

 

“Why? Daddy’s sentencing catching up to you?” Ginny asked, lip curling in a snarl. Draco’s face faltered for a moment before he straightened his posture and drew his face into a sneering mask. “That is none of your business,” His voice was low, and nearly menacing if Harry hadn’t latched onto the hint of vulnerability peaking through, attentive like a shark who smells blood. “I just can’t find a proper fucking drink around here, like I said .”

 

“Whatever. No need to get shirty, Malfoy. Wouldn’t want any ferrets popping up,” Ginny finally said, looking towards Harry for confirmation. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Maybe that cheap shit will do the trick and none of us will even remember it,” Harry conceded.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Harry found himself in the Astronomy Tower with Ginny, Draco–who sat far off from them and couldn’t quite bring himself to look at anyone– and Luna Lovegood, with a bottle of Firewhisky being passed around them in dead, tense silence save for the occasional bout of uneasy laughter they couldn’t seem to stop from spilling out. It was ludicrous, the whole situation. But, it was enough, for now. The whisky had long since lost the burning sensation as it went down, but Harry felt the fiery buzzing of the liquor beneath his skin. He was still working on his second cigarette, sharing it with Ginny as she beckoned. She’d never been much of a smoker, only done it a couple of times beforehand, and she coughed as she took a drag. She and Harry giggled at this, leaning into one another.

 

For the first time in a while, someone spoke. “My dad told me that Firewhisky was first made with the hair of Heliopaths,” Luna recalled, her voice less whimsical and now more flat, but a dreamy smile was still plastered on her face. Draco groaned from the window ledge where he was seated, screwing his eyes shut. “What the fuck is a Heliopath?” He asked, hand clutching his head.

 

“A spirit of fire. Nasty predator, it’ll burn up anything it comes in contact with,” She explained, head bobbing as though it was too heavy for her neck to support. “‘S interesting,” Ginny replied kindly. Luna beamed at her, “Kind of like your hair.” She pointed out.

 

Ginny blushed, shrugging it off and clearing her throat.

 

Draco leaned further away, glaring at the sky, which sent a spark of fear into Harry’s heart as the blonde got closer and closer to toppling over. 

 

“Stargazing over there, Malfoy?” Ginny called out after regaining her composure. Harry glanced towards Draco again, just to make sure he wasn’t about to accidentally kill himself, and then to the darkened sky. It gave him a sense of deja vu. “You can see your constellation overhead, this time of year” He pointed out, craning his head to try and look. Draco furrowed his brow and shot him a nasty look, but slowly nodded. “It’s right by Cygnus,” Harry continued.

 

Draco wrinkled his nose at this. “That is my grandfather’s name,” He said, the soft confliction in his tone as clear as a bell. Harry wondered if he’d always been this perceptive of Malfoy’s cadence and the time spent away from school had warped his perception, 0r if the boy was overall less sharp.

 

“Dromeda’s dad, yeah.” Harry eventually agreed. Draco gave him a weird look, “What?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Do you know my aunt, Potter?”

 

“Yeah. I don’t know much about your family, though,” He quickly rectified. Ginny watched with an amused smile, and Draco just sighed. “My mum loves him a lot, though he is a bit of an arse I hear. Father never liked him much,” Draco explained with a wry smile.

 

Harry looked away from him and back at the sky. “Arsery must run in the family…ah! I can see Andromeda’s constellation.” 

 

“The Chained Woman.” Luna commented. They all turned to look at her. Her pale skin was flushed from the whisky, and she had pulled her hair back into a loose bun at some point during the star-talk. “The Chained Woman,” she reiterated. “That’s what they call her constellation.”

Harry burst into laughter at the irony, and Draco’s own immediately followed, and soon all four of them were in hysterics. He was drunk and his heart felt lighter and his thoughts no longer felt like bombs waiting in a landmine, and the rough laughter was pulled from his chest so easily that he wished he could go through everyday like this. Luna’s hands shook from her giggling as she pulled out a joint from her pocket, and her other hand reached for her wand. “Blimey, Lovegood” Draco commented, breathless with sniggers. Ginny fell into another fit of laughter before pressing her palm to her chest. 

 

“How did we end up like this?” Ginny mused, voice sounding neither here nor there. Harry grimaced but nodded, rubbing her shoulder. “What do you get when the Boy Who Lived, an ex-Death Eater, a Pureblood, and a blood-traitor walk into the Astronomy Tower?” She asked, wryly smiling. 

 

Draco crossed his arms a little tighter over his chest before quietly saying, “A bloody shit show.”

 

Behind Harry’s eyes, images of Draco and Dumbledore from that night that seemed so long ago flashed in a sordid dance, warping his view of Luna and Ginny. He wondered if Draco was thinking about it, too. Thinking about Albus Dumbledore, and Hogwarts, and their growing up. Once, when he was younger, Harry revered the man–he defended his name more fiercely than he defended his own. But now, at nineteen, he had more complex thoughts about respect for the man and his memory. The great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was now a decomposing mound of flesh buried in the White Tomb by the Lake. He seemed to be the only one who had not bore the consequences of the war that he started in the name of the Greater Good. Harry had turned these thoughts over and over again in his brain, and each time he concluded that at every step of the way, Dumbledore could have done a little more to prevent the tragedy. But, each time, he realized that everything played out so neatly that deep down, he knew that these events were a part of some larger scheme all along. He looked at Draco, and he wondered.

 

Subsequently, they all decided to get a little drunker. It seemed like only alcohol could quell the whispers of battle that plagued their minds.

Notes:

Uploaded: 4/15/24
Re-uploaded: 5/30/25

Chapter 3: THE MAGICIAN

Notes:

↑ Desire, creation, manifestation
↓ Trickery, illusions, being out of touch

cw: talk of self mutilation and suicide

Draco M. - POV

✈︎ Slytherin Common Room

 

The Slytherin Common Room was a fucking ghost town; there were only several older students present, the quantity of which could be counted on both hands, and the remainder were first or seconds years–maybe a couple third and fourth years. Half of the absent students were either too scared to return to Hogwarts, fearing the repercussions for the sins of their forefathers, and the other half of them were living in broken homes or in all meanings of the term “emancipated” and wards of the state. And Merlin only knows how the Ministry of Magic would lay down the unyielding hand of the law on the youth in its custody. 

You’d have thought that the whole Slytherin populace, ages 11-17, had had the Dark Mark  branded onto their skin, with the way they were sanctioned punishment. Like they were all on the front lines with the Death Eaters. They weren’t–it seemed to only be Draco Malfoy who had been. Theodore Knott and Gregory Goyle hadn’t bothered to show up for the Year of Do-Over. Goyle was barely even a Death Eater, though. His boggart was Lord Voldemort, for fuck’s sake. But like every other Pureblood heir, he too had felt the pressure and was stamped with the damning mark.

It would never come off.

Despite being vehemently hungover with everything aching, the brand felt like it was in searing pain. It was a grotesque blemish on his flesh, mangled from the business-end of a dagger and riddled with cursed-scars from the plethora of dark spells he had tried in his attempt to take it off. Draco had half the mind to cut the whole layer of skin off and deposit himself in front of the infirmary doors before he could bleed out and die. But, knowing the Dark Lord’s ingeniousness, it’d probably still be there. The majority of the days, Draco could feel the pain right down to his hypodermis. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this was how burn victims felt. Chronic pain despite peripheral neuropathy. “Must be how Potter feels,” Draco said to nobody in particular.

“ What?” Pansy Parkinson called from the opposite corner of the Common Room, looking up from the book she was reading. Draco thought she should’ve been in Gryffindor, she was one of the bravest people he’s ever met, despite the Incident a year and a half ago. Bloody audacious, but so brave. Grunting, he retracted the arm that was covering his eyes so he could look at her. “I’m not talking to you,” He snapped, then sat up. 

“Are you talking to yourself?” She asked, rising from the corner armchair. Draco didn’t grace her with a reply, and instead stood up and brushed invisible specks of dirt from his robes. Pansy slinked towards him with her arms crossed over her chest and her head tilted to the side. “Could’ve sworn I heard the words…Potter.” 

Draco’s nostrils flared as he shoved past her. He could feel the eyes of the portraits following him as he moved. “Shove off,” He bit, casting a disproving glance as Pansy decided to keep up with his strides. “You went out drinking with him.”

“And a Weasley, and Looney Lovegood. What’s your point? The esteemed House of Malfoy is evidently suffering the same fate as the Blacks, and the Carrows, and the Rosiers, and- ” 

“ And the Sacred Twenty-Eight has fallen. Yes, we know , dear Dragon,” Pansy said with a frivolous wave of her hand, “My father has not shut up about it. The mudbloods, the mudbloods , he cries!”

Draco pushed open the door and left through it, fixing to head up the stairs. “Yes, the mudbloods,” He repeated darkly. Like every good pureblood heir, he was bred with the contempt for those with muggle blood. Unlike every good pureblood heir, he did not care nearly as much anymore. He had suffered too much–been subjected to unimaginable horrors in the name of a cause only his father seemed to really believe in–and he had seen too much death. Too much blood was on his hands; sometimes, if he scrubbed hard enough, he could feel clean. 

But, he continued how he once was, uttering the word like they were to blame for all the wrong in his life. But, what good would it do for him to come running back to the goodens now that his father was imprisoned for what would be the rest of his life? Would he be like the other doormat Death Eaters who had claimed Imperius, knowing good and well that defied the logic of the Mark? The Ministry already held him on trial right after the end of the war, and the Wizengamot cleared him of his charges and sent him off with pity and the vow of community service. And, with that commencement did Lucius Malfoy take the fall. 

Sometimes, when Draco looked at his mother, she looked reborn in a way he had never seen her before, and it was confusing. The would-be tragedy wrought on by her son made her look so relieved in such an insulting manner to his senses. When Draco found himself in the Great Hall with Pansy still by his side, he sighed, and she smiled. “‘Tis a new day, and we are free.” She stated, then finally bid him adieu. 

Now standing very alone, Draco figured that it must be time to visit his blood-traitor aunt.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had moved from the first floor to the third floor, and that gave Draco time to think. Classes had not yet started, they’d only be receiving their timetables later in the day, so he hoped that he would not be intruding on anything. 

Anxiety gnawed on him as he ascended the stairs. What could one even say to their disowned relative? Oh, my father calls you an arse-kissing, sissy, blood-traitor with no dignity. Now, that’d really be a first impression. Draco tried to recall a time where his mother had mentioned his auntie Andromeda, and he found himself drawing a blank. She didn’t tell him anything, only the briefest stories of when ‘ Bella ’ and ‘ Reggie ’ were young, both of whom were deceased. She had not breached the subject of her mother, or her father, or her estranged sister–they were only ever brought up by the house elves via prompting, or when Lucius went on a furious spiel. So, suffice to say, he was walking in blind.

He peaked his blonde head into the classroom and gasped, stumbling backwards in a fright. Panicked, he came to the conclusion that right before him sat Bellatrix LeStrange in the seat behind the teaching desk, but as he took a moment to orient himself, he realized this was not the case. Andromeda had the same brown, wild hair, but hers was lighter and there was an attempt to tame it by plaiting it in a braid down her shoulder. Her eyes were warmer, but startled as she gazed upon him. Reflected back was his expression of shock, she also seemed to be seeing something– someone –who was not quite there.

There was a tense moment, then she pushed herself out of the chair and slowly walked around her desk as though he was a frightened animal. He quickly righted himself, chin up and shoulders back. “You…you are Cissy’s boy?”

Cissy, Draco mouthed, and it was alien on his tongue. The single title of affection was enough to humanize his mother, and in a matter of seconds he felt tears prick his eyes. She was a mother and wife, but she had also been a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a niece–and her only family left was her son, and the unspoken names blasted off of her family tapestry. The woman bearing the name Andromeda Tonks ( Black ) was right in front of him, and for the first time in a while he just wanted to fall to his knees in a weeping flurry of shame and grovel for forgiveness. This was something he had only known to associate with Harry Potter and his clan. 

Tentatively, Andromeda reached out to place her hands on his shoulders. She did it so delicately, as if she could tell he was mere moments away from breaking apart so violently that nobody may be able to ever pick the pieces back up. She looked over his face with soft, sad, eyes before steeling herself. “Draco.” She stated simply. Like a sleeper agent, the word shook him and he felt the life flood back into his core. Mutely, he nodded. “You’re so beautiful,” She whispered. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know you.” The kind hands holding his arms in an inexplicably familial way instantly dissipated his Pureblood swagger and he felt the raw statement ripped out of him before he could even realize what it was that was happening. He watched Andromeda swallow thickly at the proclamation then nod. “I haven’t spoken to your mother in almost thirty years, it’s not your fault. You know how our families are.”

Yes, he knew. But, he also didn’t. 

Draco, the sole Malfoy heir; he was raised in the image of his father with an iron fist and the promise of great things. Draco, the sole Malfoy heir; he was branded with the Dark Mark at sixteen as retribution, and if he could not deliver the head of Albus Dumbledore to his master, then he’d have suffered a fate worse than the likes of Lily Potter. And Draco, the sole Malfoy heir; brought to tears at the thought of the terrors his mother, once the young girl whose only wish was to have a family, would have endured to be fucking elated that her bloody husband was faced with life in Azkaban–worm meat for the dementors. 

Andromeda caught him in her arms in only the way somebody’s mother could, and Draco yearned for his own mum so aggressively that he felt like he was going to throw up all over the kind woman who happened to look like Bellatrix. Fucking. Mudbloods. He thought, choking on his own spit as he tried to gasp for air through his sobs. He hadn’t cried in months, not since after he had visited Lucius in his new forever home. It was like all the walls he built back up after having Lord Voldemort pick through his mind daily for the better part of a year had come crashing down and pouring out through his eyes. 

Andromeda brushed fingers through his hair, and once he settled a bit (though he’d never quite gain back that dignity), she spoke. “Would you like to know me, Draco?” and she pushed him back to look him in the eyes. Maybe he was a scared animal, because in a sudden influx of terror, he shoved her away and ran out of the door. 

The mark burned as he tore through the halls, and he didn’t stop running until he found himself in a bathroom alone. He could remember the last time he was bent over a Hogwarts sink and crying at the state of his life–Harry Potter had subsequently nearly killed him with the spell that his godfather Severus Snape had curated. Bleakly, Draco could recall one of the lines from the muggle play: The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.

“My only love sprung from my only hate.”  

For maybe the hundredth time that day, he thought fucking mudbloods! and fled from the bathroom. There would be no Severus to save him from the brink, the greasy git had gotten himself killed by a goddamned snake. Draco nearly stopped to laugh, the Head of Slytherin was killed by Lord Voldemort’s snake! How fucking sad was that? He rushed into one of the few entrances of the Astronomy Tower, where he had been not even twenty-four hours ago. The balcony directly overlooked the castle doors, and the railing was the only thing keeping him from accidentally toppling over and splattering onto the grounds below. He gripped it so hard that his knuckles had started to turn a blotchy white. Sweat drenched his hair and clothes, and he didn't move a muscle. He was inhumanly still. And, he wanted to fucking fling himself over. 

He felt the familiar churning of his gut and the pain in his left arm flared. He looked back at the grounds. If he indulged the urge, his whole life would amount to being a bloody, gnarled heap of tissue on the grass of a place that had never truly welcomed him. But, could it ever really amount to anything else?

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

After Draco’s return to the Common Room, he had written a letter.

 

Mother,

What I write to you today, I derive no joy in saying. However, I feel as though I do not know you as well as a son should. You have always been rather closed off in your life, and despite your insistence that this is not the case, I can see you’re happier now that Father’s gone. I don’t feel angry at you–I’d just like to understand you better. I want to know you. I hope these new circumstances can serve as opportune for you to perhaps divulge some of yourself to me. I talked to your sister Andromeda for a brief moment today, and it just made me realize how much I miss you. Do write soon, 

Sincerely, Draco

 

It was a short letter. Draco could recall the days of his first couple years at Hogwarts; he’d send pages upon pages of mind-numbing details about being at school to his parents. They both replied with just as much enthusiasm, but it always circled back to the push for him to befriend the Boy Who Lived.

Sealing the letter, Draco got up and made his way out to the Owlery. His Eagle Owl named Alruba was getting older, almost nine , and her brown coat was slowly losing its color. Upon meeting her, he gave her a treat and scratched the top of her head. It was such a mundane task, but it made him feel better. If he could care for an owl for nearly a decade, then he surely could handle himself. “Give this to my mum, will you?” He cooed, staring into the animal’s orange eyes like that’d get the message through clearer. Alruba chirped and took the letter from his fingers, almost nipping him. Draco cursed and pulled his hand back with a scoff. Light laughter from the arched doorway drew his attention, and he turned around to see Andromeda.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning his head away like he couldn’t physically stand to perceive her presence. 

“It’s alright, Draco. My offer still stands,” Her hand was out, waiting for him to grab it or link arms. Decidedly, Draco was not a good Pureblood heir, and he interlocked himself with his aunt a bit hesitantly. 

“I have a daughter named Nymphadora, but she insists that everybody calls her Tonks. She’s twenty-five, a Metamorphmagus, and she is just a brilliant auror. I had a husband, his name was Ted, and he was just the kindest soul,” she paused and looked at Draco with a smile, “as you may or may not know, he was a muggle. Believe it or not, we aren’t so different.”

And, Draco could believe it. Really, he could. She pushed on, “Over the summer, the circumstances permit that I could see a lot more of that Potter boy, and your old professor Remus Lupin. A bit of an odd commodity, those two, but I’ve grown quite fond of them,” She explains with a wink. In an instant he could see everything he has the chance to be; not defined by his last name, title, or blood status—but by how he loves and is loved.

He wondered if he’ll ever take on that chance.

Notes:

Edited Version: Jun 14

draco malfoy is a mama's boy and so very sad...but who wouldn't be like wtf

imagine growing up with a terrorist father and then his evil warlord invades your home, tasks you with killing the most powerful wizard like ever or he'll kill you, has your mom and dad basically held hostage, pokes and prods through all your memories and thoughts, wants to kill your bae, leads your bae to almost kill YOU, and then kills your godfather

shit is crazy!!!

Chapter 4: "THE FAMILY JEWELS"

Notes:

- chapter title from The Family Jewels by MARINA (loml)
- first person pov 1/2 of the chapter?!?!
- shorter chapter but early update people i feel like i’m robbing the people of tiktok by posting future excerpts

Harry P. - POV

✈︎ Tonks’ Residence

 

“We are going to take Draco and Narcissa to my house, with your godfathers” Is what Andromeda had said, and obviously she had left no wiggle room for refusal, pausing only to say, “I am terribly sorry if I’m intruding on your plans for Hogsmeade, though.” Having no plans for the weekend, Harry found himself nodding with a tight smile. When, really, he just wanted to scream. Immediately he wrote to Sirius ( Snuffles) about his opinions on the travesty, using Hermione’s owl. 

 

No, he did not want to spend the weekend with Draco Malfoy. He’d only agreed to a night of drinking with him out of pity because, somehow, all their lives ended up going to shit despite the drastically different experiences. Besides, how did Andromeda even know that Narcissa and Draco were trustworthy? 

 

For many years, Harry’s thoughts had centered around Malfoy and what he was doing and who he was with, but now, Harry could not find himself to be much bothered with anything about anybody. No longer did he feel the emotions Draco brought out in him, and no longer did he feel anything particular towards anyone. It just seemed to be a pain. So, when he found himself at Andromeda’s house with Tonk’s nestled in the couch cushion beside him, Draco and his mother in armchairs across the room, Remus and Sirius standing near the fireplace, and the hostesses on the bay window, his manners for the hospitality were sufficiently lacking. The conversation between them all had been sparse and tense, something Harry imagined pureblood social gatherings were like.  After Narcissa had made an off-handed comment about one thing or another, Sirius’ hand clamped onto Remus' shoulder.

 

“Remus, may I speak to you in the kitchen?”  Sirius asked, trying to smooth over the contempt in his tone. Sighing, Remus followed the man into the other room. Harry wished he could follow them, too. They did this a lot at Grimmauld place; sneaking away and having private conversations that they hadn’t bothered to invite him to hear. It reminded Harry, albeit very loosely, of how the Dursley’s managed to exclude him on everything so they could have the pleasure of sly glances and inside jokes that he’d never have the privilege of being in on. Inside, he was well aware that both Sirius and Remus loved him greatly as they had his whole life (with his knowledge or without), and they’d be crushed to know he felt this way, but it was a deeply-ingrained nagging feeling he could never seem to shake. But, despite the muffling charm Sirius no doubt cast, Harry could still hear bits and pieces of the conversation. 

 

“ Mrs. Malfoy and her spawn -“

 

He glanced at Narcissa and Draco with a strained smile. An awkward laugh fell from Tonk’s as she readjusted how she was sitting, her hair beginning to change from a bright pink to an even brighter one in embarrassment. Andromeda cleared her throat, standing. “I’ll, uh, check in with them. I’ll see if I can put a pot of tea on.”

 

Narcissa shook her head then looked towards Tonks. “Nymphadora, how is working at the Ministry?” She asked, politely. 

 

“Oh! Well…”

 

Harry looked away and got up from the couch, nodding at Draco. “Fancy a walk, Malfoy?” Despite his indifference to the blonde, he understood how it felt to be inherently disliked by family even though they didn’t even know you. Walking out into the yard, he voiced this, and the fact that they were both hypocritical for their own biases dawned on him halfway through the words coming out. But, it didn’t matter much anymore. They both knew that.

 

Once outside, they stopped and sat down in the grass. Draco swallowed uncomfortably, looking away. “You know,” he started, his voice hesitant, “Everything has been so calm these last few months. I feel out of sorts.”

 

“I reckon that things get a little dull when you’re not running errands for the Dark Lord.” Harry bit out. It was a harsh statement that he hadn’t even really meant, but the fact that Draco had the audacity to complain about anything made him feel something reminiscent of that old passionate rage. Draco cleared his throat. “Yeah. They do.”

 

Harry furrowed his brow and looked up towards the sky. It was nice outside, but no doubt it wouldn’t be lasting much longer as the month came to an end and brought in crisp October. “You gonna try out for the quidditch team?” He asked Draco, remembering the upcoming tryout date. Draco laughed and it sounded almost genuine. “There’s barely enough Slytherins for a team. Besides, I only ever played because my father wanted me to, and well, we know how that is.”

“Huh? I thought you liked playing.”

“I did, when I was small. That lasted maybe until I was thirteen.”

“Well, I’m not going to play either.”

Draco fully turned around to look at Harry, his gray eyes filled with a sense of bewilderment. Now, Harry laughed. When he initially came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t return for the half-season, he felt that way too. Things were just too different. He’d always have a love for the sport–but it’d never be in the way he had fallen in love with it when he was younger. His new assessment of flying and house rivalry was largely made up from what he’d seen in the War. Images of Hedwig, George Weasley, and Mad-Eye Moody falling from the sky, then the moments before the Battle of Hogwarts flashed in his mind; some of these weren’t even his memories, they were the moments conjured from the pensieves or descriptions ejected from Veritaserum-drugged convicts in which Harry had seen and heard during each trial. He had been to every one. 

 

“ Are you mad ?” Draco’s astonishment brought him back around. “You’re Harry Potter! I’m sure at least half the leagues were scouting you to recruit next summer...Oliver Wood must be rolling in his grave! I’d heard you wanted to play professionally.” 

 

“I don’t know what I want to do,” Harry disclosed and he sounded just exhausted.

“Me neither.”

It was a statement that was unsure in nature and when Harry glanced over at him, he looked a bit flushed. Not going to pry or even acknowledge the lie, Harry let his eyes flutter shut. He hadn’t ever let himself think about what he wanted to do after Hogwarts, it all seemed like pipe dreams he’d share with his mates when he was fourteen. Truthfully, he never believed that he’d make it to the point where he existed in a world without looming danger and existential dread. It was written in the stars that he’d die, and he did, but what came after? The Boy Who Lived had continued to live in the face of the Fates. In fifth year, he had thought about being an Auror, but he came to realize that it was the anger and bloodlust and need for retribution that was driving this idea. He couldn’t foster it. Besides, he didn’t think he’d ever want to work for the Ministry. Hermione, however, was entertaining the idea with the desire to “do some good”--Harry knew he could do that too, if he worked with the Ministry, but he also thought he had done enough good deeds. He deserved to be a little selfish. There was also the fact that in his Defense class, the stray curse sent him right back into the fight. 

 

Sometimes, it felt like he was in love with the War. Nobody had actually told him it was over, that he was safe, that he could begin to move on.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Narcissa M. - POV 1st

 

I could see the hate and disgust in the way he looked at me. All the men in the Black family had those gray eyes, and within them I could almost see myself getting lost in memory upon memory of the ghosts from our lineage. Some talked of houses being haunted, and I wondered if they had ever considered that people could be, too. Within me, I held the remnants of my kin, their empty husks taking up room in my heart. And within Sirius, I could see the rage churning in those silver depths as I had seen it all of my childhood, but not from his eyes exclusively. 

 

He’d always prided himself on being so progressive and I just wanted to laugh. He was an extremist like the rest of us had been, just for opposing sides. We both soon found out that our respective Lords were nothing more than foils; every death was a statistic for each side. Sirius had been a part of that. I had been a part of that. My son had been a part of that. Harry especially had. We all regretted things, and yet he still looked at me like it was I who had delivered that killing blow to Lily and James and not their best friend, Peter. 

 

What is man, if not hypocritical?

 

He and the werewolf (despite our history, I had fallen into the habit of reduction) had returned to the lounge, followed by my sister. They all looked upon me and I felt studied in a way I hadn’t in many years. “Narcissa,” Sirius began, and his lips twisted around my name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth. He went on, with the werewolf’s hand curled around the back of his neck in a way I could not fathom being comfortable. “What is with the change of heart, really?”

“My husband’s in prison.” The very prison you were in , I fought back saying. I had been the only one to try and appeal his sentencing that first year, not for me, but for Regulus in his memory. It was not Dumbledore who did, or the brute Rubeus Hagrid, and it was not even Lupin. It was me, and he did not even know. Sirius laughed at my statement, and Andromeda’s hand sneaked up to hold his arm. Her daughter sat in the back of the room, but her wand seemed to be at the ready. A united front.

 

“You’ve been sucking up Death Eater cock–” the werewolf’s hand tightened around his neck for a moment, “--for the past twenty-five years. Why now?” In spite of the indignity, I smiled. “I’ll never have to be in his presence again.”

 

Him, Lucius.

 

And him, the Dark Lord. 

 

“Cissy, you could have come to me.” Andromeda said, and I could see the genuineness in her eyes. But, really, I couldn’t have. I was basically married to Lucius before the Trace had even left me, and she knew this. “What did you want me to do?” I asked her, and waited. Everything was about what I should have done, how I should have been better, how I should have broken the cycle. But for what? Upon my graduation was the supremacist sentiment ever ramping up, my family closing their fists around my throat, the pressure to take on the mark on the rise. Lucius knew that wasn’t the life I wanted, and he was all too happy to wear the brand in my steed. Three years after my union did Sirius run away, three years after that did the First War truly begin, and four years after that did Regulus die. There was no point in “breaking the cycle”, for I knew He’d return. He had given Lucius the diary for keeping and left with the promise of a comeback. 

 

I was not like Sirius Black, illusioned by the promise of a better tomorrow with the world in my hands. I was Narcissa Black, and I had just wanted love. 

 

“You could have ran away with us.” Andromeda said it softly, and we all could tell that that had not been a viable option. “After you ran away, what do you think had happened?”

The sentiment hung in the air. Andromeda looked at Sirius, and I could see the mutually-understood sense of terror and guilt. I wondered if Bella had ever felt it. It started with Cain and Abel, Aclima and Lusia, then there was Moses and Rameses, and Stheno and Euryale. I knew that Sirius and Andy had always prayed that it would not happen to us, but what were siblings, if not damned mirrors? They both had run away, so Regulus and I had to pick up where they left off. 

 

The werewolf let go of my cousin, and in an act of perhaps sympathy, he reached out to take my hand, shaking it firmly. I remembered the boy from all those years ago and then, finally, the others seemed to relax and retreat to the furniture. And perhaps I too felt sympathetic:

 

“Mr. Lupin?”

“Yes?”

“If you’d like, I’ll brew you the wolfsbane potion in time for next week.”

 

“...Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Notes:

i dont rlly like this chapter super much but narcissa they can never make me hate you

EXPECT a little WOLFSTAR NEXT CHAPTER i literally wanted this fic to be predominant wolfstar but alas it has gotten away from me ugh ugh ugh WHATEVER fire emoji

also did yall catch that mitski....reference....and the biblical+mythical allusions....oo oo aa aa sibling dynamics make me ill -- TRUST we will be getting into Bellatrix at some point

Edited Version: Jun 14 2025

Chapter 5: THE HIGH PRIESTESS

Notes:

↑ Intuitive, unconscious, inner voice
↓ Lack of center, repressed feelings

 

Remus L. - POV

✈︎ No. 12 Grimmauld Place

 

It was the morning after a full moon; the familiar, painful sensation of his bones clicking back into their natural state was the first thing Remus re-acquainted with, then the cracking, aching, pulling of his joints came moments later as he turned to his side with a groan. For many years, the pain had been a hot-white searing sensation, like there were hands all over him gripping exposed nerves. Now, it was just a bit less. Plus, Narcissa had brewed him the Wolfsbane, so he wasn’t feeling as shittily disoriented. As soon as he had moved, he felt the weight of a hand lightly press into his shoulder. Evidently, this wasn’t what he wanted, for he shot upright and looked downright frenzied. 

 

“Gah!” Sirius cried out, trying to push him back down. They struggled against each other with flailing limbs, and Harry–who was a mere bystander–looked on wearily. He still wasn’t quite used to it, and as he watched his Uncle and Godfather tussle, he felt he was witnessing something entirely canine. Finally, Remus relented and Sirius was able to ease him limply back down then wipe a drop of sweat from his brow. 

 

“ Yn brifo,” Remus slurred, and Sirius brushed his, Remus’, hair back with a sigh. “Harry,” he said, not looking away from Remus, “get me some of that calming draught, that blue one on the dresser.” The vial was placed into his open palm wordlessly, and Sirius gruffly said his thanks. 

 

“Er, Sirius?” Harry said, voice low. The man was pushing Remus’ head back and placing the vial to his lips, whispering. “Hm?” He replied after a moment, still appearing to be struggling to open Remus’ mouth. 

 

“There’s…well, Bill Weasley is here.”

 

“Huh. Just–” succeeding, the vial emptied, “-aha! Sorry, kid. He gets a little confused, but the Wolfsbane helped. I think. You said Bill is here?” 

 

Remus stirred in his new state and opened his eyes blearily. “Bill?” He croaked out. Sirius grimaced. “How are you, Moony?”

 

“Fine.” The pained scowl on his face as he sat up betrayed him, but he carried on. “Bill’s here?”

 

Harry nodded, still hanging awkwardly by the door. “Um, yeah. Stumbled through the fireplace not too long ago, so I set him up on the couch.” 

 

“Bloody hell.” Remus muttered and made a gallant attempt to stand before Sirius was shoving him down again with a bit more force. “Moony–”

 

“ Sirius.”

 

“Should I just, I dunno, help him in here?” Harry asked uncomfortably. Sirius nodded gratefully with an exhale before turning back towards Remus, and Harry left the room. 

 

“What hurts?” He questioned. His worried eyes raked over Remus, trying to see if there was something he’d missed. “ Inside . Shit, pads, forgot about Bill.” Remus said through grit teeth.

 

“What hurts inside?”

“ I don’t know ! Where is he?”  

 

At this moment, Bill Weasley had come tripping through the door, arm over Harry’s shoulder as support. Sirius quickly got up and helped Harry usher Bill into the bed to sit beside the other. “Remus,” Bill rasped, lips cracked and stained red with what Remus assumed was blood. Sirius worked fast and within seconds he had procured two crimson healing potions and gingerly handed it to the two werewolves. 

 

“Has something happened?” Remus asked sharply, holding off on the potion. His mind was rushing through different possibilities, each one breeding a worse, consuming feeling of panic and fear. He could smell Bill’s own fear basically rolling off him in waves, and Sirius seemed quite anxious as well. Harry was a bit better off, but as the silence stretched on longer, he seemed to get more nervous.

 

“No, no,” Bill assured, eyes darting. Remus felt the knot in his stomach loosen a bit, and finally decided to drink the healing draught. Instantly, some of the twisting pain he felt in his chest eased up. He sighed in relief. “Are you okay?” He then asked the ginger. It was a stupid question, they both knew exactly what it was like. He more or less meant are you about to drop dead or suffer a psychotic break?

 

“Fine. I-” A glance at Harry, then Sirius. Sensing the apprehension, Sirius grabbed Harry and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. “I need help.” Bill admitted.

 

Creasing his brow in concern, Remus hurriedly said “Of course, anything.” 

 

“It’s Fleur. She’s pregnant, three weeks.”

 

Remus eyebrows shot up at this confession, then immediately the pit in his stomach became significantly wider. He had never heard of lycanthropy being inherited, but just because he had never heard of it, didn't mean it had never happened. Horrified, he thought of a child coming into the world, only having maybe hours or weeks before it would transform under the moon like the rest of their sorry lot. Already queasy, his stomach vehemently disagreed with this concept and lurched. He willed back the bile climbing his throat, but only poorly managed to conceal his horror. 

 

“I’m scared,” Bill whispered and it looked like he was swallowing something particularly nasty. “I need help. ” 

 

Remus didn’t reply for a moment. His mind desperately tried recalling the events of his first transformations at age five, but he could only ever remember the pain. After that was the loneliness, then the anger, then the fear . He didn’t want to even consider such innocence being brought into light under those conditions. “She has to get rid of it,” he murmured, looking up with wild eyes. Bill’s teary brown ones stared back. “She’d never.”

“It…Bill-”

 

“Fleur would never. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what will happen.”

It was silent for a stretch of time before the older of the two wolves replied. “I’ll help you figure it out,” he said firmly. Bill smiled tiredly for a second, but it fell from his face just as fast. Unsurely, he cleared his throat. “I-I think this may be making me a bit crazy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I thought I saw…well, actually, nevermind.” 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

“Feeling like right and proper shit,” Remus grumbled under his breath to Sirius as the man helped place the cane into his hands. “I know, Moons. I’ll put some tea on for us, and I can give you another healing potion soon.”

Harry stood as they entered the living room, mustering a smile. “I just sent Bill off,” He informed. Sirius nodded and smiled back.

 

“What are you doing here, lad?” 

 

“Weekend.” His now genuine grin was infectious. Remus sat and his company took it upon themselves to follow suit. Carefully, he placed one leg over the other so as to not irritate his settling bones. Exhaling deeply, Remus felt the scabs on his legs chafe against his pants and he just wanted to pick at them, but he cocked his head at Harry. “This morning was a bit rough,” he mused, “So I’m hoping to hear some good news.”

 

Harry sighed deeply and pushed a hand through his hair. It fondly reminded him of James, and he acknowledged (like many times before) that he would never truly be able to look at Harry without thinking of him. It hurt less, now. “School is pretty shit. ‘Dromeda is a very good teacher though,” a quick glance shot towards Sirius, “and Mrs. Zabini is well enough for the others, but...dodgy. I’m actually failing potions.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly, but the light heartedness of his tone didn’t waver. Sirius laughed, clapping his godson on the back. Remus’ eyes watched the motion of his hand and he was filled with nostalgia. 

 

“That must be a record!” Sirius chirped.

 

“Mhm. Sucks though, I have to have Malfoy tutor me. I’m gutted.”

“A tragedy,” Sirius agreed.

“That lot is pretty apt for potions, it could be worse.” Remus interjected. 

 

“ I wasn’t–!”

 

Harry groaned and covered his face. “It’s Malfoy. I’ve already hexed him once, I can’t keep doing this!”

 

“At least he’s not taking it out on your grade.” 

 

Harry nodded at this, then looked away, suddenly pensive. “Something on your mind?” Sirius asked, in-tune as ever. Harry’s head snapped back and he blinked. “Luna said something strange.”

“Oh?” Remus replied, interest piqued. He had a fondness for Luna Lovegood. She was a damn good witch and was on to do great things, he believed. He could also feel for her: Loony Lovegood was not so different from Loony Lupin, but she took it in such a stride that he never was strong enough to. He thought Harry had made some really good friends. But, then, his thoughts fluttered back to Bill Weasley’s dilemma, and he felt a bit peaky again. 

 

“Draco said, when it was just him and Luna at the astronomy tower, she told him that he needs to ‘take care of the spare’. And, I dunno what she means but…but Voldemort said the same thing before he killed Cedric.”

Sirius’ and Remus’ eyes met. In a moment, thousands of words passed between them and they both felt the same. Concerned. Remus could hear both their heart rates increase. He wanted to cover his ears and hide in the pages of a book, too much was happening mere hours after a full moon. But Sirius chuckled weakly and just stated “The Lovegoods have always been a little eccentric. You’ll keep us updated though, yeah?”

And that was it, to the other two at least. Each happening seemed to weigh Remus down and his heart felt heavy. He didn’t like it, not one bit. And he knew that Sirius didn’t like it either, but they both had a lot on their plate. For all they really knew, Luna could have been waxing lyrical about an extra pair of socks. 

 

After the war, he had a lot of time to think, surprisingly. The cleanup and rebuilding was a strangely dissociative task–the first time, in ‘80, he had been a mess and alone. The second time in ‘97, he was surrounded by loved ones and didn’t have to bear the burden of tragedy by himself. But, his brain took it a bit far and decided it wouldn’t bear the burden at all. He couldn’t remember. However, this whole Luna business made him feel uneasy in a way that was way too soon for him to be feeling that way.

 

Just another thing added to his list:

- Get boyfriend’s name cleared with the Ministry and Wizengamot (consult Lyall)

- Help Bill Weasley (consult ancient Black archives and Poppy)

- Keep an eye on the Luna situation 

He looked towards Sirius who was chatting idly with Harry now. He wished he could sleep the rest of the day in his arms–a pleasure he’d only begun letting himself indulge the past year. Huffing, he wandlessly summoned his book and it went whizzing through the air. “Oi, no projectiles!” Sirius complained. Harry laughed.

“Love, that cuppa?” the werewolf implored, eyes scanning the pages and words just a murmur. Sirius’ head perked up the soft tone but he then looked nervously at Harry, whose eyebrows knit together in thought. Remus sighed.

 

Notes:

i dont rlly like this chapter either (short chap, dialogue heavy) but the plot pursues! remus is always a treat

harry pov for the next couple chapters (mostly)
fun things to come! (😨)

also at the date of drafting this (4/19/24) TTPD????? i’m not a t swift fan but some of these songs man….

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 6: “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES”

Harry P. - POV

✈︎ Hogwarts Library

 

“Potter!” Draco snapped, slamming the book he was scouring shut. Harry’s head snapped towards the blonde at lightning speed with a frown gracing his features. “What?” He growled out. Draco rolled his light eyes, lip curling in irritation. Harry searched the other’s face and found his annoyance dissolving, but only slightly. Draco’s stare was boring into him, and it was making him feel a little twitchy. Malfoy was as strict a teacher as ever, causing Harry to feel like he was just an idiot first-year once more. 

 

“Will you focus? Your face is all…saturnine.”

“Saturnine?”

 

“ Gloomy. Maybe you don’t know how to brew Rat Tonic because you’re too busy moping. Get a grip, you pansy!”

 

Harry deadpanned and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. Draco’s verbal harassment was becoming more and more normal these days, so he was little-bothered by it anymore. He could push through it. After all, he faced eight years of worse happenings from him, so he wondered if he could count it as a win. However, in an attempt to save face, Harry pointed out: “There’s a flower with your name on it.”

 

“And there’s a bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy also with my name on it, just waiting for me to pursue. Your point?”

He had none. When he’d first arrived back at Hogwarts nearly a month ago, he didn’t care about Draco, and if he did–it was when he wanted to knock his teeth inwards. Now, he found himself arguing with him for just the fun of it. It reminded him of a better time, before the ghosts of war made a home in his weary soul. It filled his chest with a forgotten warmth. Dumbly, he had the brief thought that this is the feeling he’d have if a Patronus was cast inside him. But in the next moment he remembered who exactly his present company was and he was back to being grumpy. 

 

The foul mood came from an unidentifiable place. The only answer he could really settle on was that everything seemed too normal, after what happened. A year ago, nearly two, they had been standing on opposite sides of the War and the threat that they’d kill the other was very real. There wasn’t quite a way to fully come back from that, in his eyes, but with the way time flew by in part-entertainment, part-aggravation, he supposed that he was starting to feel okay about it. Hogwarts was full of open wounds he didn’t even know that he had, but the buzz of alcohol, nicotine, and Draco Malfoy seemed to be one hell of a distraction. 

 

Harry scowled. Draco sighed. 

 

Out of nowhere, Harry could remember Draco’s pale, limp body. It was emitting blood so fast, deep lacerations tore through his shirt and kissed his skin. He was on the floor of the bathroom. Harry blinked harshly. At the time he didn’t truly know what the spell was, but the second time he had seen it, it had come flying at an airborne George Weasley. “Split the bottle?” Harry asked, standing from the table hurriedly. Draco stilled and his mouth opened then closed before he settled on a curt nod. “Alright then,” He consented, mostly to himself. 

 

They left the library together, falling in step. Draco cleared his throat before asking, “Why aren’t you with Granger and Weasley, as much? Why…” He trailed off. Why me? Harry heard the question hanging in the air.

 

He didn’t respond immediately. He tossed the question around in his head, finding himself also wondering why. He had no good reason to be not seeking his friends out (he carefully chose not to think the word avoiding ). They’d been through war with him, he would die for them, he loved them, but he didn’t really want to be around them much. In the end, he simply said: “I’m not worried about them.”

 

Draco quirked a brow at this, giving Harry a questioning look. “And you feel… worried about me?” 

 

“No!” Harry said quickly, eyebrows shooting up. “I just mean…I'm secure in my friendship with them. I dunno. I know they can get on just fine.” 

 

Draco nodded at this but did not respond. They continued up a flight of stairs. 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

He had a staunch grip on the bottle, not a care in the world that it had belonged to Draco. All that mattered is that it was in hands now and he could brood with something in his system acting as a buffer.

 

“I think my godfather is gay.” He said, out of nowhere. Draco looked at him with an alien expression. “His housemate called him love. Like…he wasn’t just saying a term of endearment. And over the weekend I saw them in the same bed. Together.” He explained. 

 

Draco laughed, “Sirius Black. A queer.” Harry didn’t respond, but he did smile. He didn’t know why he did, queer was an insulting word, but it sounded so silly on Draco’s lips.

 

It was quiet for a long time after that. Harry’s mind was left to wander.

 

Then, being one for bluntness, he decided that he may as well ask the taboo question. The silence stretched on too long and he had told Draco far too much about his own personal life.

 

“Malfoy?”

“What?

“Why did you take the mark?”

It was quiet for some time. Harry knew that Draco had heard him, but didn’t push for an answer. Either he would give one or not, simple as that. No need to complicate things. He tore his gaze away from the man and looked out onto the grounds. In the early hours of the night, the wind was picking up and caressing the trees. They swayed back and forth delicately. It was pretty outside . As the thought came, in the distance, the trees seemed to part. What is–?

 

“My father.” Draco’s voice was soft. Unexpectedly soft–not angry or sad. Maybe just resigned. “You’ve never lived in a Pureblood household.”

“No. Sirius did.” Harry replied, sounding more vindictive than he wished. He didn’t know why this comment made him upset, it was a true statement. Draco cracked a weak smile though.

 

“And he must be a braver man than I.”

 

That was all the answer he gave. Harry looked back towards the forest. 

 

“Malfoy!” Harry whispered, sitting straight up, eyes straining to see in the dark. Draco looked over. Concern flashed briefly in his eyes. “What?” He asked.

 

Harry didn’t respond, only leaned forward. He wanted to run up to the railing to get a better look but he also knew there was a great chance that he’d fall over with all the liquor in his system.

 

“ What?” Draco snapped. Harry groaned at the lack of understanding then pointed out. “Who the fuck is that?”

 

Standing near the edge of the forest, the figure seemed small. Out of place. It seemed to linger in its spot, swaying with the trees. Finally, it stepped forward, and Harry could see that it was a man in dark clothes.

 

“Is that a student? At this hour?” Draco mumbled, head tilted to the side. The figure—man—walked towards the school at a brisk pace. It was still too dark to fully make out his face, and he was too far away. Harry felt the inklings of fear sink into him, a strange panic seizing his chest. 

 

Voldemort is Dead. He breathed in and wished he had a fag between his fingers.

 

Yet, he stood. 

 

“You can’t possibly be going to…to investigate that!” Draco exclaimed, sounding scandalized. Harry didn’t glance backwards. 

 

Maybe it was his stupid, Gryffindor bravery. Maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever it was, he continued propelling himself forward through the halls. He wondered if it was really a student wandering the grounds, and he didn’t know if either answer was more worrisome. It could be a Death Eater, he spared a glance at Draco—who had followed. The Ministry was unable to fully round them up, and the other remaining ones were those who were subtle about their allegiance. Anyone out there with a lust for vengeance could enter the grounds and come after the students—Sirius had done it with Dementors swarming. Harry’s fists clenched. 

 

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it wasn’t fair or justified or anything. Rage was creeping into his bones; Harry had always had a short temper. If there was a Death Eater on the grounds, Harry rationed, he could incapacitate them. Maybe it was someone Draco knew. 

 

He properly looked at the man beside him. Draco was quiet, face screwed up in a worried manner that did not fit his persona. He looked less like an heir than he ever had before; blonde-white hair messy, eyes glassy and turning red, collared shirt rumpled. He also didn’t look like a Death Eater in this light. He wasn’t a Death Eater—not in the ways that mattered. Harry would have thought it’d be harder for him to wrap his mind around that in his current state, but truly, it wasn’t. He found he could actually relate. He wasn’t the “Savior of the Wizarding World” any more than Ron or Neville or even Snape had been— not in the ways that mattered . 

 

They stopped at the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. Smugly, Harry found himself glancing at Draco before muttering “ Dissendium ” to see the surprised expression.

 

“It’s a passage that leads to Honeydukes,” Harry elaborated, crouching down, “We could apparate as close as possible from there.”

 

Draco gave him a dumbfounded look in response, grumbling something about Harry being bloody mental!, but nonetheless, climbed in right after him. 

 

The tunnel was dark and hot and it was tighter of a squeeze than it had been when he was thirteen. “Can you hurry the pace Potter? I’m not trying to look at your arse for Merlin’s knows how long!” 

 

Harry ignored the fact that they couldn’t see anything as much as he ignored the strange flutterings in his chest. “Just a few more minutes,” he murmured, not caring that it may be a lie. Draco was silent the remainder of the trip. 

 

Finally, they emerged in the dank cellar, bones cracking as they stood and dusted themselves off. Harry grinned at Draco who didn’t appear as pleased. “Smells rank.” Malfoy commented with a haughty expression. Harry shrugged, “Let’s be on our way then, yeah?” 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

They apparated a bit away from the stranger, which was not convenient, but Harry supposed it was better than having lost him to the time it took to get to Honeydukes. 

 

He grabbed Draco’s wrist in one motion and took up a jog, trying to close the distance. Draco yelped but quickly fastened his pace. The man they were pursuing paused and slowly spun around as they began to close in on him. 

 

Harry stopped running as though his legs were suddenly made of concrete. He dropped Draco’s wrist and stumbled a little, air leaving his lungs. Draco stiffened beside him and all at once the world seemed to be tilted and he began to regret the bottle he’d been so happy to hog no longer than an hour ago.

 

Frozen, Harry gazed upon the man in the black dress robes. His inky hair was wavy and reached just below his ears and the wind seemed to blow through it in a way that framed his high cheekbones. His eyes were dark, churning pools of gray hunger. They also had some recognition. 

 

Draco made a strangled noise.

 

Sirius, his heart screamed,

Regulus, his mind knew.

Notes:

i started on ao3 writing about tsukishima kei and his brother, then illumi and killua zoldyck, and now i'm going to write about regulus+sirius as well as bellatrix+naricssa+andromeda?? will i ever give up the sibling dynamic? NO fire emoji

Updated version: June 17 2025

Chapter 7: THE EMPRESS

Harry P. - POV

✈︎ Gryffindor Common Room

 

Hermione and Ron had matching expressions of concern on their pale faces. However, Hermione looked more curious and Ron appeared to be more horrified. In the back of his mind, Harry wondered if it was a smart move to have informed them about what happened the previous night, no matter how vague it was–especially without Draco knowing. But, he knew what’d happen if he started keeping secrets and that was a path he did not wish to pursue; no point in provoking their ire ( Ron’s ire.)

Hermione glanced towards her boyfriend, trying to catch his eye, and when that did no good she looked back at Harry with a steely gaze. He wondered if she’d tell him off like she would when they were kids, but he was pretty sure she had given up hope for that long ago. What’s a year of Hogwarts without some groundbreaking travesty? In truth, he was so tired. He’d lived through war in the hope that things would be easier–normal, even–and safe. He was foolish. Hermione looked on the precipice of speaking and he just wanted to turn away and sleep in the dorm.

 

“Harry,” she started out lightly; Harry grimaced ( She is fixing for a lecture), “are you positive that it’s wise to be investigating mysterious figures in the dead of night with Draco Malfoy?”

Ron nodded stiffly beside her and Harry pretended to take no notice of that familiar jealous glint in his eye. “Yeah! It could have been one of Malfoy’s Death Eater pals!” He added. Harry watched as Ron crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his posture out, probably to appear more mature. Harry winced again. He knew he very well could not explain to them that, technically, it is in a sense (despite how much he’d like them to be in the know).

 

“It was fine,” Harry waved off and looked away from them, gaze settling on the fire. They were the only ones present in the common room that early in the morning, the sun had barely risen when Harry had woken the two. Hermione nodded at his assent but continued: “And where is this person now? Did you report this to McGonagall?”

Harry really knew he could not tell them that the previously deceased Regulus Black was tied up in the Room of Requirements under Draco’s watchful eye. He sighed, rising from the couch. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

“ Bit early for that, innit? ” Ron whispered to Hermione before Harry was fully out of earshot.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

“Malfoy, I am this close to freaking out!” Harry snapped, pacing. Draco sighed and rubbed his face—he looked like shit. They were both hungover, it was too early, and their current problem was a very big one in uncertain territory. Dark magic— necromancy —was afoot.

 

“I stayed up all night, reacquainting with my cousin Regulus.” Draco said the words like he was trying to speak another language, and gestured to the man sitting pin-straight in an armchair. 

 

“You untied him?” Harry hissed, eyes wide and wild. 

 

“After I interrogated him.”

 

“ Malfoy!”

 

“Where’s your Gryffindor courage, Potter?”

 

“I used it all up seeking him out last night, thanks,” Harry snarled, “and I learned that you shouldn’t untie the bloody interrogatee, knowledge thanks to your Dark Lord!” 

 

Draco scoffed, “Now was that really—?”

 

“Excuse me.” The high, clear voice cut through the air and instantly stilled the two men. Harry turned to stare at the source. Regulus was still wearing the same dark robes he had on the night before, but he looked less afraid. Less any particular emotion, really. Looking upon him, Harry was actually reminded of the blonde a couple inches away. All those burdened with Black family blood had a regal look to them. Regulus was perhaps too thin, too tired looking, but he didn’t look as bad as Sirius had coming back from Azkaban. 

 

Harry wondered if returning from the dead made everyone look better. 

 

“You are Harry Potter?” 

 

Harry could feel the sharpness in Regulus’ gaze and was overcome with horror at the realness of the situation. Regulus Black, his godfather’s brother, came back from the dead and was sitting before him. Numbly, Harry nodded. Regulus squared his jaw and looked over the man. 

 

“I’ve been back, since the end of the second war, or a day before” He began, pausing to gauge Harry’s reaction. Satisfied at the lack of outburst, he went on. “Kreacher, my house elf, brought me back. I do not know how or why yet, but he has spent many months by my side, informing me of all the happenings in the Wizarding World.”

 

Harry nodded again, slowly. “Um. What are you doing here?” It wasn’t the most stirring question, but it was the only one he could manage. If Kreacher was the one who told Regulus about everything, then he must be the same man from Sirius's childhood. The blood-supremacist, mama’s boy Death Eater who’d gotten himself killed by wussing out of the Dark Lord’s cause. But, then, he remembered the horcrux. The locket. 

 

“Kreacher said I should find you. That you can help me,” he clicked his tongue in a manner that seemed to project his disdain.

 

Draco cleared his throat. “And only we can know about it,” He added, strained. Regulus nodded at this, warning “You mustn't tell Sirius .” 

 

Harry didn’t like the way he said Sirius’ name like it was blasphemous, coming from him of all people. “And why not?”

 

Draco scowled, turning towards Harry. “Are you daft? Black is an escaped convict and if we tell him his baby brother has been renewed he will come trotting here with the wolf in tow.”

 

“Sirius deserves to know and don’t talk about Remus like that!”

 

“You’re James Potter’s son.” Regulus stated, breaking the dispute. Harry then rounded on Regulus, striding towards him until he was a foot away. “Yeah, so ?”

 

Surprisingly, Regulus smiled. It was a bit of an unnerving thing to see, in Harry’s opinion. His graceful features looked like they weren’t there to be marred by an expression of light. “I need a fag,” Harry announced and stepped away to sit some distance from the Black. Draco sighed, “Don’t be so quick to judge, Potter.”

 

Harry popped a cigarette out from his tin and lit it with his wand, making no motion to reply. Draco and Regulus shared a short glance with each other. 

 

“Potter.”

 

“ What, Malfoy?”

 

“He’s a lot like me.”

 

Harry nodded and took a drag before answering. Exhaling deeply, he replied: “And that’s just peachy. However, a dead man has risen and is talking to me and I think I deserve to smoke a fag in peace.”

 

“There’s others, but they’re not corporeal,” Regulus stated. Harry looked up at him, eyes widening. He hadn’t considered something like that, and reality was quickly becoming even more horrifying to confront. “They’re also not like normal ghosts.”

 

Draco ran a hand through his hair and said, like he was being sentenced to death, “I fear we may have to seek out Lovegood.”

 

“Guess we’re skiving today.” Harry replied, already feeling exhausted.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Regulus B. - POV 

✈︎ Ravenclaw Common Room 

He saw Pandora in the girl’s face and it served as a reminder of just how much time had passed. He was shocked when Kreacher had told him that Pandora had died—killed by her own spellwork. She was smart, they had never been good friends in school, but he knew her well enough. She seemed respectable. 

 

He was experiencing a feeling resembling illness; nauseous, clammy, and dizzy. All of the faces of his peers, most of whom were deceased, were seared onto these children’s complexions and he had to look . 

 

He realized that the girl had acted like Xenophilius, though. She was kind to the people who approached her despite their ill-placed remarks, their judgment. She didn’t seem to feel the pressure. Briefly, he wondered if he had been like her, would he not have joined the youngest of his ranks? Then just as fast, the thought passed with a stern reminder that thinking like that would not take away his previous actions. They were etched into history and there was nobody he could plead with to change it. 

 

Maybe he could turn back the time, but maybe he’d end up doing the same things once more. Besides, fate doesn’t like to be cheated. It would come at a cost.

 

He watched the blonde as she worked, making an odd comment every once in a while to the two boys. They nodded politely, but didn’t seem all that interested. He wondered what she was saying. He watched the boys share a look as she pulled a pouch from her pocket and set it down on the table. Inching forward, he kept his footsteps light. There was a nagging suspicion that despite the invisibility cloak, she’d be able to see right through him if he made a noise. She looked like she knew things, so he could understand why they sought her out and trusted her for help. Maybe guidance would be a more appropriate word?

In the new vicinity, he could hear. “These are tarot cards,” the girl explained. “The cards I have belong to the Major Arcana,” she pulled the stack out of the pouch and began to shuffle, “we’ll do a three-card spread, it’ll be very quick!” 

 

Regulus moved closer, and for a second Luna’s eyes met his. He froze, but she carried onwards and spread the cards out. “Choose three, keep them face down, and really think about your intentions here. Or else the Wrackspurts could fly into your ears and mess up the reading,” she warned gravely. Harry nodded with a strained smile and Draco just stared at her.

 

Finally, Harry picked three cards from the spread and placed them one after another. Luna flipped over the first one. The first card was upside down and had a figure seated in some type of carriage that was being driven by two horse-like creatures; “The Chariot, reversed,” she states. She moves to the next two. The second one showed a giant wheel in the middle of the card and the third card had a royal woman on it, seated on a throne, “The Wheel of Fortune, and the Empress,” she offers.

 

Draco gave a dubious look to Harry, who seemed immersed in the details. Regulus just watched closely. In the past year and a half with Kreacher, he came to many realizations (things he knew deep in his heart that he dare not speak); an important lesson was nothing is as it seems. The Dark Lord had not been as he appeared, nor had muggleborns, nor had blood traitors, and nor had he. He wanted to know what she, Luna, saw in those cards that his mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

 

Her hands ghosted over the cards and she smiled dreamily, and Draco sent another look Harry’s way. Regulus didn’t like that, not really. He knew the look, the judgment in it, silently laughing at her and not with her. Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the blonde before giving his attention back to Luna. 

 

Slowly, Regulus crept towards Draco. This time, Luna paid no mind to his movements and began to speak. “The reversal of the Chariot has to do with a lack of control, you’re at the will of greater forces or higher powers. Hm,” her eyes shot to Draco, “you’ve taken care of things?” She asked, vaguely. Draco grimaced, “Luna, I have no bloody idea what you’re talking about.” 

 

“The spare.” Harry flinched at this, but discreetly glanced back where Regulus was initially standing. Luna’s eyes somehow found Regulus’s again, and he paused. She moved on: “I’d advise you to take care of loose ends, lest your brain get replaced with Aquavirius Maggots!”

“ Potter, this girl is mental,” Draco leaned over to mutter into Harry’s ear. He shook the blonde away. Regulus, mere inches from his cousin, carefully reached forward to pinch the skin on the back of his neck. To his delight, Draco’s mouth snapped shut and he straightened out with a muted yelp. Harry grinned at this, saying “Maybe that was a Wrackspurt.”

Luna giggled and stated “ No, that was your friend under the invisibility cloak,” picking up the second card. Regulus didn’t dare move or breathe, he knew that she could see him. Harry sighed deeply, Draco crossed his arms defensively. You could almost hear the expression on his face: This is your fault, Potter, it seemed to scream. But, they didn’t acknowledge it, to Regulus’s relief. At least some people valued subtlety. 

 

“This second card is the Wheel of Fortune, upright. In general, this card is a reminder that there’s both good and bad in life, it’s not stagnant. Lovely meaning, hm? Changes, partnership, luck, this card forewarns of all. Now…” she picked up the third card and placed the second one back down, smiling at it, “The Empress.”

 

So far, in Regulus’ opinion, it seemed to check out. He believed her. Growing up in his family, he was accustomed to ancient magick and things more on the occult spectrum; stuff that most wizards would dismiss. It wasn’t hard to believe, though. If magic exists, why can’t it be woven into fate? Prophets existed, undeniably. In his life, he’d seen many people who seemed to be able to pluck the future out from the air and just know . He supposed the girl was one, as her mother had been, as Evan had been. His heart felt a little heavier.

 

“This card represents femininity,” Luna explained. This was not something that made a lot of sense, given the fact that there were only the four of them in the Common Room and Luna was the only girl. “And fertility, nature, things of that kind.” She was smiling widely now. 

 

“Er, what?” Harry asked with a confused expression. 

 

“Tell Remus congratulations.”

 

“What?!”

 

“I guess he’s not gay,” Draco said under his breath. Harry’s head looked between Luna and Draco rapidly, jaw slack. 

 

“And extend my congrats to Tonks, as well.”

 

“ WHAT?”

Notes:

luna lovegood my darling girl

Updated Version: June 26 2025

Chapter 8: “THERE’S ROTTEN THINGS LEFT IN ME”

Notes:

title from The Void by Melanie Martinez

story is abt mid october by now, like oct 13/14

Dear Remus,

 

Are you and Tonks together? Like, together-together? Luna asked me to extend congratulations to the two of you for your joint fertility(?). I am concerned. 

 

From, Harry

 

-

 

Dear Harry,

 

What on earth are you talking about? Aside from that, how are you adjusting to school now? 

 

Love, Remus

 

-

 

Dear Remus,

 

She told me you two were expecting. Can you tell me what she means? But, school’s fine.

 

Harry

 

-

Harry P. - POV

✈︎ Room of Requirement

 

“I’m just so confused,” Harry exclaimed, running a hand through his dark mop of hair. Draco and Regulus shared a brief look before returning to watching him pace. “What do you think, Regulus? You've known Remus longer.”

 

“Not much longer, on account of me being dead for nearly two decades.”

 

“ Whatever! What do you think ? ”

 

“Harry…” Regulus trailed off, regarding the boy in front of him with a look that could only be taken as offensive. Harry wanted to hex the expression off his face: in his mind, it wasn't particularly fair that he was harboring a Death Eater and that very Death Eater could not spare a moment to hear his worries. It was terribly rude. He had an Order of Merlin sitting in his trunk, collecting dust, just for taking down people of his lot! Though , Harry quickly amended, they weren’t really his lot.

 

Regulus scowled. “You must have lost the plot. He will owl you back soon enough! We, however, must discuss Miss Lovegood’s readings from yesterday.”

 

“She’s a quack,” Draco said dismissively. Regulus shot him a lethal look. 

 

Harry’s mind was very much concerned with Luna’s reading, just not ⅔’s of it. Deeply, he was bothered by what Luna had said. Tonks was only seven years older than Harry—thirteen years younger than Remus! He didn’t think that his guardian was a person like that. However, when voicing this aloud, Draco kindly replied that his grandfather had been thirteen and his grandmother twenty-two when Bellatrix had been born. And very helpfully, Regulus cheerfully added that his grandparents had been twelve years apart. “It’s–it’s sick!” Harry cried. His eyes began to take on a mad glint, the longer he stewed. 

 

Finally, Regulus groaned. “Remus Lupin has been shagging my brother since 1977! I haven’t the foggiest what Miss Lovegood was talking about, so wait for the bloody owl!”

 

“I knew it!” Harry exclaimed, and Draco smirked. “Now,” Regulus said through grit teeth, “her other readings?”

 

“She told us to take care of loose ends and remember that life is a giant gray area. Not much to work with, being that that much was obvious.” The blonde drawled. 

 

“Kreacher has documented reports of the noncorporeal dead. What we’ve deduced is that they’re obviously not like regular ghosts, they cause disturbances in the area with time–which is quite the fickle thing. I, for some reason, cause no such disturbances.”

“Have you asked Kreacher how you’re back?” Harry inquired, dumbly.

 

“He tried jumping into a bonfire the last time I asked, and before that, there was a rather close encounter with poison berries. It seems he can’t tell me.”

Draco hummed, “That must mean somebody ordered him not to tell you.”

 

“ Obviously . But Sirius wouldn't do such a thing, and our other family is dead.” 

 

“Can’t you, I dunno, ask him who gave him those orders?” Harry tried.

 

Regulus looked three seconds away from cursing him. “I’ve tried that, I am not a bloody idiot! That’s just a dead end for now, my main concern is getting rid of the apparitions that show up. We can’t get to the root problem, so we should at least figure out how to stop the surface level issues.”

“Magic apoptosis,” Draco stated. Regulus and Harry gave him a confused look. “Apoptosis is programmed cell death. It’s the body's way of killing off abnormal cells before they can multiply, like, squashing cancer.” He explained. Harry looked confused still, and the explanation sounded awfully muggle for Draco Malfoy, but Regulus’s eyes widened in some recognition. Maybe it had to do with higher level education..

 

“Huh. Say, Draco, are there any spells like that?” Regulus questioned. Harry hadn’t even thought of the fact that Regulus would be terribly behind on any recent magical innovations.

“Um, no. There’s been studies and trials, but none that quite work. What were you thinking?”

“A banishing charm, for starters. We can modify it, make it something that won’t just send them away, but dissipate them. We can use that apoptosis idea!”

“They have no material body, though. And they aren’t quite ghosts. I do suppose that a Skurge Charm won’t frighten them away, but we’ll figure it out…maybe an anti-thesis of the Draught of Living Death, if that can even be made?” Draco was near talking to himself at this point, but Harry smiled at this and shook his head. “Despite you being a git and all, you’re creative. You’d make a damn good Healer, or Potioneer. Or even a Charms Master, for fuck’s sake.”

Draco flushed a dark red and turned his head away. Even though he and Draco weren’t friends, Harry found himself feeling glad they were handling this together. Admittedly, it was all a really good distraction. In this room, the Wars didn’t matter—they weren’t even discussed.

 

Only, just walking through the halls to his classes plagued him with flashes of people and events. Sitting in the Great Hall every morning with Ron and Hermione had him thinking about the pale, grim faces of the students before the Battle of Hogwarts. The Fallen Fifty. Going to Defense Against the Dark Arts brought up a slew of memories both good and bad. In Transfiguration, he had trouble separating the Professor McGonagall who’d taught him seven years, and the war general who had protected the castle and its occupants. Descending to the Potions dungeons was a rough endeavor, thoughts welling up with Severus Snape. His mother. Draco . Powering through History, he had tried not to get lost through the years; time after time following his first birthday, he had rewritten the books. Changed the foundation of the Wizarding World as he knew it. He’d been invited to staff meetings, for some reason, where talks of introducing Muggle Studies as a required course for first and second years occurred—for tolerance . 

 

And most of all, there were the sign-ups for career counseling. It seemed to taunt him in an inexplicable way. Be an Auror! He would never work for the Ministry after everything. Play Quidditch! Flying was riddled with dark memories. Write a book! Whether he liked it or not, everyone knew his life story already. He’d done the same exact thing in his Fifth Year, and he and McGonagall had been passionate about that Auror goal, but he’d been naive, at that time. Lusting for a fight.  

 

Sighing, he offered “I reckon we should do some research at the library.”

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

✈︎ Hogwarts Library 

 

Draco and Regulus, who was curled under the Invisibility Cloak, perused the books. Harry did not so much perusing as he did observing. He truly did want to be of assistance to the two men, but he figured he would not be of much help. He could possibly ask Arthur Weasley if he knew anybody in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures willing to answer some questions? That could be an endeavor for later, though. For the time being, he was content with watching Malfoy’s half-lidded eyes scan the text, the way his tongue darted out to meet the tip of his finger so he could turn the page, and how he murmured the speech to himself in concentration. It was a cultivating sight and normal to take notice of , Harry rationed. The blonde was a bloody treat when he wasn’t berating and belittling him–or even speaking, for that matter. So, to Harry, it made a great deal of sense to be captured by the peaceful display.

 

“Harry!” Hermione’s whispered voice cut through the silence of the library. Harry and Draco quickly shoved the books away and looked up at her approaching with matching startled expressions. She beamed at Harry, and gave Draco a tentative smile. “Studying?” She asked, gesturing to the few books they hadn’t managed to cast away. Regulus shifted under the cloak and a polished, black, Coach loafer appeared and disappeared just as fast. Hermione thankfully took no notice.

 

“Yes, I’ve been tutoring Potter in potions,” Draco explained, a little pink in the face. Harry nodded gratefully at the answer, seeing as his mind had blanked. Hermione laughed at this. “Always has been rubbish!” She joked. Draco produced a strained smile in response. 

 

“ Provectus Venificiis: A Duce ad Inversa Medicandi. Huh. I’ve been meaning to get into Latin,” she looked at the next book over. “ Encyclopedia of Dark Grimoires. That’s a bit..vague. What are you studying, again?” She eyed them with suspicion. 

 

“Passion project,” Harry answered hurriedly and ignored the crazed look Draco shot him. Regulus kicked him from under the cloak.

 

“Passion project,” Hermione repeated slowly. Her head tilted in thought. “Alright, then.” We’ll talk about this later, her tone said, and she walked off. Harry wished Regulus would kick him again; he always had a problem with that. Speaking before thinking. As a result, he’d have to give Hermione a very convincing half-truth, knowing the 50 percent chance she’d pick and pick and pick at it. 

 

“Tomorrow, we should go to J. Pippins Potions, I need to buy Polyjuice potions,” Regulus said quietly. 

 

“Tomorrow is a Thursday, can’t you go on your own?” Draco intercepted.

 

“ After your classes. I have to make a trip to Gringotts. And I won’t be permitted to buy anything.”

Harry paused, “Because they’d recognize you? On the streets?”

 

“The Aurors in Hogsmeade would, and anyone else? I doubt it, unless there were Death Eaters lurking. Even then, they might think I’m Sirius. But anyhow, I have other means of getting to Gringotts and I’ll have Kreacher steal Sirius’s vault key–I lost mine to the Inferi, I’m afraid. Actually…” Regulus' voice, almost unnoticeably, turned thin and shaky, “These apparitions aren’t much different than the Inferi. I had, um, spent quite a while as-as one. I don’t really remember all that well, of course, but I had.” 

 

Harry felt nauseous at that statement. He hadn’t even considered that, despite knowing about Regulus and the cave. Draco had no such prior knowledge, but looked equally as disturbed. Harry couldn’t imagine spending twenty years as a mindless husk doing Voldemort’s bidding, dead flesh forever marred from the army’s sharp, bony hands, being a reanimated dark tumor. He wished he could see Regulus from under the cloak; really see. He was obviously pale, but a fair deal paler than Sirius. And quite thin. But, his face didn’t appear to be disfigured or scarred, however it could be some sort of Glamour Charm. And, he hadn’t quite seen the man out of those robes. His stomach churned at the thought of the effects.

If the physical ones were gruesome, he didn’t want to imagine what it did to Regulus’s mind.

Despite the disgust Harry felt, it did make him more curious and fearful at the sudden re-emergence of Regulus. Nothing could truly bring back the dead, but there he was. Physical and conscious and autonomous. And the others were different, why? He wondered if magick worse than Horcruxes was at play, and wanted to throw up. Worse than Horcruxes, if not, just as bad. A worse feat of Necromancy.

Whoever brought Regulus back had to have been extremely powerful, and must have had to pay a steep cost.

The atmosphere remained grim the rest of the night, until the library closed.

Notes:

Provectus Venificiis: A Duce ad Inversa Magicae = Advanced Witchcraft: A Guide to Reverse Magic.

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 9: THE EMPEROR

Notes:

↑ : Authority, control, structure
↓ : Rigidity, coldness

**CW: gross desc. of one of the undead creatures and mention of vomit indicated by the two asterisks, ends at the closest next line break

Harry P. - POV

 

That morning, Harry awoke to two letters perched on his nightstand. One was from Remus, and the other from Rubeus Hagrid. Kindly, Remus informed Harry that he’d be meeting with Madam Pompfrey in a couple weeks, and he would love to quell any concerns Harry had regarding Luna’s reading in person. Similarly, Hagrid invited Harry, Ron, and Hermione to his hut during their free period for some tea. 

 

“Sorry I haven’ been able to see yer,” Hagrid apologized as he reached for a kettle. Hermione smiled sweetly at him and quickly reassured him by saying “We’ve all been busy, it’s fine.”

 

 Ron bit into a scone (albeit with a struggle) and nodded in agreement. “Harry’s been with Malfoy more,” he said, in between the mouthful. Harry watched as the crumbs fell from his mouth and onto his robes in disgust. The ginger, however, seemed to not notice. 

 

Sighing, Harry replied “He’s just tutoring me. He’s so annoying.” After a moment, Ron shrugged in agreement and reached for another scone. Merlin knows why , Harry thought. They were still rather dry. He glanced down beside him at Fang. The hound’s tail beat happily against the floor of the hut and he panted heavily despite the lack of exertion. Harry reached down to scratch his head absentmindedly. Fang sort-of reminded Harry of Padfoot; Fang was a Great Dane and Padfoot was a German Shepherd, so there was that obvious difference, but they were both fiercely loyal and highly excitable.

 

“You kids schedule yer consultations?”

Harry looked back up at Hagrid with a groan. That was the umpteenth time someone had brought that up to him, and if truly felt that he’d curse the next person to ask. He didn’t know he’d have this future, so he didn’t quite know what to do with it. “Say, maybe you can do a teaching internship with me, next year,” Hermione suggested, offering Harry a fixed stare. Ron squinted. “Yeah, mate. Do an apprenticeship with Professor Tonks.”

 

Shrugging, Harry rested his head in his palm. “What about you, Ron?” He asked.

 

“Oh. I dunno, my dad wants to get me a starter-job at the ministry, but…” Ron trailed off. The words needn’t be said, they all were thinking it.

 

The silence was broken by the piercing sound of the tea kettle whistling, and Harry rose from his chair. “Actually Hagrid, I’ll have to see you later. I have to, err, see McGonagall.”

 

“Oh, alright. Better be off, then!”

“Bye.” Harry ducked out of the hut quickly. He truly did want to see McGonagall, but he wasn’t oblivious to how neglectful he was being to his friends. His chest was perpetually heavy with guilt. He was a few steps across the field when he heard a rustling near the trees and his gaze snapped towards the forest. 

 

Tensley, he stood watch. 

 

**

And then from the trees came Albus Dumbledore. Or, at least what looked like him. Harry didn’t think it was quite a ghost—and belatedly realized this was a thing that Regulus had been talking about. It was an non-opaque, snarling, drooling, apparition disguised as his old professor, numbly trudging along the forest line. When its eyes locked on Harry, it produced a guttural noise that was entirely nonhuman and a black, viscous substance spewed from its throat. Harry felt the scream spill from his lips before he could even process what was happening. The transparent skin on the creature seemed to be rotting and melting and ripped off raw, and it was picking up pace with a new target, limping faster and faster with legs bent at odd angles. It looked like it had been crushed by something then forcefully wrenched from limbo. It was a grotesque display and Harry could do little to choke back the bile rising in his throat. 

 

When he regained his composure, he drew his wand and pointed it at the moldering, featherlight flesh–and when this seemed to only provoke it, snapping and hissing at Harry, he croaked “ Evanesco ”

 

The apparition flickered, grunted a noise that sounded like Professor Dumbledore, and vanished. And, Harry knew it’d be back. Quickly, he cast a Scourgify at the sick on the ground, then fled towards the castle before someone could come from the hut and question him.

 

When he burst into the Room of Requirement, Regulus met him at the door, eyes wide and vacant. “You saw one, didn’t you?”

“What the fuck was that?” Harry asked, and he was victim to the whimper that was pulled from his larynx. He was used to danger and the undead, but that thing was something he had never seen–neither ghost, Inferi, or zombie (perhaps a demented combination of the three)–and he wondered what devil lurked for such an abomination to even be able to exist. He looked at Regulus in horror.

 

“I, ah, woke up with them all. We were in the countryside in France, and they were only there for a few moments before Kreacher appeared. They left to come here, I realize now.”

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

By the time dinner in the Great Hall had finished, it was still light out and Harry was feeling better. Upon his encounter with Regulus, who told Draco, Draco dragged Harry into an unused classroom and performed some type of mind healing that Harry was dubious to consent to, but did regardless. He didn’t exactly know if he fully trusted the state of my brain with the Malfoy, and he truly hadn’t a clue where he’d learnt this stuff anyway. 

 

But alas, they snuck into Hogsmeade through the Honeydukes cellar.

 

J. Pippins Potions was a small shop tucked into a corner of Hogsmeade. Harry had never personally been there (that he could recall)--but Malfoy seemed familiar enough with it. The bell rang pleasantly as they entered the threshold, Regulus under the Invisibility Cloak, and Draco and Harry on either side of him. They walked consciously of the gap, which surely must have seemed weird to onlookers, but it wasn’t suspicious in the way Harry felt it was. He had a weird feeling settling in his stomach at the distance between him and Malfoy. 

 

“Welcome,” a soft voice greeted from behind the counter. Harry looked up with a nod at the employee. He was a tall man with tanned skin and dark hair, and his demeanor was pleasant enough. The tag on his navy blue robes read ‘Ulysses’.

 

“Are you looking for something specific? We have potions for all ailments,” he added, tone perfect and even. He seemed like he had recited this many times.

 

Draco squinted at him. “I thought Phoebe Pippin was the potioneer,” He said accusingly. 

 

Ulysses gave him a distasteful look. “I’m undergoing an apprenticeship. Anything I can assist you with?” He replied forcefully. In Harry’s opinion, he looked only a couple years older than him, and he tried to recall if he’d had any recollection from him at Hogwarts. 

 

“No, we’re fine,” Draco snapped. He spun on his heel and disappeared into an aisle. Harry trailed behind, and glanced at the labels. He only could recall a handful of the ingredients on display from his years in Potions–and the other half was just disturbing. What potion could ever need to use human eyeballs? Harry shivered at the thought, and subsequently wondered where they'd have gotten them from. He refrained from shooting Ulysses a suspicious glance. “Ah!” Draco announced, making Harry look over and bump into Regulus.

 

“Three vials of Polyjuice!” The blonde gestured with a pleased smile. Harry wanted to roll his eyes, despite having the exact same motives.

 

“We should buy the ingredients while we’re here, so I can brew it myself.” Regulus whispered. Draco nodded, “Potter, go and get me the ingredients for the second half. We’ll check out together. Reg stays with me.”

 

The second half of the Polyjuice potion? Harry had a lot of experience with the potion, but he truly was not that great at the creation. He tried to sift through his memories for names or what they looked like. He remembered in second year, Hermione having turned into a cat and the unpleasant taste. He remembered in fifth year, Barty Crouch Jr. In his sixth, Malfoy’s usage of it in his plot. In his seventh, the Seven Potters, the wedding, the Ministry break-in, and the Gringotts break-in. (He could safely say that the taste never got better with time.) Frankly, Harry felt embarrassed that he couldn't remember despite his pro-level potion chugging, and he was glad Draco had gone off elsewhere so he could be spared the teasing. 

 

“ Accio Advanced Potions book,” Harry whispered. From across the shop, a book went whizzing into his chest. He coughed loudly and managed to grab it before it hit the ground. 

 

Horn of Bicorn and Boomslang Skin. He could have smacked himself, duh. 

 

Ulysses had made his way over to Harry moments later, a deep scowl etched onto his face. “You need to return that.” He pointed to the old text in Harry’s hands.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course, sorry. Here,” Harry dangled the book out for Ulysses to reach. 

 

“Right. You and your blonde friend need to pay at checkout, I’m not letting you steal! There’s a bloody Sneakoscope in the backroom that won’t stop going off and it’s driving me mad, so I just want you to know that I will not play a part in your schemes!” He exclaimed, sniffing disdainfully and snatching the book back. “Er, of course,” Harry repeated with a very confused expression. Somewhere behind Harry there was an amused exhale. Ulysses’s gaze flickered towards the noise, and when Harry turned to look, nobody was there. 

 

“What was that?” Ulysses asked, already pushing past Harry. Before he could stop him, the shopkeeper bumped into Regulus. “ Shit,” Harry heard him curse, then the invisibility cloak slipped. 

 

“Malfoy!” Harry called out in a hurry, “let’s checkout now!” He could feel the bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Ulysses stared dumbly at Regulus before snatching the cloak and running to the back room to do god knows what. “Hey, that’s mine!” Harry yelled, following after him. 

 

“I’ll deliver it to your headmistress tomorrow. She can return it to you, meet me at the register!” Ulysses called from where he was. Draco ran up to where Harry and Regulus were standing and shot them both disproving looks. Regulus leveled him with an indifferent stare.

 

They paid for their items with no comments save for the apprentices nasty stare, and crept out of the store, trying to make themselves unnoticeable in the setting sun.

 

As they neared Honeydukes, a shrill voice broke through the air. “Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy!” McGonagall gasped, marching towards them.

 

Regulus ran into the dark behind the shop as she neared.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Narcissa M. - POV

✈︎ Tonks’ Residence

 

Narcissa watched as Harry came staggering through the fireplace with her son, Remus, Andromeda, and Sirius in tow. “McGonagall said she saw a Death Eater leaving Hogsmeade with them!” Sirius said, aghast. “ Potter- ” Draco began, snarkily.

Harry glared, “Don’t even start!”

 

Remus' eyes snapped towards Narcissa, something dark flickering behind the brown. Despite his sweater and khakis, he looked predatory. Like the wolf he claimed he wasn’t in nature. Narcissa stilled with a wary gaze. “Draco, come here right now,” She said softly. Mutely, he trudged forward and lingered by her flank. 

 

“I had wanted to kill all Death Eaters,” Remus began, voice steady and low, “I’d do anything, go to any length. Time after time, they have taken from me, robbing me of everything. Reducing me to nothing. That’s murder .”

 

Narcissa made no move to reply and continued to keep her eyes locked on his movements, especially that of his wand-wielding arm. She felt Draco at her side and she wanted to reach to grab his hand, but they both knew better than to interrupt a man in his anger. 

 

“However,” Remus continued, “I now understand that not everybody is one thing. I understand being a monster.” His expression warped into something between disgust and hate. He looked sick at whatever thought was passing through his head. “But I didn’t have a choice. I know you don’t have the Mark, but you're not much different, no?” 

 

Narcissa broke her stare to look at Sirius, who stood a few feet behind the werewolf. He looked split between wrapping his arms around the man and walking out the door. Then she looked to Draco before finally returning to Remus. “Lucius and I were in love at one point, and I had my child to think about, and the Dark Lord’s presence was suffocating. Thus, little room for freedoms.” She explained, clipped in tone.

 

Remus shook his head. “The ‘ Dark Lord’. Merlin. I do admire your dedication to your family, it’s an important thing. But my life matters no more than yours, and the next time I hear of Harry traipsing with a Death Eater thanks to your son, I will aim to kill.”

 

Narcissa stood suddenly, wand pointed to his throat in a flurry of dark robes. “I’ll have the Ministry cage you for a pretty penny if the thought of putting a finger on Draco even breaches your demented mind again, mutt ,” She snarled. Remus grinned wildly, “No, not him. It’ll be you. ” 

 

Andromeda grabbed Narcissa’s arm roughly and pulled her away, glowering at Remus. Sirius scoffed and slinked up behind the man, placing his hand on his shoulder in solidarity. 

 

“Remus!” Harry exclaimed, face unreadable, “you didn’t let me explain!” The man turned to look at Harry, inclining his head as signal for him to go ahead. Harry sighed, “we weren’t with a Death Eater!”

Sirius scoffed, “McGongagall said she saw the Dark Mark when his robes lifted.”

 

Harry sent a look to Draco, which Narcissa didn’t understand, but Draco spoke up. “We were with Theo Nott.” Harry nodded enthusiastically at this.

 

“Theodore Nott?” Narcissa repeated slowly with an eyebrow raise. His father’s cell was near Lucius’s, in Azkaban. Draco and Harry quickly said yes. She met eyes with Remus, who looked just as incredulous. 

 

“Yes! He wanted to ask about his cousin, um, Heather Padgett. She’s seventeen, a Slytherin like I am. He hadn’t returned for the half-semester,” Draco elaborated, stare flitting nervously between adults. “Yep. Real curious. I was…chaperoning,” Harry added. 

 

“She’s a prefect, but her mum is in Azkaban. Very ambitious girl, smart,” Andromeda commented. This seemed to relieve Remus a bit, but not so much Sirius. Still, Remus rubbed a hand over his scarred face. “Don’t do it-” 

 

“Don’t do it again!” Sirius cut him off, a weird expression spreading across his features. Harry gave him a hard look in response. “I’m nineteen.”

“Under my roof!”

 

“Okay, Pads.” Noncommittal, dismissive.

 

“If I spoke to Father like that, he would have slapped me across the face,” Draco whispered to Narcissa. She gave him a reproachful glance, and that was the end of that conversation. It did, however, make her think of Lucius once more. Draco was becoming more unruly; if Lucius was around, Draco would experience something worse than a reprimanding smack. The thought made her insides twist uncomfortably. He was so harsh with Draco, even when he was a young boy. “Use your brilliant mind, please.” She murmured quietly to the boy. She reached for his hand, and he accepted it wordlessly with a squeeze. 

 

“Hey, Sirius?” Harry asked after a quiet lull had taken the room for a few minutes.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you get notified when there’s a withdrawal to your Gringotts account?”

 

Sirius blinked, then his eyebrows drew close in confusion. “No. Why? Going to rob me, hm, kid?”

 

Harry looked away. “Er. No. Just wondering, since I’m heir to the Potter vault.”

 

“Well, as heir to the Black vault, I’ll happily transfer my life savings, if you so wish. Merlin knows it’s all blood money,” Sirius replied, sending Narcissa a pointed glance. Draco snorted. “And I’m heir to the Malfoy vault. And the Lestrange’s, I s’pose.”

“The lot of you, filthy rich!” Remus exclaimed without malice. Sirius cringed, “Now that I think about it, Bellatrix had quite the knack for bringing me and cursed objects into the same vicinity. I think she was really trying to rob me.”

 

“She was raised to be heiress,” Narcissa interjected. That’d always been a sore spot for Bella; something to tiptoe around. “I think she was testing you.” Narcissa knew she had been testing Sirius. Bella had been eight when Sirius was born, and had been undergoing training to inherit the title of the Head of the House of Black. She didn’t think the boy would be a good fit to replace her. Sirius laughed, though, and waved her off. “I didn’t want any of it.” 

 

Andromeda and Narcissa shared a look. 

 

“Well, shouldn’t you boys begin heading back to school?” Remus nudged. “You've both been coming back to our homes quite a bit, is that even allowed?”

Harry broke out into a shy grin, “Haven’t been in trouble so far.” But, regardless, he picked a handful of floo powder up and was striding through the fireplace, Draco mere steps behind. When they both left, Remus spoke up. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. I just have a lot to be protective over.” His brown eyes held the weighty gaze of her blue ones. She nodded. “Draco’s a good boy,” Andromeda supplied.

Narcissa thought back to her sister’s immediate reaction–to defend her. Was she uncomfortable with the half-breed, as Narcissa had initially been?

“Moony,” Sirius said, voice low and unwanting of attention. Andromeda, too, exited via the fireplace and Narcissa looked away and fixed her sight on something outside the window, lurking in the night. A dark gray, black-ish mass in the near distance. “He’s my godson. I can handle him, too.”

The mass seems to be approaching the house , Narcissa noted. It looks to be some type of coyote . It slinked through the grass and kept close to the street, failing to stay out of the lamp light. All over, the animal looked like it had chunks of flesh gnawed at and bitten out–she felt pity for the blasted thing. It must be in pain.

 

“I know, pet. I’m sorry. It’s the teacher in me.”

The coyote’s gray eyes narrowed at the glass pane with a growl that even she could hear yards away. Naricssa quirked a brow at it. 

Notes:

rough day up in potterville
fire emoji

also ugghhghghghghghg i love the book/movie gone girl so i HAD to reference it at some point: “Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That’s murder. Let the punishment fit the crime”

last thing, w/ the dumbledore shit, harry literally just dispersed the molecules no more than 3 ft from eachother, i just wanna make it clear that evanesco doesnt do shitttt like he's still there...he just needs a moment to reshape

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 10: “ КРОВЬ МОЯ ЧИЩЕ ЧИСТЫХ НАРКОТИКОВ”

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Смерти больше нет by IC3PEAK that basically means "my blood's purer than pure drugs" and i chose this for the literal meaning of the lyrics, but also bc the song explores themes of corruption in government and (depending on how you interpret), the singers are doing so many drugs that their blood is NOT blooding and by now we know that the main characters of this fic like to self medicate

Сказка is also just one of my favorite albums ever (i also rlly like the song Сказки by my queen Земфира)

CW: references to wanting to commit suicide

Draco M. - POV

✈︎ Dungeons, Professor Tonks’ Office

 

“Nephew,” Andromeda greeted easily with a teasing tone. Draco fought back a flush on his cheeks at the familial greeting and opted to sit in front of her wordlessly. She leaned back and gave him an appraising stare. “The dungeons never become warmer, hm?” She added, gesturing to the room around her. Draco had nearly forgotten she was stationed near the Slytherin common room; promoted to something of a deputy to the Head of House (Professor Zabini).

 

Draco grimaced. “No, they don’t.” He replied. Looking around her office, he thought it looked a bit bland. He remembered that Snape’s office even had a bit more life, signs that somebody occupied the space at some time. It was like she was expecting to have to pack up and leave at any moment—which Draco had doubted would be the case. She was a Black , the Slytherins could like their alumni for that reason well enough, or at least find her formidable—and she was involved with Dumbledore, which everyone else could get on with easily. 

 

She was still a blood traitor regardless. Even Post-War, he couldn’t escape the whispering and clique-ing in the Common Room. The younger students no doubt had the Blood Purist Sentiment pounded into their skulls by that point and they seemed awed that the Malfoy would consort with blood traitors and the Boy Who Lived. 

 

“Draco,” Andromeda motioned, and broke his thought. “Have you thought about what fields you’d like to go into after this semester? You’re in a good spot, you were present for some of your initial Seventh Year, and you did pretty well despite the circumstances. You’ll complete your N.E.W.T courses in January, so while we still have time, I’d like to know your plan, in case we need to adjust anything.”

 

Draco pursed his lips and was truly victim to the blush taking a hold of him this time. Children always had silly dreams; when he was much younger, he told his parents he wanted to be a king . They had shared a pleased glance and told him that he already was. Draco, the dragon, the snake, the king. He obviously wouldn’t be, but they’d encouraged the thought. He was of righteous upbringing and yielded power with his status and wealth. But, being a ruler was just nonsensical. However, if he admitted what he truly wanted to do, he’d be ridiculed tenfold. Yet Andromeda stared expectantly at him. 

 

“Um.” He chewed his bottom lip as he mulled over what to say. He didn’t fully trust the woman yet (there seemed to be a lack of anybody he could fully trust), but if he lied, it wouldn’t do him any good. He needed whatever help he could get. “I wanted to sign up for the programme, at St. Mungos.”

 

Andromeda’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she cemented her poker face. “St. Mungos? The Healing programme?”

 

“Um, yeah.” Andromeda studied his face for a long few moments before slowly breaking out into a soft smile. It was one that seemed alien on twin features to that of the late Bellatrix. “I think that’s wonderful! All your scoring seems to be in order, but I think you should see Professor Sprout about extra Herbology courses.”

 

“Thank you but,” Draco let his gaze fall to the floor, “I am an ex-Deather Eater. I understand that there’s certain stipulations…”

 

Andromeda quirked a brow. “Prejudice is not a fit look when it’s towards you, no? Undergo the application and training process at the next available window, they have a non-discriminatory policy.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes at her and crossed his arms tighter over his chest. “Sure. Thanks,” he huffed. 

 

“Mm. Could you please tell Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley that Professor Zabini would like to see them? Thank you, you may be on your way.”

 

Draco didn’t want to seek either of the girls out, really, so he opted not to. It was still light outside at that time of day but the dungeons were just as dark and dreary as they were year round, and he knew it was going to get worse as winter crept forth. From time to time, he regretted being sorted into Slytherin when he was just as suitable a candidate for Ravenclaw. It was such a setup, he believed. Pureblood supremacists in the making who are prematurely sent away to rot in cold dungeons, just preparing them for a life in Azkaban like his father was living. It was an unfair thought process and he knew that it was but that’s what it felt like. 

 

Even worse though, his thoughts were on Harry. They seemed much graver to him than blood politics and that in particular made him feel like a tween-age girl. The previous night, he maybe partook in too much liquor; maybe too much smoking, as someone who had never done it before; maybe too much vulnerability–Harry divulged about his run in with Dumbledore, and Draco confessed that sometimes magic wasn’t the darkest thing that happened in the Malfoy Manor walls. It was lamenting and pathetic but it really wasn’t them , it was the substances. The worst part of it all, though, was the moment their lips met and their reservations flew out the window; the split second between Draco knowing his life would be ruined from that point on and kissing Potter back.

 

We were under the influence, so it meant nothing serious , he thought of an excuse in advance. We were drunk, you imagined it; it happened, kiss me again; I'll pull my wand out and Kedavra myself.

 

It wasn’t all that bad , he decided at the end of the ten minutes it took for him to get to the Room of Requirements. Sickeningly, he had a habit of preening like a bird under any attention the bespectacled boy gave him, so this could be a win. He grasped the iron ring of the door and wrenched it open to see Regulus sitting on the floor awkwardly facing the couch, a book propped upwards on the cushion. “Regulus.”

His head snapped upwards and he looked at Draco with startled eyes as though he had been caught doing something wrong. “What?” Regulus replied with a thick swallow.

 

Draco crossed his arms, “What are you doing?”

“Your eyes were thankfully not mutated away, use them.”

 

The blonde sniffed at this, face screwing up in irritation, “Stop that. I need…your help.”

Regulus closed the book and turned around to stare up at Draco, gesturing to the spot on the floor beside him. “However I can be of assistance.” Draco realized he was trying to be snarky, but the softness in it ruined the edge. He had to look away so as to not worsen the shame and cleared his throat. “I kissed somebody last night. And I truly must be mad, since I really shouldn’t have done that, and I’m telling you, of all! The only reason I am telling you is because you’re dead and you have nobody to gossip to, mind you!”

 

“Dead men tell no tales.”

 

“Right. So, what do I do?” He risked a glance back. Regulus eyebrows were drawn together in thought and he was frowning, “You kissed Harry, didn’t you?”

Draco wished he was dead. Or that he could apparate in Hogwarts grounds, whatever would be faster. When he made no reply, Regulus’ frown seemed to deepen. “Why is that bad?”

“I…I can’t tell you.” 

 

“I’ll tell you something in return,” Regulus offered, quirking a brow to poorly disguise his sudden nervous energy. “Always a bloody trade off with you, isn’t it?” Draco snapped, and Regulus just shrugged. “Everything in life is.” 

 

“I’m in love with him, I have been. For years. And it’s awful because he’s a boy and I’m the Malfoy heir– .” The confession made the blonde want to throw up, and he abruptly stopped speaking to swallow up the nausea. He’d said that out loud maybe once, and that time he had definitely not been hung over and speaking to someone of such higher importance that his woes would seem so mundane. Regulus’ eyebrows shot all the way up and he looked a bit peaky. “Oh, Merlin’s beard,” he said and the strain in his voice was evident.

 

Draco glowered at him. “Say something else, you half-wit!”

“ Half-wit?” Regulus sneered, “I should curse you for that. But…”

“But?”

“I’ve been in love before.” Draco had never heard Regulus speak so quietly. He felt the need to look away again, to spare him dignity.

 

“What happened?” Draco asked.

 

“The first started going out with me as a joke at first, actually. Of course, I hadn’t known, but I think they must have truly cared about me after some time. I was only thirteen, and they were fourteen, and I ended things two years later.”

“ What?”

 

“Children can be cruel,” Regulus extended his legs out in front of him, “and after they probably did begin to care, that’s when I found out and broke it off. The following summer, my brother ran away and went to live with them, so it was evidently a complete dog’s dinner situation.”

 

Draco paused for a moment. Something about the story sounded eerily familiar to him, a factor he was missing and could not place. Finally, he settled on nodding, and dryly muttering “Charming.”

“The point of that was, you should figure out his expectations, and his intentions. Don’t let one kiss screw you over. Also, you mustn't breathe a word of this, I’ll have to kill you.” Regulus did not sound like he was kidding.

Irrevocably, Draco Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter, and would let him screw him over any day, but he settled on nodding. Filled with a need to escape the vulnerability of the topic, he then asked “Any progress on your research? I have some ideas.”

Regulus seemed thankful for the new focus and his eyes seemed to brighten. Draco secretly thought he was a lot less scary like this, it was just a little unnerving sometimes, he was so still and pale and it was vampire-esque. “After Harry told me about yesterday, we’d gone back to check last night and it looked fine but,” he shivered at the memory of breathing the familiar dark magic in, “Anyways, it should actually make my initial idea easier. Evanesco probably just separated its identifiable form, in a way, but I would have to find something that’d separate all of the atoms. Just because we didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

 

Regulus nodded at this and was sporting a wolfish grin, despite himself. He beckoned for Draco to continue.

 

“After separating, I’d like to contain them. Then, something with fire. I don’t know yet, it seems a bit too easy, and I must be missing something. But, it’s a start.”

 

“Good,” The elder of the two praised, “But, I'm concerned about when the next one will pop up.”

 

Draco waved his hand, “We have that worked out. A house elf offered her help to stakeout.”

 

“Huh. Right.”

 

Regulus went back to his book, and Draco was able to think. When around his cousin for too long, he felt just a little bit sick. It was like seeing himself and everything that he was bound to be and it wasn’t comforting in the slightest; a decision he was pressured into at sixteen would dictate the rest of his life, or he’d die. It was a hopeless feeling that nestled deep into his psyche and made itself a sanctuary, and it was familiar, but damning nonetheless. With Regulus residing in the Room of Requirements, it looked like the Slytherin common room, green and silver all over the long area and serpents carved into couches and armchairs; Draco couldn't understand how he could ever find comfort in the scene–it felt like a personal offense. The embodiment of evil. 

 

In Greek mythos, Draco had read, snakes were represented in many mediums. There was a Serpent Goddess who branded one in each hand as symbols of wisdom, but then there was the Chimera or Typhon or the Hydra or Python , who were all slain for their atrocities. But, but, but , he reminded himself, Aesculapius . That was an ironic comfort for him, at least. If Regulus was doomed, as most of his family had been, maybe Draco would learn from them all—escape his fate. He truly wanted to.

 

He’d consented, dubiously, to that life and of course he would have to feel the fury of a thousand broken souls so long as he lived and remained free, but he wanted to maybe do some good. Frequently, he wanted to die. He fantasized about it, jumping off the Astronomy tower or diving into the lake with a pocket of stones, or turning his wand on himself and Avada Kedavra- ing him into oblivion. Just as frequently, he wanted to live. He wanted to change and he wanted to do good and he didn’t want things to end where he was just a villain. 

 

He set his gaze upon Regulus one more time, then asked him, “Would you consent to being an experimental subject? I’ve been meaning to start this project, after Hogwarts, if I get into the training programme. It has to do with the Dark Arts.”

 

And as the raven-haired man’s eyes gleamed maniacally, Draco could understand how he had gotten swept up in it all to begin with.

Notes:

some of you will not appreciate the james characterization BUT he was literally the sporty rich popular kid….and regulus was his best friends weirdo younger brother (even richer tho fire emoji)…and as a weird kid, i’ve been asked out as a joke numerous times so it happens when you’re kids, sometimes

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 11: THE HIEROPHANT

Notes:

↑ Tradition, morality
↓ New approaches

Hermione G. - POV

✈︎ Hogwarts

 

“Ron, come, look!” Hermione beckoned, pointing towards the hallway Harry disappeared around. She looked towards her boyfriend eagerly and waved her finger for emphasis. Ron furrowed his brow, “Hey, that’s where the Room of Requirement is!”

 

“And he’s in there. With Draco Malfoy.”

“Blimey. Whatdya reckon they're doing?”

Hermione recoiled slightly with a cringe. She didn’t think they were doing anything untoward, per se, but definitely suspicious. Since the start of the school year, Harry had been especially dodgy and at first she thought it was because of the dark memories Hogwarts was uprooting, then she was concerned her and Ron’s relationship had made him uncomfortable, and then she was just confused. And upset. After everything, the fact that he still felt the need to keep secrets made her heart hurt for him. “I don’t know, but I think we should see.”

Ron nodded in response and placed his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She liked the weight of it. “Ladies first,” he then prompted with a little nudge, shattering the moment. Hermione rolled her eyes in response and shook her head, sighing “That’s really nice, Ron. Chivalrous.”

 

“He’ll be less angry with you!” The ginger protested and Hermione couldn’t help but soften at the grin on his face. Although annoying, he was pretty cute. She pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Ron pecked her cheek, turning completely red in the face. “Let’s go,” Hermione urged. “I don’t want to be late to our afternoon classes.”

 

As she crept forward, she already felt the defense coming to her mind– why she needed to spy on Harry and how he was, inevitably, going to be wrong for hiding things. She deeply valued her friends, but sometimes being a good friend meant sneaking behind their back. Not sneaking, she reprimanded herself. Checking in . She knew this was one of her flaws, wanting to crack open other’s brains to search and search for answers like a bloodhound with a scent. But, it was also one of her strengths; a deep ambition rivaled only by the Slytherins, and she almost had the truth trapped in her maw. (Perhaps she also quite liked the pursuit. Ruthless, righteous, unyielding. )

 

After striding back and forth twice, a large, oak door appeared in front of them. It looked familiar , Hermione clocked, but the door didn’t budge as she pulled on the iron wrought. “ Alohomora,” Ron murmured with a wave of his wand. There was a soft clicking noise, and Hermione pushed the door back just enough to peer inside. 

 

At first, she didn’t see anything unexpected. Draco and Harry were standing up and gesturing at each other with large motions, voices becoming louder, heavier, and angry as Hermione inched closer. They were arguing about something (as usual), and Harry’s hands grasped around the air in front of him, like he was itching to pull his wand or a punch. When Ron snickered at the sight, Hermione shot him a nasty glare, and that’s when she saw him . At Ron’s noise, a third head popped up from one of the couches. She concluded that he looked an awful lot like Sirius before she realized that Harry and Draco had gone silent.

 

“Bloody hell!” Ron gaped and yanked Hermione back with a grunt. Harry’s eyes widened almost comically and the door behind them slammed shut as the Sirius-lookalike stood upright and walked up to Potter and Malfoy. He had gray eyes that glared with a silent fury. 

 

“Fucking hell, Potter!” Draco exclaimed as he threw his hands up in surrender and gave him an exasperated look. Harry’s mouth was fixed open in horror. The Sirius-lookalike clamped both hands on each of the boy’s shoulders and shoved them backwards, aiming to leer at the interlopers easier. Hermione no longer felt like much of a pursuer now, more like a prey animal. She’d seen him before, she knew she had. “Regulus Black.” It was whimpered out and her grasp tightened onto Ron–who was uncharacteristically silent–while her other hand reached for her wand. Still on the Common Room couch, shit.

 

Surprisingly, Sirius-lookalike ( Regulus ) flinched like he had been stuck across the face. Hermione prided herself on her gift of intellect, but sometimes not all puzzle pieces belonged to the same puzzle. None of those three fit together. “Harry!” She exhaled as the horror lessened its seize. “ Potter!” Draco snapped and sent her and Ron a withering look. Harry’s gaze flickered to each person in the room and he had no time to reply before Ron was screaming.

 

“ REGULUS BLACK?” He roared. “ DEAD, FOR TWENTY YEARS! ARE YOU MENTAL? EVIL, THE LOT OF THEM!”

 

Draco’s eyes visibly twitched as a pale hand snaked for his wand, and Regulus made a low sound that reminded Hermione of a growl. Though, she couldn’t blame Ron. This was scary, confusing, sickening, and maybe also enraging. Harry had been housing a (previously) deceased Death Eater on Hogwarts grounds for God knows how long, and he hadn’t told them a single thing. She couldn’t even fathom why, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to help him–he knew that! 

 

“Ron! Let me explain!” He interjected, face white as a sheet. 

 

“I say we Obliviate them,” Draco muttered to Regulus, who looked quite keen on the idea. Ron scoffed loudly and shoved Hermione behind him. “You have all gone mad!”

 

“ Ron!” Harry barked out. “That’s Regulus, yeah, but…”

 

As Harry told them the story, with Draco adding a comment here and there, Hermione felt her heart slowly turning to lead. Heavy and full. She really wished she had known earlier because then she could have helped them, at least with the research. Ron seemed disgusted and suspicious by the entire thing, and Hermione laced their fingers together by the end of it. “Harry…” she said, shaking her head as though that’d right her thoughts. “This is dangerous. You should have told us.”

 

“Yeah, not just two Death Eaters,” Ron added in a clipped tone.

 

Draco snarled and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Neither of us are Death Eaters anymore, Weasley ! Besides, weren’t you lot helping Sirius Black?” 

 

Regulus shoved Draco out of the way again and swiveled Harry around with a haunted expression. “The tapestry!” He gasped out. The color was rapidly draining from his face and Hermione instantly understood his surge of panic. “Fuck!” Harry cursed, ripping away and placing a hand to his forehead. 

 

Draco looked between the two like Ron and Hermione weren’t even standing there. “What bloody tapestry?”

 

“The one in Grimmauld Place!” Hermione blurted, sending Ron a wide-eyed panicked look. The realization dawned on him and he groaned miserably. Draco clapped his hands together loudly, “Tell me what’s happening!”

 

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!”

 

“Yeah. Leave it to you, Potter, to be a tosser about everything.”

 

Harry spun on his back foot to face Draco and pushed him hard in the opposite direction. At this, Hermione stepped to Harry to hold him back, Regulus snapped out a warning, and Ron laughed again, before Draco was shoving Harry back in retaliation. Hermione thought it was a weak attempt (and maybe a little funny ) at fighting the muggle way, but Harry seemed to not find the comedy in it and was pulling his hand back before she could process her next thought. Thankfully, Regulus gripped Harry’s arm and threw it down.

 

“You are all fucking gormless,” Regulus spat through clenched teeth, face drawn into a truly nasty expression. “Utterly useless,” he rattled on, “ Incompetent.” 

 

Draco walked further into the room and farther from them, turning to a small kitchenette and resting his forehead against the wall-pillar beside it. Harry scowled deeply and turned away. 

 

“We can help you,” Hermione eventually said, sending Ron a prompting nod. Grimly, he assented. “We’ve done a fair bit of research on Necromancy and-”

 

“Thanks, but I got it covered.” Draco seemed to have recovered from his melancholy and settled back into a disdainful drawl. Hermione then sort of wished Harry did punch him, maybe it’d relieve some of the brunette’s stress and shut the blonde up. She could still remember the feeling of his nose cracking under her knuckles. She was just a girl, but also quite heavy handed. “ You have it covered?” Ron guffawed. Draco had the audacity to look smug about it.

 

“Quite.”

 

Regulus dug his nails into Draco’s forearm, making his mouth snap shut. “Who are you?” He demanded of Hermione and Ron.

 

“I’m Hermione Granger, this is Ronald Weasley. We can help you,” she reiterated.

 

“Ah, Kreacher told me about you two. You both stayed at Grimmauld Place.”

 

“We finished your Horcrux hunt,” Ron chimed in, puffing his chest proudly. Regulus nodded in acknowledgement, eyes softening considerably. “Thank you, all of you. I never meant for kids so young to…”

 

Hermione thought to herself that he had been their age when he took the first one. Sensing the mood switch however, she gently reminded them about the tapestry. She thought it was a fascinating bit of magic, complicated and prejudiced, but fascinating. She didn’t really understand why Regulus’ was the only one who had a skeleton, despite not being the only deceased, so she wondered if it really had changed at all with this new development. When voicing this, Regulus looked thoughtful. “Huh. I haven’t been to the house, you are right–of course. Nobody else has a skeleton on their branch. I’ll have to ask Kreacher.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

A muggle born and two ex-Death Eaters walk into a library. A skull and snake on two left arms, and the word MUDBLOOD carved into another. Instead of hexxing each other for their differences, they found common ground in books and were placated by the desire to solve a mystery. Regulus was stowed away under the invisibility, tucked into the corner with a book on outdated vanishing charms, Draco had the copy of Provectus Venificiis: A Duce ad Inversa Magicae, and Hermione had a book on a case study done by Unspeakables many years ago on necromancy that she found in the restricted section. She was a little confused about what exactly Draco’s plan was: combine a bunch of spells and hope to eviscerate the shades (albeit very gruesome ones) molecularly? She was morbidly curious about Regulus’s revival, because it’d one: benefit their research, and two: was just historical. But, she had an inkling he probably had no idea himself–and though knowledge was power, it was also one of the most dangerous weapons out there. By Harry’s description of the creatures, though, she knew that was the main priority. Cracking open the Death Eater’s brain was a task for another day.

 

The case study itself was very grotesque. It happened sometime in the early eighteenth century; the control group was three wizards (pureblood, half-blood, and muggleborn) who had passed several health parameters in their lives pre-mortem and were deemed fit enough, they’d remain untouched; one of the experimental groups were another three wizards of that sort, and the proctors had injected them with spit from captured Inferi through the median cubital vein; the second experimental group was alike, but they had seemed to undergo the grossest trial. The second group had long incisions made through their breast bone so the Unspeakables could reach their heart chamber, and they injected two syringe-fulls of the Elixir of Life into the heart. The subjects’ hearts started beating post-mortem, though not reviving the subject, and a strange happening of a face appearing in the tissue occurred. The process was a lot more descriptive on the pages and it made her stomach extremely queasy, but the third and final experimental group was a little bit lighter. They had unicorn blood injected via a vein. All in all, it didn’t really tell her much, just made her feel sick at the extremeness of these experiments done on the dead. She however did find it interesting that the Unspeakables actually published the study, but since it was so long ago, she supposed that was a factor. 

 

It had been nearly two hours since they’d arrived at the library, so Hermione checked in with the others. “Have you found anything so far? I’ll have to check out another book before we leave, I finished this one with no luck.”

 

Draco looked up at her with a startled expression, like he’d forgotten she was even there, but he smoothed it over quickly. “Loads. I’ll work out the logistics and work on what I must, and I’ll try it over break.” He lowered his voice before continuing, “Experimental magic without Ministry sanctioning is very illegal. It’d not go over well for someone like me.”

 

Hermione nodded, and she turned her eyes onto where Regulus was under the Cloak. “I’d fare better by looking through the texts at Grimmauld Place,” he replied softly. “I’ll have to have Kreacher help me sneak in—I could check out the tapestry while I’m there. Shouldn’t make my house elf do all the work.”

 

Hermione didn’t really like the sound of that, but she supposed that there was nothing she could do about it. It’d have to be done. Truly, she felt this entire thing was morally-grey. They were breaking several laws and had no idea how many would be hurt as a result of their negligence with telling a more experienced wizard. She wanted to tell Sirius. It’d be the right thing to do.

 

But, as she looked at the seemingly empty space then back to Draco, she knew that there was more at stake than she knew of. There, she decided she wouldn’t say anything, even if it went against what her gut was telling her was the right thing to do.

Notes:

in the books, hermione does not have mudblood carved into her arm, but i took creative liberties bc this is canon divergent

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 12: "GALLOWDANCE"

Summary:

drarry goes on a 5 minute date-not-date

then the horrors commence

Notes:

chapter title is derived from Gallowdance by Lebanon Hanover

CW: desc. of harry greening out, and very graphic descriptions of body horror and a corpse

great times in potterville everyone

Harry P. - POV

✈︎ The Great Hall

 

With Ron and Hermione finally knowing the truth, Harry felt a little less guilty and a lot more free to talk about his happenings with Draco–that they were basically friends (not that he’d utter those blasted words out loud). Without feeling weighed down, he found the courage (audacity?) to slink up to the Slytherin table and sit down beside Draco. They were allies in this new struggle, he reasoned, so it made sense to be in the other’s vicinity. Harry watched as Draco turned a brilliant shade of red and tried to sputter out some objection to the whole thing.

 

It made his stomach flutter in a strange manner. After they kissed (which they had yet to discuss), most things were the same. They bickered, they drank, they helped Regulus. But, some were different. Harry felt him staring at the blonde a bit too long, or shoving him a little too hard just to touch him longer. It was an abnormal feeling of proximity that he craved. So, when he scooched on the bench a bit closer to Malfoy and their thighs touched, he didn’t pull back. 

 

“I want to go see the first Quidditch match. I rarely got to see one at school as a spectator!” He explained, reaching across the oak to grab a glass of pumpkin juice. Pansy Parkinson laughed and then slapped a hand over her mouth so fast that Harry believed it’d leave red fingerprints, and he was oblivious to the furious glare Draco was sending her. After a moment, Draco said “Then go right ahead, Potter.”

 

“No. With you.”

 

He was just as oblivious to the fact that Draco’s blush darkened into hazardous territories. “Dress warm. I felt so flushed from the wind when I went outside earlier,” Pansy commented.

 

“Oh, my cheeks were just burning up!” Blaise Zabini added. Harry gave them both a weird look, then turned back to Draco, who had considerably sobered up and diplomatically not responded. Harry thought the lack of jabs and immediate rejection was surprising, so he hurried on. “I’m gonna invite Ginny and Luna, too.” He hadn’t even thought of that beforehand, but in face of Malfoy’s silence, he felt a little embarrassed and wanted to amend his proposal. At the relief in Draco’s eyes, Harry felt himself ease up a little bit. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “Alright then,” Malfoy replied in a clipped tone. Harry grinned. “Brilliant. We’ll have to head to the greenhouse.”

 

“The greenhouse?” Draco’s eyebrows lifted. Harry tugged him up and away from breakfast and began to herd him out of the Great Hall. “The greenhouse,” he affirmed. “Luna has some pre-game festivities.”

 

“Aces!” Harry liked the excitement in Draco’s eyes, it was definitely one of his favorite ways to be regarded. Maybe getting pissed and high most days wasn’t the best way to bond with Draco, but it was fun. He knew they had a lot to unpack but he also knew neither of them truly wanted to so really, wasn’t it a win-win? 

 

By the time they made it out near the greenhouse, the temperature outside had dropped a bit. Late October was always pretty bitter, but it was still beautiful out. The trees were turning all shades of amber and as they got closer to the greenhouse entrance, red and orange plants popped up along the path. They swayed with the breeze, and Harry could feel it when Draco cast a wandless warming charm—surprising, but appreciated. They walked around the front entrance to head towards the back, where Luna and Ginny were stationed. “Harry!” Ginny exclaimed, smiling a bit lopsided. Luna didn’t even open her eyes to greet them but her grin widened significantly.

 

“Hi,” He said with a wave. He could feel Draco lingering by his side, their fingers inches apart. It was maddening and he wanted a blunt in his hands as soon as humanly possible. Upon quirking his brow, Ginny jerked her thumb towards Luna, and he nodded in understanding. In her navy blue bag, she had supplies, and he got to work with his hands. “Want to sit with us for the Quidditch game?” He asked, not looking up. Draco was peering over his shoulder.

“Yes, though I’d like to sit with Orla Quirke, as well. She’s a fifth year, her mum likes the Quibbler,” Luna spoke up with a rasp in her usually melodious voice.  

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

Pushing through the throngs of students up to the Ravenclaw stands was no easy feat while under the influence, but they managed with little casualty. Weed made Harry a little stumbly, but it transformed Draco into a whiny prat (even moreso). Harry debated turning around and pushing him all the way down the bleachers if he had to hear another complaint. Beside those hiccups, Harry really was excited to see the match. Cho Chang had come back another semester to play Seeker, and he was happy enough to cheer her on with the crowd. Ravenclaw was playing Hufflepuff, and the new second years on each team looked like mere moments from passing out or throwing up. Harry remembered those nerves, but the excitement was always the more overpowering sensation. 

 

They sat beside two fifth years, Orla and Stewart Ackerly, who were both blushing when Harry said hello. Luckily, they didn’t ask for an autograph or something; he’d never hear the end of it from Draco. But, Stewart looked a little twitchy even after the players had gathered on the pitch–however, it may have had something to do with Draco’s presence. 

 

“YEAAAAAAAHHHHH!” Ginny roared, cupping her mouth. Luna laughed and clapped sluggishly before sending up blue sparks. The new commentator, Dean Thomas, launched into a monologue as the flyers took off into the air. Harry loved watching the game even if he didn’t want to play and he could easily spot Cho doing fake-out dives and speeding in one direction only to jerk to the opposite one, her dark hair ripping through the wind like silk. 

 

“She’s just awful,” Draco complained after a moment and Harry rolled his eyes, feeling his annoyance spiking again. “Let’s see you up there then,” He snapped. “Cho’s brilliant.”

 

“A little sloppy.” The blonde replied with a shrug and a tick in his clenched jaw.

 

“ I beat you , every year.” Harry pointed out. The last time Slytherin even won the Quidditch Cup was ‘95 because Dolores Umbridge had to be a raging twat the entire year, when she banned Harry for life! Hardly fair, that insolent wench— “I’ll race her,” Draco declared suddenly. Harry’s stomach did a nervous flip at this and he felt the urge to shackle him to the ground, keeping contact with the solid earth where there was no chance of plummeting to his early demise. “Don’t be a prick, Malfoy,” he mumbled pathetically. 

 

As the Hufflepuffs scored a goal, the crowd surged up with a chorus of booing and Ginny knocked him into Draco, who knocked him right back into Ginny with the sway. Blinking harshly, Harry saw in front of his eyes as everyone started to morph together into a dark, streaky line. “Ginny?” He asked. 

 

“What?”

 

It was like the streak was pulsating rhythmically and he could feel it right behind his eyes. It was starting to make Harry feel a little sick, each passing moment the thumping pounded into his skull a little harder. “Not feeling so good,” He croaked. The height he was at in the Quidditch stands was no friend to his current state, it overwhelmed him with another wave of nausea and he crumpled slightly at the waist. 

 

“Ah, shit,” Ginny cursed, “Malfoy, take him down?”

 

“Take him down?” Draco asked slowly, blinking his grey eyes in an owlish manner. Harry thought it looked like they were just melting off. It made him feel marginally worse. 

 

“Take him down the stands!” She snapped. Hufflepuff scored another goal and another series of curses flew from her mouth, throwing her hands up in anguish. “Alright,” Draco answered glumly. 

 

Gently, he put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and ushered him down the steps, shoving others out of the way with his elbows. When they finally reached the bottom, he shepherded them out of the way and towards the shed. “Okay, Potter, come on,” Draco sighed and placed a hand on his chin, squeezing his cheeks so the brunette’s mouth would open. “ Aguamenti,” water shot out from his wand, and Harry snapped his mouth shut. 

 

“Thanks,” he said after swallowing, eyes still swimming a bit. He leaned against the shed and breathed deeply for a few moments before he heard it. “Draco?” Harry mumbled. Squishing through the grass, labored breaths, and vocal silence. “ Draco ?” He looked up and blinked against the light, gaze zeroing in on Malfoy instantly. He was turned away from Harry, staring at a fixed spot ahead. 

 

Oh.

 

Oh .

 

Draco retched violently, fully body jerking with the motion and instantly collapsed in on himself, hitting the grass like he weighed a thousand pounds. Harry was frozen, stuck in his spot with his head pulsing harder than ever and he felt no longer tethered to his rooted body, like his mind was fighting tooth and nail to escape, get out, be free from witnessing. 

 

A few feet away, a woman staggered forward almost drunkenly. She said nothing as she approached but her skin was sheet white and her nails bloodied from where she clawed fervently at her abnormally long neck, making an abrasive, rutting noise. The skin there was purple with a thick rope staunchly knotted around it, making it seem as though someone had crumpled her neck like a paper straw. Her head was tilted at an odd angle. The rest of the rope dragged behind her in the wet grass with a slick sound. She looked familiar–Harry had never met her in his life, he knew–but he had seen her. She was an apparition, like Dumbledore had been. Another haunting face, one he couldn’t place. Harry had his wand out before she ( it ) could take even another step towards Draco’s curled up frame. “ Ev-”

 

“ Ja–-e- ,” It spluttered. Harry felt his body go weak at the noise, wobbling at the resurgence of dizziness. Its voice came out choked and raspy, sounding part human and part strangled animal. It fell to the ground silently, having no physical body to impact. Only the rope. “ J–mes, ” It moaned distressingly, dragging itself forward. Harry felt like he was going to throw up, he knew who it was. It felt like the earth was trembling under his feet, the apparition’s face suddenly coming much closer into view. It’s eyes were inhumanly big and bloodshot, bulging out from the sockets. “ James? ”

It was right next to Malfoy and the blonde truly looked upon it’s wretched form, gagging again. It was even more abominable up close. Harry had never seen a body that had been hung, not once during the war. He wouldn’t even had known what to expect, but now he knew that he would never forget it. He would never get the image of Marlene McKinnon’s broken neck and the permanent terrified twist of her mouth out of his head. She reached for him, and he gasped out “ Evanesco,” before dropping beside Draco, nevermind the puddle of sick. He could already feel the nausea in his own throat, willing back the bile so he wouldn’t choke on it. Malfoy let out a terrible whimper. The world went startlingly black.

Notes:

i love writing gore but i never feel like its horrifying enough

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 13: THE LOVERS

Summary:

↑ Partnerships and union
↓ Disharmony

Notes:

lots of little breaks in this chapt!!! in story, we are @ Oct. 31, 1999

side note: this is canon divergent and i am not JK Rowling, ofc the characters will not always be characterized as strictly as canon; there’s no need to comment on it, ill just delete it!! i’m just 15 🔥🔥

Harry P. - POV

✈︎ Gryffindor Dorms

 

Harry didn’t think that he wanted to leave his room. It was Halloween, and in his mind spun a thousand different thoughts that were all varying degrees of despair. Marlene McKinnon’s mangled corpse was burned into his retinas, and her pleading for his father was a sound he didn’t think he could forget. He thought about James, too. He had seen James with the stone. He hadn’t even thought to consider that he could come back like that, and it made his stomach cramp up with nausea. He especially hoped Lily wouldn't show up; there was something entirely foreign about a mother that was not so distant as father. 

 

This second dilemma brought rise to a more pressing issue, though. Draco and Harry weren’t the only students in the school and it was only a matter of time before some child had a run in with one, watchful house-elf or not, and they needed to figure shit out fast. He really didn’t want to have to go to McGonagall and explain Regulus’s presence and his lack of forthcoming with it. He may have made a vital error in keeping it confined, but it was too late now. It was up to him and his friends, as per usual. Harry knew that Hermione and Regulus were meeting frequently with Draco to discuss findings and theories, but the encounter with McKinnon had Draco just as holed up in his dorms, and Harry really didn’t want to see him. 

 

Guilt plagued him when he remembered, he hadn’t done anything to protect Draco. He let him lay there in his own vomit, shaking and terrified. Harry had been scared, too, but Harry was used to the fear. He had been facing worse horrors since his youth. Draco had not. He had grown up spoiled, rich, and loved as far as Pureblood politics permitted–that is, not to say he hadn’t undergone terrible things, but Harry was more equipped. And he also supposed that he should want to pick up the slack after the situation, but he really just wanted to sleep. Memories of the War were lurking behind the forefront of his mind and that wasn’t something he wished to relive nor unpack, either. 

 

Belatedly (blame the wallowing in self-pity), Harry realized he should call Remus and Sirius. Halloween made Harry sad , of course, but never sad in a way that Remus and Sirius could be. Nor could they be sad in a way that Harry was, mind you, but still. Harry wouldn’t get up for Draco, but he definitely would for his godfathers. 

 

Slowly, like his body weighed tons, he picked himself up from the mess of blankets and planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Sirius!” He called into the mirror once he retrieved it from his trunk and casted a silencing charm around his bed. “ Sirius!”

 

“Harry?” Sirius asked, eyes wide and tired.

 

“Yeah. Hi.”

“What’s up?” Sirius ran a hand through his dark curls, worry deepening the lines on his face. Harry sighed.

 

“Nothing. Just wanted to check up on you…today. And Remus. Is he here?”

“Oh,” he blinked, “that’s very sweet, Prongslet. Remus is asleep. How are you, are you holding up well?” 

 

Harry fought another sigh. “There’s a lot going on right now. I’ll sort it all out so no need for you to worry about it, but I need a drink.”

Sirius let out a booming laugh and Harry felt his chest thaw a little. “I’m not encouraging anything, but damn, me too. Remus and I are going to visit Godric's Hollow later then Dora and her friend are going to stop by for dinner. You should come, please? I’ll have Andromeda sneak you out to Hogsmeade after lunch!”

 

That was probably the last thing Harry wanted to do in his state, but he found himself nodding against his will. “Um. Yeah, sounds great. I miss you,” Harry hated how his voice strained on the words, like he was a child. Sirius’s eyes were soft and sad. “I miss you too. Feel free to bring a friend to dinner.”

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

All of my friends hate me, Harry thought sullenly. Ron had politely declined the dinner invitation since he and Hermione were planning to hand out candy to muggle children at the church Hermione used to attend. Unhelpfully, Hermione had suggested he bring Malfoy of all people! Similarly, Ginny also declined since she had a mountain of Potions work to complete for Zabini and Quidditch practice in the morning. Before this dilemma, he thought he had quite a few friends, but it was dawning on him how many people he didn’t know well enough to ask. 

 

“Just ask Malfoy!” Ron snapped after the third time Harry had made his rounds. Hermione’s lips quirked, and Harry knew she was fighting off a grin. He scowled at her.

 

“Glad to see you’re out of bed, but your pacing certainly isn’t helping. It’s just a dinner with both of your family, easy enough.” 

 

Didn’t they understand? Voicing this, Ron groaned exaggeratedly, evidently trying to get the message across that he thought it was stupid and overcomplicated, and Hermione rolled her eyes. “Malfoy has no friends here except Zabini and Parkinson, maybe Luna. You’re being selfish.” She announced, and the words seemed to pierce him like a blade. SELFISH. He was horrified. He kissed Malfoy once, he had already come to terms with that, and they definitely weren’t dating, but he was supposed to be chivalrous in spite of the horrors to anyone he’s kissed. It was like a switch being flipped as he realized his new duties–Merlin, he was going to be so annoying. 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

“Astoria!” Harry screamed down the corridor, hurrying after her. She skidded to a halt, turning on her heel to stare incredulously as he caught up with her. “Astoria!”

“P-Potter?” She spluttered, eyes going comically wide. Harry caught up to her, panting heavily for a moment before smoothing out his robes. “I need you to let me into the Slytherin common room.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Please,” He quickly added.

 

“Why? Trying to gloat, taking a victory lap, perhaps?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m so sorry your parents were bloody terrorists-”

“My parents were not Death Eaters! I’m talking about D—nevermind. Whatever.” She snapped, fixing to walk off. Harry grabbed her by her shoulder and the disgust and anger that flashed across her face was jarring. “I need to talk to Malfoy!” He pleaded. Astoria regarded him for a few moments, lips straightening out into a thin, displeased line, then nodded. 

 

It was a long, tedious, and awkward walk down to the dungeons and Harry really just wanted to get it over with before he lost his nerve. What would he say? Hey, sorry I got you tripping on shrooms then you had to see the goddamn Crooked Man in the form of my parents late friend, Marlene McKinnon. Want to grab a bite with your extended family and a stranger while half the party mourns? Sounds great!

 

Draco did not think it sounded great. “I’m finalizing my application for medical school after experiencing that and you want me to join a convict, werewolf, and my irritating Auror of a cousin for dinner? I’ll pass. Get out of my room.”

 

“It’s for my parents.” Harry Potter was not above guilt tripping, and when Draco paused, Harry knew he already won. Just to really seal the deal, he added: “And I’ll write you a letter of recommendation. Goes pretty far, being the Chosen One, and all.” 

 

Draco all but physically kicked him out of his dorm after consenting. 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Godric’s Hollow was just as Harry had remembered it. He didn’t think he quite liked that at all, admittedly. It was unchanging and stagnant and the only difference, ironically, was evident in the graves. Some flowers were newer, some were already wilting in the autumn air, whatever the case was: only the dead, who never changed (save for Regulus, he supposed), experienced variation. It was depressing. Padfoot rushed past the graves and into the church, no doubt already in tears, and Remus left Harry to visit his parents on his own.

 

He sat down on the cold, hard ground and summoned a bouquet. “I miss you both,” He started, staring down at the inscription on the grave that caused rage to bubble under his skin. “Or, I miss the idea of you. There’s a lot going on that I’m sure you know, and I just can’t help but remember the last time we met. With the stone.” He let a smile grace his lips at the memory of his mother and father together, how he spoke to them before damning himself to the forest. He wished they were there, they’d be able to help them. He laughed humorlessly, “You’re probably thinking I should tell Sirius and Remus about the situation, I know, I know. Hermione said the same thing, everyone says she’s just like you, mum. She really is my sister. But, I just can’t go to them. Not about him, at least not yet.”

He heard the church door swing open and the thudding of footfalls against pavement and grimaced. “They’re going to kill me when they find out. Maybe next halloween we’ll all really be hanging out!” Given the fact that he was the only one near the grave, it was silent. Not even the wind made a noise. “Ah. Okay. Not funny, got it.” 

 

Padfoot slinked up towards Harry, pushing his side against Harry’s shoulder. Remus was a few strides away. The dog barked and Remus summoned another bouquet of flowers right beside Harry’s and several other mourners who visited the site. “Can’t believe it’s been eighteen years,” Remus said softly. It sounded heavy in the silence of the setting sun. Harry shook his head, “Does it get easier?” He wondered. He thought of the Fallen Fifty, of the missing children, of the wrecked families. Remus glanced at him knowingly, looking many years older than thirty-nine. 

 

“I don’t feel like I’m a moment away from Death when I think about it, not anymore, so I ‘spose it does. Or you learn to carry your grief better; you wear it as armor and shield, and you learn to stop treating it like a stab wound. Whatever lies in Death, as you know, is much kinder to us than what lies in life ever could be,” Remus explained gently, straying back to the grave. He looked at the cold stone fondly. Harry didn’t cry over his parents, but he wanted to cry over Lupin, pity seizing his chest. Padfoot barked again, nudging Remus.

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Harry nabbed Draco later, and soon the four of them were at the doorstep of Grimmauld place. “I need to relocate,” Sirius announced as they walked into the door, setting Walburga off instantaneously. Remus cringed from beside the man, agreeing. “We will, love. After Harry’s graduation.”

Harry and Draco shared a glance and smirked. 

 

Love, Draco mouthed, eyebrow quirking.

 

Maybe he is gay, Harry mouthed back. Draco and Harry, despite Regulus’ confirmation, didn’t quite know if they really were together or not.

 

“Five galleons,” Draco retorted, out loud this time. Remus sent them a suspicious glance backwards, but made no further inquisition. 

 

“We are betting on the same thing,” Harry hissed into the blonde’s ear. Draco shoved him away with a hidden smile, and they hurried into the kitchen. At the table, Tonks sat beside another person with dark brown hair and eyes that were blown open wide, evidently fascinated by something. Or concerned. Regardless, Tonks was as happy as ever to see Harry, springing up from her chair and bounding over to him with arms wide open. He barely had a moment to brace himself before he was swaying in her embrace, Draco standing awkwardly to the side. Tonks let go of him and patted Draco on the arm, still grinning.

 

 “Wotcher! Glad to see you all!” They all followed Tonks back into Sirius’s kitchen, and she gestured to her guest. “This is my partner, Corinne. They’re a muggle.” 

 

Draco’s jaw dropped open, staring at Corinne like they were a wild animal. Sirius shared one look with Harry before they were both bursting into laughter. “A muggle ? In the house of Black ?” Draco asked, looking back and forth between Sirius and Corinne. 

 

“My sister was a witch!” Corinne scowled, their cheeks heating at the callout and influx of attention. Remus nodded grimly and added, “We had to send Kreacher out so he wouldn’t upset himself.” 

 

They moved to fill up the seats around the table soon after, settling into conversation quickly. It certainly helps with liquor , Harry thought, staring down at the drink in his hand. Over the food, Harry learned that Remus had (hesitantly) been visiting his father for questions about ministry navigation and had been compiling stuff to re-open Sirius’s case, and meeting with Madam Pomfrey for reasons unknown. Harry found it a good time to ask about Sirius’s schedule, so he could have more information to help Regulus sneak in and look around, and to his disappointment, Sirius had very few plans on the agenda. Dissimilarly, Draco spoke a little about the Healers programme he’d be joining at St. Mungos the upcoming month and how Andromeda had helped him. 

 

“Ah, good choice to ask her,” Tonks wisely replied, which Harry really didn’t understand why.

 

They also got to learn more about Tonks’s muggle partner. Corinne worked at a roller rink most nights, and an auto repair shop half of the week (Sirius was very pleased), to save up some money while they planned to go back to school. Harry gathered that they wanted to be an x-ray technician, which he wasn’t quite sure what that fully entailed but wished them luck. 

 

By the end of the night, he was sitting on the rooftop of Grimmauld place with Draco, sharing a fag between the two. The neighborhood was eerily quiet. For some reason, Draco leaned into Harry’s side, and for some other reason, Harry let him. The events with Marlene sat heavy, unspoken in the air, and just as Harry turned his head to Draco to speak, Draco was already staring at him. 

 

Kissing Draco Malfoy once was a mistake. But twice? Well, Harry didn’t really want to unpack that. At all. 

 

Maybe it was by the grace of a God, or karma from an enemy, but they broke apart almost as suddenly when a low growl pierced through the silence of the night. At first, Harry’s heart dropped, thinking it was Padfoot. But upon gathering his bearings, he realized it definitely wasn’t Padfoot. A dark coyote prowled back and forth down the street, watching them keenly–knowingly.

Notes:

the gay or european debate prevails

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 14: “SERVATIS A MALEFICUM, SERVATIS A PERICULUM”

Notes:

chapter title is a latin phrase i found from the song Whisper by Evanescence (Fallen version), it means "save us from danger, save us from evil" and i chose these lyrics for the title because Regulus and Luna have some Conversations relating to family and pureblood culture during the first n second wizarding war

Regulus B. - POV ✈︎ Room of Requirement

 

Regulus felt a wave of anxious nausea swell and knock into him as he watched a door materialize in his hide-out in the ROR, crawling across the wall in a web of magic. Familiar magic, but not much reassuring since Draco and Harry usually warned before they visited. In the next moment, the brass doorknob rattled with a twist and Regulus cursed Narcissa’s boy and Potter to the high heavens for not yet getting him a new wand—using wandless magic did not get any easier, regardless of time. He couldn’t risk it with the Ministry as it was, and now would be perfectly opportune since the whole government was in need of repair and not being monitored by Death Eaters. Regardless; Regulus wandlessly cast up a Notice-Me-Not charm and willed the Room to rearrange itself, allowing him to duck in a small enclave near the back wall.  

 

Light footsteps padded against the ground and Regulus didn’t dare look, holding his breath and standing pin-straight. “Regulus?” A sing-song voice called out. Luna Lovegood was languidly approaching his hiding spot and he felt himself slump in relief before walking out into the open once more. 

 

“Lovegood,” he greeted cordially, eyeing her warily. She had the Sight but he didn’t know if that was a deciding factor of her being able to identify him, or if he had some detection errors that he needed to fix, but either way—she beamed at him. 

 

“I was hoping to find you! Are you well?” Luna asked kindly.

 

“As well as I will be,” Regulus paused, an idea blooming as soon as the words left his lips. “Say, Lovegood?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Would you be able to get me somebody’s hair? I have errands to run and…”

 

Luna blinked, then began to rummage through her bag before plucking out a plastic ziplock. Regulus could see the contents—several silvery wisps of hair. Really, he tried to keep his face blank. But, honestly! Who carries hair around, and more importantly, whose hair is that?

 

“It’s Daddy’s.” Luna explained. 

 

Regulus stared at her for a moment before nodding and forcing a smile down. She was Xeno and Pandora’s  daughter through and through, and she was just as odd as her uncle, as well. Regulus’s chest seized at the thought. 

 

“You’d like to see Ollivander?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

 

“No, no. I can go to Hogsmeade, thank you, Lovegood.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” she decided brightly. A statement, not a request. Regulus probably would have denied her so it made sense, but he shrugged. It would be more logical for Xenophilius to be walking with his daughter rather than on his lonesome. 

 

Regulus flitted to the bookshelf that the Room provided and plucked a vial of the Polyjuice, dropping the hair in and necking back the entirety, willing himself not to gag. His mother used to say he had a sensitive palate to sensory information, especially taste. Polyjuice in itself tasted terribly, but for Regulus, it really tasted like arse. Luna looked sympathetic as he bent over and gripped onto the wall, trying to steady his breathing so it wouldn’t come right back up. After a moment, he was ready to go.

 

It was a school day, which worried Regulus as he and Luna headed for the gates under Disillusionment charms, but she assured him she had a free period and that nobody was paying them any attention. Thus, they made their way down to the only wand shop in Hogsmeade: another branch of Ollivanders.  

 

The shop owner was a short man who glanced at them with bright eyes, eyebrows raising before smiling politely. “Welcome to Ollivanders! Are we looking at a replacement, repair, or new purchase today?” 

 

“I need a new wand.” Regulus said, leveling the shopkeep with a stare. 

 

“Right. Let’s get you settled then, do you consent to a scan of your magic—?”

 

“No. You can, however, show me your Curupira hair wands. That’s what my old one was. Curupira hair core, hawthorn wood.” 

 

The shopkeeper nodded, a bit surprised, and gestured towards a small section on the left-hand side of the building. Regulus inclined his head curtly then strolled over to the small sign that signaled Curupira hair core wands, set up neatly on display on bookshelves. The shopkeep watched him pick up and test the wands out keenly. 

 

He diligently tested out each of the wands with various spells aimed at the wooden floor which he then exercised the repair abilities of said wand. The first three, he immediately could tell wouldn’t do. They were gorgeously shaped and Regulus was a man of taste and possibly a little high maintenance, but as soon as his fingers brushed the wand, the magic within the tool and the magic in his core seemed to snarl at each other. He hastily put those ones back. The next one, he had better success. There was power within that wand that seemed to unfurl around his core, but after a few casts, he felt a little queasy. He was a damn good wizard, talented but not exceptionally powerful. Not as much as Sirius, he thought bitterly. He put that one back. 

 

By the time he reached for the fifth wand, it had already been nearly half an hour, and Luna had veered away to wander the shop. This wand was twelve inches, a bit longer than his last one, and the wood used was not hawthorn, but maple. The magic from it felt marginally more comfortable than the last few had, and it felt like slipping his hand into dough. It bounced back a bit at first, but after some time, it would set nicely around his imprint. The wand itself was rather simple—elegant, sure, but simple. It was more springy and a light, tawny color unlike his last, which had been unyielding and a deep brown–he figured he could carve some ruins into the new wood. That was a very old, Pureblood ritual that he hadn’t given up and was really only practiced with the ancient bloodlines. It was a tricky bit of Runeswork, and even though Regulus wasn’t powerful, he was extremely competent with a few select aspects of magic. 

 

“This’ll do.” He announced to the shopkeeper. 

 

“Wonderful choice, I’ll ring you up at the till.” 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Luna had to go off to classes, but afterwards, she met up with Regulus to spend lunch in the Room of Requirement. In her absence, he had been practicing a plethora of different spells and was pleased with the results. 

 

“Hullo,” Luna greeted as she sat on the couch beside him.

 

“Harry and Draco hardly seek me out unless they need something, so this is quite kind,” He admitted, feeling a bit scornful towards the boys. Luna hummed, unwrapping a sandwich. “What’ll you be eating for lunch?” She asked.

 

Regulus cleared his throat. “Oh, I’ll be eating later.”

 

“Okay. You knew my mother?”

 

“Yes,” he paused, considering. “And her brother. I didn’t know her quite as well as I did your uncle.” 

 

Luna ah’ d. “Evan Rosier?” She asked, solemn.

 

Regulus fought back his urge to leap to defense and breathed in deeply. 

 

“Evan Rosier,” he confirmed. 

 

“Professor Moody killed him after a Death Eater raid, right?”

 

Regulus had been dead at that point when it happened, so he knew just as much as she did, but nodded nonetheless. It was a truth–but it was something that hurt; while James had been Regulus’s first love and their relationship was a giant shitshow, Evan was Regulus’s last love and he understood. They both had been Death Eaters and they both had burdened that curse and paid the price for their wayward beliefs. “He did,” Regulus eventually replied, making himself keep eye contact and shoving down the urge to hide. He wasn’t a boy anymore.

 

Luna looked contemplative. Her eyebrows were drawn down and a frown sat on her lips, and she stared at Regulus as though he wasn't even sitting right there. She looked through him, past him. He was scared to look over his shoulder; it was bad enough that people from the past were literally haunting Hogwarts, he didn’t need the past to metaphorically haunt him, too. 

 

“You were a Death Eater too. But not my mother, nor Sirius,” She started, gaze pointed now. Regulus nodded. She continued: “That’s a choice I cannot understand, but it also was not very much a choice at all. Your brain is swarming with Wrackspurts and it’s hard to get a good read,” She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Regulus sighed. “I was a blood-purist in my youth, then I died. Albeit belatedly, it came to my attention that regardless of the content of somebody’s magic or lack thereof, people are full of flesh and blood and life and can love. The Dark Lord never knew of love. I did. It changes things.”

 

“Both the older siblings knew better, isn’t that strange?”

 

“Sirius was a blasted fool and mean in his own way, but he knew that everyone deserved the chance to live. We both grew up with French, purist parents whose family dominated the wizarding world and were so terrified of muggles distorting the old ways that it became tangible and poisonous. They grew up during the second World War and even as wixen faced the threat of Nazi Germany, and Sirius and I were instilled with a fear of what the Soviets would do to us if they discovered magic. Many old families disguised their fear as hate, and history was allowed to repeat itself. Sirius and Pandora and Dorcas Meadows and whoever else staked their claim of light or neutrality, they saw that and they saw the makings of the very same regimes that our forefathers quaked at the thought of, and they knew that fear can be overcome and that it misrepresented reality. Evan and I didn’t realize that until it was far too late.” 

 

“Understanding is a powerful thing. Your wrackspurts are clearing–that helps,” Luna murmured, then turned back to her half-eaten sandwich. Regulus blinked. Maybe it was his imagination, but he certainly felt lighter.

“It is,” he agreed. “I did terrible, damning wrongs. There is no changing the past, it’s always there anyways. I want to just fix this–I don’t know if I’ll still be here after we do fix it, but if I am, then I will try and do something good. I want to know my actions are of my own volition and not the panic of a man dying once more.”

 

“It may work out,” Luna added vaguely, seeming to consider something before she snapped her back back to level Regulus with a stare. “If he wasn’t a terrorist, would my uncle have been a good man? Mama didn’t speak of him.”

“No. He was good to me, I loved him. But no, I don’t think he would've been a good man. Neither would I have been.”

“No,” she agreed, and shifted to reach down into her bag to pull out a metal water bottle. “You dated him?”

 

“Mm. Fifth year to my death.”

Luna hummed, eyes widening a fraction, then she uncapped her bottle. “Odd.”

Regulus tried not to be offended.

Notes:

REG OLD WAND INFO:
Curupira hair wands were unstable. They were known to choose as their owners individuals who were talented, but also unpredictable. Hawthorn makes a strange, contradictory wand that is full of paradoxes...they were complex and intriguing in their natures, it had been generally observed that the hawthorn wand seemed most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil. An unyielding wand will not work for anyone who is not it's master.

REG NEW WAND INFO:
Curupira hair wands were unstable. They were known to choose as their owners individuals who were talented, but also unpredictable. Maple wands often...preferred ambition in their witch or wizard, otherwise, their magic grew heavy and lacklustre...challenges and regular changes of scene caused this wand to literally shine, burnishing itself as it grew, with its partner, in ability and status. A springy wands can cast spells faster than most wands, so they pair well with wizards and witches of quick thinking.

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 15: THE CHARIOT

Summary:

Harry, Ron, and Ginny dealing with the Big RB™, Wolfstar and the birthday, and Regulus partakes in stalking

Notes:

↑ : Direction, control
↓ : Lack of control

Harry P. - POV ✈︎ Hogwarts

 

Harry could feel Ginny’s eyes on him the entire duration of breakfast that day; decidedly not speaking on the thoughts floating about her mind but a sense of intent in her brown eyes, narrowed and sharp and accusing. Whatever that was about, he was sure he didn’t want to know, and finished the meal at record timing. Even Ron wouldn’t have been capable of such a feat, but the ginger and Hermione were quick to follow suit. 

 

Rushing up to him as soon as they were able to break from the Great Hall, Ron bumped shoulders with Harry. “Ginny looks awfully suspicious of you, mate,” He murmured, sending paranoid glances behind him, and Harry cracked a smile. After finally being able to disclose the Regulus Situation, it was so much easier to speak to Ron and Hermione like before. 

 

“She really does. Harry, do you think she knows something?” Hermione added, adopting Ron's habit of looking over her shoulder. 

 

“I dunno, me and Draco were acting suspect at the Quidditch match, but…” she probably thought we were snogging, he thought to himself with a grimace. He probably should have a conversation with Malfoy. 

 

Ron scowled. “It looks like she’s plotting something. Oh–fuck–Harry!”

Harry whipped his head around to see Ginerva Weasley barreling towards the trio. Hermione cursed under her breath and grabbed their arms, propelling them through the halls and up stair cases. Really, it seemed like an intense game of tag and did not help dwindle the suspicion, but they pushed onwards. “Let’s duck into the Room,” Ron suggested, panting by the time they neared the seventh floor. They had only a few moments on Ginny, so Hermione released them and quickly paced the corridor, and the door materialized. 

 

After she slipped in, Ron and Harry didn’t have time and Ginny came skidding to a halt, red in the face and sweating. “What are you wankers doing? Running like I’m here to arrest you, Merlin!” She gasped, then continued. “Seriously–I just wanted to talk!”

 

Ron and Harry shared a look, then Ron blurted out: “We have to finish some business with… RB .” 

 

Harry gaped at the sheer stupidity, and Ginny just blinked. 

 

“Who on earth is Arby? Like the muggle restaurant? They have a location in London, but I don’t see why–”

 

Ron hastily cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to act casual, and instead was the picture of unsophisticated and looking rather constipated. Harry elbowed him and he squawked, covering it up with another clearing of the throat.

“Yes,” the ginger boy rasped, “Arby’s. We–ah–”

 

“We were seeing what the menu was like so we could take Sirius to a muggle establishment for his birthday!” Harry interjected, surprising himself because with all the workload he was experiencing, it had totally slipped his mind. 

 

Ginny, unimpressed, quirked a brow. “Your convict godfather who is still a wanted man?”

 

The boys nodded soberly and inched back to block the door better as a united front. “I deeply care for Sirius’s safety, he’s like my father,” Harry continued, plastering his best innocent, orphan smile. Ron threw up a thumbs up to really seal the deal. “We’d of course be going under a glamor.” 

 

“Only deserves the best for his birthday!” Ron gushed, laying it on thick. 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Sirius B. - POV ✈︎ 12 Grimmauld Place

 

This was, probably, the worst birthday since 1981. After eighteen years of various cages in his adulthood and still being in his childhood home that was just as suffocating, while so close to freedom, Sirius was damn near about to make a bad decision. It was only him and Remus in Grimmauld Place, which of course was always a treat, but he was a Black and by nature had a proclivity for thriving in a large crowd, preferable one to celebrate him. Andromeda was too busy at Hogwarts, Tonks was busy committing crimes (and she could not commit those crimes with a criminal), and Narcissa…well. 

 

Things were still rocky with Narcissa. And, she was totally not his first choice of a birthday compatriot. 

 

To make matters worse, Harry hadn’t even called him to say happy birthday, which broke his heart just a little. It was hard to be happy when he had so few people to celebrate with, and a life not worth commemorating. 

 

“Remus,” Sirius called, voice a little rough. The werewolf poked his head around a corner, bracing himself against the wall for support. He furrowed his brow. “Padfoot?”

 

“Come here,” Sirius demanded, frown tugging at his features. Remus slowly made his way over to the couch and sat beside his boyfriend, placing a reassuring hand on his knee. 

 

“Are you okay?” He asked the animagus. Sirius could see the concern in his eyes and the worried lines on his face and some of his upset dissipated; Remus cared about him and that made him feel a lot better.

 

“‘M fine. Just wish I could get out of here.”

 

“I know, soon. Have you seen Kreacher?”

 

Sirius groaned at the reminder of his family elf. He didn’t even wish the master of the house a damn birthday, either! After almost killing him all those years ago! His foul resolve was solidifying again. “No. Maybe that old git finally died.”

 

Remus made a face and Sirius scowled. “Just kidding, Moons. Merlin. If I tried, I could feel his magic,” He added. But…lately….

 

Some of the magic accessible to him as the Black heir was being finicky and he didn’t know why , not that he particularly cared either way since he really wanted nothing to do with any of it, but he would like to at least know. Legally, the House of Black didn’t have an heir, as Sirius was disinherited then imprisoned, and everyone else was married off, imprisoned, or dead. The Black madness at its finest.

 

Sirius groaned again. “Can you get me a drink?” He paused, thinking. “Actually, just bring the bottle.” Remus quirked a brow but complied, never one to pass up the opportunity to drink. 

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Maybe taking a shot for every decade he lived wasn’t smart. But, he’d done it on the roof for a reason so there would be no interference. He didn’t have the tolerance he used to; which was surprising given the stupor he drank himself into after Azkaban, but less so after he realized that he was forty. He shuddered. 

 

By that point, Harry had called him with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and even Narcissa’s boy to wish him a happy birthday. They all looked rather flustered but he didn’t think too much about it. He had come to learn that teenagers just naturally appeared suspicious regardless if they were actually doing anything suspect or not. In his case, he most definitely had been. 

 

As he unsteadily got up, he felt the wards shift to allow Kreacher through. He hoped that he’d just go off to sulk in his closet. When he walked through the foyer, for maybe the first time in her portrait legacy, Walburga was whispering. Her and Kreacher were having a hushed conversation with the curtains drawn around them. “Kreacher?” Sirius called, feeling his temper rising already.

 

The Elf yelped and scurried away, leaving the curtains billowing around Her Evilness. “Master Sirius!” He spat out, bowing at the waist. Sirius rolled his eyes.

 

“What are you doing? What were you just telling her?” Sirius demanded.

 

Kreacher’s eyes darted briefly to the portrait who was uncharacteristically silent, then back at Sirius. “Kreacher was just checking on Mistress.”

 

“What were you saying? Tell me, that’s on order,” Sirius was in a drunken limbo and cringed at how his words slurred and sounded less intimidating and more indignant, like a child. This made portrait-Walburga curl her lip into a mocking smirk. Kreacher shook his head. “Kreacher doesn’t have to take orders from the blood-traitor,” the Elf scowled. 

 

Sirius frowned. Maybe he was a bit too drunk because none of this was making much sense. His ire at the Elf faltered as he sensed Remus coming down the stairs. “Is everything alright in here?” He mumbled, seeming to have woken up from his sleep. Sirius didn’t realize how late it had gotten. 

 

There was a split second in between thinking oh, shit! and Walburga flipping her lid. “ HALF-BREED SCUM IN MY SON’S HOUSE-!”

 

With a slashing motion of his wand, the canvas shredded in an X , effectively shutting her up, but Kreacher wailed and wailed then disappeared with a pop. Remus blinked.

 

“He’ll have her repaired by tomorrow morning. This isn’t the first time,” Sirius dismissed, then fell into his boyfriend’s arms making the werewolf groan at the added weight. Sirius giggled.

 

“Mkay Padfoot, let’s get you to bed…”

 

“Moons? Isn’t it weird she said that?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“She said ‘my son’s house’. Why? She disowned me.”

 

Remus hummed in thought. “Not sure. Off to bed now, yeah?”

 

Sirius paused. “Not yet. Let’s sit in the back and have cake.”

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Regulus B. - POV ✈︎ Room of Requirement 

 

Regulus Black was less than pleased with the lack of discretion being used with his reanimation, and he made sure to give Harry and Draco a proper scolding.

 

“ You, Potter, are the Savior of the Wizarding World! The Boy Who Lived! The man who is too daft to keep a secret. I can hardly look at you right now,” He seethed, staring into angry green eyes. Harry didn’t even flinch. “Bloody incompetent. And you! You are a Black! I should have known to keep my standards low given this family’s history! No sense of loyalty to each other at all.”

 

Draco scoffed. “I had nothing to do with the Weasley, that was all him. Nor am I friends with the other one and Granger. ”

 

Regulus pretended not to notice the thick tension between the boys and decided to shake his head at Harry to display his evident disappointment. “You two know, Granger and the two Weasleys, Kreacher, and Luna.” He ticked off, trying to reign in his temper. Draco cocked his head to the side. “And that potioneer apprentice. And McGongall saw you—or, your arm. So Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, and my mother know that we have been with a Death Eater,” the blonde added unhelpfully.

 

Regulus rolled his eyes. “ You are a Death Eater. That’s no matter to me, they don’t know who I am.” He bit his lip. A thought struck him. “It’s Sirius's birthday, isn’t it?”

 

Draco and Harry glanced at each other then nodded. 

 

Mentally, Regulus cursed, but his face remained impassive. He sniffed indifferently. “Better go wish him a good one, I suppose.” 

 

“Already did,” Harry spat. Regulus could see the fight brewing in his eyes and knew that his own meltdown would not go unanswered to the Potter. He could already feel his hackles rising in defense. Luckily–or, rather unluckily–Draco had the very same Potter senses and instantly squared his jaw, straightened his back, and gripped Harry’s shoulder. “Now that that’s all out of the way, I think we need to have a word” He demanded.

 

Regulus felt this was a part of an entirely different situation that he was not privy to, but he didn’t care too much to ask. That would be undignified. But, if young Draco wanted to regale him with the tale for advice…

 

He quickly shook his head, and another thought descended upon him (he could almost hear Evan’s voice in his head– ’wow, two thoughts in one day? what a treat!). It was then that he realized that he was the same age as both of these boys–in years, life experience, mental age. He still hadn’t decided if he was happy to be back or not, knowing that it may be temporary. The cost of it was seeming to quickly add up and he had a feeling that that wasn’t even the bulk of it. Merlin only knew what was in store for him.

 

And Sirius…

 

The birthday boy. If shit didn’t hit the fan, so to speak, Sirius would have to know; everyone would have to know. He would have to reintroduce himself to the Wizarding World with an airtight alibi so the Unspeakables or DLME wouldn’t come after him like hounds in pursuit of a scent. He had an inkling that he’d end up being around for a while–there was something changing that he couldn’t put his finger on, and Luna was being ever so vague. 

 

So, in the good faith of knowing thy enemy, Regulus called Kreacher to apparate him a bit away from Grimmauld Place. He placed his wand to his heart after landing and whispered an incantation, and in his place stood a lithe, mangled canine. During his time with Kreacher catching up, he instantly decided it wasn't fair that his bloody brother and James Potter got to turn into animals and be praised for their transfiguration feats and he didn’t even get the chance. Thus, the coyote. Although put off that he and his brother shared something in common; he supposed it was fitting. Coyotes symbolized cunning, intelligence, and adaptability. Also playfulness and trickery, in some lore, but he was choosing to ignore that part. He hoped the Slytherins of the past were proud. Or jealous. 

 

Then, he was off through the wards which opened around him like an embrace. The familiar feeling of magic intensified in this form but he had less of an emotional connection to it. It still felt impossibly Dark, but everyone in his family was a Dark wizard. Gryffindor or not, despite what Regulus knew Sirius would say to that accusation . 

 

Regulus slowly made his way around the house, sensing the scent of his brother and the werewolf. With his muddled self concept, he figured that it actually wasn’t the greatest idea to go sleuthing while the targets of his stalking had nearly the same exact senses as he, so he fell back. Instead, he went down a block parallel to the garden and stayed in the shadows of a house further to the left. Grimmauld Place was still under the Fidelius charm, but that meant little when his Elf lived there and therefore, he had the advantage. 

 

He could see Sirius and the wolf sitting upright and leaning against each other and he couldn’t help the low growl that tore through his throat. Fucking Remus Lupin. There was something about him that made Regulus want to hurry away, but there was something more about Sirius that made him want to linger. 

 

Remus’ eyes snapped towards his spot and Regulus froze. The wolf’s eyes narrowed and flashed, and Regulus hurriedly was off.

Notes:

i heart the golden trio's sibling relationship
ginny finds regulus! ginny is sooo mad even tho we dont see it!!! her GIRLFRIEND got to meet him before SHE did?!?! she's harrys sister for fuck sake

and oh sirius and his birthday and regulus lurking on him in animagus form teehee the little coyote (he looks pretty gnarly /neg)...so just to reiterate, regulus is a coyote because "In many indigenous cultures, the coyote is seen...representing cunning, adaptability, and resourcefulness." and "In Apache culture, the coyote is associated with hunting, war, and running. The coyote can also challenge the status quo, wander off alone and return with lessons, and illuminate potential actions." and let's take a trip down memory lane to chapter nine, narcissa's description of seeing the beast: 'All over, the animal looked like it had chunks of flesh gnawed at and bitten out–she felt pity for the blasted thing. It must be in pain.' yeah!

Updated Version: June 17 2025

Chapter 16: "STARGIRL INTERLUDE"

Summary:

interlude: a temporary amusement or source of entertainment that contrasts with what goes before or after

Notes:

"i am just gonna...not promise an update schedule....i will post when i can until august 15, THEN i will re-instate the schedule !! but for now this is a lawless land also I WROTE TS IN A TORNADO. BE GRATEFUL." - me sometime in july 2024. i finally finished this short ass chapter in june 2025...hey yall...i'm gonna try and work on this project to actually finish it but yk me! commitment issues!

Draco M. - POV ✈︎ Hogwarts

 

Draco watched the Tempus charm leap out of his wand and the small, wispy clock hand ticked by as the seconds inched on. Those bled into minutes, and when he eventually recast the charm, an hour had passed. Herbology was just crawling by and he had greater worries…well, a greater worry. One that he was unfortunately accustomed to. 

 

When the hour and a half mark hit, he instantly gathered his school supplies and was tearing off towards the castle. His next class was combined Charms with Ravenclaw and he was hoping to have a word with Luna before, later that day, they’d individually have to face Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley. Lesser evils , he mused. The Devil must have red hair.

 

The previous day, he had a conversation with the Boy Who Lived. Partly of words, and partly other activities, so it wasn’t as productive as he hoped and entirely against his original point, but Harry had been in a shite mood since and was trying to ignore him–really, it was a futile endeavor given the fact that he kept glancing over at Draco at each free moment they had, but it was also just fucking absurd. Draco was the one who was upset first, and here he was, Heir to the House of Malfoy and however other many bloody legacies, about ready to jump the gun and grovel with a man who can’t even differentiate cutlery. He didn’t even particularly know what it is that he’d done…er. 

 

Maybe he could have gone without the scathing remarks of calling Potter a bastard, son of a bitch who, allegedly, was not nearly enough of a good kisser to waste his time. Contradictory, that’s when the lip-locking started. He also would have been well off without insinuating that kissing another man was in fact improper for people of their stature. That just led to more of the sodomy–which Draco could readily accept and forgive if only it had forgone Potter’s shouting.

 

Thus, Thursday, November 4th.

Draco sank into his chair in the back of Flitwick’s classroom, barely even acknowledging the presence of his cousin at first. Then, finally, he cracked a weary eye open. Luna stared back, grinning a bit dazed. Draco instantly knew that behind those odd glasses of hers, her eyes were red and glazed over like they so often were these days. He supposed, a bit belatedly, that if anything; Luna would have a far easier time leaping into the Lion’s den than he. Curses. 

 

“Drake,” Luna mumbled and sounded a bit sleepy as she sagged into his side. “Drake there’s–there’s a Wrackspurt. By your ear.” She informed him solemnly. Dutifully and indulging, Draco swatted around the air by his head nevermind the concerned stare of Flitwick, and when Luna made a contented noise (rather like a cat, that one), he fought back a laugh by swallowing it up in a smile. “Thanks, Lunes.”

“Mm. You know the Impervious Charm?”

He hadn’t even realized that’s what they were covering in class. In all honesty, he was just coasting by. There was a lot on his plate, in his defense. “Yeah. You?” He answered.

 

“Well enough,” Luna mused. Yeah, Draco was sure that Ginny would be a far less painful experience compared to Potter. God damn lucky bastard. 

 

Charms came and went, and Draco was thrust into Potions, ignoring everything Professor Zabini was saying and opting to stare at Harry who was doing a great job at ignoring him. Eventually, when everyone else began moving, Draco got up and deposited himself beside the Boy Who Lived.

 

“Potter,” Draco greeted tightly. Harry glared at him in lieu of a response. 

 

Nonetheless, Draco continued. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day, there are just many new developments, in all areas of my life,” He explained. He hoped his sincerity translated well enough–he truly was, but he had also practiced his apology several times the night before.

 

Draco and Harry argued plenty, but it was usually about stupid things. Not zombies, or kissing, or bad secret keeping. He really didn’t know how to navigate any of it, truthfully. But, luckily, Harry spared another glance at Draco with the barest hint of a smile, and the blonde knew he was victorious.

Remus L. - POV ✈︎ Hogwarts Hospital Wing

 

As Draco Malfoy moped in his Charm’s classroom, Remus Lupin was accompanying Bill and Fleur Weasley to consult the Hogwarts matron, Poppy Pomfrey. Remus had kindly asked her to look into lycanthropy and if it could be passed down to offspring for the couple, and on his more secretive agenda, to quell his curiosity. He felt a swell of unease grip at him whenever he saw Fleur’s visibly pregnant belly and tried to fight off the frown that wanted to mar his already grotesque features. There was an organism inside of her swollen stomach, an alive baby who at its current stage, if Remus could recall, the heart beats 105 a minute. 

 

He tried discreetly listening for its heartbeat, to see if it was faster (for he and every other werewolves heart beat faster than a normal person), but it was too hard to decipher. 

 

Whatever the answer was, the Weasley’s would have to live with it. And if Remus had any faith, he would have prayed for them. He didn’t know for what exactly, but he did know that grief—abstract for the moment, not yet having a hollow shape to take residency in—was prowling about, the scent of it thick and heavy in the air. His nose twitched. Gold eyes met an alike set over Fleur’s blonde head.

 

Bill seemed to be vibrating with the intensity of his feelings and right at the moment, he seemed particularly in tune with Remus’ own–the elder's dismay and disgust and fear. It was seeming to set him on edge further, Remus could tell. He looked away quickly – it would do no good at all to further upset him, so Remus tried to school his demeanor into a more neutral one.

 

Poppy hadn't summoned them to cause a feral brawl in her infirmary, she’d have their necks if they did. Rather, she had discovered some things that would help their understanding of the situation at hand. Remus couldn’t help stave off the nervous shudder that went through him when he saw her descend upon them from her office.

 

“Bill, Remus, it’s lovely to see you both as always,” She greeted each of the men with a nod. “And Miss Delacour, congratulations!” She broke into a smile.

 

Remus squinted at her. Knowing Poppy, she wasn’t one to sugarcoat–very cut and dry with how she operated. Against his will, the first inklings of hope were starting to fall in place. He didn’t think she’d be congratulating Fleur if she came with bad news, or at least that’s how he viewed it as the pessimist he was at heart. He dared to think that maybe this would turn out how he wanted it to.

 

“Well?” Bill asked anxiously. 

 

The air was tense as Poppy cleared her throat. “Well,” she began slowly. “From what texts Remus has provided me and the testing I have done, I am almost confident that the lycanthropy cannot be passed on to the child.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Bill gasped and swooped Fleur up into a hug, and Remus broke out into a huge smile. Miraculously, he felt a million pounds lighter, and this new revelation gave him a deep sense of joy.

 

He hoped the up and coming bridges he’d have to cross would pan out just as well as this had.

Notes:

its been a year daddy i really really missed you

hi readers how are we do we remember me! this was a little shortie chapter only 1k words to tie up some subplots and to get me back in the swing of writing. im working on the next chapter, i already have 500 words of it from last year so thank god im not starting from scratch. i have outlines for each chapter in the entire fic but like idrk where i was intending to go with this in some parts so...i must figure that out

im also going through the old chapters and updating those--this will be completed before i upload chapter 17 whenever it is i get to that, so maybe reread if that will interest you. i finished updating up to chapter 5 at the time of me posting this (6/17/25)

Chapter 17: STRENGTH

Summary:

↑ : Inner strength, bravery, compassion
↓ : Self doubt, weakness, insecurity

Draco M. - POV

✈︎ Malfoy Manor

 

Cygnus Black was sixty-one, having been only thirteen when he sired Bellatrix, but his mind had gone long before Narcissa had even went to Hogwarts. Or, that’s what Lucius had said, at least. When Draco tried to recall, he found that his mother never really spoke about Cygnus or Druella. He knew that she must have had a strange childhood–if how Aunt Bella ended up spoke any volumes–but she kept even good memories close to her chest. And those memories, Draco was sure, were just as plentiful as the bad. He knew she was deeply loved by her family and they were fiercely loyal to each other, but, when it came down to needing to pay Cygnus a visit for research purposes, Draco was dreading the conversation with his mother.

 

It was a hard November, and Draco felt like his mental health was taking a fucking swan dive–the stress of Healer training (for it just being the third week of the course, he was feeling rather grim) being no helping hand. He had never felt depression, none of that, but he felt like the worse he got, the more intense he got. He really couldn’t cope in a correct way, if there was such a thing. There was only stoic dissociation or just being mean, which he knew how that would go over for him. So, he hoped his mum could keep a level head about this and not cause them to quarrel. She was always a passive woman, he regretted to admit. Narcissa never yelled or retorted and she just took all of the ire towards her and kept it inside, nursing it–But, Draco didn’t want to be the one to wake the baby, so to speak. Although non-volatile, she was not someone you’d want to slight–not that it would be a slight but…

 

He didn’t think he’d be able to handle reacting calmly if it came down to it. (Which was a little silly to him, since Harry was usually the one to fly off the handle and he, Draco, had extensively trained in the art of maintaining appearances.) 

 

“Mother?” Narcissa’s head peaked out from behind the wall, and her eyes shot open almost comically at the sight of her son. Draco hadn’t been back to Malfoy manor since the beginning of the semester, mostly staying at school, and only visiting the Tonks’ residence and Grimmauld Place, while filing paperwork for his quarters at St. Mungo’s (awaiting him after his graduation). He hadn’t announced his presence, and given that the Ministry made them dismantle all their wards, she had no clue of his arrival.

 

Her face broke out into a soft smile and she rushed forward, scooping him up into her arms like he was still just a boy. “Draco,” She greeted as she pulled back to look over him. A frown tugged at her lips. “Are you alright? You aren’t sick, are you?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” He scowled, but dutifully let Narcissa pinch and prod at him until she was satisfied.

 

“It’s lovely to see you, darling. Join me for tea?” She asked, smiling brightly at him. Draco smiled in spite of himself and nodded, following Narcissa as she led them into the lounge. He mulled over his plan of action as he and his mother sat down and waited for the house elves to arrive with their tea. He'd need Mother to escort him to the house, but she very well couldn’t know why . Nor could Cygnus, for that matter. Cygnus wasn’t exactly all that there, more of a husk than anything, so Draco hoped it’d be more of a non-issue than his mother.

 

Finally, the house elf popped back into the lounge and filled their cups with the tea. “Thank you, Curly,” Narcissa said kindly and the elf bowed then disappeared with a crack.

 

Over her teacup rim as she raised it to drink, Narcissa quirked a brow at her son. “So,” she said after a moment, “What is it?”

 

Draco cleared his throat. “I need to see Grandfather. His libraries, that is.”

 

Narcissa’s mouth thinned out into a displeased line. “What’s in his library that you can’t find at the shops? Or Grimmauld Place?” 

 

“Er,” Draco cursed himself at the ineloquence he must have picked up from Potter. “I’m looking for older texts, they wouldn’t have them at Flourish and Blotts. And I’ve already checked Grimmauld Place,” he lied. Judging by the unimpressed expression of Narcissa’s face, Draco deduced it wasn’t a convincing lie. For Merlin’s sake, was he a Slytherin or not?

 

“Really?” Narcissa demanded. “What on earth are you trying to read that is old and not at Grimmauld Place or a shop? Surely you aren’t doing anything dangerous.”

 

At the warning in her voice, Draco hoped his face didn’t betray any guilt. Technically, he wasn’t doing anything inherently dangerous, just trying to solve some issues. Albeit, very dubious ones that may have dangerous origins. Would it be a full lie or only a half if he told Narcissa he was just researching to soothe his curiosity?

 

“Draco,” Narcissa said sharply. “I can see you fishing. What is it?”

 

He sighed in response, weighing his options. He could ask his mother to let it go, which was unlikely. She was a little relentless when it came to him and his safety, especially since the War had concluded. His second option would be to lie, but she’d likely see through him as she did his entire life. His third option would be to just…tell her. Confess everything. He couldn’t say he hadn’t considered it before, and–if anything–she’d likely be awfully helpful to the cause. She’d grown up with Regulus and the Black Family grimoires, and would likely know a hell of a lot more than he or his ragtag team of researchers. 

 

But…Harry would probably be furious, and they were finally in a better spot than they were before. Things with The Boy Who Lived had always been tense and turbulent, and throwing in a few passionate exchanges certainly didn’t ease any of that clashing between them. So, being subjected to Harry’s rage wasn’t actually anything new, now that Draco thought about it.

 

He cleared his throat and steeled himself. “Mother, I need to tell you something.”

 

“You can tell me anything,” Narcissa declared forcefully, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise at Draco’s forthcoming. 

 

Draco paused. “This is…what I’m going to tell you, you have to keep it a secret. It’s not dangerous, just…dark. You can’t speak a word of it to anyone, no matter what you feel about it.” He pleaded, failing to curb the desperation in his voice.

 

Narcissa studied him intensely for a moment but eventually nodded. “You have my word.”

 

So, Draco hastily drew up several privacy charms before he launched into his revelation about Regulus: from Draco and Harry drinking in the Astronomy Tower then rushing to meet the cloaked figure, to finding out about the apparitions and their subsequent research, Luna’s reading, how they need to sneak Regulus to Grimmauld, Kreacher’s involvement–all of it. Narcissa’s face seemed to go through hundreds of emotions as he powered through detailing the last few months: the good and the awful. At first she was disbelieving, then frightened, angry, apprehensive, a full range of feelings before she settled into looking contemplative. Determined. Draco felt himself relax at the sight of that.

 

“And…you’ve been carrying this, all by yourself?” She asked softly once Draco finished his tale. Draco swallowed thickly and shrugged, he’s had Harry and the others but still. He felt so much lighter, he hadn’t even realized how much of a relief it was not having to hide this from her anymore. Narcissa looked at Draco with deep concern.

 

“You’ve been very brave, darling.” Narcissa stated. “This is just, very awful news. I don’t like that you’ve kept something of this nature from me, and I’m having a hard time believing it.” She confessed.

 

Draco frowned. “Maybe he’d be amenable to meeting with you, just, I haven’t told anyone I’d be telling you. You really mustn't let anyone else know,” He emphasized. “This is why I need to see Cygnus’s library, there has to be something there. All Granger and I have right now are theories we have no way of executing.”

 

“I’d like to speak to…him,” Narcissa agreed. “However, you’re not going to find anything in that library that will help you with this. I’ve read through everything in there over the years, and my Father won’t have any books with magic as dark as that. You will have better luck at Grimmauld Place, even more so knowing that the elf was involved with this.”

 

“I know, I was just hoping…” Draco trailed off with a sigh. He knew they’d have to go to Grimmauld place with Regulus, obviously, he’d just wanted to put that off as long as possible and pursue other options. There was just so much risk, and he wasn’t particularly known for his bravery.

 

Narcissa held up a pacifying hand, evidently not finished speaking. “When we were little, Bella told me there was a room in Grimmauld Place that only the Black Heirs could access. I don’t know if this is the truth or what could be in there, but perhaps follow through on that if nothing turns up in the library.”

 

Draco scowled. Of course Aunt Bella would know of such a thing, arrogant she-devil that she was. The good thing, though, was that he, Harry, and Regulus would be looking for it together—all contenders for being Heir to the House of Black, so they’d have the highest chance of success. Draco refused to even entertain the thought that Sirius was in the running, despite having access to the vaults. The idea of that just did not sit right with him. 

 

Narcissa continued, still not done. “I’m going to support you and keep your secret, but Draco…I don’t know about this.”

 

For the first time, Draco noticed how truly shaken she looked under her well composed mask. Deeply unsettled was now a familiar expression on Narcissa’s face for Draco, having seen her try and swallow it back time and time again when the Dark Lord was staying with them. She was just putting on a front, he realized. 

 

His stomach was churning unpleasantly as they leveled each other with an uncertain stare.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Draco M. - POV

✈︎ Hogwarts Library

“Harry,” Draco began nervously. Harry looked up from the book he was pretending to read, and gave Draco a weak smile. Evidently, he was still a little sore from whatever it was that transpired between them a couple of days ago. A whole lot of griffinshit, Draco thought unhelpfully, then sat down across from Potter.

 

“I need to tell you something, and I need you to hear me out about it.”

 

Harry frowned at hearing this, but looked at Draco expectantly. Draco’s stomach did a small little flips, as it always did, when he noticed just how green Harry’s eyes were. He swallowed anxiously. “I told my mother about the… spare .”

 

“You did what?!” Harry exclaimed loudly. Draco cringed and then did so even further when Madam Pince hissed at them. Harry’s face was twisted in anger. 

 

“She was actually very helpful!” Draco snapped in his own defense. Harry scoffed and shot up out of his seat, rounding the table towards Draco. Harry grabbed his robe sleeve and yanked hard, forcing the blonde to stand, and then he dragged them out of the library without sparing a backwards glance. Once they finally turned a corner and were alone in the hall, Harry punched Draco in the arm.

 

“What the hell!” Draco cried out, cradling the impact site.

 

“Why the fuck would you tell your mum that? You just were angry with me the other day for telling Ginny!”

 

“Ginerva Weasley,” Draco spat out angrily “cannot help this cause at all, meanwhile my mother can!”

 

Harry laughed wryly. “You’re a bloody hypocrite. I don’t know why I keep bothering with you,” He told Draco. Of course, Draco predicted Harry would be upset, so he also predicted he’d say something like this. Harry typically used their newer developments in their relationship as ammo when they fought, like it’d somehow convince Draco to back away, cower, and keel. Sometimes it did, but it was getting less and less effective each time Harry would come crawling back, so Draco was becoming a champion at tuning it out.

 

“I told you to hear me out, you prat,” Draco scowled. “Mother said there wouldn’t be anything in my Grandfather’s library, but there’s apparently a secret room in Grimmauld Place. She said it only opens to the Heir, so you, me, and Regulus should go and search for it.”

 

Harry paused at this new information and seemed to consider it for a moment, though there was plenty of irritation still on his face. Just out of spite, Draco reached over to shove Harry harshly. 

 

“What was that for?” Harry gasped.

 

“For punching me, arse!”

 

“You deserved that, I’ll have you know–!” Harry’s retort abruptly stopped as Draco grabbed ahold of his face, cradling Harry’s cheeks in his pale hands and face alight with seriousness. Draco tightened his grip.

 

“This is very important, Harry,” Draco said slowly. “We could actually fix this, but going to Grimmauld Place is a huge risk. Don’t let your temper get in the way of a good plan, do you understand?”

 

Harry blinked then nodded minutely. Draco smiled, then his hold on the other man slackened fractionally. “We’ll need to discuss everything that’s happened with Regulus, and work something out. Before we go to Grimmauld, we’ll need a list of everything we know so far.”

 

So, they returned to their spot in the library and quietly assembled a list of all the information compiled over the last. It would prepare them for what to look for, as well as help them generate more theories than Draco’s magic apoptosis one, which was complicated and unachievable thus far. He’d tried many experiments in his free time with a plethora of different spells, all actions very illegal which he wisely hadn’t mentioned to Narcissa. He’d just about run out of information from his copy of Provectus Venificiis: A Duce ad Inversa Magicae, and time was running out . The blonde didn’t want his cowardice and self-doubt to interfere much like Harry’s volatility could, and this itemization helped him feel better. Thus, this is what they know:

 

• Regulus had been back since the end of the War, give or take a day
• Kreacher helped to bring Regulus back, he cannot say how or why, but he sent Regulus to Harry–insistent that Harry could help Regulus get rid of the lingering apparitions
• Luna’s reading: lack of control/will of higher forces (Regulus, the spare); changes and partnership; fertility and nature
• Apparitions are noncorporeal, but unlike regular ghosts. They are not zombies or inferi, either, and they disrupt the flow of time in areas where they are seen. This is not the case for Regulus.
• Evanesco briefly disperses the apparition, who seems intent on moving towards the castle. Some apparitions have been more cognizant than others.
• Winky and Kreacher were observing and documenting for sightings of the apparitions
• On the tapestry, Regulus has a skeleton which is an anomaly. Need to check if it has changed to show he’s alive once more.

 

Happier now that he had this information documented, Draco made sure to cast the appropriate privacy and warding spells on the parchment, then gathered his things. He’d have to go into the belly of the beast and tell Regulus about Narcissa, then count on Harry and Kreacher to get them into Grimmauld Place undetected.

Notes:

not proofread yet! i will do so later tomorrow :)
i hope the refresher on the present information is helpful...next chapter the ball finally gets ROLLLLINGGG.
as a reminder: i have no updating schedule!

Chapter 18: “CURIOUS SHAPES SHIFT IN THE DARK”

Summary:

lyrics from "1940" by The Submarines

Regulus B. - POV ✈︎ Room of Requirement

 

Regulus could not believe the stupidity of his cousin and the Wizarding World’s supposed “Chosen One”. He was starting to be skeptical that this was the boy who snuck in dozens of Death Eaters, and the one who plotted against and murdered the Dark Lord. Because, really? Them? The blundering fools who couldn’t keep their mouths shut? Needless to say, Regulus was infuriated at Narcissa being told right after the revelation to Ginerva Weasley, and more than once considered the consequences of outright flaying both boys.

 

However, after his initial ire faded, he realized they now had a much more solid plan at figuring out what occurred for him to be renewed, and he was starting to piece together his own theories. Kreacher had brought him back, he knew, but that meant that he would have to have had an accomplice…there was no way Kreacher would have done that on his own volition and defy Regulus’s orders to leave him at the cave. The elf was fiercely loyal to Regulus, yes, but he couldn’t have acted in such a way on his lonesome–this much was obvious from Kreacher’s extreme self-punishment when faced with questions about the ordeal. 

 

Someone ordered him, which Regulus already figured, and it must have been someone in their family. Regulus had had a couple contenders in mind, though had no way to prove it: Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Narcissa, or Lucius. With Draco’s information from Narcissa, Regulus was now confident that Bellatrix had been the one to conspire with Kreacher. She was the most likely person Kreacher would have listened to, awfully proud of her from when she was a wee girl and would be especially passionate about that specific cause, and she would have knowledge of that secret room from her early teen years, when she was the most likely Heiress. That is, if the room truly did exist. He just had no clue why she would be motivated to do this, even as awful as Bellatrix was. She had been calculated when they were younger–wouldn’t she know how much of an egregious crime that was to Magic–to life –itself?

 

However, rather than sharing this with Draco and Harry, Regulus opted to keep it closer to him. As Kreacher suggested, he only needed the boys' help to get rid of the apparitions, and their pursuit of that would be irrelevant to who the casters of the spell were–probably. Besides, if they found that room at some point, they’d likely deduce Bella was involved one way or another, obviously .

 

They planned to visit Grimmauld Place on the seventeenth of December to check the tapestry and see what they can discover in the library that they may have overlooked before, and if time permitted, Regulus could try questioning Kreacher more about the ritual in the safety of Grimmauld. He honestly didn’t know much about house elf magic, perhaps there was a way to override Bellatrix’s (alleged) order and he could find a book on it.

 

They’d have to be very conscious of time, as Sirius and Remus were out meeting with a solicitor and Harry expressed that he wasn’t sure how long they’d be away. So, ideally, Regulus wanted them to quickly search and then bag anything they found, leaving as soon as they possibly could. This would only occur after they checked the family tapestry, which would be a whole other bridge to cross if it showed that Regulus was now living and breathing. He hoped he remembered enough from his childhood in order to alter it quickly with magic, if such a feat was possible without accidentally blasting himself away in the process.

 

They would have to go back a second time, at the very least so they could try searching for the room, but he hoped that would be it and he could be on his way with no inconveniences or distractions. And, more importantly, no discovery by his brother or that meddling werewolf. 

 

Gathered in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, Regulus looked expectantly at Harry and Draco. “You two cannot waste our time bickering, I will curse you both,” He promised firmly. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry’s lip curled in distaste, but neither argued.

 

Satisfied there would be no anarchy, Regulus called for Kreacher, and the four of them apparated into a hallway in Grimmauld Place on the ground floor. For a second, they were all still as they strained to hear. Regulus thought that he may have heard faint talking, hearing more keen than average due to his animagus form, so he carefully crept forward, signalling the rest of his motley crew to follow behind him. They inched towards the sitting room, and Regulus hesitantly poked his head around the corner before hastily drawing back. 

 

“Lupin is here, with a woman!” He hissed quietly, and Kreacher apparated them back into the Room. As soon as they landed, Regulus turned to round on the two boys, face pinched with his evident unhappiness. It was silent as he glowered at them, and he let it resonate for a moment more before speaking. 

 

“Harry, you said the mutt and my brother would be with Madame Vance.” Regulus seethed, trying to keep the ice in his voice at bay. He couldn’t believe how close of an encounter that was–the man was a werewolf!–but he didn’t actually want to belittle Harry. In his own animagus form, he could faintly smell people’s scents. There’s no way a bloody full-time werewolf wouldn’t be able to, and hot fear shot down Regulus’ spine at the thought of the beast recognizing him.

 

Harry levelled Regulus with a glare of his own, unimpressed and unashamed at Regulus’s admonishment. “ Don’t talk about them like that! And it's not my fault Kreacher didn’t think to check first, you prat!” Harry snapped, fists clenched. Draco looked between the both of them and scoffed, like the argument was too plebeian for him, and Regulus wanted to snarl out several statements that his mother would have hexed his tongue in half for.

  

Taking a calming breath, Regulus carefully neutralized his expression. “I apologize for my outburst. I’ll have Kreacher alert us when it is safe to go,” He amended. Harry still looked annoyed, but made no further comment much to Regulus’s pleasure. He never remembered any of his friends being this vexing during their Hogwarts years. Maybe except for Crouch, that is…

 

It was about an hour later when Kreacher popped back into the Room of Requirement, one of his grey, shrivelled feet landing right in the bowl of soup Draco was working on. French Onion splashed the table and Kreacher didn’t even blink twice at it as he croaked, “The half-breed and blood traitor have left, Master. Defiling and barring my poor Master Regulus from his own home…” The elf muttered to himself, snidely glaring at Harry. 

 

“Kreacher–” Harry scowled, but Regulus quickly stood to interrupt.

 

“Thank you, Kreacher. Bring us to Grimmauld Place now,” Regulus ordered, curling his hand around the elf’s leathery arm. Kreacher waited a few beats for Draco and Harry to follow suit, and they apparated into the home with a pop .

 

Regulus ignored Harry as The Boy Who Lived rudely wrenched his arm away from Kreacher, and instead turned his back to his group and peered around the hall. “Well,” Regulus said. “Let’s make this quick. We’ll start in the drawing room then the library. I don’t know if we’ll have time to look for the Heir’s Room.”

 

Not waiting for his entourage, Regulus marched on and hoped they’d just follow. He was frightened to be back, even if he scarcely wanted to admit it to himself. He grew up in  Grimmauld Place, where a turbulent childhood with people he loved and memories he adored and detested in equal parts took place. It was his first and only home, and he feared that with every taste of how good this present was, it’d only hurt all the more if–or when–the time came that he’d have to die again.

 

Regulus Black hated being afraid, so he quickened his pace towards the drawing room in hopes of something to take his mind away from his morbid thoughts. Bursting through the door and into the ornate room, glass cabinets rattling at the force behind Regulus’s footsteps. He hurried up towards the tapestry, eyes narrowing in on the all-too-familiar spot where he and his immediate family were.

 

He’d spent many days studying the tapestry, eyes leaping from gold thread to gold thread. There was so much history packed into one, ginormous vessel and he had found himself rather obsessed with it at fifteen after his brother had been blasted off it. It was beautiful, it was haunting. He’d traced the blackened mark and fully resonated with how utterly obliterated it looked. Now, rather than fixating on where Sirius would be, his eyes crawled to where he knew his own tiny portrait was.

 

Potter was right, rather than just his own animate face with a normal birth and death date staring back at him, there was a tiny skeleton abnormally still for a Wizard’s handiwork. Feeling compelled, Regulus raised his hand up to it.

 

There was a familiar tingling of magic beneath it, and Regulus frowned in concentration. Like a glamor, the skeletal figure seemed to ripple under his touch, and suddenly he was jerking back in shock. The magic he felt was that of the house . It was the very same tingling feeling as when he’d pass through the wards or when, in his early youth, he’d close his eyes and focus on feeling all around him. The house was covering it up and Regulus shot Kreacher an incredulous, betrayed look at realizing the Elf had kept this from him.. 

 

“Master Regulus…” Kreacher’s scratchy voice was trembling with great emotion. “Kreacher can’t touch the tapestry. Mistress Bellatrix made sure of it,” He explained with great emphasis. Regulus felt his eyes widen at the near-explicit confirmation of his theory. That was the closest Kreacher had gotten to talking about his resurrection.

 

Glancing sideways at Draco and Harry, who were listening with rapt attention and dawning realization, Regulus decided he’d try to push more. “And…did Bella give you orders about more than just the tapestry, Kreacher?”

 

“Mistress Bellatrix had given Kreacher many orders,” The elf confirmed. Regulus recognized the fear and pride in the old servant’s voice, and his heart clenched at what his poor elf had had to experience. Being a Black Family elf was never a pleasant experience, as the graveyard homage on the stairs indicated. However, Kreacher seemed to have been through the mill the last couple of decades especially.

 

“Thank you Kreacher,” Regulus whispered. He was suddenly quite confident they would not find anything in the general library at Grimmauld Place, and was putting much more stock into the idea of there being a hidden room for Heirs, something he wanted to write off as an old tale about the ancestral home for a while.

Chapter 19: THE HERMIT

Notes:

shortie chapter until 20….which is where shit hits the fan, remus and sirius crashout & like double the words of regular chapters

↑ : search for truth, inner guidance
↓ : loneliness, isolation

Remus L. - POV 

✈︎ 12 Grimmauld Place, 17/12/99

 

Tonks tumbled through the fireplace in a flash of green, iridescent and ashy specks looking striking against her ruby Auror robes. Remus quickly reached for her arm, one hand on her wrist and the other on her shoulder, to prevent her from toppling to the floor as she was prone to do just standing, much less using the Floo. 

 

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. He looked over her quickly and briefly assessed that she didn’t appear injured or sick, despite her gloomy appearance and ashen tint her skin was taking on. Something was different though, he just couldn’t put his nose on it. Tonks gripped his arm as he offered it, steadying herself and looking a little green. Tonks breathed heavily for a moment before straightening out. 

 

“Wotcher, Lupin! ‘M doing okay.” She replied. Her smile was dim and distracted but Remus didn’t comment on it. During the Second War, they’d become close friends from their time in the Order together. However, he’d never quite seen her look so glum; her hair was a bland, mousy brown, bordering grey, and she held herself like she was trying to hide. That was a stance all too familiar with Remus.

 

“Rough day at work?” Remus inquired as he took a step back. He cringed to himself. Although Tonks was the one who set up the time of meeting, he felt a bit guilty for impeding on her already limited free time, no doubt having a monstrous amount of obligation in a Post-War Ministry. She shook her head in the negative at Remus’s question, and paused.

 

“No I’m not–I thought you said Sirius isn’t home?” Tonks asked, furrowing her brow and craning her head around Remus to peer at the hallway behind him. Remus turned to look down that same hallway and shook his head in clear confusion, “He’s not.” Despite not seeing anything, there was a vaguely familiar scent permeating in the house, although not very distinct. It was like trying to smell through thick rubber, weirdly enough.

 

“Oh, alright,” Tonks relented with a nod, eyes taking on a suspicious glint. Remus didn’t think that she was under the impression he was lying, even his hackles were starting to rise, so he tried to shake it off and put it out of his mind with full faith in the wards. “Is Corinne coming, still? What did you want to talk about?” He asked instead.

 

Tonks grimaced at the reminder and pulled her arms tighter around herself. “Yeah, let me help them with the floo.”

 

When she re-emerged with her partner in hand, she pulled away hastily then crumpled at the waist, sicking up all over the floor. “ Scourgify,” Remus whispered with a wince. Corinne reached for Tonks and sent him an appreciative nod. From the other room, Walburga’s portrait started wailing:

 

“ A MUGGLE, A CHILD OF FILTH IN MY SON’S HOME! GET OUT, GET OUT! FILTHY, DIRTY HALF-BREEDS AND BLOOD TRAITORS AND A MUGGLE! MUDBLOODS IN THE MOST AN–”

“SHUT UP, WOMAN!” Remus roared, magically slamming the door so hard that the frame splintered. He quickly repaired it and turned back to the couple with a strained smile, “Sorry about that. Daft old thing, that is…” he muttered, embarrassed. The full moon in a few days was putting him into a proper mood.

“Remus,” Corinne started slowly, glancing nervously towards Tonks. The Metamorphmagus straightened out and clamped a hand down on her partner’s shoulder before saying, “ I’m pregnant!” while her face screwed up with a sob.

 

Remus knew he looked stupid, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to snap his jaw shut. Tonks sagged into Corinne’s side, and they just stared helplessly up at Remus, dark eyes wide and nervous with a hard edge. His first coherent thought after the announcement was, what about me makes people want to announce that they're expecting?, then the horror commenced. Oh my god, Nymphadora Tonks is going to have a baby. “Blimey,” is all he could choke out. Tonks laughed thickly and swiped at her eyes.

 

“ That’s all you have to say?” She asked, laughing again. Corinne’s face did something weird and Remus turned towards them, rushing forward. “Merlin, congratulations!” 

 

“Um, thank you,” they answered, accepting his outstretched hand hesitantly. They had a firm grip but released quickly. Remus then hugged Tonks tightly. “I can’t believe this!” He exclaimed, “I remember Sirius had invited James and…and I to your first birthday party. It was our fourth year, you were so small. Look at you now!” He said, and felt incredibly old as the words flew out. Thirty-nine wasn’t a particularly fond age, but Tonks sniffled in clear distress. 

 

“I’m excited but I didn’t…this wasn’t…” She began, and Corinne grimaced. “This was definitely a surprise,” they finished for Tonks. Remus could hear their pulse, it was a loud and rapid thundering noise, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the couple. They’d been together less than half a year, and now they had a kid on the way. 

 

“Andromeda is going to kill you,” he said as the realization dawned on him, smiling against his will at the real horror on Tonks’ face. His eyes flickered towards Corinne. “And then you .” 

 

Their heart rate quickened, and Remus felt bad, but it was a little funny. They stood there for a second before Tonks cleared her throat. “It’s still early but, um, we talked and we decided that we’d like it if you were our baby’s godfather.”

 

Remus stilled instantly. “ Oh,” he whispered softly, voice catching at the sheer force of emotion he was experiencing. He could already feel it in his dumb, wolfy heart, a place nudging itself in there and cementing its place in his pack. Moony purred in the back of his mind contentedly. Tonks and Corinne stared at him expectantly. And then, Remus cleared his throat, feeling a little flustered by it all. “I just—are you sure? Do they know…what I am?” His misty, gold eyes shifted towards Corinne then to Tonks. 

 

Tonks blinked. “Yeah.” 

 

He looked back towards Corinne, whose expression hardly changed. “I do,” they confirmed with a nod. “Don’t worry though, I love the Teen Wolf movie.” Their flat expression made it hard to tell whether or not they were kidding, but Remus laughed regardless. 

 

“I mean, I don’t play basketball, but of course I will be your child’s godfather.” The flare of magic within him was a bit jarring, but as he locked eyes with Tonks again, he knew he would never regret the decision. 

 

“Wait!” Remus said suddenly, eyes flying open. “A few months ago, Harry had told me Luna Lovegood gave him a Tarot reading. She pulled a card about fertility or something, and she asked Harry to give us all congratulations!” 

 

Tonks’s face split into a grin. “Wicked. Cory, we got a prophetic baby, hell yeah!”

 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

 

Remus, Tonks, and Corinne informed Sirius of the news over lunch when he returned and he was instantly thrilled at the news of a baby in the family, but instantly turned on Corinne in suspicion, who looked mere seconds away from passing out with their evident nerves. Then, Tonks and Corinne quickly left to return to their abode, and Sirius left with Remus to floo to their solicitors home to discuss the casework (only after Tonks offered to come along and was declined).

 

“Well, Black,” Emmeline Vance said, hands resting on her hips as she looked down upon the spread of files on her desk. “I can bet you will be a free man before the New Year!” She exclaimed. Sirius twitched nervously in his seat, not daring to look at any of the information on display, as though him perceiving it will set in stone the future. Cat’s either dead or alive, Remus thought to himself, but refrained from speaking on that particular comment. He placed a placating hand on Sirius’s thigh and hoped for the best. Sirius put his own hand over Remus’s.

 

“After the second War, everyone in the ministry already knows you’re innocent after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. And, they’re aware of your contributed efforts to the battle as well as your relation to the Chosen One. So, negative case bias won’t be an issue. Since there is an already fractured political climate, I bet that half of our law department will be scrambling to kiss your ass just to save face,” Emmeline added, glancing towards the duo. 

 

This was pleasing to Remus who had definite plans in the making to propose in the New Year, but Sirius seemed a little put-out at Emmeline’s sentiment. “What’s wrong?” Remus murmured, bringing their intertwined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to Sirius’s knuckles. 

 

“Having been an Auror, it’s just, distasteful. I would have never handled an arrest how my colleagues handled mine.” He scowled, and Remus recognized the leash Sirius was trying to put on his bitterness and anger.

 

Emmeline pursed her lips. “And you’re sure about not pressing charges?”

 

A wry smile broke out on Sirius’s face at the question. “Most of the Aurors involved are dead now, and the old Ministry officials from my time are gone. I already have enough gold to last several lifetimes. It’d just…be a waste, but that does mean I’ll have some leverage for later!”

Remus suppressed a smile at Sirius’s expression morphing into something part-malicious and part-giddy, and he outright laughed when he saw Emmeline suddenly become very interested in sorting through the files in front of her and humming. When she looked up and caught his eye, she mouthed ‘plausible deniability’, and went back to her sorting. Sirius quickly slid some files over to himself in order to start reviewing everything once again, and Remus let his thoughts drift. 

 

He remembered being in a kitchen with Dora back in August in her muggle flat, whispering and grinning to each other about their partners. He thought of when he confessed that he would propose to Sirius after New Years, how Dora had dropped a plate in her surprise and they hugged, joyful and celebratory.  

 

There were so many things to commemorate, these days. Remus had so many people in his life and so much love he didn’t even know how it could all possibly fit in his heart to begin with, but it all did. Everything felt as close to perfect as it’d felt in many, many years. Tentatively, Remus had come to accept that he deserved something beautiful in a life all too short.

 

Notes:

edited as of 7/11 :p ahhaha did you guys get it..."couldnt put his nose on it"...bc canines can sense hormonal changes...ahha okay

Chapter 20: "A FISH INSIDE A BIRD CAGE"

Notes:

yikes!

Harry P. - POV 

✈︎ 12 Grimmauld Place

 

“I didn’t—I hadn’t known this was still here,“ Regulus stammered, in one of his rare displays of true vulnerability to Harry, an ugly emotion flickering in his eyes. Harry wondered if that was jealousy? “Sirius must have been shown this, because he’s the heir. I never…”

 

Draco’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Harry feared he was going to crack a tooth. “You knew there was a chance this was here before my Mother said anything?” Draco grit out, arms crossed angrily over his chest. Harry had the craziest urge to kiss him, something raw about the blonde’s rage that Harry found attractive each and every time. He was finding this urge to be apparent more and more frequently in spite of his initial annoyance with Malfoy.

 

Regulus inhaled, an action that seemed to rattle his lithe frame. “I didn’t really believe it. Sirius was disinherited right as I was taking the Mark. My parents, they never had the time to show me all of this.”

 

“Do you think this will even have any answers?” Harry interrupted. He was also annoyed at the amount of time they wasted on just hunches when something actually useful was right under their noses. However, unlike Draco, he didn’t blame Regulus for it—when they visited Grimmauld Place the week prior, it had been brief. They’d almost made a very grave error, having Kreacher accidentally apparate them into Grimmauld Place while Remus was still there and then hurrying to be apparated away until he was for sure gone. 

 

It was the twenty-second of December, and Harry was very sure that Remus and Sirius would be out of the house for quite a bit. They were (surprisingly, given the state of Remus’s health) having dinner with Corinne and Tonks, as well as Andromeda, which Harry knew from experience that would take up a lot of the afternoon.

 

They had set off to start combing the halls of Grimmauld Place and made sure not to split off in order to increase the likelihood of finding the room. Narcissa hadn’t had any more information to give Draco about how to access the room given that she’d never seen it before, and she was rather cross; she still hadn’t seen proof of life. So, Harry hoped it would just…sense their aura and appear.

 

After a quarter to an hour, they had only searched the entirety of the ground floor with no luck, and had four floors left to look at. Draco was getting increasingly frustrated, the little dramatic prince in him utterly disgruntled at not being instantly gratified by their search. Regulus was silent, his face carefully blank as he walked through the halls of his haunted childhood home. Harry just hated being there, never feeling quite clean or comforted in this home, and once more he sympathized with Sirius over this.

 

The worst of the first floor was when they finally passed Walburga’s portrait near the front door. Harry adamantly made sure everyone remained silent, and all was going well until Draco tripped over a stranded shoe and rather ungracefully collided with Regulus’s side. They yelped, merely a foot away from being in the clear, and Harry groaned in dismay.

 

However, when her curtains flew open, there wasn’t the usual screaming. It was worse.

 

Walburga’s portrait made an absolutely delighted sound, crooning and coaxing Regulus towards her merrily, which was fucking creepy coming from such an awful woman. The man in question stared at the monstrosity with such a conflicted expression that Harry didn’t even know how to begin to take stock of the situation; Regulus was transfixed, horrified, despaired, admiring. His feet seemed to lurch on their own accord, causing him to stagger forward towards her. 

 

Draco and Harry shared a look, the blonde gesturing towards the portrait in a clear cue: he wanted Harry to close it.

 

“ Sectumsempra,” Harry whispered, cringing at the immediate reactions. He saw Regulus’s face falling as his mother’s portrait ripped itself into shreds and the curtains swung protectively shut, no doubt not realizing the portrait would repair itself in a few hours since he hadn’t seen it their first time over. Draco, however, let out a shuttering gasp and backed himself up into a wall. Harry saw that Draco was chalk white with fear, breath shallow.

 

Harry hadn’t considered how stupid of him it was to use that specific spell, and mentally he was kicking himself, guilt was already gnawing at him for it. Shakily, he told Draco and Regulus that they should regroup in his bedroom and have Kreacher bring them drinks.

 

Needless to say, they were not off to a great start, and Harry feared for the rest of their search. He didn’t know when they’d get another chance to search this thoroughly, and the window of time that was passing with no progress was concerning.

 

It wasn’t until they’d reached the third floor an hour and a half later that they found themselves lucky. They’d gone through a corridor behind the stairs going back down to the second floor when they saw it. On the wall, partially obscured from the shadow cast by the stairs, there was a black crow etched into the walls–something one could easily overlook if they weren’t looking for anything at all. Harry shared a look with his conspirators, and they rushed forward to press their palms along the wall.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“Well,” Regulus muttered. “Maybe there’s blood wards.”

 

Draco nodded along in thoughtful agreement, while Harry stared at Regulus in shock. “Blood wards?” Harry repeated sharply. Regulus was already moving to point his wand at his palm, ignoring or simply not cognizant of Harry’s displeasure. 

 

“That can’t possibly…work…” Harry trailed off.

 

Regulus pressed his bloody palm against the crow, and the hall filled with a groaning noise as the walls seemed to split and splinter right before their eyes. Regulus hastily backed up right as the wall had fully opened, revealing a dark oaken door within its depths. Regulus looked back at Harry and Draco with a rather nasty, smug expression that had Harry rolling his eyes.

 

“You were saying, Potter?” Regulus asked.

 

Harry swallowed down the urge to push him down the stairs and shoved past the man, throwing open the door. It was beautiful inside the room: there was aisle upon aisle of books on elegant shelves, a dark mahogany desk in the corner adorned with silver details, plush sapphire sofas in the middle. This was what Harry noticed very first, and was continuously more awed as he took into stock more and more of the room. He thought Hermione might explode if she saw all this.

 

That’s how they found themselves debating what to look at first in search for answers, Regulus still sour looking with envy and Draco’s annoyance fading to greedy wonder. Brats, Harry thought.

 

“Er, maybe I can try this,” Harry suggested after a moment. “ Accio Necromancy book!” He called out, wand pointed in the general direction of the bookshelves. There was a beat of silence where Harry thought nothing would happen, but suddenly there was a great groaning noise, then rushing, and dozens of texts seemed to fly directly at Harry’s head with otherworldly speed. Thanking his quidditch reflexes, Harry dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way just before the books fell to the floor with a collective thud. 

 

When the dust kicked up from the collision settled, Harry heard Draco burst into laughter, opening an eye to see the blonde pointing at him on the floor and clutching his stomach like it hurt. “Oh Merlin!” Draco snorted. “Brilliant idea, Harry.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and reached for his wand, sending a stinging jinx at Draco in a burst of white light. Draco’s laughter cut off and he made a yelping sound, truly clutching his side in real pain that time.

 

“Enough!” Regulus snapped. He bent down to pick up one of the spellbooks, glaring at Harry and Draco over it. Evidently, that was their cue to get to work.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — — —

It was only a half hour since they entered the room when they heard someone stumble out of the Floo network, and call up the stairs for Harry.

 

“Shit,” Harry cursed, sending a panicked look to Draco and Regulus, who both looked equally as nervous. “Kreacher can’t apparate you out now, Remus always has him put on a cup of tea when he gets home. You’ll have to hide, my room is a floor below let’s go!” He urged, rushing out of the hidden room.

“One second Remus!” Harry called out loudly in response, slamming the door closed behind him then breaking for the second floor with his compatriots close behind. They quickly ran into Harry’s room, easing the door shut so as to not alert the wolf’s keen hearing.

 

Harry had only just managed to shove both Draco and Regulus into his spacious closet before Remus was tentatively pushing his bedroom door open, beaming at Harry. “Sorry for not knocking, pup. I’d been calling you. Dora’s here, can we come in and talk to you?” Remus asked, head poking into the room.

 

Harry scurried away from the closet like it was on fire, and appeared in front of Remus with his bravest attempt at nonchalance. “Er, yeah, yeah. What’s up?” He asked the werewolf, and smiled at Tonks who was standing behind him. Tonks grinned back, a little forced, and lightly elbowed Remus out of the way.

 

“Wotcher, Harry!” She greeted. Harry took note of the hesitance in her voice, but Tonks seemed to steel herself before continuing. Harry prayed that whatever it was, she’d tell him quickly so he could get the both of them out of his room and far from his stowaways. 

 

“I’m pregnant! And Remus is the Godfather!” Tonks declared, turning a bright red.

 

Well , Harry thought, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all . He couldn’t help his mouth from hanging open in shock and a few beats passed before he found his wits about himself and broke out into a huge, genuine smile. “Hey, that’s amazing!” Harry cried out happily. “Congratulations!”

 

Before Tonks could say any more, Remus inched forward into Harry’s room, eyes narrowed at Harry’s nightstand. “Whose here?” He asked Harry, gaze settling on him.

 

Harry’s blood ran cold as he realized his mistake. On the nightstand, there were two cups of tea and a cup of coffee, the lot of them being completely emptied. It certainly didn’t help since, notoriously, Harry did not like coffee, and he was finding himself out of a proper excuse.

Perhaps his horror was evident on his face, because both Remus and Tonks’ expressions morphed into concern and the pit in his stomach grew.

 

“Alright there, Harry? You’ve gotten awfully red,” Tonks said unhelpfully, trying to crane her neck to see what all the fuss was about.

 

Remus sniffed, and his head whipped around to look at Harry’s closet with clear suspicion, eyes gleaming gold. “No…there is someone here. It’s so familiar but I don’t…”

 

Harry forced out a nervous laugh. “Er, nobody’s here. Are you okay, Remus?”

 

Likely sensing the wave of tension between the two men, Tonks cleared her throat and announced she’d be leaving, and Remus finally looked back at her. “Wait a minute, and I’ll walk you out,” He offered kindly, and she nodded thankfully, albeit awkwardly at seeing the standoff. But, to Harry’s displeasure, Remus turned his suspicious stare back onto him.

 

“Who is in there? Are there two?” He asked Harry once more, gesturing at the closet.. “You know you’re not supposed to be inviting people over because of Snuffles.” His worry was clear. “You’re gonna have to move.”

 

“No, nobody’s here!” Harry said, trying to be more forceful. This was probably the worst set of circumstances, hiding two Ex-Death Eaters unsuccessfully in a closet from a bloody werewolf the day of the full moon.

 

“Move, Harry” Remus repeated, still remarkably patient. Harry adamantly shook his head, hoping with present company that Remus would give it up and ask about it later. Nosy as ever, Tonks was still peering at the two of them and it was making Harry sweat even more.

 

Remus inched forward, shooting a stern look at Harry, when there was a wooshing sound downstairs and Sirius’ jubilant voice called out and asked where everyone was. “Sirius is here, you really should go,” Harry urged, trying to run Remus out of the room.

 

“Harry,” Remus said slowly, warning. “Who is in your closet? We need to make sure we’re being safe–!” Remus’s admonishment stopped as Harry shoved him back out of the room, increasingly anxious at the circumstances and desperate. Tonks yelped, and Remus’ mouth snapped shut, eyes flashing. Harry’s stomach dropped.

 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Remus said stiffly, then turned to Tonks and apologetically inclined his head at her. They quickly descended the stairs in hushed conversation as he led her out. When the coast was clear, Harry slammed his door and poked his head into his closet, frantic. “You guys need to get out through the window, quickly! Wait on the roof for me, if you apparating it’ll set the wards off,” He whispered. 

 

Draco and Regulus shared a panicked look, then quickly hurried to the window, throwing it open magically to cut down on time then practically tossing themselves through it. After a few seconds of quiet with his heart pounding, Harry finally exhaled in relief and could not believe the mess he just got himself into.

 

The silence was short lived, as he heard his name being bellowed from downstairs. He made the walk of shame with the air of someone on their way to the gallows. Upon descending, Harry was instantly taken aback at Remus’s reaction

 

“You—you are grounded!” Remus exclaimed, Sirius stationed behind him with his mouth gaping like a fish and eyes bulging. But quickly, he fell into his role and sobered up by crossing his arms over his chest like a General. Remus seemed just as surprised as Harry and Sirius at his own reaction, but was still an intimidating display compared to Sirius. Honestly, Harry assumed Sirius was probably more surprised that he had managed to provoke such a reaction from mild-mannered Remus Lupin. 

 

Harry blinked at the statement and fought the urge to shrink in on himself. “I’m nineteen, you can’t ground me.” He protested weakly as his face reddened in dawning shame. He had acted in a panic and wasn’t quite himself, but…

 

“Then you should know better!”

 

“I’m a grown man…in the Wizarding World….and the muggle one.”

 

Remus laughed (sounding very much insane) and Sirius began to look more and more puzzled. Harry had seen Remus very upset, bordering on rage, and it wasn’t quite at that point yet, but it was certainly getting there, and it was jarring—maybe it was because the full moon was that night? He could see Moony lurking beneath the surface–a sort of permeating glint in his eyes. Remus took a deep breath. “While I was your age, I had quite a few experiences with outbursts. I understand. But, you just tried to force me out of your room by shoving me down the stairs with Dora behind me!”

 

Something flashed behind Sirius’ eyes at this news, but he made no other move except to nod along obediently. He looked a lot less amused now, knowing that Harry had acted so carelessly, and now Harry just felt even more miserable. But, Remus looked at him intently, placing his hands gently on his shoulders. 

 

“I’m sorry if either of us had made you feel like you can’t be open and honest, regardless of how we will feel about things. But who are you stashing in your room that you need to lay your hands on me to hide? I try my hardest to be understanding and you know that things are hard right now, for everyone, and you can’t just send your fists flying to solve issues.” 

 

Harry swallowed thickly and his eyes flickered from Remus’ hazel to Sirius’s gray. Despite belonging to the house of bravery, he suddenly felt very, very scared. And despite having defeated Voldemort in duel, he felt very small. The longer Harry was silent and staring at Sirius, the more grave Sirius’s expression became.

 

“We should sit,” he finally choked out, his guilt winning over. Remus patted him on the shoulder and looked at Sirius with a curt nod.  “If you’re mad at me now, you’re going to be very upset,” he warned, feeling his heart turning to lead and the beginnings of a migraine.

 

Now seated, Harry cleared his throat. He only looked at Sirius, who seemed like he was trying to swallow a brick. “Stop looking at me all crazy like that, kid. I’m getting worried,” He joked weakly. 

 

Harry winced. “Er, so. At, like, the beginning of, uh, October, Malfoy and I were in the Astronomy tower.”

 

The older men nodded, following the story so far.

 

“And we had been drinking and then, er, we saw a man. By the forest. And we went to investigate him.”

 

“You what —?” Sirius kicked Remus’s leg, effectively shutting him up. Harry wondered why Sirius was being so okay with Remus taking the reins right now, but dismissed the thought and continued with his story.  

 

“So er, when we got to him it was,” Harry paused to look between the two faces before looking down to the floor, “Regulus,” he whispered.

 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Sirius asked, despite hearing Harry clear as a bell. Harry’s stomach clenched, sending a wave of nausea up his throat at the strange, flat, monotony in Sirius’ usually playful cadence. 

 

“It’s Regulus!” Harry cried, shooting to his feet unthinkingly and beginning to inch away, shame and guilt urging him to put space in between him and the older men–to get away, hide. Sirius stared at the space where he had been seated, stiff as a board. 

 

“Regulus Black is dead, Harry! You’re telling me you’ve been speaking to dead Regulus Black for nearly three months?” Remus asked, finding himself also standing and trailing after Harry. Harry knew that Remus thought he was lying and it made his nausea infinitely worse.

 

“I promise, he made me swear—!”

 

“Harry!” Remus exclaimed, his uncertainty glaringly obvious.

 

“Harry,” Sirius murmured, quieting the other two at how uncharacteristic he sounded. Harry and Remus stopped in their tracks. “That’s not funny,” Sirius said softly.

 

Sirius' voice was alien. It was a sad, broken whimper and Harry felt his heart shatter into a million pieces because he knew he had lied to and betrayed the closest thing he had to a father in a despicable way. “Sirius, I’m not lying. He asked me to. He…he didn’t want you to know. He asked Draco and I to help him figure out what magic made him come back, it–something is happening, ” He tried to will away the desperation in his voice. “We’re trying to fix it.”

 

Remus shook his head and rubbed his temple like he was experiencing a cluster headache. “Fuck.”

 

Sirius was shaking visibly, but he staggered off the couch and towards the stairs. Remus stood nervously behind him. Harry just watched as he pulled himself up each step sloppily. He had no idea what the right thing was to do, he’d betrayed Sirius, but if he had told him earlier, he would have betrayed Regulus. And Draco. So, he continued to watch as Sirius disappeared around a corner to get to Harry’s bedroom.

 

Lupin turned around to stare at him. “I’m sorry for yelling, it’s hard for me to get a hold of my temper with the moon tonight and Dora being over, earlier. I am really disappointed and concerned, though.” 

 

Harry nodded miserably, feeling as though he deserved exactly that and a hundred times worse. Since October, he’d been deceiving nearly everyone in such a gigantic way, and he didn’t even know how to make it up or show that the secret-keeping had even been worth it. Now, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, and Draco were all going to be furious with him, and he just wanted to sequester himself to an unknown island far away from everyone he’s ever known. He felt as though he kept messing everything up.

 

“That’s what Luna meant, by the spare? An heir and a spare. She knew Regulus was coming, or here. Right?” Remus asked, successfully cutting through Harry’s spiraling thoughts. The werewolf was sitting back down, and looked marginally less wild than he had before. Worry seemed to tamper the previous rage on his scarred face.

 

“Oh. Right. I forgot about that. Um,” He paused, looking away from Remus in deep contrition. “Will Sirius ask me to leave?”

 

Remus’s gaze instantly softened, and he got up to wrap Harry up in a hug like he was still a small child. “No, of course not,” he murmured. Harry nodded against his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to pull away and hole up somewhere. “Draco is also here.” Harry confessed belatedly.

 

Remus pulled back and gave him an appraising look. “Those must be the scents I was picking up earlier. Why?”

 

Harry averted his eyes. “We needed to look for certain texts,” He admitted, just barely resisting his usual lie of ‘studying’. Remus sighed very deeply, betraying every bit of exhaustion weighing him down.

 

Having a free moment, Harry looked over the man. He knew that Narcissa had been brewing him the Wolfsbane potion, but he still looked rather worse for wear. Dark circles ran deep under his eyes and he swayed on his feet like it was a struggle to stay upright and his clothes hung off of him in a concerning way. He looked genuinely unwell. “Remus-”

 

“How is this possible Harry? What did you mean, that something is happening?” Remus’s voice, for perhaps the first time this evening, was pleading. It was as though he was asking for it to be untrue, like reality could be coaxed and persuaded into something different.

 

“Necromancy, we still don’t know what,” Harry answered slowly, the churning in his stomach worsening. Remus blinked at him in a haunted, owlish way, but let him continue. “There are these..these shades. But they’re–”

Harry’s explanation was cut off by the abrupt commencement of muffled shouting and crashing sounds, and he looked in horror at the stairs. Okay , he thought to himself. Bad idea to leave an emotional Sirius with an unprepared Draco and Regulus.

 

Harry, followed by Remus, rushed up the stairs to Harry’s room, where the Boy Who Lived prayed that Sirius didn’t actually get ahold of anyone and was instead taking it out on the furniture.

 

His wishes did not come to fruition, he realized as he stumbled through his bedroom door. Sirius had seized Regulus by his collar, who in turn was pawing at Sirius’s face in a rage, and Draco was staring in fixed horror from the safety of being outside the window. Remus’ head whipped between the brothers and Draco, unsure what to say or attend to first, body twitching in clear anxiety. Harry felt even worse. He knew Remus, and he knew the man was going to be incredibly dense and take it upon himself to play peacemaker like it wasn’t Harry’s fault and Harry’s burden to shoulder.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Sirius was snarling, all of the stone-faced despair vanished and a visceral rage replacing it. Sirius’s wand wasn’t in his hands, but Harry was sure he could inflict his wrath with just fists. Regulus and Sirius were of the very same blood, and Harry was sure that, somewhere in Sirius, the man saw fit that he could draw that blood when and how he wished from his brother.

 

Regulus was staring at Sirius with such malice and had his pale, lithe fingers in a seemingly iron-clad grip on the sharp edges of his elder brother’s face, nails digging into the flesh and dragging down, leaving harsh red lines in their wake. The wand Regulus had procured–Harry had never thought to ask exactly how, he really should inquire after it–was entirely across the room. It was evidently no match for Sirius’s wild magic.

A pit in his stomach, Draco still staring in terror behind the glass, Remus fucking growling, and the two Black brother’s trying to incapacitate the other, Harry was so glad that things would likely be so much more normal and less life-threatening at Hogwarts for probably the first time in his life.