Chapter Text
He had done it. Voldemort was finally dead.
The battle was over.
People were rushing toward him, their faces a mix of awe, relief, and devastation.
"Harry, you really did it!" someone cried - maybe Ron, maybe Kingsley - but the words barely registered.
The air hung heavy despite their victory. Voldemort was gone, but at what cost? So many lives lost… Fred. Remus. Tonks. Teddy would never know his parents. He would be an orphan like himself.
And Severus.
Harry remembered, looking down at the still form in his arms.
Severus Snape lay quietly, unnaturally still, his expression eerily peaceful for the first time Harry could remember. There was no more pain etched into his features, no bitterness.
Harry’s throat tightened. He couldn't breathe past the ache.
He had admired this man - deeply, fiercely - the one everyone had misunderstood, the one who had given everything without ever asking for anything in return.
He had held Severus Snape in a kind of reverence, though he had never dared speak of it aloud.
It hadn't mattered. Severus had always loved his mother. Everyone knew it. Harry had never stood a chance of meaning that much. And now, he never would.
He tried to smile through the sting in his eyes, through the tightness in his chest. Hermione’s arms wrapped around him, her bushy hair tangling against his face as he buried his head in her shoulder.
"I just need to sleep," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "For a year…"
But the moment of stillness shattered.
There was a sudden commotion at the doors of the Great Hall. Shouting. A figure burst through, robes whipping around them.
Harry barely registered the man - tall, wild-eyed. A Death Eater?
People scrambled, but before anyone could raise a wand, the intruder already had his drawn.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green light hit Harry square in the chest.
He didn’t even have time to wonder how.
_______________
“Oh, damn it. How did that happen?”
Death paced furiously across the misty expanse of the in-between, his black robes billowing behind him in what should have been a dramatic flourish. Unfortunately, a rogue breeze decided otherwise, whipping the fabric around like laundry on a windy day.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
How in the hell was he going to explain this to Harry?
“What a mess,” he muttered, dragging skeletal fingers down the front of his hooded face in a motion that might have resembled exasperation - if he had a face at all.
A voice echoed out of the swirling void behind him.
“Death. He’s here.”
Death groaned - loudly and without shame.
A figure emerged from the fog. Young. Messy-haired. Green-eyed. And, most inconveniently, very much alive for someone who was technically… not.
“Ah. Hello, Harry,” Death said, giving a sheepish little wave with his scythe, which shimmered faintly with silver moonlight. It was meant to be comforting. It was not.
“Um… hello?” Harry blinked, stunned, hands shoved deep into his pockets like he wasn’t quite sure whether he was supposed to fight, flee, or apologize for something.
Death cleared his throat - or at least produced a rough, ghostly approximation of someone who would clear their throat, if they had one.
“Right. So. First, let me just say - I’m truly sorry about what just happened. That was not supposed to happen.” He threw a pointed glare over his shoulder at his siblings, who were loitering in the mist with the guilty expressions of entities pretending to be busy.
“I’m… dead, aren’t I?” Harry asked, voice low.
“Ah. Yes. Technically. But - ” Death threw up his bony hands in frustration. “This was not part of the plan!”
He had plans for Harry. Grand, beautiful, cosmic-balance-restoring plans. And for Severus, too. Carefully woven destinies with just the right amount of poetic redemption. And now?
Severus was dead. Harry was dead. The timeline was a wreck. The universe was an unholy mess.
Death groaned again, this time more theatrically. One might have called it a death-wail, but honestly, it was just melodramatic whining.
He turned back to Harry. The boy looked haggard - too thin, bloodied, with a haunted gleam in eyes far too old for his age.
They had failed this boy.
“Okay. I have an idea!” Death suddenly brightened, straightening. “You, Harry, will get another chance!”
He grinned - or gave the impression of grinning. It was difficult without a face.
“Another chance?” Harry repeated, incredulous. “You mean go back? To that life? With all the war, the trauma, the dead? Why would I want that?”
Death blinked - an odd gesture for a being without eyelids. Behind him, one of his siblings muttered, half-bored:
“Send him to another universe.”
Death blinked again, slower this time. That… wasn’t a terrible idea.
“Another universe,” he echoed, wheels turning. “Yes. Yes! Peaceful. Cozy, even. Think tea and cats and early retirement.”
Harry squinted at him. “Wait - you want me to do it all over again? What about Voldemort? What about school? The trauma? The drama? No thanks. I’ll stay dead.”
Death’s shadow twitched with irritation.
“There are plenty of universes where Voldemort is already dead,” another sibling added helpfully. “Or never existed at all.”
“Annoying lot,” Death grumbled. “Would you please shut up for five minutes?”
He turned back to Harry and attempted a reassuring expression. Unfortunately, it came off as more “existential horror” than “friendly neighborhood reaper.”
“Harry,” he intoned grandly. “You will have another chance - in another universe. No Voldemort. No war. And - ” he paused dramatically, lowering his scythe to point at Harry, “you will have the opportunity to woo your Severus.”
A magical ta-da! echoed from somewhere in the mist - courtesy of a bored sibling with a wand and no supervision.
Harry blinked. Then stared.
“You’ve lost your marbles.”
Laughter erupted in the background.
“YES!” Death boomed, ignoring them. “So - what do you say? A new world. A peaceful life. And Severus Snape, tragically not yours yet, but most definitely wooable.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Death said quickly. Far too quickly. His attempt at a smile twisted into a rictus.
Harry paced, thoughtful. Then he sighed.
“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” Death clapped his hands together, delight practically vibrating from his bones. “Bon voyage!”
He snapped his fingers, and Harry vanished in a swirl of mist and soft, radiant light.
A long beat of silence followed.
Then, from the void, a sibling said far too casually:
“You’ve sent him to the wrong universe.”
There was snickering. A few outright cackles.
Death froze. Looked down. Blinked.
“Oh, for the love of - ”
Another groan, deeper this time. This was not his day.
Still, all was not lost. At least Severus existed in that universe. Wooing could still happen. Although… there was still a Voldemort. And a - wait, what was that?
A voice echoed again, low and grim:
“Death. He’s here.”
Another figure stepped through the fog - taller, broader-shouldered, with the same wild hair and unmistakable green eyes. But colder. Sharper.
Hades.
Death closed what counted as his eyes. “Really?”
The headache was already forming - even without a brain.
“Hades,” Death said, attempting diplomacy. “Welcome. I am… very sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He hesitated, then draped an arm awkwardly around Hades’ shoulders. Bony. Not comforting.
“We’ll, uh… we’ll sort things out.”
He stared into the swirling mist of timelines, universes, and increasingly snarky siblings.
“Eventually.”
--------------------
Oh wow.
Harry woke up groaning, his skull pounding like a dull drumbeat echoing inside his head. The remnants of a strange dream clung to him stubbornly, a green light, then Death, but not the ominous figure he’d imagined. No, this Death was messy, frustrated, almost human. It unsettled him in a way he couldn’t shake.
He needed to tell Ron and Hermione about it. Surely they’d understand.
He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands, trying to clear the haze, and slowly opened them.
But the world didn’t look right.
The ceiling above was unfamiliar - plain white plaster with a single bare bulb dangling by a frayed cord. This wasn’t his room.
Confusion swirled like fog in his mind. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something old - dusty parchment, perhaps.
His eyes roamed the space cautiously.
A large bed dominated one corner, its quilt thick but rumpled, shades of dark green and silver weaving through the fabric. The floor was littered with clothes - shirts twisted and socks bunched in careless heaps, jeans half-folded and half-tossed.
Against the far wall, a heavy wooden desk groaned under a chaos of parchment, quills, and battered books with dog-eared pages.
It looked like a typical teenager’s room, but not his.
Blinking, Harry realized something else: he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Yet the world was startlingly clear - the edges of furniture crisp, the intricate leaf pattern of the faded carpet vivid beneath his bare feet.
Green and silver. The colors caught his eye, sharp against the muted tones of the room.
Slytherin.
His brow furrowed. What the hell was going on?
His eyes widend. His strange dream, wasn’t a dream? He blinked in horror. Ron, Hermione, Voldemort, the war. Everything was gone? His breath quickend. His sight narrowed. He told Death he wanted another chance. But he didn’t believe it was real.
His heartbeat quickend dangerously.
His gaze flickered around the room. Panicked.
His eyes drifted to a photograph in a silver frame. Five young people smiled and waved out at him, clad in Hogwarts robes. The background was the familiar stone courtyard of the castle, but the people…
One of them looked almost exactly like him - only taller, broader in the shoulders. His face was fuller, healthier. No glasses. He wore green-trimmed Slytherin robes, his prefect badge catching the light.
Harry’s breath caught.
Next to him, to his immense relief, stood Hermione Granger. Her hair was still bushy, her eyes as sharp and intelligent as ever. But the blue trim on her robes and the Ravenclaw badge over her heart made Harry blink. A Ravenclaw? She wore a prefect badge, too.
Standing close beside her was Blaise Zabini, one arm casually draped around her shoulders. He was tall, handsome, dressed in Slytherin green, and smiling - a broad, easy grin that Harry had never seen in his original timeline.
To the left, serene and otherworldly, was Luna Lovegood. Her Ravenclaw robes fluttered slightly in the enchanted breeze within the photo. Her eyes were wide and dreamy as ever, and the faint tilt of her head made it seem as though she was looking directly at Harry through the glass.
The last person in the frame was a thin young man with sharp features and dark hair falling into his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but a faint curve at the edge of his mouth suggested a smile trying not to form. Harry squinted.
Was that Theodore Nott?
He had barely spoken two words to him in his old life.
Harry took a step back, stunned.
This was odd. Very odd.
Apparently, in this world, he’d been sorted into Slytherin. That in itself wasn’t surprising - the hat had nearly put him there before. But what truly threw him were the people in that photo. Zabini? Nott? Luna, Hermione… but no Ron. No Neville. No Ginny.
His chest tightened slightly. Where were they? Ron, Hermione, Ginny… even Neville. The silence in this unfamiliar world rang louder without them.
He let out a shaky sigh and ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching in the tangled mess. The gesture felt futile, like trying to smooth over a life he didn’t recognize. The weight of it settled over him - heavy, suffocating. He didn’t belong here. Not in this house. Not in this name. Not in this life.
Maybe - maybe he could talk to Hermione. His Hermione. Even here, surely she’d still be brilliant, rational, kind. She always had the best ideas, didn’t she? But what would she say when he told her the truth?
That he wasn’t Hades.
Would she believe him? Would she think he was mad?
He paced again, worn floorboards creaking beneath his bare feet. The walls felt like they were closing in, filled with smiling faces and memories that weren’t his.
But he had to try.
He couldn’t do this alone.
Not again.
Before he could dwell further, voices floated down the hall - warm, familiar, but… different. Like hearing a favorite song played in a different key.
“Harry, Hades, Hazel! Breakfast is ready! Get up, you lot!”
The voice was cheerful, ringing with affection and clarity - a woman’s voice. Bright. Kind.
Harry froze.
Hades? Hazel?
He turned slowly toward the hallway, heart pounding in his chest. Something told him this new world was about to get even stranger.
Harry opened the door with a tentative hand - but before he could step out, he was gently but firmly pushed back inside.
“Get out of the way, Hades,” a boy’s voice said, firm, as he brushed past him.
What the bloody hell was going on? Hades? What the actually bloody fuck. Why Hades. He was Harry?!
Taking a deep breath, he shoved the confusion aside and stepped out again, heading down a wooden staircase that creaked softly beneath his feet.
The walls were lined with photographs - faded but unmistakable.
Two small boys smiled shyly from one picture, both with the same wild, messy black hair and sparkling green eyes.
A little red-haired girl with bright brown eyes stood between them in another, grinning mischievously.
And then there were the other photos - frames filled with people who shared his features. Faces with the same messy black hair, the same sharp green eyes. Some had Lily’s copper-red hair, others James’s crooked grin. Grandparents. Cousins. Aunts and uncles. Smiling, waving, hugging. People he had never known. People who were long gone in his world but very much alive here.
It was overwhelming.
His throat felt tight. He was still in shock.
He followed the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes, the warm rhythm of morning life, down the hallway. Each step pulled him deeper into this strange reality, until finally, he reached the kitchen doorway.
And stepped through.
The kitchen was bright and full of motion, golden morning sunlight pouring through the large bay windows like honey. The wooden floor was warm beneath Harry’s bare feet, scuffed in places and covered with a soft, worn rug near the table. The air was filled with the sizzle of bacon and the sharp, sweet scent of orange juice freshly poured. A cooling charm hummed faintly in the background, keeping the summer heat at bay.
Lily stood at the stove, stirring a pan of eggs with practiced ease. Her sleeves were rolled up, her red hair swept into a loose knot that had already begun to fall apart. She hummed absently under her breath, a lilting, Muggle tune from her childhood. Her expression was both calm and sharply attentive - the kind of mother who noticed everything, even when you thought she didn’t. Her voice, when she spoke, was warm and melodic, but had a commanding edge when she needed it. She moved with confidence and grace, but you could sense the steel beneath the softness.
“Hades, finally,” she said, turning with a bright smile that reached her mossy green eyes. “I know it’s your summer break, but you know we love breakfast together over the summer. You lot are away the whole year, so we enjoy your company.“ She smiled at him.
„We do not.“ Muttered a boy. Harry looked at him.
Then there was Harry’s twin - Harry. This was maddening. DEATH! How could he send him to an universe where he had a twinbrother. And where he wasn’t Harry, but his own twin brother Hades.
He thought of the picture in his room. And this Harry looked just like Hades, same black hair, same sharp jaw, same vivid green eyes. But there were subtle differences too - his hair was neater, and his glasses were smaller and gold-rimmed. Not like his second hand glasses in another universe.
Harry had a self-assuredness that crackled off him like static. Confident, charismatic, and just a little bit too arrogant for his own good.
He was the kind of person who could charm a professor and talk his way out of detention. He remembered him a bit of Draco Malfoy.
Lily shot him an annoyed look.
“Harry! I don’t want any Gryffindor–Slytherin rivalry this summer.”
“Lily, that’s only natural,” James said with a grin.
Harry - Hades - turned to look at the third person in the room. His dad.
There was mischief dancing in James Potter’s eyes, the same spark he remembered from old photos and half-whispered stories. But there was something else there too - something softer. Gentler.
Real.
Hades’ chest tightened painfully.
He didn’t know how to hold this version of James Potter in his mind. He wasn’t the reckless teenager from Snape’s worst memories. He wasn’t the martyr Harry had spent years idolizing. This James was alive. Present. A father.
And that made everything so much harder.
His thoughts drifted - Snape’s pensieve. The cruel laughter. The hexes. The humiliation in front of the whole school. He’d seen how James had tormented Severus, how Lily had stood between them once, then walked away.
Was it the same here?
Had James bullied Severus in this universe too?
Had Lily still turned her back?
Hades swallowed hard, forcing the questions down, but they pressed against his ribs like sharp glass. This world was brighter, warmer. But shadows lingered in every corner he looked.
James was seated at the end of the table, reading the Daily Prophet upside down, legs crossed lazily under the table. His hair stuck out in every direction, even messier than Harry’s, and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. A cup of coffee hovered near his head - he kept trying to summon it with lazy wand flicks but always misjudged the aim.
A girl - that must be Hazel - sighed dramatically.
“It’s going to be like this the whole summer, isn’t it?”
She looked like she was in her third year at Hogwarts. Thirteen, maybe fourteen. She had their mum’s vibrant red hair, but her eyes - warm, hazel-brown - were unmistakably their dad’s.
Harry - Hades - scoffed inwardly. Hazel.
How... inventive of their parents.
He had no idea what to say. So he settled for a muttered, “Mornin’,” and slid into a seat at the large oak table in the center of the kitchen.
The table was battered with age and memory. Deep gouges marked its legs - evidence of childhood chaos. His gaze caught on a photo tacked to the nearby fridge: a younger Harry and Hades grinning madly, wielding spatulas like wands while a pumpkin hovered midair between them. The caption below read: “Kitchen Dueling Championship.”
He didn’t remember that. Of course he didn’t. That wasn’t his memory.
Lily was watching him. Her brow furrowed with quiet concern.
“Hades... is everything all right?”
No. Nothing is all right.
He was in another universe.
With people who, in his world, were long dead.
With a mother who looked at him like she still knew him. With a father who smiled like he hadn’t sacrificed himself for an infant. With a sister he’d never met.
With a twin who had his name.
He didn’t know how to act, what to say, what Hades would do.
This wasn’t his life. His life had friends - Ron, Hermione. Teddy. Hogwarts corridors haunted by memories of battles, of fear, of loss.
Here, he was someone else. A Slytherin. A twin. A brother.
He felt his chest clench, eyes burning with tears he didn’t want to shed.
He blinked quickly and forced a crooked smile.
“Yeah... yeah. Just a bad dream.”
What else could he say?
The truth would land him in St. Mungo’s before he could finish a sentence.
Think like Hades. Be Hades.
But the thought of two Harrys made his head throb.
He reached for a slice of toast and some scrambled eggs, trying to ignore the knot tightening in his gut. The food tasted fine - maybe even good - but it felt like ash on his tongue.
His mum seemed slightly reassured by his answer. After one last lingering look, she turned back to the others, joining in their light morning chatter.
Hades chewed mechanically, listening to the warmth around him - laughter, forks clinking, Hazel’s snarky remarks - and feeling like he was underwater. A ghost in his own skin.
“I think everything is planned and arranged. The food will be delivered Thursday morning - early enough, before all the guests arrive.”
Lily’s voice was light and cheerful. She sounded so happy.
“I can hardly believe our boys are turning seventeen. Finally adults.”
Her eyes shimmered as she looked at them, pride radiating from her in waves.
James nodded beside her. “The years flew by so fast.”
Hades nearly choked on his toast. Seventeen?
Their birthday. Again.
He had already celebrated it once - in the other universe. With cake, candles, and friends who had no idea that somewhere out there, this was happening too.
James grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
“Your mum and I have a surprise for you. Since you’ll both be of age, you’re going to receive part of your inheritance. Each of you will get your own account at Gringotts, with a generous amount deposited.”
His expression turned serious as he looked at them - perhaps a bit more at Harry, who was already smirking like he’d won something.
“I expect you to use it wisely,” James added, his tone firm.
“Harry!” he said sharply when his son rolled his eyes. “This money is meant to help you transition into adulthood. A flat, education, job-related expenses. It’s a head start, not an endless vault. You’ll still have to work and build your life.”
Both boys nodded. Hades managed to mirror the gesture, though his mind was spinning.
Still, a part of him - the part that clung to old instincts - felt relief. Independence. Even if this wasn’t his account, not his money, the idea of having control, of not relying on anyone, comforted him.
He watched them - his parents.
His mum looked so proud. His dad, firm but kind, protective without hovering. It was surreal.
They were planning a birthday party. For both of them.
“You two must be excited,” Lily said with a smile. “The guest list is finalized. Everyone will be there. Your grandparents, Of course, the Weasleys…”
Harry grinned and bumped his fist on the table. “Can’t wait to see Ginny again.”
Lily arched a brow at him, but continued, “The Longbottoms, too…”
Harry groaned loudly, cutting her off.
“Not N-N-N-Neville,” he said, cruelly exaggerating the stutter. “He c-c-c-can’t sp-s-sp-speak for a l-l-l-living.”
Hades froze.
Something dark curled in his stomach.
That wasn’t just teasing. That was mocking.
The room went a little too quiet for a heartbeat.
Hades watched Harry closely.
“Harry!” their mum snapped, her tone sharp with disapproval. “Neville is a kind young boy. It’s not his fault he stutters a little. And Alice - his mother - is one of my closest friends. And she’s your godmother, Hades. I expect both of you to be polite and respectful to him.”
Harry rolled his eyes and shot a look at their dad. James met his gaze, and the two of them crossed their eyes in unison - clearly a practiced bit of silent mockery.
“Listen to your mother,” James said with a lazy grin. There wasn’t a shred of seriousness in his voice, and the amusement in his eyes made it worse.
Hades stiffened. That wasn’t a trait he liked in them.
He couldn’t imagine Neville being anything but kind, even in this universe.
The idea that Harry - and their dad - would mock him behind his back didn’t sit well. It felt mean. Ugly. And so casual, like it was a joke they’d shared before.
Lily, thankfully, moved on, her voice regaining its warmth as she continued listing guests.
“Of course, Sirius and Marlene will be there. They’re back together - again. Honestly, I’ve lost count how many times they’ve split up and gotten back together,” she said with a fond shake of her head.
“Remus and Tonks are coming. Peter sent an owl from Romania - still doing Merlin-knows-what out there. Mary and Evan confirmed. Regulus and Dorcas will bring the kids. And of course, some of your friends.”
She turned to Harry.
“Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Zacharias all sent owls - they’ll be here.”
Then she smiled at Hades.
“And Hades, I heard back from Hermione, Blaise, Theodore, and Luna. They’re all coming too. Draco’s still in France with his parents, but he sent a gift for you.”
Harry scoffed. “At least some good news.”
Hades nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.
Draco sodding Malfoy was his friend?
He struggled to process that one. Maybe it made sense - if both of them were in Slytherin, and if Voldemort had never risen here... Maybe Draco had turned out decent this time. Maybe.
“Glad everyone else will be there,” he managed, forcing a smile. It felt tight, uncertain, but it was the best he could do with the knot still sitting in his stomach.
Hades sat quietly, lost in thought as the familiar buzz of family life surrounded him. He couldn't help but wonder about Aunt Petunia. What was she like in this world? Was she still married to Vernon? Did they have Dudley? And - most bizarre of all - did they have magic?
The thought made his head spin.
And then there were his grandparents. His grandparents. He was going to meet them. People he’d never even known in his original life. It was… overwhelming.
Nearby, Harry and Hazel were bickering over something trivial - whose turn it was to feed the cat, or whether chocolate frogs were better than fizzing whizbees. Just typical teenage banter, light and familiar, grounding in a way that made the world feel slightly less foreign.
Then James’s voice cut through the laughter.
“Lily, did you see the Prophet? They’ve reported a raid on a Muggle family. I’ll probably hear more once I’m back at work - unless Sirius beats me to it on Thursday.”
He sounded casual, but Hades’s ears pricked up. A raid? Was James an Auror here? The tone fit. Hades leaned forward slightly, curious. But maybe it was just a coincidence. According to Death, Voldemort didn’t exist in this world. Still… what if he was wrong?
Lily glanced up sharply. “No work talk on Thursday, James. You promised.”
James raised his hands in surrender and let out a noncommittal hum, clearly not planning to argue.
Hades, however, barely heard them. His thoughts had drifted again. He felt like a guest in someone else’s life. Everyone here seemed to know who they were and where they belonged. He didn’t.
What could he do? He didn’t even know the rules of this world. Maybe… maybe he needed to talk to someone. Someone smart. Someone familiar. Hermione.
He hesitated, chewing his lip for a second before blurting out, “Mum? Would it be alright if Hermione came over a day early? Just to talk, really. She could sleep on a mattress in my room or something.”
His voice cracked slightly with uncertainty, but Lily turned to him immediately, surprised.
Before she could answer, James perked up. “Oho! I didn’t realize you two were that close.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Hades groaned and turned red. “We’re just friends. Platonic friends,” he clarified quickly.
Harry jumped in, smirking. “Well, if Hades gets Hermione early, then I want Ginny here a day early too.”
Lily shot him a look. “Forget it, Harry. No girlfriends sleeping over.”
Lily softened a bit. “If Mr. and Mrs. Granger are alright with it, she can stay the night. Are you really okay, sweetheart?” she asked, watching him closely.
“Yes, yes. Just… a bit of chatting,” Hades added, too fast.
She nodded, brushing her fingers through her hair before turning to Harry. “You can ask Ron if he’d like to come a day early instead.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Better than nothing,” he muttered under his breath.
Hades sighed heavily. With every passing minute, Harry seemed to grow more annoying. How had anyone survived living with him for sixteen years?
He glanced at his parents and said, “If it’s okay, I think I’ll go upstairs and write to Hermione?”
Both Lily and James nodded, distracted by their own conversation. Hades stood, gathering his dishes without thinking and carrying them to the sink. He rinsed them quickly, just as he’d always done at Privet Drive.
When he turned around, however, he froze. The entire family was staring at him, wide-eyed.
“What?” he asked cautiously. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You sure you’re okay, son?” James asked, his tone laced with concern rather than scolding.
Hades blinked. “I… yeah. I’m fine.”
Wasn’t it normal to clear your own plate? Aunt Petunia had practically trained it into him. Don’t make a mess. Don’t leave dishes behind. Don’t be a burden. That’s what she always said.
With a tight nod and a quick “Later,” he turned on his heel and left the kitchen, heart pounding. As he reached his room and closed the door behind him, he leaned back against it, shutting his eyes.
Everything was too much. Too normal. Too strange.
He inhaled deeply, pushing the feeling down, and crossed the room to the desk by the window. The surface was scattered with parchment, quills, and books - but thankfully, he spotted a familiar black Muggle pen. He grabbed a sheet of parchment and sat down, scribbling quickly:
Hermione!
Would it be possible for you to come over a day earlier, if your parents are okay with it?
Mine said it’s fine.
I really need to talk to you. It’s urgent.
- Hades
He stared at the parchment for a second, then folded it neatly. Now, he just needed to find an owl.
After about thirty minutes of searching - checking the upstairs hall, the study, even the laundry room - he finally ventured outside. The garden was lush with summer growth, and toward the far end, partially hidden behind a tangle of honeysuckle and ivy, he spotted a wooden owl coop.
Inside were four owls, all of whom stared at him as though he were a complete stranger.
There was a petite scops owl with mottled feathers, a hulking eagle owl with intimidating amber eyes, a sleek and regal barn owl, and a long-eared owl whose feathery tufts stuck up like eyebrows.
He stared back uncertainly. “So… which one of you belongs to me?”
The long-eared owl hopped closer on silent feet, eyes curious but calm. Hades crouched, holding out the letter.
“Are you… maybe mine?” he asked quietly. “You’re beautiful,” he added, voice softer now.
A pang of grief hit him unexpectedly - Hedwig. His snowy owl, loyal and elegant. The ache settled deep in his chest.
The long-eared owl gave a soft hoot, almost as if in reply.
Hades smiled faintly. “Could you send this to Hermione Granger, please? You’d be a real lifesaver.”
He tied the letter securely to the owl’s leg, and after a moment’s pause, it spread its wings and took off into the sky.
Hades watched until it disappeared beyond the treetops, then sat down on the edge of the garden bench, letting the silence settle over him like a blanket.
He had no idea what Hermione would say.
But he knew she was the one person who might help him make sense of it all.
--------------
He sighed and looked around, taking in the quiet serenity of the garden. It was enormous - easily the biggest he'd ever seen attached to a home. A wide expanse of freshly mown lawn stretched out before him, bordered by flowerbeds and tall hedges that offered privacy from the outside world.
It didn’t take long for him to realize what the open space was for: Quidditch practice, no doubt.
He scanned the area more closely, and sure enough, behind the owl barn was a broom rack, half-covered by a protective tarp. Curiosity pulled him closer. Pulling the cover back, his eyes widened at the collection.
There was a gleaming Firebolt, polished to perfection. Next to it sat both a Nimbus 2000 and Nimbus 2001, side by side like old rivals. A pair of CleanSweep models - No. 3 and No. 7 - and some others, leaned casually nearby, and a few smaller, child-sized brooms were propped against the side.
His fingers hesitated over the Firebolt. He recognized it instantly. It looked almost identical to his own - his Firebolt from his old world. A rush of bittersweet emotion passed through him as he took it down gently, feeling the familiar weight in his hands.
Maybe flying would clear his head.
He mounted the broom and kicked off gently from the ground. The moment his feet left the earth, the tension in his chest eased. At first, he flew cautiously, gliding in slow, lazy loops over the garden. He needed to adjust - his body was slightly taller, heavier, the balance point unfamiliar. But his instincts remained sharp. Muscle memory kicked in.
Lap after lap, his confidence grew. He picked up speed, pushing into tight curves, weaving through the air with practiced grace. The wind tore at his hair, and for the first time since arriving in this world, something felt right.
He was so caught up in the rush that he didn’t notice the streak of red hair until a figure zipped up beside him.
“Have you been secretly practicing?” Hazel asked, her eyes sparkling as she matched his speed with impressive ease. “You’re flying way better than usual.”
He shot her a grin. “Maybe. Want to race?”
She laughed and leaned into her broom, darting ahead. Hades whooped and chased after her.
She was quick - smaller, lighter, and surprisingly agile. Despite the Firebolt’s superior speed, she kept ahead of him on sharp turns and narrow dives. But Hades had experience on his side. He pushed the broom harder, drawing on every Quidditch match he'd ever played in his original life.
For over an hour they soared, racing, spinning, daring each other to tighter turns and steeper dives. Their laughter echoed through the garden, and by the time they finally landed - breathless, flushed, and grinning - they both collapsed onto the grass.
“You’re really good, Hazel,” he said, catching his breath. He saw her blush faintly, ducking her head in embarrassment.
“That was so much fun,” she said, still smiling, eyes shining.
Seeing how happy she looked, he threw an arm around her shoulders in an affectionate hug. “Come on. Let’s go inside. It's probably well into the afternoon by now, and I still need to clean up - and take a shower.”
Hazel groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m going to smell like broom polish and sweat.”
“Better than owl droppings,” Hades teased, earning a playful shove as they headed back toward the house.
There was no response from Hermione that evening, and Hades couldn’t help but feel a flicker of disappointment. He knew owls could take time, especially if Hermione was out or her parents were hesitant - but still, he'd hoped.
After his shower, he lingered in front of the mirror, studying his reflection closely.
The face looking back was both familiar and different. His features were softer somehow - his cheeks a bit fuller, his skin clearer. Better food, probably, he thought wryly. His eyes were still the same bright green, and his hair remained a hopeless mess, though longer than Harry’s, brushing the tops of his ears and curling slightly at the ends.
But it was the eyes that unsettled him most. They were entirely his, not Hades. There was a shadow behind them, a weight that no healthy meal or good night’s sleep could erase.
You can’t hide your experiences, he thought, not even in another universe.
He sighed and turned away, tidying up his room as a distraction. The space was surprisingly neat already, but he straightened the books, folded a hoodie that had been tossed over a chair, and peeked inside the wardrobe out of curiosity.
His clothing was a revelation. No hand-me-downs. No oversized shirts that hung off his frame like sacks. Instead, he found well-fitted jeans, stylish yet comfortable jumpers, and button-downs in rich, blue and green tones. Apparently, this version of him had decent fashion sense.
His eyes paused on the set of Hogwarts robes hanging toward the back. The Slytherin crest was stitched proudly over the heart, and on the chest, a silver Prefect badge gleamed.
He still couldn't believe he was a prefect.
He turned back to his desk, sifting through the drawers until he found a crisp envelope. Curious, he pulled out the parchment inside - and froze. It was his OWL results.
His heart thudded as he read:
• Defense Against the Dark Arts – EE
• Transfiguration – O
• Charms – O
• Potions – EE
• Herbology – EE
• History of Magic – A
He snorted. “It’s the same in every universe. Bloody Binns.”
Continuing down the list:
• Astronomy – EE
• Care of Magical Creatures – A
Hades groaned. “Oh no. Not again. Who’s the professor this time?” He hoped it wasn’t still Hagrid. He liked Hagrid - but his classes had always been… unpredictable at best.
Then his eyes widened.
• Ancient Runes – EE
“Kill me now,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I haven’t even had one hour of Ancient Runes in my life.”
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. I really, really need to talk to Hermione.
But still - no reply.
Just then, a voice called up the stairs. “Dinner!”
It was his dad - James.
With a sigh, Hades pushed himself to his feet and trudged downstairs. The warm scent of roasted chicken met him halfway. When he entered the kitchen, everyone was already seated at the table.
A golden roast sat in the center, surrounded by carrots glazed in honey, buttery potatoes, and a rich, steaming gravy. It looked like something from a family cookbook - or a dream.
“Ron already replied,” Harry said with a grin. “He’s coming over tomorrow afternoon.”
Hades managed a small smile and slid into his seat. He was surrounded by warmth and laughter, but he still felt like a stranger in someone else’s skin.
He just hoped Hermione would write back soon.
For now, he let the gentle buzz of conversation around the dinner table wash over him. His parents and siblings were chatting animatedly - Harry was going on about Ginny’s new broom, Hazel was listing her hopes and expectations for the upcoming school year, and Lily was excitedly discussing her new job.
“It’s a start-up,” she said, clearly proud, “a wizarding company trying to integrate Muggle technology into the magical world.”
“Oh, that would be amazing,” Hades said before he could stop himself. “Like, actual phones? Internet?”
Lily nodded, though her expression turned a bit wry. “That’s the idea. But it’s not easy. Magic interferes with most Muggle devices. The magical field in places like Hogwarts scrambles electronics - so they’d need to be magically shielded or adapted.”
Hades tried to imagine texting Hermione from the Great Hall. Or searching for spells on Google. The thought made him grin.
Later that evening, as he lay in bed beneath a soft, emerald-green blanket, the events of the day swirled in his mind. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all.
He missed his old world. It hit him in quiet moments like this. The finality of it. Hedwig. His version of Hermione and Ron. The familiar, if fractured, routine of his life before. It felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under him and left him in a dream where everything looked normal but felt off.
And yet… it wasn’t all bad. He had a family here. Siblings. Parents who seemed present. Maybe even kind. Although, he reminded himself cautiously, memories from Snape’s Pensieve still lurked at the edges of his thoughts - echoes of sharp words, cold silences, and the kind of love that came with too many conditions.
I’ll wait and see, he told himself. People can look perfect at first glance.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. His mind faded into sleep, where dreams tangled and twisted.
He dreamt of flying cars soaring over a moonlit sky, of the harsh flash of green light, and of Death - calm, ancient, and unshaken - whispering, Everything will be all right.
When morning came, he woke with a start, his heart racing. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The room was too clean, too warm, too full of sunlight.
Then he heard it.
“Hades! Hermione is here!”
It was his mother’s voice, floating up the stairs.
His heart jumped, and in an instant, he was out of bed, racing down the stairs in nothing but his pajamas - plaid flannel pants and a rumpled gray t-shirt.
“Hermione!” he called out breathlessly the moment he saw her.
She turned, her familiar figure instantly grounding him - bushy brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, warm brown skin glowing softly in the morning light, and those sharp, intelligent eyes that always seemed to see more than they let on. She barely managed a smile before he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug.
For a second, she froze - surprised - but then returned the embrace with a soft laugh.
“Hades,” she said gently, pulling back to look at him, her eyes scanning his face with concern and curiosity, “I thought I’d come personally instead of sending an owl. I figured… you sounded like you needed me.”
He nodded quickly, eyes stinging just a bit. “I do.”
She gave him a searching look. “You look… different. Are you okay?”
He hesitated. “That’s a very complicated question.”
After a quick breakfast filled with casual chatter - Harry and Hazel still fast asleep upstairs - Hades turned to his parents and said, “We’ll be up in my room, okay?”
At their nod, he didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed Hermione gently by the wrist and led her up the stairs.
Once inside, he closed the door behind them. Hermione perched on the edge of his bed while Hades began pacing restlessly around the room. She watched him with growing concern.
“Hades…” she began softly.
He held up both hands to stop her, then paused to listen. Was anyone nearby? Just in case…
He whispered a quiet Muffliato under his breath, wandlessly.
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock.
Only after he spoke the incantation did it truly hit him - he had just cast a spell in front of her. Wandless. And he was still technically underage. His heart jumped in panic, waiting for the sound of a Ministry owl crashing through the window, or the fireplace roaring to life with a furious official on the other side.
But after several tense moments, the room remained still. No alarms. No punishment. Just Hermione, watching him carefully, worry and confusion etched into her features.
Finally, he exhaled. “Hermione, I really need to talk to you.”
“I gathered as much,” she replied dryly, though her voice trembled slightly.
“I’m not Hades. I mean, I look like him - but I’m not the Hades you know. I’m Harry. Just... not the Harry from this world. I’m from a different universe.”
She blinked at him. “Hades, you - ” Her voice faltered. “You can’t just - what?”
“I know how it sounds,” he said quickly. “But please, let me explain.”
And so, he told her everything.
He spoke of the world he came from, of growing up in a cupboard, of finding friendship with his Hermione and Ron, of the war and Voldemort. Of the battles, the losses, the pain. Of how he died - hit from another Avada Kedavra - and how Death offered him another chance. A second life. One he didn’t even ask for.
And how, somehow, that second chance had gone wrong. And now… he was here.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m not the Hades you’ve known all these years. I can show you my memories, if you want.”
Hermione looked pale. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. “You’re… not Hades,” she said quietly. “No, you’re not. The wandless magic alone should’ve given it away.” Her voice cracked. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated helplessly. “I wish I wasn’t hurting you. I know this isn’t fair.”
She sniffled and nodded slowly. “Hades and I have been friends for over five years. I - I cared about him. He was sweet. Thoughtful. A bit moody. But he was my friend. And now you - look like him, sound like him - but you’re not him.”
He nodded silently, throat too tight to speak.
After a few long minutes of quiet, Hermione straightened her spine, wiped her tears, and took a deep breath.
“No - Hades - sorry, is it okay if I still call you that? I don’t know what else to call you right now.”
“Yes,” he said, voice hoarse. “Please do.”
She gave a small, trembling smile. “This must be so hard for you. Everything's unfamiliar. New family, new friends, a life that was never yours. But… you’re still you. I can see that. And I won’t let you go through this alone.”
She reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. And finally, Hades let go. The tears came hot and fast, and Hermione cried with him - grieving for the boy she had lost and for the one she was trying to understand.
They sat like that for a long time, curled into one another, their faces wet and eyes puffy from emotion.
Eventually, Hermione whispered, “Even if you’re someone else, I’ll be here. We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”
“Hermione, you have no idea how much that means to me.”
Exhausted, they both lay down on the bed. Hermione curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. He gently wrapped an arm around her.
For the first time since arriving in this new world, Hades didn’t feel completely alone.
Later that morning, they stayed curled up together in quiet companionship. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable - just soft, reflective. Eventually, Hades stirred and shifted slightly on the bed, looking at Hermione.
“Hermione,” he said softly, “could you help me adjust? Like… tell me more about my family? My friends? My classes?”
She nodded gently, brushing a bit of hair from her face.
Then a thought struck him like a bolt of panic. “Wait - am I in a relationship? I’m not, right?”
Hermione gave a small, knowing smile. “No, don’t worry. You were dating Cho Chang for a few months last year, but it ended before the summer. No broken hearts on either side. Just drifted apart.”
Hades exhaled, visibly relieved. The thought of having to fake his way through a romantic relationship with someone he didn’t know… it felt deeply wrong. “Thank Merlin,” he muttered. Then hesitated, chewing his bottom lip before continuing more quietly, “While we’re on the topic… I should tell you - I’m gay.”
He glanced at her cautiously, unsure if it even needed saying but needing her to know nonetheless.
Hermione’s eyebrows lifted, but her expression softened immediately. “That’s a bit of a surprise,” she said honestly, “but it’s totally okay. You’re still you, no matter the world.”
A beat passed, and she tilted her head slightly. “Did you leave someone behind? I mean… in your world?”
Hades looked away, his gaze distant. “No… not really,” he said, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression. He wasn’t ready to explain his complicated and slowly deepening feelings for Severus Snape.
Hermione smiled gently and let it go. “Okay, so - your family. James is a senior Auror, working closely with Sirius Black. They’ve been partners for years.”
Hades perked up at the familiar name. “Sirius was my godfather in my old world too.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. In this one, Harry is his godson. Your godparents are different though - Remus Lupin is your godfather.”
At that, Hades sat up straighter. “Remus?”
She smiled at his reaction. “And your godmother is Alice Longbottom.”
His smile faded a little. “I’ve noticed… I’m not that close to Neville here. Harry even talks about him… not very kindly. Why is that?”
Hermione frowned, a crease forming between her brows. “It’s complicated. When you were younger, you and Harry were really close - twins and all. Neville used to be part of your circle, mostly because Alice and Lily have been friends since Hogwarts. But when you got sorted - Harry to Gryffindor, you to Slytherin, and Neville to Hufflepuff - things changed. Drastically.”
Hades stared down at his hands. “I don’t like that.”
“To be honest…” Hermione hesitated. “I’ve never gotten along well with Harry. He can be arrogant. Very full of himself. He and his friends - Dean, Seamus, sometimes Zacharias and Ron too - they can be cruel. They mock other students. And even some of the teachers.”
Hades looked up sharply at that.
Hermione continued, “Since you're in different houses, you don’t really speak much anymore. He’s not exactly friendly with you or Neville. You… you don’t seem to care, most of the time. But Neville… he’s sensitive. Sweet, actually. Insecure, but kind. And since you’re in Slytherin, you kind of stopped paying attention to him, like he wasn’t part of your world anymore.”
Hades felt a deep pang of guilt. That didn’t sit right with him at all. “I don’t like that version of me,” he said quietly. “I’m going to fix that.”
Hermione gave him a small, proud smile. “I think Neville would like that.”
"Okay, so more of your family," Hermione began, settling comfortably on the bed while Hades listened with focused intensity. "Your grandparents - James’ parents - Fleamont and Euphemia. They’re still alive, pushing 80, which isn’t that old for a wizard. Then there’s your great-grandmother, Mireille. She’s over 100, from the Rosier family - very old blood, very proper. Apparently, she still corrects people’s Latin at dinner. She doesn’t like to travel, though, so you don’t see her often.”
Hades blinked, his eyebrows rising. “That’s… a lot already.”
Hermione chuckled. “Oh, and there are some distant cousins from Charlus Potter’s line - he’s your great-uncle, I think. Your middle name, Charlus, actually comes from him. Full name: Hadrian Charlus Potter.”
Hades tilted his head, processing. “That’s kind of cool. Sounds dramatic. Like I should own a sword and a haunted castle.”
Hermione laughed. “You do have haunted energy.”
“Tragically misunderstood,” he added with a wink.
“Exactly,” she said, smirking before continuing. “Now, on your mum’s side, her parents are Robert and Iris Evans - flower names seem to be a tradition there. Your mum’s sister is Petunia. She married Vernon Dursley - completely Muggle - and they have two kids: Dudley... and Daisy.”
Hades nearly fell off the bed. “Daisy Dursley?”
“She’s real,” Hermione confirmed, trying very hard not to laugh. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “She has a bedroom that looks like it was hexed by Barbie. All pink. All glitter. And she once tried to hex Dudley with a makeup brush.”
“I - what?” Hades gaped. “Hexed? As in actual magic?”
“Yes,” Hermione said, grinning. “Can you imagine the Dursleys’ faces when Professor McGonagall showed up to tell them Daisy was a witch? Your uncle Vernon fainted. Literally keeled over.”
Hades was too stunned to speak.
“She’s been sorted into Slytherin,” Hermione added cheerfully, “and just finished her first year. Apparently, she hexed a Gryffindor boy for mocking her glitter nail polish. Brutal and stylish.”
Hades rubbed his face. “I grew up with the Dursleys. They were miserable, magic-hating bullies. Now they’re... relatives who show up for cake and raise pint-sized Slytherins in glitter boots?”
“Welcome to the multiverse,” Hermione said solemnly, patting his knee. “Everything’s the same - just different enough to make you question your reality.”
“Soo… your friends - our friends,” Hermione said with a warm grin, clearly enjoying this part. “We’ve been friends since the end of first year. I wasn’t really close to anyone before that. Ravenclaw’s great, but most of them are intense about studying. I study a lot, sure, but they’re on another level - like ‘researching Arithmancy theories for fun’ level. I get along with Padma Patil - her twin sister, Parvati, is in Gryffindor - but Padma and I are more like book buddies than close friends.”
Hades nodded, listening closely.
“Anyway,” she went on, “you and I became friends after a rather dramatic moment. Ron Weasley used to mock me constantly - my hair, my teeth, everything. One day in first year, you snapped. Hexed him right in the middle of the corridor. Landed yourself in detention for a week, but it shut him up. After that, we just… clicked.”
Hades blinked. “I hexed Ron?”
“Oh yes,” Hermione said with a smirk. “Right in the middle of the Grand Staircase. McGonagall was not amused.”
“Honestly, he deserved it,” she added, folding her arms. “We’ve been close ever since.”
“You’re also good friends with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott - you all share a dorm in Slytherin. I actually dated Blaise for a few months last year,” she admitted with a shrug, “but we broke up before summer. Still friends, though. No drama.”
Hades stared. “Wait, I’m friends with Blaise and Theo? Slytherins?”
Hermione nodded. “Yep. You even grew closer to Draco over time. He can still be an arrogant git, but he’s not as awful as your brother.”
“My - oh. Harry,” Hades said, rubbing his temples. “Right.”
“Exactly. Compared to him, Draco’s practically polite,” she said dryly.
“And Luna?” he asked, hopeful.
Hermione’s face lit up. “Luna Lovegood? She’s a year below us in Ravenclaw. Very dreamy, always in her own world - fairy-like, really. But she’s brilliant. Sometimes I don’t understand half the things she says, but she’s one of the kindest people I know.”
“What about Ron, Seamus, Dean… and Ginny?” Hades asked slowly. “In the other world, Ron and I were best friends. You and Ron were practically dating at one point. Ginny and I… well, we kissed once. Before I realized I was gay. We all shared a dorm, except Ginny of course, and Neville was in Gryffindor too. I wasn’t very close with Seamus or Dean, though.”
Hermione’s expression twisted into something between amusement and horror. “Ron and I dating?” she practically snorted. “Never. Not in this universe, anyway. He’s a complete berk. He probably wished, but no. He’s been dating Lavender Brown since last year. Constant PDA. You do not want to be in the Gryffindor common room after dinner.”
Hades winced. “And Ginny?”
“Dating Harry,” she said flatly. “Snogging in every corridor, under every staircase, behind every tapestry… It’s like a plague.”
He looked slightly horrified. “I… think I need a moment.”
Hermione grinned. “Seamus, Dean, and Zacharias Smith? All bullies. Especially to people not in Gryffindor. They’re tight with Ron and Harry, and they love lording it over others. You can’t stand them. And frankly? I don’t either.”
Hades ran a hand through his hair, looking both bewildered and relieved. “In my world, I had issues with my friends sometimes. But here… I don’t even like them?”
“Yeah,” Hermione said gently. “You’ve got different people here. People who actually respect you. You might’ve landed in Slytherin, but you’re not like them. You’re just… yourself. A little sharper, maybe. But still you.”
He looked down at the blanket for a long moment, then gave a small smile. “Thanks. That helps more than you know.”
Sometime later…
“You know, Hermione,” Hades said thoughtfully, shifting on the bed, “I stumbled over my O.W.L. results earlier. They’re… okay. I never took my seventh year because of the war. I’d be eighteen now, technically.” He sighed. “I was better at Defense Against the Dark Arts in my old life - because of the war, obviously. But I should manage fine in Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, even Herbology. History of Magic… well, who actually likes that class? Is Binns still haunting the place?”
Hermione groaned. “Unfortunately, yes. Still droning on like he’s reading his own tombstone.”
Hades laughed, then continued, “Potions might be tough. I’ll have a lot of catching up to do this August. Does Professor Snape still teach it here?”
Hermione gave him a curious look, but he plowed on before she could answer.
“I thought I’d dropped Care of Magical Creatures for sure. Nearly died a few times in that class. Who’s teaching it here? Hagrid again?” Then he winced. “And my biggest problem: Ancient Runes. I never took it in my old life - I went for Divination instead.” He groaned and dropped back onto the pillow.
Hermione looked like she was mentally filing everything in neat, color-coded folders.
“Wait - eighteen?” she said. “That might explain your wandless magic. That was seriously impressive. Where did you even learn that charm? It was really helpful.”
Hades flushed slightly. “Uh… I found it in an old book. Just something I picked up.”
Hermione raised a skeptical brow but didn’t press. “Right. Well, good that you're confident in most subjects already. Binns is still as soul-crushingly dull as ever. Snape does still teach Potions - and yeah, he’s brilliant. Sharp as a blade. Doesn’t exactly love teaching, though.”
She hesitated, then added, “He definitely favors his Slytherins - he is still your Head of House - but he’s fair with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.”
Hades swallowed. “And… how do we get along? Me and Snape?”
That question had been itching at the back of his mind for days.
Hermione tilted her head. “It’s kind of a… quiet truce? He’s reserved around you. I think it has something to do with your family - he doesn’t seem very fond of Harry, and your brother is responsible for a lot of pranks and humiliation directed at him. But he’s not unkind to you. Maybe… wary. Professional.”
Hades nodded slowly. “I can work with that.”
“Care of Magical Creatures,” Hermione went on, “is taught by Professor Grubbly-Plank now. She’s excellent - clear, structured, and doesn't bring dangerous creatures to class. Hagrid's not a teacher here. He runs a magical creature sanctuary in Wales. It suits him much better.”
“That’s… actually lovely,” Hades said, smiling. “In my world, I almost lost a leg a few times. Glad he's doing something he loves and is good at.”
Hermione smiled with him, then suddenly looked grim. “As for Ancient Runes…” She paused dramatically. “You're totally screwed.”
Hades paled. “Wait - what?”
“You can’t learn four years of Ancient Runes in a few weeks, Hades,” she said seriously. “It’s a complex, layered subject that builds year after year. I mean, I love it, and it’s still intense.”
Hades buried his face in his hands and groaned. “There has to be a book. Ancient Runes for Dummies? ‘How to Not Fail Magical Languages in One Month’?”
Hermione snorted. “Our Hogwarts letters should arrive in a few days. We can go to Diagon Alley together, check what books you'll need. If you do get Runes, we’ll find some way to help.”
She paused, then offered, “And I can revise Potions with you. I've got really solid notes.”
Hades looked at her gratefully. “Hermione, you’re an actual lifesaver.”
Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.
Hermione blinked, then smiled fondly. “Don’t think that kiss gets you out of Runes homework.”
When they went downstairs for dinner, Harry and Ron were already seated at the table. Hermione offered them only a tight nod.
“Potter. Weasley,” she greeted coolly.
“Granger,” Ron drawled with a smirk. “Here for a little love-dove time with Hades?”
Hades blinked in surprise, stunned silent by the rudeness. Before he could respond, James cut in smoothly.
“Boys, be polite,” he said firmly. Then, turning to Hermione with a warm smile, he added, “It’s lovely to see you, Hermione. How are your parents?”
“It’s lovely to see you too, Mr. Potter,” Hermione replied, her voice instantly warmer. “My parents are quite well, thank you. They’re still traveling for a few more weeks. We were in France earlier this summer - now they’re in Greece. Gods, ruins, sunshine, and all that.” She grinned as she spoke, clearly fond of the topic.
James chuckled. “Sounds like a proper adventure.”
Dinner itself was delicious - succulent roast lamb, tender green beans, and warm, fluffy bread with a hint of rosemary. But despite the excellent food, the atmosphere at the table was tense.
Hazel, cheerful as ever, took it upon herself to liven things up. She chatted animatedly with Hermione, especially about Arithmancy. Apparently, she had just started taking it, and Hermione - naturally - was a star in the subject.
Meanwhile, Ron and Harry were whispering to each other, sniggering behind their hands. Hades caught a few words - something about Lavender and Ginny - and rolled his eyes. Their juvenile energy grated more than he expected.
The adults, thankfully, kept the peace. James and Lily chatted about their day - Ministry gossip, and neighborhood antics.
Hades, meanwhile, sat quietly. He watched everyone - listening, noting every detail, still trying to anchor himself in this strange version of his life. The food warmed his stomach, but the uneasy tangle of emotions made him feel like a guest at his own dinner table.
At least Hermione was here. That alone made the evening bearable.
When he and Hermione settled in for the night, the room was quiet and dim. Hades lay on the air mattress beside the bed, while Hermione had taken his bed - because, seriously, there was no way he was letting her sleep on the floor.
Hermione had rolled her eyes and snickered something about “gallant men,” but she’d looked secretly pleased.
They lay in the soft dark for a while, the only sound the gentle rustling of bedsheets and the faint noises of the house settling.
“Hermione,” Hades said quietly, “can I ask you a few more things?”
“Of course,” she replied immediately. “Just spill it.”
“How’s my relationship with the other Weasleys? I mean… I used to be really close with them. They kind of took me in, like a second family.”
Hermione was quiet for a moment, choosing her words. “I can’t give you too much detail - I'm not especially close with all of them. But you’re good friends with the twins - Fred and George. They were in Slytherin like you, two years above. Totally underrated, honestly. Everyone sees the jokes, but they’re clever - brilliant, even. The last I heard, they were saving up to start a joke shop.”
Hades smiled to himself in the dark. That part, at least, felt familiar. He made a mental note to reach out to the twins - maybe he could help. A partnership, perhaps. It would be nice to build something.
“Your parents are on good terms with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione continued. “Mr. Weasley works at the Ministry - something with Muggle Relations, I think. He’s very sweet. Percy was already in fifth year when we started Hogwarts - he was in Ravenclaw. Bit of a rule-stickler, very ambitious. I can’t say much about the two eldest brothers - they’re both long out of school by now, and I’ve never met them properly.”
Hades nodded slowly, his thoughts drifting again.
There was something else - something heavier - gnawing at the edge of his mind.
“Hermione,” he said more quietly, “can you tell me what happened to Voldemort here? Death told me he's dead in this universe, but… what actually happened?”
Hermione sat up slightly, then shifted to rest her chin on her knees. “You’ll want to read one of the newer history books,” she said gently. “It’s a complicated story. But in short - your dad is the one who made Voldemort vanish. You and Harry were just babies. Because of a prophecy, Voldemort came after your family, and your father stopped him. Nobody knows exactly what spell was used, or how it worked… only that it destroyed Voldemort - or at least banished him.”
“And people think he’s really gone?”
“Some do,” she said with a shrug. “Others… not so much. Some think he’ll return eventually. That he’s waiting, rebuilding, hiding. But so far? Nothing. It’s been almost seventeen years.”
Hades fell silent, his thoughts churning. He really, truly hoped the war from his old life wouldn’t happen here. Death had promised him a cozy, safe life - but then again, Death had also been a little unhinged. So… who knew?
His thoughts drifted until something tugged at the back of his mind. He sat up a little, turning to Hermione.
"Hermione... my wand. It doesn’t feel right."
She looked at him, brows furrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"It’s not mine," he said quietly. "I mean, technically it is - but not my wand. I haven’t used it yet, but you know that feeling when you first hold your wand? That warmth, that pull? Like it’s an extension of you. It feels... wrong. Cold. Like shaking hands with a stranger pretending to be family."
Hermione was quiet for a moment before answering.
"That makes sense, actually. This Hades’ wand wouldn’t necessarily match you - you. You’re different. Even if you look the same and have the same name, your magic, your essence - it’s not identical. You probably do need a new wand."
He nodded slowly, staring at the ceiling. "Oh Merlin, I really don’t want to go to Ollivander’s. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m from a different universe and my wand feels like it wants to hex me in my sleep?’ He’s already unnerving, now he’ll think I’m possessed."
Hermione snorted. "I get that. But lucky for you, there’s another option. There’s a new wandmaker in Diagon Alley - just off the corner near Knockturn Alley. An exchange student from Castelobruxo told me about it last year. They do custom wand crafting. Totally normal abroad, actually. Matching the wand to the witch or wizard through resonance readings, not just the usual Ollivander pairings."
Hades blinked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," she confirmed. "We can go there when we do our shopping. And don’t worry, they’re said to be less cryptic than Ollivander, and much more... approachable."
Hades exhaled in relief and smiled faintly.
"You’re the best, Hermione. Really. What would I do without you?"
"Get hexed by your wand in your sleep, apparently," she said with a smirk.
They both laughed quietly.
They talked a little longer - about Hogwarts, house politics, electives, professors - but their voices grew slower, softer, heavier with sleep.
Just as Hades was beginning to drift off, he heard a faint, almost imperceptible sniff from Hermione’s side of the room.
He reached up - his bed was slightly lower than hers - and found her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Just a small gesture of comfort.
There was nothing more he could do.
But sometimes, a little comfort made all the difference.
Hades slowly awoke the next morning. It was still early - the light soft and golden through the curtains. He blinked, disoriented for a second, until it hit him.
It was his birthday.
Strangely, he hadn’t celebrated at midnight like he always used to. No cake in the dark. No stolen moment to whisper to himself, “Happy birthday, Harry.”
But before he could feel too wistful, a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Happy birthday, Hades.”
He turned to see Hermione sitting up, her hair a wild halo around her face, a warm smile playing on her lips. When he sat up properly, she pulled him into a tight hug.
“Everything will be all right,” she said softly into his shoulder.
Gods, he loved her. In every universe.
They hurried downstairs soon after, still dressed in sweatpants and oversized shirts, not bothering to change. When they walked into the kitchen, Hades stopped in his tracks.
A garland stretched across the room in bright magical colors: “Happy Birthday Harry and Hades!”
His mum was already at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon, humming something cheerful. The scent made his stomach growl. When she turned and spotted them, her face lit up.
“Hades!” she beamed, rushing over. “Happy birthday, my love.” She wrapped him in a warm, maternal hug, and Hades melted into it.
His dad entered the kitchen just behind them, ruffling his hair before pulling him into another hug. “Happy birthday, son.”
Hades’s chest felt tight, and he blinked rapidly. The tears were right there, just beneath the surface. But for once, they weren’t sad tears. He let himself breathe it in - the comfort, the affection, the sense of belonging.
They sat down at the kitchen table, laughter and warmth filling the space. His dad called up the stairs, summoning the others. A moment later, Harry, Hazel, and Ron appeared, all looking rumpled from sleep.
“Happy birthday, you two!” Hazel squealed, practically throwing herself at her brothers and hugging them both. “My big brothers, all grown up!”
Harry gave Hades a small but genuine smile. “Happy birthday, Hades.”
“Happy birthday, twin,” Hades replied, bumping his fist lightly against Harry’s shoulder.
Even Ron offered a wave and a quick, “Happy birthday,” though his eyes were more focused on the food than anything else. Hermione, ever diplomatic, gave Harry a cool nod in return.
But none of it dampened the moment.
For the first time in years - maybe ever - Hades felt like his birthday really was something to celebrate.
Breakfast was a quick affair - mostly thanks to Ron, who devoured his food like it might vanish at any second.
James cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “Alright, birthday presents for the birthday boys.”
Both Hades and Harry groaned in unison, exchanging wary glances.
James handed them each a large envelope. Curious, Hades opened his and peeked inside. Nestled inside was something that resembled a Muggle credit card - slightly thicker, sleek, and matte, with only his name engraved in elegant, silver script.
“This,” James began with a proud grin, “is your access card to your new vaults. You can also use it to pay directly in most magical establishments. Just show the card. Gringotts and the Ministry have spent the last few years working on modernizing payment systems - no more lugging around sacks of Galleons or fumbling with change. If you tap your wand to the surface, it'll show your current account balance. It’s surprisingly efficient.”
Hermione, of course, looked delighted by this development. Ron looked mildly suspicious.
Hades tapped his wand against the card, and a soft golden shimmer revealed a number that made his breath catch.
50,000 Galleons.
He blinked, stunned. That was a small fortune - less than what he had back in his original world, but still more than enough to ensure comfort and freedom.
“Thank you,” he said earnestly, turning to his parents. “Really. This means a lot.”
Lily smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “We want you to feel supported, and independent. You’re coming into your own now.”
James gave him a one-armed squeeze. “And responsible,” he added, clearly trying to sound stern but failing thanks to the amused glint in his eye.
Hades glanced across the table. Harry had a similar glow in his eyes - appreciation mixed with excitement. Ron, meanwhile, looked like he was trying very hard not to stare at the balance number shimmering on Hades’ card. His smile was tight, but he didn’t say anything.
“There’s more,” Lily added. “You’ll each be receiving another gift later today - from your godparents.”
That piqued Hades’ curiosity. He knew who his were now, but still hadn’t wrapped his head around what kind of gifts to expect from Remus and Alice Longbottom.
“Better than socks, I hope,” Hades muttered, grinning.
“Don’t knock socks,” James said with mock seriousness. “A good pair of wool socks saved me during that blizzard in ’88.”
Everyone chuckled - except Ron, who had already returned to devouring what was left of the bacon.
Guests began to arrive gradually around noon. There were warm greetings, loud congratulations, and a steady flow of gifts. Hades found himself pulled into hug after hug, laughter echoing around him. It was overwhelming - but in the best way.
He felt like he’d stepped into the Mirror of Erised, just like he had in his first year - only this time, it wasn’t a dream. Family. Friends. People who cared. He felt seen. Safe. Loved.
It was odd, being close with Blaise and Theo. In his old world, they were nothing more than names in passing - or vague figures on the edges of Slytherin’s common room. But here, they were his friends. Blaise, charming and sharp-tongued, shared a few sarcastic jokes about his holiday in Italy.
“Mum’s planning her eighth wedding. I’ve honestly lost track of the fiancé’s name.”
Theo was quieter, more introspective. But when he spoke, it was with insight and dry wit that made Hades genuinely enjoy the conversation.
And then there was Luna.
He hugged her tightly when she floated into the garden in a sunflower-yellow dress and shimmering shoes. She blinked up at him with wide, knowing eyes.
“Your Wrackspurts are different today,” she said, tilting her head. “Darker. Stronger. But not bad. Just... older.”
Her voice softened. “It’ll all turn out all right in the end. You’ll see.”
Her words struck something deep in his chest, though he didn’t know why.
Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and most of the Gryffindors kept their distance - just like Harry’s friends kept their distance from him. Some dynamics, it seemed, were reversed, not erased.
Mrs. Weasley found him eventually and pulled him into a warm, crushing hug.
“Hades, dear, you grow taller every time I see you,” she said fondly, smoothing his hair back.
He smiled shyly.
“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”
And then the twins arrived - Frederick and George. Mischief incarnate.
“Happy Birthday, Hades!” Fred grinned.
“Now tell us, where’s your useless twin?” George added, glancing around exaggeratedly.
Hades grinned back. “Probably avoiding you two. Smart choice, honestly.”
Their eyes lit up with delight when Hades leaned in slightly.
“I heard you’re trying to open a joke shop.”
Fred’s eyes darted around. “Pssst - don’t let Mum hear that.”
George muttered, “She’s very against it. Says it’s not a ‘real career.’ We’re saving what we can, but it’s taking time…”
The smile slipped a little from their faces.
Hades didn’t hesitate.
“I’m in.”
Both twins froze, blinking.
“What?” Fred asked.
“I want to invest. Let’s talk in a few days. I believe in you two. You're brilliant, and your shop will be a success. I’ll provide a bit of starting capital - enough to get it off the ground. Shelves, inventory, renting a space... all of it. And in return, I get a small cut of the profits. Let’s say... 5%.”
Fred’s mouth fell open. George’s eyes glittered with calculating excitement.
“Hadekins, this is - ”
“ - amazing,” George finished.
“We never knew - ”
“ - you were a businessman.”
Then they exchanged a look, identical smirks growing.
“But 5%? Nah.”
“10%, and you’re in.”
They held out their hands.
Hades chuckled and shook them both.
“Alright. We’ll talk in a few days. Deal.”
The twins whooped, and George muttered,
“We’re going to make magical history, mate.”
Hades barely had a moment to breathe before the next wave of guests arrived - his grandparents from both sides of the family. Even his great-grandmother Mireille had come along, tall and regal, dressed in deep navy robes with golden embroidery and star-like sequins. Her silver hair was tied in a flawless bun, and her cane had a snake carved into the handle.
She looked at him sharply, her gaze glittering with intensity.
"Young men are often far too lazy for their own good," she said, her French accent thick but elegant. "I do hope you are not one of them."
From behind her, Fleamont Potter gave a quiet scoff.
“I heard that, Fleamont.” She told sharp.
Hades stood straighter, both amused and slightly intimidated. One by one, his grandparents pulled him into warm, slightly perfumed hugs. The air around them smelled faintly of lavender, rosewater, and old spellbooks. Despite the subtle clash of colognes and magical energy, he liked it - it felt like home.
Then the next big arrival: Sirius and Marlene. The energy in the garden shifted as a loud cheer went up.
“Sirius!” someone called, and he raised a hand in greeting like a celebrity.
Sirius headed straight toward Harry, pulling him into a long, brotherly hug. The two immediately fell into deep conversation, laughing, teasing, gesturing wildly. Hades watched from a few feet away, a strange pang tightening in his chest. Of course Sirius was closer to Harry - they had a lifetime together, shared grief, and old bonds. It was only natural. Still, it stung a little.
Sirius eventually came over, ruffling Hades’ hair half-heartedly.
“Happy birthday, kid.”
His smile was quick, distracted - his eyes already flicking back to Harry.
“Thanks,” Hades replied quietly.
But Regulus made up for it in an instant.
“Hades,” he said warmly, giving his brother a look before shooing him off. “Move over, Sirius, don’t hog the birthday boy.”
Regulus pulled Hades into a real hug - firm, steady, full of affection.
“Happy birthday. Seventeen. That’s a good number. You look well.”
Behind him stood his small, close-knit family. Two boys, one about six, the other perhaps eight, both with warm brown skin and thick, curly black hair. Their eyes, however, were a curious silver-grey - a clear inheritance from their father. They beamed up at Hades.
“Are you the birthday prince?” the younger one asked with wide eyes.
“I guess I am,” Hades said with a grin, kneeling slightly to their level.
“We made you a card,” the older boy declared proudly, handing him a folded piece of enchanted parchment that glittered with drawings of broomsticks, dragons, and exploding cauldrons.
Regulus’ wife stood beside them, resplendent in flowing emerald robes and a vibrant magenta turban wrapped neatly around her head. Her dark eyes sparkled with kindness.
“Happy birthday, Hades,” she said in a voice like velvet and honey. “You have such a beautiful soul. May this year be gentle on you.”
Before Hades could say thank you, another voice cut through the chatter.
“Oi, let your old godfather through!”
Remus Lupin arrived with a wide smile, looking delightfully casual in soft brown robes and slightly graying hair swept back.
“Hades, my favorite godchild.”
He winked and pulled him into a warm hug.
“Seventeen. Look at you - all grown up. You were just the size of a Quidditch Quaffle not too long ago.”
Behind him came Tonks, waddling slightly and clearly very pregnant. Her hair was short and bubblegum pink today, and she wore a stretchy robe that had stars that twinkled when she moved.
“Hullo Hades! Happy birthday!” she beamed, waddling toward a chair and flopping into it with dramatic flair.
“Ugh. I love this baby, but Merlin, I will scream if I have to pee again in the next five minutes.”
Remus laughed. “You said that five minutes ago.”
“And it’s still true.” She waved a hand dramatically. “Now be a dear and get me something sweet before I decide to Hex this pregnancy away. Cake. Or trifle. Or both.”
Remus turned to Hades with a helpless look.
“She’s been like this all week.”
“It’s alright,” Hades laughed, “she’s still my favorite metamorphmagus.”
Tonks blew him a kiss.
“Flatterer. You’ll make someone a lucky partner someday.”
A few moments later, a tall woman with a soft, round face and short-cropped hair approached him. Hades blinked, his thoughts flashing back to another world - another life. He had seen her before, but not like this.
In St. Mungo’s, she had been pale and fragile, her hair prematurely gray, her gaze unfocused and lost in some silent, unreachable place. But here, in this universe, she stood tall and confident, her eyes bright and filled with warmth.
"Harry, my dear, happy birthday," she said gently, smiling as she pulled him into a warm hug.
Hades returned it, stunned. The scent of lavender clung to her robes, familiar and oddly comforting.
Behind her, a tall man with broad shoulders and a kind, steady expression gave Hades a wave - Frank Longbottom. And standing beside him, slightly hunched and looking nervous, was Neville.
"H-h-happy b-b-birthday, H-Hades," Neville stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted around anxiously, as though unsure if he belonged.
"Thank you so much, Neville," Hades said with a soft smile. "And happy belated birthday to you too. I didn’t forget."
Neville blinked in surprise, his cheeks flushing. There was a flicker of disbelief in his eyes - like he wasn’t used to being remembered.
Hades studied him for a moment. Neville resembled his mother more than he'd realized - especially now, standing so close to her. There was something in the shape of his eyes, the curve of his smile, that echoed Alice's gentle strength.
"Do you want to sit with us?" Hades asked, motioning toward the table where Hazel, Hermione, Luna, Blaise, and Theo were gathered, deep in animated conversation.
Neville hesitated, glancing toward his parents. Alice had already taken a seat beneath a sunshade, calmly sipping pumpkin juice as she chatted with Frank, who gave Neville an encouraging nod.
Hades didn’t wait for an answer. He reached out and gently took Neville by the sleeve.
"Come on," he said with a grin. "You belong with us."
Neville's shoulders relaxed just a little.
"O-okay," he murmured.
As Hades led him toward the others, he glanced back once. Alice was watching them with a quiet smile on her face, one hand resting over Frank’s. Her gaze followed Neville, soft and full of love.
And in that moment, with sunlight dappling through the enchanted garlands and laughter bubbling all around, Hades felt it again - that deep, aching warmth. Like maybe… just maybe… this was the life he was meant to have after all.
After the birthday cake had been cut - thick layers of chocolate and treacle, decorated with sparklers and animated sugar Snitches - and everyone had sung a cheerful (and somewhat off-key) birthday song for both Harry and Hades, James rose from his seat and cleared his throat with a smile.
“Right then. One more tradition to uphold,” he said, lifting his glass slightly before setting it aside. “It’s customary for every wizard to receive a magical pocket watch on their seventeenth birthday. It’s not just for telling time - it also gives you the weather, your current magical location, lunar phase, and even your wand core’s resonance. A proper adult wizard’s tool.”
He looked at both boys warmly. “This next gift comes from us - your parents - and your godparents.”
As he stepped back, Remus and Alice approached Hades, both beaming with pride. For a brief moment, Hades was taken aback. In his old world, the only watch he’d ever received was from the Weasleys: a hand-me-down, worn but given with love. That memory clung to him for a heartbeat, bittersweet and sharp - but he pushed it gently aside.
Alice handed him a small velvet box. Inside, nestled against deep green silk, was a beautiful silver pocket watch. It gleamed softly in the afternoon light, clearly hand-forged. The edges were delicately engraved with swirling runes and protective sigils that shimmered faintly when tilted. In the center of the cover was a constellation motif, with small inlaid sapphires and moonstone fragments forming a star map that shifted ever so slightly with movement.
He turned it over. On the back, a delicate engraving in elegant script read:
“The strength is in yourself.
We are proud of you – Alice & Remus.”
Emotion bloomed in his chest. He swallowed hard.
Beside him, Harry was opening his own gift, presented by Sirius and Marlene. His pocket watch was darker - black steel with a celestial motif etched in gold. The face opened to reveal a shimmering magical clock, the background resembling a moving galaxy. Small runes orbited the edge, pulsing softly with Harry’s magical signature.
Hades flipped his own open. The clock face shimmered like a living constellation, soft silver hands ticking across a background that shifted between night skies - stars, nebulae, and glowing phases of the moon. Along the bottom, a small magical dial flickered between symbols: a sun for clear skies, a storm cloud for rain, a wand for magical flux. It pulsed warmly in his hand, attuned to him already.
He looked up and threw his arms around Remus and Alice, hugging them tightly.
“Thank you. Both of you. It’s… it’s perfect.”
Alice kissed his cheek. “You’ve grown into someone we’re deeply proud of, Hades.”
Remus ruffled his hair affectionately. “It’s not the watch that makes the wizard - it’s the wizard who gives it meaning. Carry it well.”
As Harry thanked Sirius and Mary with a grin and a one-armed hug, Hades stood beside him, the weight of the silver watch grounding him. A symbol not just of adulthood, but of belonging - of being loved, chosen, and seen.
And in that moment, surrounded by magic, laughter, and family, he felt it again.
That warmth.
That certainty.
He was home.
After the emotional moment with the pocket watches, the sound of cheerful voices grew louder as several guests began calling for the traditional birthday Quidditch match. It seemed to be an annual tradition no one wanted to miss.
Hades felt a little overwhelmed by the noise and excitement. He looked around until his eyes landed on Hermione, who was leaning casually against a tree, her arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her lips. She beckoned him over.
“I totally forgot about this part,” she said with a sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “How good are you at Quidditch?”
Hades smirked. “Decent.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Decent as in… ‘I’ve-flown-twice’ or decent as in ‘secretly-professional-level’?”
“Well, I was the youngest Seeker in a century at Hogwarts.” He grinned, enjoying the way her mouth dropped open.
“You're joking,” she said, half in awe and half in disbelief.
“Nope.” He gave her a wink. “It’s in the record books.”
Hermione shook her head, letting out a small laugh. “Well, that explains why your team might actually stand a chance. You and Harry are team captains. So far, Harry’s team has always won. Every single year.”
Hades glanced toward Harry, who had already gathered a crowd of familiar faces - Ron, Sirius, their dad, Ginny, Dean, and Seamus - all laughing and preparing to gear up.
“Is this basically Gryffindor versus the rest of the world?” Hades asked with a scoff.
Hermione gave him a mischievous smile. “Exactly.”
“Alright then,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s draft a team.”
“Twins as Beaters?” he asked hopefully.
Hermione nodded immediately. “Absolutely. Fred and George played at Hogwarts - they’re brilliant.”
“And Blaise is a solid Keeper for Slytherin,” she added.
Hades turned and called out:
“Fred, George, Blaise - fancy handing Gryffindor their first birthday loss?”
The twins exchanged devilish grins. “Do Hippogriffs eat ferrets?” Fred replied.
“Count us in!” George added.
Blaise gave a cool nod. “I’m in. This should be entertaining.”
“Hazel!” Hades turned to his sister, who was mid-sip of butterbeer. “How about flying as Chaser for us?”
She nearly choked. “Seriously?”
“You flew like hell yesterday. You’ve got instincts. Let’s put them to use.” He winked at her.
Hazel beamed with pride. “Alright, Captain.”
“Hermione, I still need two more Chasers.” He looked at her expectantly.
She scanned the crowd thoughtfully. “Your mum used to be a strong Chaser. And I’ve heard Regulus was quite good back in his school days. Go ask them.”
It didn’t take much to convince Regulus, who was more than eager to play just to beat Sirius. His mother needed a little coaxing, but eventually agreed, laughing that she hadn't flown competitively in years.
Within minutes, everyone was in worn Quidditch robes, flying around on a variety of brooms. Harry, predictably, had been quick enough to snag the Firebolt. Hades, meanwhile, mounted a Nimbus 2001 - not as fast, but still responsive.
Remus volunteered to act as referee, levitating slightly off the ground and brandishing a whistle.
The match kicked off, and from the first second, it was fast, chaotic, and full of laughter. Fred and George were relentless, sending Bludgers zipping past heads and weaving trick shots with deadly coordination. Hazel surprised everyone with her daring dives and impressive passing, working seamlessly with Regulus and Lily.
The score remained neck-and-neck, each team trading goals. Hades could tell Harry was getting frustrated - his face was set in concentration, barking orders.
“Go get the Snitch, Ginny!” Harry shouted to his girlfriend, clearly eager to end it.
But Hades was already scanning the skies. And then - there it was. A glint of gold, fluttering just above the grass.
He faked a sharp climb upward, drawing Ginny with him, before suddenly spiraling downward at breakneck speed. The crowd gasped. Some shouted. The ground came rushing up, but he kept his focus steady.
Just before impact, he pulled up hard, stretching out his hand - and snatched the Snitch out of the air.
Silence.
A beat.
Then an explosion of cheers and gasps.
He pumped his fist in triumph, still catching his breath. But instead of the usual cheers, he noticed that everyone was just… staring.
“Hades,” his mother called out, her voice a mixture of awe and mild panic, “that was INSANE!”
“You didn’t tell us you could fly like that!” Fred said, wide-eyed.
“That dive!” George added. “I thought you were going to break every bone in your body!”
The rest of the Gryffindor-heavy team looked stunned and slightly defeated. Even Harry floated silently for a moment before letting out a breathless chuckle and flying over.
“Alright, I’ll admit it,” Harry said. “That was brilliant.”
Hades grinned, proud and exhilarated. “Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.”
Hermione jogged over from the sidelines, still blinking in disbelief.
“You weren’t exaggerating about that ‘youngest Seeker’ title, were you?”
“Nope,” Hades said smugly.
He turned and called to his sister. “Hazel! That was some fantastic flying.”
She beamed. “That was the most fun I’ve had all summer.”
And for the first time in a long while, Hades felt not just like a guest in someone else’s world - but like he truly belonged.
Blaise strode over, arms crossed and expression stern. He looked like he was about to deliver a lecture.
Blaise strode over, arms crossed and wearing the kind of expression that suggested he was about to lay down the law.
“You're trying out for Slytherin after the summer.”
Hades opened his mouth, but Blaise raised a hand.
“No. I don’t want to hear a single excuse. That was insane. Absolutely brilliant. We finally have a chance to take the Cup from Gryffindor. McGonagall’s been gloating for years. Snape’s going to be ecstatic - he’s lost dozens of Galleons to her in those stupid staff room bets.”
At the mention of Snape, Hades felt a surprising flicker of pride. A part of him really wanted to see the man’s reaction.
“He’d probably agree with you,” he said quietly, unable to keep the grin from creeping onto his face.
Suddenly, Fred and George flanked him, each throwing an arm over his shoulder.
“Alright, where did you learn to fly like that?” Fred demanded.
“Be honest,” George added. “Did you train in secret with the Tornados?”
Hades smirked. “Just practiced. Had to be good enough to beat everyone on my birthday, right?”
“Modest, too,” Fred said with a wink.
“Brilliant flyer and modest. A rare breed.”
The twins exchanged a dramatic glance.
“You know what this means,” Fred said solemnly.
“We’re trading Ron.”
“Straight up,” George agreed. “One Ron for one Hades. Fair bargain.”
“We’ll even throw in a box of Canary Creams to sweeten the deal.”
Hades burst out laughing as Ron - standing nearby with a mouthful of treacle tart - spluttered indignantly.
“Oi! I heard that!”
“We hoped you would,” Fred called over his shoulder.
“It's unanimous. Welcome to the family, Hades,” George added with a theatrical bow.
“Sorry, Ron,” Fred said, clapping his brother on the back. “You’ve been replaced.”
Hades was still laughing when Hermione walked by, rolling her eyes.
“Honestly,” she muttered, but she was smiling too.
It was chaos, mischief, and warmth - all at once. And Hades thought, not for the first time that day, that maybe he really was exactly where he was meant to be.
Petunia and Vernon Dursley had made an appearance, though not without the usual stiffness. Vernon looked thoroughly uncomfortable surrounded by magic, as if expecting the teapot to attack him at any moment, while Petunia clung to her handbag like a lifeline. Still, she had kissed both boys on the cheek - Harry and Hades - and said “Happy Birthday” in a voice that was almost gentle. Hades felt deeply uncomfortable with that.
Dudley, now broader and a little awkward, had surprised Hades with a firm handshake and a nervous laugh. “You’re still weird, mate, but… this is kind of cool.” His younger sister, Daisy, was far more at ease. She’d spent most of the afternoon chasing enchanted butterflies around the garden with Hazel, her shrieks of delight cutting through the chatter. Surprisingly, Daisy had hugged Hades tightly before leaving, whispering, “I wish we could have birthday parties like this all the time.”
Their birthday had been loud, joyful, and overflowing with laughter, flying bludgers, and far too much food. The house still echoed faintly with the remnants of celebration - distant chuckles, clinking plates being cleaned by enchanted brushes, and the soft whoosh of brooms returning to the shed.
As twilight deepened into night, guests began saying their goodbyes one by one, exchanging tired but contented smiles. There were lingering hugs at the door, promises to write soon, and a few last jokes from the twins before they Disapparated with twin cracks of sound.
Hermione had decided to stay another day, much to Hades’ quiet relief. Her presence grounded him more than she probably realized.
Later, after the house had settled into a calm hush, Hades lay in bed, one arm folded beneath his head as he stared at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. The cool breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and the soft rustle of leaves.
He let his mind wander through the whirlwind of the day - the magical pocket watch gleaming in his hand, the weight of Neville's shy smile, the wild thrill of the Quidditch match, and the twins’ dramatic offer to trade Ron. There had been moments of pure, effortless happiness. For the first time in a long while, he had felt like he belonged.
And yet, beneath all that warmth, there was still a quiet ache. A grief that hadn’t left him. The life he came from - the people he had known, the battles he had fought, the scars he bore - none of it had simply vanished. He’d lost a world. And even if this one glittered with love and laughter, it wasn’t the same.
But as he shifted under the blankets, feeling the soft hum of magic in the walls and the comfort of a home that had welcomed him like one of its own, he let out a slow breath.
He would get there.
It wouldn’t happen overnight. But maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to find a place in this strange, beautiful new world.
-----------------
They had a much-needed lie-in the next morning. Sunlight spilled lazily through the curtains, and by the time they padded down to the kitchen in pyjamas and tousled hair, four Hogwarts letters were already waiting on the table.
“Hogwarts is amazing,” Hades murmured, eyeing the neat, elegant script on the envelope addressed to Hermione Jane Granger. The others bore their full names as well: Harry James Potter, Hadrian Charlus Potter, and Hazel Dora Potter.
He greeted his parents with a yawn and reached for some toast, while Hermione eagerly opened her letter beside him. A breathless gasp escaped her lips as she pulled out the parchment and a gleaming badge fell into her palm - polished gold with the bold letters HG for Head Girl.
“Hades…” Her voice trembled slightly, eyes wide in shock.
He grinned and stood to wrap her in a proud hug. “Knew you’d get it, 'Mione. I'm so proud of you.”
Her face flushed a soft pink, and she clutched the badge like it might vanish. “I didn’t expect this,” she whispered.
Across the table, Harry gave a loud, theatrical cough. “Ahem.”
Hades glanced over - and froze. Harry was holding up a badge of his own: HB for Head Boy.
“You’re kidding,” Hades said, narrowing his eyes. “You?”
Harry gave him a smug, infuriatingly satisfied grin. “Why not me? I’m very responsible. Mostly. Occasionally. When it counts.”
James clapped his son on the shoulder proudly, beaming. “That’s my boy! Head Boy, just like I was.”
Lily pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Hades tried not to scowl. Still, he forced a smile. “Congratulations, Harry.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, still grinning. “Don’t worry, I won’t give you to much detentions.”
“I am still a prefect myself,” Hades said dryly, throwing a piece of toast at him.
He finally turned back to his own letter. There was no badge waiting for him - just the familiar folded parchment and the booklist.
He scanned the list aloud as he buttered a croissant:
• Shadows and Shields: Defensive Magic at the Highest Level – Emeric Wulfric
• Artful Incantations: Precision Charms for Advanced Spellcasters – Miranda Goshawk
• The Green Arts: A N.E.W.T.-Level Companion to Magical Plants – John Smith-Smythe
• The Alchemy of Form: Advanced Transfiguration and Theory – Althea Morrigan
• Essence and Elixir: Mastery in Potion Brewing – Severus Snape
He paused mid-bite, blinking at the last name.
“Snape wrote a book?” He raised his brows in surprise. “For seventh-years. That’s… kind of impressive.” He didn’t say it aloud, but he wondered if having a textbook authored by this world's Snape might make classes a bit less tense. Maybe.
“'Mione,” he called, waving his list. “There’s a Potions book by Snape.”
Hermione leaned over and scanned his parchment, her brows rising. “Huh. Essence and Elixir. Honestly, maybe we’ll finally have a decent potions book. The last one was ancient.”
Across the table, Harry groaned. “Who’d want to read a book written by the greasy dungeon bat?”
Hades rolled his eyes and lobbed a napkin at him. “Behave, Head Boy.”
He continued reading:
• Epochs of Enchantment: A Critical History of Magical Civilization – Thaddeus Bagshot
• Celestial Bodies and Magical Influences: A Guide for Advanced Observers – Cassiopeia Vane
• Runes and Rituals: Symbolic Language in Ancient Magic – Edda Runestone
• Beasts Beyond Borders: A N.E.W.T.-Level Compendium of Magical Creatures – Silvanus Kettleburn
He groaned theatrically and dropped the list onto the table. “Seventh year sounds brutal.”
Just then, James told them with a smile and a mug of coffee. “Boys,” he said cheerfully, “you’ve got your Apparition license tests in an hour. After that, you’re free to head to Diagon Alley for supplies.”
Hades perked up. “Perfect. Hermione and I already talked about doing some shopping.”
Harry slumped in his chair. “I’ll send an owl to Ginny. Maybe she can come with me. Shopping for books sounds like a nightmare otherwise.”
Hazel breezed in, already dressed and clutching her own Hogwarts letter. “Speak for yourself. I want all the new books.”
As they tucked into breakfast with laughter and fluttering letters still clutched in hand, the golden summer morning felt full of promise - and just a touch of nerves.
_________________
They arrived at the Ministry of Magic in a flurry of billowing robes and lively chatter. The golden afternoon sun filtered through the grand glass atrium, casting shimmering reflections on the polished floors.
Hermione peeled away from the group with a wave. “I’m going to pop home to grab my Gringotts key and my shopping list. I’ll meet you at Flourish and Blotts after your test!”
James led the boys deeper into the Ministry. “Apparition tests are on the fourth floor. Come on, it's this way.”
The lift chimed softly as it came to a halt. As they stepped out, a stern-looking witch in her fifties greeted them with a clipboard clutched tightly in hand. Her square spectacles glinted in the magical lighting.
“James Potter?” she asked briskly, eyeing the two boys behind him.
“Yes,” James said with a warm smile. “These are my sons. They’re here for their Apparition licenses.”
“Excellent. Let’s see…” She glanced down. “Harry James Potter - you’re in Room 3 with Mr. Nettlegrow. Hadrian Charlus Potter - Room 4 with Ms. Bloom. Parents and siblings may wait outside.”
Hades gave his dad a small grin and followed the directions to Room 4. Inside, he found a young blonde woman with an easy smile waiting by a clipboard. She reminded him faintly of Tonks - something about the confident posture and the mischievous spark in her eyes.
“Hello, I’m Hades Potter,” he said politely.
She flipped through her clipboard. “Hadrian, yes?”
“Right,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Everyone calls me Hades.”
“Got it. All right, Hades. The test is simple. Normally, you can’t Apparate inside the Ministry, but these rooms are enchanted to allow it.”
She motioned to a white chalk circle on the opposite end of the room.
“First, you’ll Apparate directly into that circle. Then, a wall will rise between you and the target, and you’ll need to Apparate to the other side again. That’s it.”
“That’s really the whole test?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“Yep,” she said with a grin. “Easy as pumpkin pie.”
Hades focused on the circle, picturing himself dissolving and reforming right in the center. Destination, Determination, Deliberation. With a quiet pop, he landed cleanly inside the chalk ring.
“Nicely done,” Ms. Bloom said, making a neat check on her clipboard. “Now let’s see how you do with the obstacle.”
A shimmering barrier rose between him and the circle.
He focused again. The mental image formed swiftly. Another pop - and he was on the other side, slightly off-center but well within the circle.
“Excellent work!” she said, marking a second check, then signing the parchment and sending it flying away with a flick of her wand. “Congratulations, Hades. You’re now licensed to Apparate.”
He blinked. “That was… surprisingly easy.”
She chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many people splinch on the second part.”
As if on cue, a scream echoed from the corridor.
Alarmed, Hades rushed out of the testing room - and found a crowd gathered outside Room 3. Harry lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his leg, which was soaked in blood. His face was twisted in pain.
Lily was kneeling beside him, muttering a rapid healing incantation as James hovered nearby, his wand drawn. Hazel was wringing her hands, pale-faced, while Sirius and Remus stood ready to assist.
A Ministry mediwitch burst through the crowd, summoned by Lily’s Patronus, and quickly dropped to Harry’s side. Mr. Nettlegrow, Harry’s examiner, looked unimpressed.
“Well, you’ll need to reapply in four months,” he said, entirely unbothered by the blood. “Better luck next time.” With that, he swept away without another word.
James turned toward Hades, trying not to show his worry. “How did it go for you?”
Hades gave him a small, apologetic shrug and a crooked grin. “Nailed it. Naturally.”
He glanced down at Harry. “Think I’ll go meet Hermione at Diagon Alley. You might be here a bit longer.”
Lily looked up from her son with a strained smile. “Proud of you, Hades. Yes, we’ve got some patching up to do here.”
With one last glance at Harry - who was still groaning dramatically as the mediwitch began to knit the splinched leg back together - Hades turned and slipped away, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the grand halls of the Ministry.
He found Hermione already waiting outside Flourish and Blotts, her hair pinned up loosely and a list in hand. She looked up when he approached.
“Hades! How was it?” she called out, smiling.
“It was surprisingly easy. Nailed it,” he said with a smirk, then added with a dry chuckle, “Harry splinched himself.”
Hermione winced, but there was a suspicious gleam of amusement in her eyes. “Poor boy,” she said, not sounding particularly sorry. “Let’s start with the books, then we’ll head to the wandmaker.”
Inside Flourish and Blotts, the scent of parchment, leather, and ink filled the air. They handed their booklists to one of the shop assistants, who vanished behind the counter with a stack of orders. While waiting, Hades wandered toward the section on Ancient Runes.
With a grin, he plucked a title off the shelf:
"Everything I Need to Know About Runes – A Straightforward Guide for Beginners and the Madly Ambitious" by Kyle Konrads.
“Hermione, look at this one.”
She took the book from him and flipped through a few pages. “Hmm. Surprisingly clear explanations. Maybe it’s not as bad as the cheesy title suggests.” She sighed and added it to their growing stack.
Further down the aisle, Hades found a selection of books on potion theory. One in particular caught his eye: "Synergy in the Cauldron: Unlocking Hidden Reactions Between Magical Ingredients" by Basil Thornwick. He tucked it under his arm. “Alright, this should be enough to last me the rest of the summer - and possibly the next decade.”
Hermione laughed. “You say that every year.”
After paying for their books and carefully shrinking them for easier carrying, the two made their way into the edge of Knockturn Alley, where a polished, black-wood storefront stood out starkly among the gloom.
Virelli’s Wandwrights was carved in elegant silver lettering above the door.
They stepped inside. The interior was surprisingly warm and modern, with glowing orbs floating lazily overhead and polished shelves displaying rare materials. A young woman in fitted robes greeted them with a professional smile.
“Hogwarts students?” she asked.
Both nodded, and Hades stepped forward. “I need a new wand. My old one... doesn’t feel right anymore.”
The wandwright’s smile faded into a look of professional focus. “Let me see your current wand.”
He handed it over.
“Ten and a half inches. Yew, unicorn hair. An Ollivander wand. Loyal, but rigid. You’re looking for something custom now. More aligned to who you are becoming.”
Hades nodded. “Yeah. My friend recommended handmade. Said they connect better.”
“Don’t flatter me just yet.” She gave a small smirk and began to lay out an impressive array of materials on a long velvet-covered table: woods (holly, fir, cherry, elder, ebony), cores (phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, veela hair, thestral tail, basilisk bone), crystals, metals, and even stranger things - boggart tears, acromantula silk, moonshard dust.
“Stand over here,” she instructed, gesturing to the table. “Hover your hand slowly over the materials. Don’t think - just feel. The wand chooses you, remember.”
Feeling oddly nervous, Hades followed her instructions. His hand passed over cherry, fir, ebony - and stirred sharply over holly, and again, unmistakably, when it hovered over elder. A pulse of warmth spread from his palm.
She raised a brow and selected both woods, setting them aside.
“Interesting.”
Then, unexpectedly, his hand jerked faintly again - this time over a large emerald, a phoenix feather, and the sharpened white bone of a basilisk fang.
“Very interesting,” the wandwright murmured. “This combination is rare. Extremely high magical output, but unstable if forced. It demands a wizard with power, focus, and inner resilience - someone who has faced loss, temptation, and moral conflict... and come out stronger.”
She looked at him sharply. “You ever done wandless magic?”
Hades nodded once.
“This wand will deepen it. Amplify your natural potential. It’ll be excellent for dueling, transfiguration, advanced defensive magic, and even... more unusual disciplines. Binding it will not be easy, but once bonded, it will be unmatched.”
“How long until it’s ready?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Two hours.” She gave him a confident look. “150 Galleons. Would you like a wand holster as well?”
“Yes, please - actually, two. One for me, and one for Hermione.”
She retrieved two beautifully crafted wand holsters - one black dragonhide with emerald stitching, and one lighter, rose-toned leather with subtle runic embossing.
“200 Galleons total.”
They paid, and as they stepped back out into the warm summer afternoon, Hades let out a slow breath.
“That... was surreal,” he said.
Hermione nodded. “You’re getting a wand with emerald and basilisk bone. That’s a new level of magical swagger.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Ice cream?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They walked together toward Florean Fortescue’s, already imagining double scoops and shady seats.
After they had finished their ice cream - two oversized sundaes from Florean Fortescue’s, complete with glittering sprinkles and fizzing caramel drops - they made their way to the Apothecary to stock up on the usual ingredients: dried asphodel, bundles of wolfsbane, and enough powdered bicorn horn to make Snape twitch an eyebrow.
As they stepped out, arms full of neatly wrapped parcels, Hades glanced sideways at Hermione.
“Hermione,” he began, hesitant, “I was thinking about getting a birthday gift for Neville. It didn’t feel right, leaving him out. Is he into plants here, too?”
Hermione brightened immediately. “Absolutely. He’s one of Professor Sprout’s best students. She calls him her little prodigy - though he turns bright red every time she says it.”
Hades grinned. “Perfect.”
They headed down to Verdant Boughs & Roots, the largest magical plant shop in Diagon Alley. The storefront was overflowing with greenery: enchanted vines curling around window displays, tiny floating cacti that bobbed in mid-air, and blooms that sang softly when brushed.
Inside, the air smelled of earth and blooming things. Ferns rustled as they passed, and glass terrariums pulsed with softly glowing moss.
Hades stared at rows upon rows of magical flora, each labeled with complex Latin names and scribbled warnings. He turned to Hermione helplessly. “This is worse than Runes.”
She laughed and pointed to a display at the front. “What about one of those?”
He walked over and examined a small, delicate plant resting in a self-watering, rune-etched pot. Its petals shifted slowly from a deep calming blue to a nervous yellow as he reached for it.
A wooden sign read:
Sentiflora
Emotionally bonded. Changes color based on its owner's mood. Petals may be used in truth serums and healing draughts. Requires a spoken vow of care when planted.
A gentle hum of magic resonated from the plant as he lifted it.
“This one,” Hades said softly. “It’s perfect.”
As they approached the counter, the elderly shopkeeper, a witch with moss-green spectacles and soil-stained gloves, looked over the Sentiflora with approval. “A lovely gift,” she said, carefully wrapping it in enchanted paper that shimmered like morning dew. “They’re sensitive but loyal. A fine match for a gentle soul.”
Hades tucked the package under his arm and exchanged a look with Hermione.
“I just hope he likes it,” he said quietly.
Hermione nudged his shoulder. “He’s going to love it.”
Since the two hours were nearly over, they made their way back to the wandmaker’s shop. Hades felt a buzz of anticipation in his chest, equal parts nerves and excitement.
“Ah, there you are,” the young witch greeted them as the door jingled closed behind them. She reached beneath the counter and lifted a long, black box wrapped in a fine silk ribbon. Setting it down gently, she opened the lid with a flick of her wand.
Hades gasped. Hermione did the same beside him.
Inside lay what was quite possibly the most beautiful wand Hades had ever seen.
It was nearly thirteen inches long, elegantly tapered and perfectly balanced, narrowing to a sharp, deliberate point. The shaft was crafted primarily from deep, dark elderwood - so rich and shadowy it seemed to drink in the light - but running along the underside like a spine was a pale, luminous ridge of holly, subtly glowing as if lit from within.
Near the hilt, where the user’s fingers would rest, a smooth emerald cabochon was nestled into the wood. It shimmered faintly with an inner pulse, reacting to the ambient magic in the air - both a focusing crystal and a protective ward.
The handle itself was gently contoured, shaped to fit his grip as if it had known his hand forever. Delicate silvery inlays spiraled around the base - ancient runes and protective sigils - that coiled up the wand in an elegant, flowing pattern, culminating in a small, beautifully carved rune of balance near the emerald.
“Both elder and holly symbolize the tension and harmony of death and rebirth, destruction and healing,” the witch explained, her voice reverent. “This wand reflects that balance - and the strength of one who can walk that line.”
Hades blinked. “I’m surprised you had elderwood. It’s incredibly rare.”
The witch’s expression turned proud. “My family has been wandmakers for generations. We don’t rely on imports or wholesalers. Our woods are sustainably grown and passed through enchantments for decades. Elderwood is rare, yes - but it answers only to wizards who can bear its weight. And this wand called for you.”
She closed the box gently and stepped back.
“Now - take it. Let him feel you.”
Hades took a slow breath and closed his eyes. He reached inward, searching for the heart of his magic. He found it, burning in his core - bright, dazzling, like sunlight through water. He focused on it fully.
When he opened his eyes and reached for the wand, magic crackled beneath his fingers.
The wand felt cold. Ancient. Testing him.
A pulse of energy rose up, not hostile - but watchful. As if the wand was trying to gauge him, to question him: Are you worthy? Will you break?
Hades didn’t pull away. He poured his magic into the wand - his resolve, his curiosity, his grief, his strength.
The cold began to fade. Warmth bloomed in his palm. It was like the wand breathed in tandem with him. Not submission - but recognition. A mutual respect.
He raised it slightly and flicked it toward the lid of the box. “Wingardium Leviosa.”
The box floated gently into the air, without a twitch or stumble. Smooth. Controlled.
Hades stared at the wand in awe. “Thank you. This is… a masterpiece.”
The wandmaker gave him a small smile. “All good wands name themselves in time,” she said. “But yours - he’s already spoken to me. His name is Equinox.”
“Equinox,” Hades repeated softly, tasting the word. It felt right. Balance.
“A name of equilibrium. Light and shadow. Power held in balance. It suits you, Hades Potter.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, just nodded once, slowly.
The witch tilted her head. “If you're trying to keep a low profile this year, I can add a glamour. It won’t interfere with the wand’s core - just a visual shimmer. Make it look like old yew. No one will look twice, unless they’re paying very close attention.”
Hades glanced at Hermione.
She nodded immediately. “You should do it. This wand stands out too much. People would ask questions.”
With a murmured spell and a wave of her hand, the wand’s vibrant elderwood dulled into the appearance of ordinary yew, the emerald disappearing beneath the illusion. If you didn’t know what to look for, it was indistinguishable from any common wand.
“Thank you,” Hades said. “For everything.”
She handed them the leather wand holsters, inscribed with a small anti-summoning charm and bound to their magical signatures.
“That wouldn’t have been necessary, Hades,” Hermione said softly as she examined hers.
“It is,” he said firmly. “No one should be able to summon your wand without your consent. It’s completely secure in the holster.”
As they stepped out into the late afternoon sun, the glamour shimmered faintly, then faded. Hades ran a hand over the wand beneath his cloak, the name lingering in his mind.
Equinox.
Balanced.
Unyielding.
His.
With his new wand secure in its new holster, Hades felt noticeably lighter - more grounded, more himself. The holster was fitted snugly against his side, charmed for security and discretion. He exhaled, satisfied.
“Hermione, just one last errand,” he said, already walking toward the marble steps of Gringotts. “I want to visit the bank - set up a meeting with the Twins, maybe get the contracts prepped in advance. And I’d like to know who’s been managing my vault. Possibly make a few changes.”
Hermione groaned good-naturedly. “This is the last one. My feet are beginning to file complaints.”
They stepped into the cold, echoing expanse of Gringotts. The air smelled faintly of old metal, ink, and the dry dust of wealth. A stern-looking goblin stood at the reception desk. He bared sharp, ivory teeth - not quite a snarl, perhaps a greeting.
“What is your desire?” the goblin intoned.
Hades stepped forward. “My name is Hadrian Charlus Potter. I’d like to speak with my account manager.”
The goblin gave a curt nod. “Your keycard and wand, please.”
He handed both over with a flicker of nerves, unsure how the new wand would be received. The goblin inspected them with practiced eyes, passed both over a faintly glowing glyph-stone, then returned them without comment.
“Your accountant will attend you shortly,” he said, before walking off to speak with another goblin.
A few minutes later, a taller goblin with a long scar under one eye approached. His presence was heavier - older, more alert. He stopped before them and gave Hades a long look.
“Hadrian Potter?”
Hades nodded and gave a short bow. “Honored Keeper of Silver and Stone, may your ledgers remain balanced and your blade ever sharp.”
The goblin’s eyes widened just a fraction - clearly impressed.
“And may your magic never falter - nor overreach,” he replied with solemn respect. “I am Griphook. Come.”
They followed him through a side door into a smaller, well-appointed office lined with iron-bound ledgers and glowing ink bottles.
“For my seventeenth birthday,” Hades began, once seated, “my parents gave me my own vault. I’d like to start using it. First, I want to invest in Fred and George Weasley's startup. I want to draft a contract with them, and I’d like to explore other investments too - both wizarding and Muggle. Is that something you can assist with?”
Griphook’s grin was all professionalism and teeth. “Indeed. A contract draft can be prepared and ready for signing by next Wednesday at four o’clock. I will also prepare a portfolio of promising ventures - Gringotts-approved. Your vault will be flagged for active management.”
“Perfect,” Hades said, pleased at how smooth it had been.
As he stood, he offered a respectful parting gesture. “I thank you for your time and expertise. May your gold flow true.”
Griphook inclined his head. “Your business is recorded. May your coin return.”
With that, they exited the bank and emerged into the waning light of Diagon Alley.
“I’m knackered,” Hades muttered, stretching. Hermione chuckled and pulled him into a brief hug.
“Send me your owl. I’ll write you some study plans,” she said. “I’ll visit again before the term starts.”
They parted ways, and Hades apparated home for the first time - landing just outside the wards with a loud crack. It felt strange and exhilarating to travel like that.
Inside, he found Harry sprawled dramatically on the living room sofa, groaning, while Ginny fussed over him with mock concern.
“Babying him already, Ginny?” Hades smirked.
“I am a nurturing soul,” she quipped.
In the kitchen, Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus sat sipping tea and chatting. Laughter simmered in the air.
“Evening,” Hades greeted, stepping in.
“Hades! How was Diagon Alley?” Lily asked warmly.
“Fantastic,” he replied. “I’ll be down again soon, but first - I want to send a late birthday gift to Neville.”
He headed upstairs, quickly penned a note, and tucked it inside a small box containing the Sentiflora. Then he made his way to the Owlery nestled at the edge of the garden, where the evening air was cool and fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle.
His tawny owl, Apolle, perched regally on her rod, feathers fluffed and amber eyes watchful.
“Take this to Neville Longbottom,” he said gently, stroking her sleek plumage.
Apolle gave a soft hoot, nipped his finger in affectionate acknowledgment, then took off into the darkening sky - wings wide and silent as shadow.
In his wand hand, he could still feel the weight of something new - powerful, ancient, and alive.
When it was time for dinner, Hades made his way back to the kitchen. The scent of roasted vegetables and warm bread hung in the air. Sirius and Remus were still there, leaning casually against the counter, nursing mugs of tea and exchanging low murmurs.
A moment later, Harry hobbled into the room, supported by Ginny, who looked both amused and concerned. His limp was dramatic, but his grin suggested he was milking it.
Hazel raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Aren’t you exaggerating just a bit, Harry?”
Hades couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He lifted a hand to stifle a laugh.
“Hazel,” Sirius said, mock-stern, “splinching is no joke. Apparition is one of the hardest things to master. Very few succeed on the first try.” He gave Harry a proud pat on the back. “You did well, all things considered.”
Remus, calm as ever, sipped his tea and added with a smile, “Well, Hades did make it perfectly on his first attempt. No splinching, no wobbles. Quite impressive.” His eyes were soft with affection as they met Hades’s.
Hades flushed slightly but smiled. “Thanks,” he said, then quickly steered the conversation away before it turned into a full-on comparison. “How’s Tonks doing?”
Remus’s face lit up, that quiet sort of joy that always emerged when she was mentioned. “She’s doing well, but this last month is starting to weigh on her. She’s with Andromeda this evening. They're out looking for baby clothes.” He chuckled fondly. “I think Andy’s more excited than Dora is.”
A round of warm laughter followed, and the room settled into the comfortable rhythm of family chatter. Ginny helped Harry to a seat while Hazel snuck an extra biscuit from the breadbasket. Sirius poured firewhisky for the adults, water for the rest, and Remus flicked his wand to summon cutlery from the drawers.
The table was set, the food was ready, and for a little while, everything felt just right.
When Hades went to bed, he brought his new Potions book with him. He trailed his fingers over the dragonhide cover, the black leather cool beneath his touch. The silver-embossed title gleamed faintly in the shifting light of his bedroom: Essence and Elixir: Mastery in Potion Brewing.
The moment he touched it, it felt like Snape - sharp, demanding, and entirely without mercy.
He opened it reverently. The spine creaked slightly in protest, as though displeased at being disturbed. The pages were thick and faintly yellowed, edged in a dull silver sheen. There was no dedication - of course not - but on the very first page, a brief paragraph stood in stark, unforgiving ink:
To those responsible for the decline of proper potion instruction: retire your quills. This volume was written to correct your failings. - S. Snape
Hades let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Brutal,” he muttered, flipping forward.
The prose was just as he expected - direct, unflinching, and laced with acidic wit. And then it struck him: the tone was almost identical to the annotations in that old sixth-year textbook - the one once owned by the Half-Blood Prince. The same ruthless efficiency. The same disdain for mediocrity. Only this time, it wasn’t hidden in the margins. It was published.
He skimmed a section under Advanced Poison Antidotes:
If you’ve failed to identify the primary toxin by the third stage of deterioration, you may as well be stirring pumpkin juice. And yes, this includes you, Macmillan.
Hades snorted. He could almost hear Snape’s voice in his head.
With a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he closed the book and set it gently on his desk beside his wand. He already knew: this was going to be his favorite textbook this year.
The very next morning, a study plan arrived by owl - unsurprisingly, from Hermione. James looked up from his coffee, eyebrows raised as Hades spread the parchment across the kitchen table.
“It’s NEWT year,” Hades said simply, noticing the look. “It’s going to be hellish. I want to be prepared.”
With Hermione’s structured plan, his stack of old schoolbooks, and a new title - Everything I Need to Know About Runes: A Straightforward Guide for Beginners and the Madly Ambitious - he threw himself into Ancient Runes. It was challenging, no doubt about it, but something about it made sense to him. Runes had logic, structure, intent. It was demanding - a language and a puzzle at once - but far better than the woolly nonsense of Divination with its tea leaves and ever-present death omens. He scoffed at the memory. Grim indeed.
In addition to Runes, he immersed himself in Potions. Essence and Elixir was quickly becoming a favorite - the language sharp and unforgiving, the instructions maddeningly precise - and yet Hades found himself thriving under the pressure. With the help of a second book, Synergy in the Cauldron: Unlocking Hidden Reactions Between Magical Ingredients, things began to click. Connections he'd never seen before became clear.
He particularly loved Snape’s dry, biting annotations.
Stir three times clockwise - if mediocrity is your goal. For actual results, add one more counterclockwise.
In the secluded back corner of the garden, well out of sight, Hades tested his new wand extensively. He wasn’t naïve enough to trust Death - or fate. He wanted to be ready for anything. With his new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook in hand, he drilled himself in shield charms, counter-curses, and precise magical strikes.
One book from his family’s library, Be Faster Than Your Enemy by Clarus Snitterbeck, proved particularly eye-opening. Practical to a fault, the author didn’t mince words:
Always carry a sharp knife. If your wand is lost or bound, your survival may depend on it.
Hades made a mental note to pick one up on his next trip to Diagon Alley.
He also pushed himself to refine wandless magic - focusing on the most useful spells first. Summoning charms, magical binding release, lighting his wandless fingertips in flame. It was frustratingly slow at first, and sweat dripped down his temples during concentration, but after hours of practice, the sparks began to obey. He succeeded, more and more often.
Oddly enough, he found he enjoyed it. Learning, not because someone told him to, but because it gave him strength. Clarity. Confidence. Perhaps it was the absence of that… weight inside him - the Horcrux.
He still couldn’t believe it. That he’d walked around with a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside him, and no one had told him. That Dumbledore had known - and had still sent him out, barely trained, barely informed.
His hand froze mid-turn of a page.
“Run, my boy. There are Horcruxes - I don’t know where, I don’t know what they are - but go find them, destroy them. And then, kill Voldemort.”
No preparation. No backup. No advanced spells or tactics. Just a vague mission and blind faith. And what had he done? Killed Voldemort with Expelliarmus.
Hades shook his head slowly, bitter amusement curling in his chest.
Not this time.
This time, he’d be prepared.
On Thursday, Hades met the twins outside Gringotts. Both were dressed in their best robes, their usual grins replaced by a rare seriousness.
“Hades, you can’t imagine what this means to us,” George said earnestly.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Fred added, equally sincere.
They were ushered inside by Griphook, who gave them a curt nod. “Ah, Mr. Potter and Misters Weasley. Everything is prepared. Right this way.”
In the small meeting room, the twins presented a neatly organized overview: projected costs for renting a shop in Diagon Alley, purchasing equipment, and stocking materials. They had already saved 500 Galleons - an impressive feat.
“We worked night and day. Didn’t spend a Knut on anything we didn’t need,” Fred explained, pride in his voice.
At the end of the presentation, George added, “We even settled on a name. Took us long enough.”
Hades raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Let’s hear it.”
Fred leaned forward, grinning. “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”
George nodded. “Catchy, isn’t it? Bit ridiculous. Bit brilliant.”
Hades laughed. “It’s perfect.”
And just like that, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was born.
After going through the numbers and asking a few pointed questions, they settled on an agreement: Hades would invest 2,000 Galleons, with the possibility of another 1,000 available later if needed.
“I believe in you both,” Hades told them honestly. “You're clever, resourceful, and just reckless enough to pull this off.”
The twins were visibly moved. They shook his hand with a solemnity that made it clear how much this meant to them.
Once they had gone, Griphook returned with a sleek black portfolio and laid it before Hades. “As discussed, these are the initial opportunities for your consideration.”
Inside were profiles on three prominent wizarding companies - one specializing in international magical trade, and the other in innovative potion distribution. The third was a start-up his mother had joined, focused on magical-muggle technological integration. It intrigued him immediately.
There were also two Muggle companies: Microsoft and Amazon. Both showed steady growth and strong long-term projections.
After a few minutes of consideration, Hades looked up. “Split the investment evenly across all four. Let’s see where this takes us.”
Griphook gave a rare, approving nod. “A prudent choice, Mr. Potter.”
At home, Hazel tugged on his arm almost the moment he walked in. “Fly with me in the garden?”
How could he say no to his little sister?
Dinner was, as always, a lively affair. Harry’s leg had finally healed, and he’d been spending his afternoons with Ron and Zacharias. James was back at work as an Auror, looking more tired than usual.
“These raids on Muggles are getting worse,” James said, pushing his food around distractedly. “Sirius and I have been tasked with investigating further. Something’s not right.”
The table quieted for a moment. Even Hazel looked up from her plate, her brow furrowed.
“They’re targeting families,” he went on, voice low. “Not just individuals. Whole households disappearing without a trace. No signs of struggle. It’s coordinated a too clean for amateurs. Someone’s planning this - and they know how to cover their tracks.”
Lily reached out and gave James’s hand a brief squeeze, her expression softening. “You’ll find them. You always do.”
Then, as if trying to ease the weight in the room, she turned to a more hopeful note. “Actually,” she added, leaning over the table, chin propped in one hand, “we’ve started making real progress adapting Muggle tech for wizarding use. Especially cell phones. If it keeps going this way, we may finally have a breakthrough.”
Her eyes sparkled slightly. “Imagine actually being able to call someone in Hogwarts without relying on the owl post or the floo. We might finally bring the wizarding world into the twenty-first century.”
That night, curled up in bed, Hades opened Essence and Elixir once more. His fingers trailed idly over the dragonhide cover before flipping to the bookmarked page.
A passage on healing herbs caught his eye.
While it is common practice to use regular moonberries in this draught, should you happen upon a batch kissed by the first frost, use them instead. Unless, of course, you're trying to brew something with the effectiveness of a damp sock.
Hades chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You really never held back, did you?”
He turned the page, already eager for more.
-------------------
August passed in a steady rhythm of studying, flying, and the occasional burst of family chaos. Hades found himself genuinely enjoying the pace. He was finally making real progress in Ancient Runes - Hermione was due to return next week for two days, and she had already promised to quiz him mercilessly.
He’d also started working through his other seventh-year textbooks. At this point, he carried a book with him almost everywhere. One afternoon, Harry caught sight of him thumbing through The Theory of Spell Precision while perched on the garden bench.
"You're quite the bookworm these days," Harry teased, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.
“I want to get a good grade,” Hades replied without looking up. “So I have to start early; I don't want to wait until the last two weeks before the exams.”
He froze.
Had he really just said that?
“Who am I, and what did I do with the real me?” he thought. It was true - he used to think revising was a personal attack, relying too much on Hermione and getting distracted far too easily by Ron.
To stay fit, he flew every day, often roping others into impromptu backyard Quidditch matches. Sometimes it was Harry, Ron, and Ginny against him, Hazel, and Blaise - when Blaise dropped by.
He really liked Blaise. The boy was witty, sharp, and had a dry sense of humor that cut deeper than a blade.
“Have you looked into the new Potions book?” Blaise asked one afternoon, sprawled lazily under a tree. “It’s borderline genius. I always knew Snape was brilliant, but this is like… insult-laced gold.”
Hades had to agree.
So imagine his surprise on another warm August day, when he was sitting in the garden with Hermione - who was currently grilling him on rune formations - and none other than Draco Malfoy strolled casually through the open garden gate.
Draco shrugged. “The gate was open.”
Hades stared. “And that’s just an invitation to walk in?”
“I never got a reply to your birthday present,” Draco said, brushing imaginary lint from his immaculate robes. “Frankly, I’m offended.”
Hades groaned. “You got me a fifty-piece enchanted tea set. I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or an actual gift.”
“Mother insisted. Every respectable wizard needs a proper tea service,” Draco said airily. Then his gaze shifted and his voice softened - just slightly - as he added, “Granger. Always a pleasure.”
“Malfoy,” Hermione replied, cool and polite - though Hades swore he saw the faintest blush creep up her cheeks.
No. No, no, no.
Hades looked between them. “Hermione, should we… stop quizzing?”
“Nooo,” she said too quickly, flipping a flashcard with exaggerated interest.
“Runes?” Draco asked, raising a brow. “Mind if I join? I’ve been brushing up over the summer.”
And somehow, he did. To Hades’s astonishment, the evening turned out surprisingly enjoyable. Draco, while smug as ever, was insightful - and their constant bickering actually helped the material stick better.
That all changed later.
Ron and Harry found them in the drawing room: Hermione and Draco side by side, heads bent over a complicated rune diagram, quietly debating translations.
Ron blinked. “Am I hallucinating, or is Malfoy actually in your house?”
“I thought this was a defensible location,” Harry muttered.
Draco didn’t even glance up. “Relax, Potter. I’m not here to burn your family tree or insult your curtains. I still like Hades.”
“Give it five minutes,” Ron grumbled.
Hades rolled his eyes. “Boys. He’s here for Runes, not a duel. Go fly around the garden or pick a fight with someone else.”
Despite the occasional snide remark and barely concealed tension, Hades found himself - to his own surprise - enjoying Draco’s company. He was still Malfoy: arrogant, composed, a touch dramatic. But he was also clever, sarcastic, and surprisingly fun to argue with.
And when Hermione left later, she was smiling.
Hades wasn’t sure what unnerved him more - that, or the fact that he didn’t really mind.
----------------
And with that, September 1st came. Hades was truly proud of himself. He had worked hard
Throughout August, Hades had fallen into a steady rhythm. He felt confident in most subjects now - even Ancient Runes, which he was sure he’d pass with Hermione’s help.
He’d also continued training with his new wand, pushing himself daily. One afternoon, acting on a quiet instinct and a tip from Be Faster Than Your Enemy, he slipped into a hidden alley off Diagon Alley and found a narrow, crooked shop wedged between two larger buildings.
“Knives and Daggers – Since 1374.”
The sign was faded, its lettering cracked with age. Inside, the air smelled like old leather, steel, and something vaguely magical - and dangerous.
An elderly wizard stood behind the counter, his back slightly stooped and eyes sharp beneath thick white brows. He didn’t smile.
“What do you want?” he asked, voice rough like gravel on stone.
“I’m looking for a knife,” Hades said evenly. “Easy to handle, even for a beginner. And a bracket to wear it on my lower leg - charmed so it’s secure and undetectable.”
The wizard studied him for a long, uncomfortable moment, then grunted and disappeared into the back.
When he returned, he laid a narrow, perfectly balanced knife on the counter in a sleek black sheath.
“Good grip. Not too long. Won’t throw off your balance. Works for quick close combat or getting through locks if you’ve got the knack. Bracket’s charmed - won’t show up under detection spells, and it’ll hold steady through just about anything.” He paused. “Practice with it. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”
He tossed a slim book beside it - Silent Steel: A Beginner’s Guide to Magical Blade Handling.
“You won’t find that at Flourish and Blotts.”
Thirty Galleons later, Hades left the shop, feeling the comfortable weight of the hidden blade under his robes. He trained in secret - in the woods, in the garden after dark - until his grip was steady and instinctive.