Chapter Text
How Elliot Beverleigh managed to sleep soundlessly with this summer heat was a question that Harry had each time he stepped in his brother’s bedroom. It was beyond human understanding, really, how he stayed motionless, curled on his side while the fan provided the little air that circled these days.
And still, Harry padded into the bedroom and pushed him aside. Elliot’s back was sweaty, but he was very much asleep, so Harry didn’t have any issue in climbing the bed and laying next to him. Elliot wasn’t going to wake up until breakfast was ready. He claimed to be a morning person, but Harry mentioned being hungry in the morning wasn’t the requirement to be a morning person because if it was up to Elliot, he would sleep until noon. Just in time for lunch.
Staring at the ceiling with mild interest, Harry twisted his hands on his stomach, adjusting his tee.
He couldn’t sleep. Not without dreamless to provide the necessary comfort of keeping him away from nightmares. But Miss Yancey had advised small doses and trying nights without it, she feared the excessive use of dreamless could affect Harry negatively. As if he wasn’t fucked up already carrying a Hematite on his neck to help his heart to get better. It was all fucked up. Dreamless, magical crystals to monitor his heartbeats, stupid summer heat.
But at least his scar didn’t burn the way it used to.
Harry touched it, wondering if the absence of the headaches was because Voldemort was… possibly, inactive. A strange thought, because he knew nothing besides the information Sirius and Remus brought from their long meeting with Dumbledore.
Harry didn’t mean to spy on them, but he disliked that they had tried to keep him away from the conversation when he was the main topic they talked about. Penelope had nagged him about eavesdropping, but Edward reassured him he would find out about everything once the news settled and the world went back to normal.
A week went by, and Harry reckoned in two or three days Hermione and Ron would leave in the Hogwarts Express. They had written, explaining there wasn't any official news besides what Dumbledore said the following morning: Voldemort came back, Harry duelled him and Elliot brought them back. He didn’t state anything about his death, but Hermione said many had their theories that perhaps he was hit in the head and unconscious for a long time, and Elliot had overreacted.
It was ridiculous, Hermione added in her letter, because she had seen Harry’s body, and the sheer desperation in Elliot. She had also heard Dumbledore’s sharp accusation.
What have you done to him?
Harry hadn’t been there to listen to him, nor had he talked to him to ask why he accused his brother like that. Penelope had ordered them to go back home, instantly, as soon as possible — Elliot told Harry their mother was furious at Dumbledore for everything that happened. And Harry felt grateful she had taken the decision, because he didn’t want to be near the man at the moment. He didn’t want to talk to Dumbledore about the events — he had tried to ignore the odd feeling because Dumbledore was supposed to be a good man, so… why did he immediately blame Elliot for his death?
Harry frowned, moving closer to his brother, knowing it was weird someone his age was sleeping in the same bed as Elliot. But even in this sudden summer heat, Harry craved human touch.
Dying had been… pleasant. He didn’t feel anything. His memory was a bit blurred, and he reckoned whatever happened in the afterlife was hidden in his mind. He couldn’t recall who the woman he spoke to was, nor he could remember what the conversation had been about. But he had woken up with the intention to talk to Celia about horcruxes, whatever that was.
Celia had blinked with confusion and fear, wondering where he got that word. But Harry shrugged, he was intrigued by it as she was.
That was the oddest thing besides coming back to life.
The consequences were the arrhythmia and the constant coldness he sometimes felt when he was alone for too long.
Harry didn’t mean to be clingy, but Elliot’s warmth drew him closer, making Harry feel safe when the world outside was spinning with the events of the Triwizard Tournament.
The arrest of the Crouchs, both son and father, and their house elf, got the people scandalized. Fudge dismissed the insinuation they were under the influence of Voldemort, decided on giving them a Kiss once their testimonies had been thoughtfully gathered. And Harry knew Lucille’s father was battling against the idea of letting them die.
Lucille.
Harry hadn’t answered any of her letters since he left school. He was furious. How dare she use Elliot? How dare she not tell him the truth? Going behind his back, planning everything, coaxing Elliot into participating… He couldn’t believe she had done it. Elliot had tried to defend her, saying he had accepted because it was a solid idea back then. Harry didn’t care if it had been a good or bad idea. He cared that his own girlfriend threw his brother in the mix, so carelessly, so dismissing.
These days, when nights and days were equally long, he tried hard not to think about her betrayal. Part of him hated her decision, but some smaller part of him understood the desperation on why she hadn’t done it.
Harry had mocked Divination. He had refused to believe in such bullshit. Many times, they bickered about it because Lucille’s mother was devoted to that sort of magic, and Lucille admired her relentlessly. She didn’t call Francesca a Seer, but she may as well have done so and Harry would have laughed all the same.
He closed his eyes, trying to erase the memory of Lucille’s wet face staring at him as he yelled unforgivable things at her. He hadn’t said worse because Penelope was there, but he had made it clear he didn’t want to hear from her ever again.
He knew he had broken her heart, but she had broken his trust.
Curling on Elliot’s side, Harry sighed and wondered if sleep was coming his way.
His mind was dragging him in another route of unpleasant memories, from Lucille’s cries to Elliot’s broken sobs as he hugged him when he found him in the hallway.
Harry had cried in his arms. He had never felt so small, letting someone else take the weight and carry it with him. He also couldn’t believe his luck. Because he had thought it had been a mistake, when he was paralysed by Lucille. He had thought Elliot didn’t really want him as his brother, but learning the truth… Elliot had carried that guilt for months, and he had attempted to solve everything alone.
Perhaps they weren’t so different from each other.
That idea was pleasant. Harry had long stopped feeling the displeasure when people pointed out they were too much alike.
It was reassuring, in a way, that people could see them and understand they were related. It had happened when they went to Target two days ago. A lady in the queue had complimented Edward on how tall his sons had gotten, both almost as tall as he was. Edward had grinned, proud, and said they got that from him — which was a lie, they looked nothing alike. But when people looked at Harry and Elliot with their parents (because they were his parents too) all they saw was a family. Harry had found a family.
He didn’t dare to call Penelope mum or Edward dad. But he felt protected by their constant fussing. Penelope had bought a book to monitor the stone on Harry’s necklace, and she took down notes on it every afternoon, keeping it updated in case the healer visited. And Edward kept reminding Elliot and Harry to drink their potions with full stomachs, bringing them as they were finishing breakfast or dinner.
Harry thought love was hidden in those small details that the Dursleys wouldn’t have worried if he returned to Privet Drive instead of Wood Green.
Thinking about the promise of Edward teaching them how to drive, Harry eventually fell asleep, unconsciously curling more against Elliot’s back, his hand clinging on his tee.
Hours later, Harry heard the toilet flush and Edward’s footsteps going downstairs.
He blinked at the ceiling, noticing that the sunlight of another day was invading Elliot’s room. His walls were bare now, most of his band and film posters had been removed and carefully folded in a box. He hadn’t finished packing, because most of the time he grew tired of it and decided to rest in the living room, laying on the floor and watching reruns of Men Behaving Badly and Only Fools and Horses.
Harry understood the overwhelming feeling of packing up and moving out. Even though he had lived there a couple of months, he felt the nostalgia in leaving the place he had just begun calling home.
He glanced at the nightstand, the clock marked eight in the morning. Next to the clock, there was a plant made with crystal beads and a Madam Puddifoot’s bag neatly folded. Harry had spent each night since they came back wondering who had given his brother something from Madam Puddifoot to keep the paper bag. He reckoned a lover, but when he asked, Elliot shrugged it off.
Harry was feeling sleepy again, eyelids betraying him, when the door opened and the light from the hallway startled him. Now the clock marked ten in the morning.
Next to him, Elliot groaned, pressing his face on the pillow. Harry stilled, afraid he would be kicked out. It was always a guessing game with him, as Elliot was a grumpy sod in the mornings, so waking him up meant Harry was getting punched or pushed off the bed.
“Sorry,” Penelope said, not daring to enter the room. “Came to see if you want breakfast.”
Elliot’s muffled reply came as a firm ‘no’.
But Harry was already awake, so he stood up and rushed to get out before Elliot decided to kick his arse.
Penelope smiled at him, cupping his face as Harry stumbled, still sleepy. Harry knew she came to check if he was sleeping with Elliot. The first time it had happened, he felt the commotion in the house as Penelope screamed at Edward that Harry wasn’t in his bed. Then, she knew better and checked in Elliot’s room first.
“Morning, darling.”
Harry leaned in for a quick hug, too tired to care if it was embarrassing. Penelope’s fingers threaded his hair, kissing his temple.
“Wash your face. Edward made scrambled eggs.”
Harry did as he was told. He washed up, took a piss and went to his room to change from his pajamas. He hadn’t had enough things to pack, so he hadn’t filled the boxes with his stuff, which was mostly clothes he hadn’t even worn yet. Hedwig was in her cage, dozing off, and Harry thought about cleaning her space once she was done eating the mouse she had captured the previous night.
On his way downstairs, Harry was careful not to stumble into any pile of boxes. The living room was a mess, the sofa hidden beneath boxes of books. Half the library was there, while the other half remained as Edward and Penelope were still sorting out the ones they would need in their new jobs. Edward had found a position in a King’s College London, while Penelope was going to teach in a private school. So the house was a mess.
Harry was unsure when they were moving out, as Sirius was still fixing some stuff in his own place, but he reckoned it was going to happen soon. He heard Edward talking to a real estate agent the other day, to start the process of selling the house. He guessed everything had been delayed after the night of the third task. They weren’t walking on eggshells around him, they had addressed that night and considered keeping in touch with Ms Yancey. But Harry could tell they were exhausted dealing with everything.
The good thing was that Remus and Sirius were very much present, helping out and keeping company when Edward and Penelope were out, ending their lessons and planning ahead.
He wasn’t surprised to find them there.
“Morning,” he said, sitting in his assigned spot.
“Morning,” Remus smiled softly. “Elliot’s still asleep?”
“Yeah. But he will wake up soon.”
Sirius snorted against his coffee.
Breakfast was quiet except for Edward and Sirius. They were commenting on the football season as if they were both experts. They weren’t. But over the past season, they had developed a ritual in hanging out to drink beer and watch football or listen to Quidditch. Neither of them supported a specific team, but they were leaning on Manchester and Puddlemere. They seemed to like the fact both teams had the United in their names.
Harry thought they were ridiculous. (Fondly.)
Penelope passed him a plate full of scrambled eggs, toast and sausages. She left another with the exact same portions next to him. As predicted, they all heard Elliot stomping down the stairs and a box full of books falling.
“Fuck. Shit,” and then a pause. Boxes were rearranged, and then another thud announced it was unsuccessful. “Fuck you!”
Edward sighed and Penelpe bit her lip, refraining herself from screaming ‘language’. It was useless anyway. In the past days, Elliot had become someone extremely grumpy, and his dry comments plus insults added to this new attitude. Sirius blamed Dumbledore. Harry had heard all about their little chat, and he understood why his brother was angry at the world, but he suspected it was something else. Someone else. Perhaps the same person who gave him the Madam Puddifoot bag.
But asking was also risking his safety and having a spot to sleep at night.
“Morning, darling,” Penelope said as soon as Elliot sat down.
“Hullo…” Elliot blinked, smiling innocently at her.
Harry couldn’t help the smile. It was fun to see Elliot quickly fold into the polite child Penelope had raised as soon as he was standing in front of her.
“You are cursing like a sailor,” she sniffed indignantly. “That won’t do.”
“Of course not,” he nodded solemnly. “I’ll do better.”
Their mother gave him a look that said enough. She knew Elliot wasn’t even going to try. But part of Harry believed Penelope didn’t nag him because she understood where the sudden anger came from. They were all a bit on the edge. It hadn’t passed enough time to move forward from what the Tournament did to them.
But they were trying. For Harry.
“On Monday, Miss Yancey expects you at eleven o’clock,” Penelope said, pointing at Harry with her spatula. “I thought about taking the day off. I thought we could check the curtains and carpets for your rooms. And then pick up Hermione. Mr Granger’s out of town, again.”
Penelope had tried to hide her dislike for Hermione’s parents, but it was evident how little she thought of them. The more they tried to be friends, the more Mr and Mrs Granger took advantage of Penelope’s kindness to let Hermione stay with them. It went both ways. Hermione never talked much about them, something about her mother’s fright for birds, and her father forgetting her own birthday. It was a complicated relationship, but because they were arseholes, Penelope wasn’t going to close the doors on Hermione’s face.
“Can I join you?” Sirius suddenly said. “I’m free on Monday."
“We’re meeting Dumbledore on Monday, Sirius,” Remus said quietly.
Elliot and Harry looked at him, eyes wide.
“Why?” Elliot asked.
There was a moment in which Sirius and Remus held a silent conversation, faces and gestures, but no words, and then Sirius sighed and said. “There was a slight change of plans… regarding the house.”
“We’re staying here,” Elliot said, smiling.
“Oh no, it’s not safe, kid,” Edward said. “We’re definitely moving. I’ve signed the papers already.”
Elliot frowned.
“What’s the new plan, then?” Harry asked.
“Uhm,” Remus was stirring his coffee, thoughtful. “As you are well aware, Dumbledore leads our side… During the first war, he founded this society to fight against Death Eaters because not everyone at the Ministry was trustworthy.”
“Your parents were part of it,” Sirius said. “Scouted them as soon as we left Hogwarts.”
There was a bitter tone in how Sirius spoke, and the way Remus looked at him, disappointed, told Harry there was more than they were letting them on.
“Anyhow,” Remus turned to look at them. “Dumbledore is gathering people again. But he requires a place to… meet.”
Harry could tell Elliot disliked the idea. “Bending backwards for that insolent prick,” he said. “Why doesn’t he put a place? Hogwarts has plenty of rooms for meetings.”
“Elliot…”
“Just saying. He very much lifts a finger and the world swoons as if he is such —”
“My house is the safest place we could think of, Prongslet,” Sirius said. “I don’t like the idea. I really don’t. But he is the only wizard Voldemort fears, and we must collaborate to take him down.”
“Take it as a joint project,” Remus said. “For instance, you have to work on research with people you don’t like, but there are no other options, what else would you do?”
“Kill myself.”
“OH MY GOD!” Penelope slammed her hands on the table. “Elliot! Please!”
Elliot shrugged, unapologetic. Harry hid his smile behind his orange juice, but Penelope sent him a sharp look that made him stop grinning.
“It won’t be all the time,” Remus said, folding his hands. “Just a couple of days.”
“I just don’t want to see him when we have those meetings —”
Edward chuckled, raising a brow. “Now, who said you are going to be in those meetings?”
Elliot and Harry exchanged a look. “We can’t go into the meetings?” Harry asked, slowly, in case he misheard.
“My God, I knew it,” Penelope massaged her temples. “No, you are forbidden to join us.”
“Us?!” Elliot’s voice came slightly pitchy. “You are part of this too!"
“Of course, I am your mother!”
“We were there that night!” Elliot said. “Harry and I have the right to be in those meetings —”
“I’m sorry, son,” Edward was looking at them with the strange seriousness that possessed him every other century. “But for your own good, you are not allowed in.”
“YOU CAN’T KEEP US —”
“Lower your voice!”
“You can’t keep us away!”
Sirius raised his hand, smirking. “I’ve told them it was a bad idea.”
“You’re still an old man, shut up,” Harry said. “It’s not fair. Whose idea was it? Dumbledore? Because that’s rich coming from him, keeping hiding information —”
Penelope interrupted him briskly. “It was my idea, actually,” she raised a brow. “And I will stick by it. I’m sorry if you hate me for this, but I won’t allow you in the meetings. Now, did I say you were going to be out of everything?”
Neither of them answered.
“Listen,” Remus spoke softly over the tense silence. “I agree with Penny. These meetings are for grown wizards. And while your participation could be helpful and fundamental, we all here agreed it was for the best to keep you updated but unable to participate in the Order activities.”
“But why?”
“Because you are children,” Edward stated firmly. “You cannot — these matters are meant for the grown ups to deal with. No kids. Not because we don’t trust in your abilities, but it isn’t fair. You are kids.”
The discussion ended there. Elliot and Harry didn’t attempt to contradict Edward, but they were equally pissed that once breakfast was over, they grabbed a basketball Penelope found in the garage and went to the park. She gave them a reproaching look, but she didn’t forbid them from leaving the house. She had been encouraging them to stop wasting their afternoons lying on the floor and watching telly. Perhaps she knew they would eventually return for lunch, but in the meantime, Harry sat down on the shadowy part of the basketball court as Elliot did some shots.
The park was empty, except for the group of grannies knitting under a tree, and a couple walking their three big fluffy dogs. There was only a little girl in the sandbox with her mother, but since school wasn’t over, it was peaceful.
Harry didn’t feel peaceful at all. The more he thought about the conversation, the angrier he felt. It was unfair. It was ridiculous. It was…
“It’s bullshit,” Harry said, tossing the basketball back at Elliot. “I know all the Death Eaters that were there. I could give them this valuable information!”
Elliot kept bouncing the ball. “Stop whining. They’re never going to let us in.”
“They let Sirius in!”
“Under Remus’s supervision,” Elliot added and attempted a shot. He missed by an inch.
“Do you truly believe they are going to let us know what truly happens there?” Harry asked. “Because I fear they won’t.”
“Dunno. Mum’s always been pretty forward with the truth.”
“Had she?”
Elliot turned, looking as the ball bounced and rolled to the bushes nearby. He didn’t look calm, but some of the fire he had earlier had dimmed. Now he seemed thoughtful, the kind of thoughtful that came from nights of not sleeping well. Elliot rarely had nightmares, but he always went to sleep late, and he avoided taking naps.
“You know,” he said, suddenly, “you did die.”
“I came back,” Harry grunted. He felt the stone emit magic and alerted that his heart was beating faster than it should. He ignored it. “I still want to be there. To help.”
“Well, the thing is that they are scared,” Elliot said. “I get why Mum and Dad want to keep you safe. You’ve been through more than anyone our age should even know exists.”
The words hung there. Heavy. True. A little frightening.
Harry sighed. He always felt a bit happy when Elliot referred to them as Mum and Dad. It was hard to grasp the reality sometimes, especially when he felt like shit. But yes, Harry had been adopted. He had a family. And they cared more than the Dursleys could ever attempt.
“You’re included in that keeping-safe category,” Harry said as Elliot walked past him to get the basketball. “You were also in the graveyard. And you got away.”
“I know, but it’s not the same between us,” Elliot shrugged. “But at least I won’t look at that old man.”
Harry gripped his hands. The Source. Dumbledore had truly planned to keep Elliot hidden until he was needed to help Harry. What a sick man. Harry lost all respect he had for him.
“He’s wrong.”
Elliot gave him a tired look. Harry knew it wasn’t his fault, Ms Yancey had explained to him it was beyond his control how people perceived him. The same happened with Elliot. They weren’t equals in the wizarding world. They would never be seen as equals.
“Shut up and play.”
Harry intercepted the ball, startled.
“I don’t know how.”
“Just toss the ball in the basket,” Elliot said. “The name’s a total giveaway.”
By midday, the sun and the heat were unbearable. They stopped their game to go to the convenience store on their way home. Elliot’s wrist watch told them it was well past lunch time, and the fact he invited Harry some crisps and fizzy drinks meant he was still pissed at their parents.
Harry kicked a loose pebble. It skipped ahead and halted. This time, Elliot kicked it.
“You’re good at sports,” he said, forcing the words out to make a polite conversation. He still wanted to complain about the Order and their parents. But Elliot looked more irritated than usual. Perhaps because he was hungry.
“I used to play football,” Elliot shrugged. “And basketball sometimes with…” he gestured his hand, dismissingly.
Harry winced. He had forgotten the fallout between Elliot and his Muggle friends, well… He wasn’t aware if it was called that. But he assumed as much, since Stephen had ruined Elliot’s social life.
“Sorry.”
Elliot shrugged, “it’s alright, not like I’m going to see them ever again,” he smiled and opened the door.
The bell gave its usual miserable jingle as Harry and Elliot stepped inside. Elliot greeted Esther with the usual politeness, but the woman at the counter barely glanced at them, bored skimming over the magazine.
Elliot went toward the crisps and Harry headed for the fridge of fizzy drinks. He was deciding between Coke and Pepsi when a soft, startled voice said, “Elliot?”
Harry froze. He had heard that voice before. For a brief moment, he had a sense of deja vu, as a similar situation had happened with Lucille.
He turned around, two cans in hand, and closed the fridge with his foot. He skidded through the aisles, halting behind a stand of magazines, and watched with horror how Tara stood near the sweets aisle, a schoolbag slung over one shoulder, hair a little windswept. Her expression was stunned in the plainest, most genuine way.
“Tara,” Elliot said, voice small. “Hi.”
He set the crisps back on the shelf, his hands suddenly unsure of themselves.
Tara stepped closer.
“It’s been a while, how… how are you?” Her voice cracked slightly.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, good,” she forced a smile, her hands fidgeting with her skirt. “Listen, Elliot. I’m… I’m sorry about what happened with Stephen—”
Elliot frowned. “Why are you sorry?”
“It’s just — I’ve known,” she admitted, in a low voice. “About you two… And when he began saying those things… And his mother, fuck — Elliot, his mother is a fucking turd!” Tara shook her head. “I’m so sorry about what he did. Stephen had no right. He shouldn’t have said all that rubbish afterward.”
Harry couldn’t see his face, but Elliot’s shoulders loosened. “You weren’t part of it.”
“No, but… I didn’t stop the rumours,” Tara said softly. “I should have said something. It was awful, and I just… froze because Maxim said it wasn’t our business. But that’s not an excuse. I just want to let you know I didn’t agree with any of it.”
Elliot rubbed the back of his neck.
“It wasn’t your job to step in,” he said. “Stephen was being… Stephen.”
Tara’s face scrunched with guilt. “Yeah. Uhm. For the record,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting nervously. “Maxim and I… We are not friends with him. After what happened… Well, Maxim pities him, he feels bad for the conversion camp.”
“Conversion camp?”
“Yeah,” Tara said. “Josh told us. He, uhm, he’s friends with him. The only friend his mother approves of.”
Harry didn’t need to be a genius to see the moment empathy came over Elliot, so he wisely stepped in. Tara blinked in surprise, mouth gaping. “Hey, Harry,” she glanced at Elliot. “How’ve you been? You’re taller…”
Harry hesitated to answer, glancing at Elliot. Harry returned his attention to the girl.
“I’m good,” he said. “Still alive.”
Harry lifted his cola in a mock-toast. Elliot cursed under his breath, nudging his side.
Tara smiled wider now, something warm and fond moving in her eyes.
“I’m glad. Uhm, listen,” she fiddled with her backpack strap, nerves catching up. “If you ever want to hang out… Maxim and I are free. In fact, he’s waiting for me outside. We’re… Uhm, dating,” her cheeks turned crimson, but her eyes were twinkling.
“Oh, that’s good. You make a good pair,” Elliot’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Thanks. Really,” then he paused, frowning slightly. “I’ll see. We’re sort of busy. Moving out and all.”
“Oh,” her eyes widened, surprised. “You’re really moving out?! I thought Mrs Granger was exaggerating.”
“Mrs Granger?” Harry blurted. “Do you know Hermione’s mum?”
“Yeah. She goes to my mum’s salon to fix her hair every month,” Tara said. Now they were past awkward reunions, she reached for two bags of Monster Munch. “She talks about Hermione all the time. You can bring her along. Maxim’s swimming pool is already clean.”
Elliot grabbed two bags of Walkers crisps. “I suppose you’re going there now.”
They move toward the checkout together.
“Yeah. It’s hot. I’m not staying home and boring myself,” she shrugged. Harry watched as she asked the cashier for two packages of cigs. The woman didn’t even seem to care Tara was still in her uniform, and added them to her crisps. “So, you’ve got Maxim’s number. Just call. Or stop by.”
“Alright, er, thanks?”
Tara smiled broadly and waved goodbye at the door. Harry could see Maxim’s back, smoke curling in the air. As Tara stepped out, she seemed to tell him who she had found. Maxim turned around, cig between his lips, and waved enthusiastically at Elliot.
“Hey, Beverleigh!” He opened the door but didn’t step inside. “Don’t be a stranger, mate! Come by whenever you want!”
“Don’t yell at my clients, Maxim!” The cashier yelled back. “Get out!”
“Bye, Esther, my love!”
“Fuck off, kid!”
When they were gone, Elliot let out a breath that might have been trapped in him for months.
“That was… weird.”
“Could have been worse,” Harry said.
Elliot shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “They’re stupid, but they aren’t bad, eh?”
“I still don’t like them,” he frowned. “But at least they know who the real prick was.”
Harry would be lying if he didn’t worry that Elliot and Stephen could cross paths. It was a small community, after all. And the summer holidays meant kids would be out of school and in the streets soon.
“Do you think it’s true? About the conversion camp?” Elliot said, suddenly very serious.
“He deserves it.”
Harry didn’t feel sympathy for Stephen. He had dug his own grave himself.
“It’s not your fault,” Harry snapped, noticing the guilt on his brother’s face. “He portrayed you as a…”
“I know,” Elliot frowned. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry. He was my best friend, Harry.”
Harry scoffed. A best friend would never have betrayed him that way. Stephen was an egoistic jerk, and a manipulative arsehole.
“If you want to hang out with them, go,” he added, his voice coming more furious than he intended to. “I don’t care. Hermione’ll be home next Monday.”
He walked ahead, gripping the cool drinks with his hands, containing his own rage at the idea of Elliot leaving with Tara and Maxim.
Then, he felt his brother hit his back with the basketball. “You git, I won’t leave you behind.”
And he hit him again, this time in the head. Harry turned around and tossed him a can of cola, which Elliot dodged but hit the trash bin next to him. The can exploded and showered them both in the sticky drink.
“I’m not buying you another one,” Elliot said.
Harry only had to stare at him for one minute, and the other he was walking back to the store, basketball under his arm, cursing at him for being a spoiled brat.
Harry smiled, skipping behind him, and thought the summer couldn’t be so bad.
Nothing interesting happened the rest of the weekend besides Sirius joining them on Harry’s first ever driving lesson, which ended in Harry and Edward kicking Sirius and Elliot out of the car due to the constant hackling. Edward praised his control, and Harry was happy he hadn’t crashed against any Whomping Willow. Elliot was also showing good control, and his lessons moved to parking and a return home with Sirius clinging on Harry with fear in the backseat. Harry didn’t consider Elliot to be a bad driver, but he enjoyed the annoyed look on his face when he screamed out of nowhere.
On Sunday, they visited Edward's parents. Edith and Bentley had organized a small party to properly welcome Harry into the family. Remus and Sirius had been invited, too, and Edith seemed concerned by the similarities Sirius shared with that ‘crazy maniac who murdered people ten years ago’. But besides her confusion, everything went smoothly. They didn’t talk about the Tournament, Edward said he hadn’t mentioned a thing to them as he didn’t want them worried. So it was nice to talk about the good aspects of Hogwarts, like the subjects, his friends and his girlfriend, which he was still ignoring. But he didn’t tell them that. Harry didn’t want to break Edith’s illusion of inviting Lucille over for tea.
Harry understood a little bit why Penelope seemed so determined to keep them away from further involvement in what was happening in the wizarding world, which wasn’t much, but she refrained from mentioning Dumbledore or the Order.
Spending time with his family — because they were his family now — left Harry feeling warm and adored in ways he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t wrap his head around care as well as Elliot could, he was more understanding in the grown ups’ decisions, and Harry had a fleeting moment of annoyance to be treated like a child. But he knew Penelope meant well.
Sitting in the living room, playing Monopoly and discussing films and books with the people he cared about was a rare mundane moment for others, and yet, Harry had the feeling he would remember it forever.
On Monday, Harry was getting ready for his appointment with Ms Yancey when Penelope knocked on the bathroom door.
“What’s that?” Harry asked, the toothbrush still in his mouth. His mother scoffed and waited until Harry had rinsed the foam. “What’s that?”
“Gringotts,” she said. “Came just now. Open it.”
The letter removed the peppermint flavour from his mouth instantly. It informed Harry that the money from the tournament had been deposited successfully in his vaults. A dreadful feeling settled in his stomach as he read the letter, again and again, confused. He hadn’t won — no one won that night.
“Why…?”
Penelope shrugged, she looked tired, as if she had expected it to happen.
“We’re going to Diagon, we could stop by and ask,” she said. “See what you want to do with the money.”
“I don’t want to keep the money.”
“I imagined as much,” she sighed. “Listen, you don’t have to keep it. You could donate it to St. Mungo’s, or a Muggle charity.”
Harry nodded, absently rereading the letter.
Later, as Penelope drove them through London, Harry kept complaining about the money to Elliot. He didn’t want any of it. So he was trying to give it to Elliot, but Elliot also denied accepting it because that money was dirty. Besides, since Sirius gave him a key to the Potter vault, he was content enough to be part of the rich kids. Penelope reminded him that the money was meant to be shared between them. (Harry suspected she wanted to divide it before it caused more problems in the future.)
“Harry, money’s money,” Penelope said. “You can transfigure its meaning. Turn it into something good.”
“Or invest in something,” Elliot said. “Like your own Quidditch team.”
“I meant more like charity,” Penelope eyed her eldest with suspicion. “We could find out if there are some places that could use the money, orphanages or youth centres.”
“If you pick good players, you are granted double the money. And then,” Elliot raised his hand, stopping Penelope from interrupting. “When you are filthy rich, you will donate to charity.”
Penelope exhaled through her nose. Her hands tightened her grip on the wheel. “Harry, darling,” she said calmly. “Do as you wish with the money.”
Harry nodded and he didn’t share what idea came to his mind. Elliot was right about investing the money. And he knew exactly who would do good use on it.
When he commented this to Ms Yancey, she winced, as she had seen the talent Fred and George had.
“They’ll make a lot of noise but people will laugh,” she said lightly. “And that is exactly what the world needs right now.”
Harry felt a bit proud of himself at that moment.
The rest of the session was about how he was feeling regarding his death experience and nightmares. She advised to reduce the consumption of dreamless with milk, three drops in a glass, and that would guarantee a night of soundless sleep. She also monitored his stone, doing some complex spell work to check the rhythm of his heart. She seemed relieved it was far better than it had been that night. When she commented this to Penelope, she smiled broadly. But still, Harry had to keep wearing the stone for the rest of the summer.
After Ms Yancey’s appointment, Harry, Elliot and Penelope went to Gringotts. Harry extracted the exact amount of winnings, plus some extra money he changed into muggle bills. Penelope and Elliot gave him curious looks, but they didn’t say anything.
They had lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. The pub, as well as Diagon Alley, was far emptier than Harry recalled, but he assumed it was due to the end of the school year. Tom stopped by to chat with them, he didn’t ask about the Tournament, but he was impressed how well they were getting on. Harry and Elliot smiled innocently, feigning ignorance the first time they met each other, and ordered the spicy burger with extra cheese.
They didn’t stay in Diagon too long. Penelope had some stores in mind to get curtains in Muggle London. And since they had no clue about curtains or bed sheets, she dismissed them, allowing a little escapade in the arcade.
Once alone, Harry told Elliot his plan.
“The twins?” He sounded surprised. “Seriously?”
“They want to open a joke shop, right?” Harry smiled. He fidgeted with the controller as the pacman rushed away from the ghost. He didn’t dare to look away from the screen. “But they’ll need startup money. And they’re brilliant at what they do. Everyone knows they are. And if anyone can make something joyful out of something awful it's them.”
“You’re giving two pyromaniacs money to keep setting things on fire.”
Harry sighed. He had pictured Elliot wouldn’t approve. He didn’t have a good relationship with them. And if the money would increase the animosity between them, Harry was now uncertain. Perhaps he could find out about some youth centre for queer people in need. That would be something Elliot would do.
“Elliot, I know you hate them, but you saw how creative they are. You can’t deny they’re brilliant in their own chaotic way. If I invest the prize money in them, it will become something good. Something fun. Something… not tied to what happened.”
His pacman died. Elliot pushed him aside, getting ready for his round.
“It’s your money, Shrimp. Do whatever you want with it.”
That was not the answer Harry was looking for.
“But what do you want me to do with it?”
Part of him wanted Elliot’s approval. The other part of him was scolding him for wanting it.
“Well, the twins’d explode something with it. And they’d never forget it,” Elliot added softly. “Not the money. The trust.”
Harry beamed at him.
“Besides, it would help them build their future,” he said, frowning at the screen.
“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll give it to them,” Harry couldn’t help the smile on his face. “You think they’d even take it?”
“Have you met them?” Elliot gave him a side look. “They’d pretend they’re refusing, then accept it thirty seconds later and give you a discount card for life.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. “I must threaten them to take it.”
“Now, that’s an idea.”
Elliot’s pacman died, so they moved to another game.
King’s Cross was crowded with owls hooting indignantly, luggage trolleys rattling, parents shouting affectionate instructions that their children pretend not to hear. Penelope, Harry and Elliot weaved through the crowd at her side.
“If you see her, call her,” Penelope ordered them.
“What if we leave her here?” Elliot said.
“You think you are being funny, but you are being quite rude,” their mother scolded softly, hiding her own smile. “I don’t know from where this attitude of yours came from, but change it before I do it myself.”
Harry sniggered as Elliot scoffed, offended, but he still stood on tiptoe searching for Hermione.
When the scarlet engine finally rolled to a halt, students poured through the doors.
It didn’t take long to localise Hermione as she was surrounded by a group of redheads.
“There she is!” Penelope called. “Hermione!”
Hermione frowned, turning in every direction until she found them. She beamed. “Mrs. Beverleight! Elliot! Harry! Oh — Harry!” She dropped her trunk, pushing Ron and Ginny out of her way. Many people turned to look but Harry paid them no mind, intercepting Hermione as she jumped into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay…”
Harry smiled awkwardly into her hair. “I’m alright. Mostly.”
“No hug for me?!”
Hermione brightened and also hugged Elliot tightly. She also hugged Penelope, who kissed her hair and whispered something in her ear. Hermione nodded, teary eyed, and then turned to leave but Penelope ordered them to get her luggage.
The Weasleys were gathered, watching, and once Harry approached, he was wrapped in Mrs Weasley’s arms. She fussed over him, asking how he was feeling, if he needed anything. She also lamented all that happened. Then, she asked about Elliot. The mention of his brother got the twins’ interest, both materializing behind their mother.
“Mum,” Ron said, ears red. “He’s fine. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.”
“I am sorry for worrying, Ronald!” Mrs Weasley said, scandalized. “After what happened, only one worries!”
Ginny snorted behind her hand.
“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley,” Harry reassured her. “Elliot’s also fine.”
He pointed behind him to where Penelope, Hermione and Elliot were gathered. Mrs Weasley nodded and excused herself, approaching them with quick steps.
“You got lucky,” Ron said. “This past week was chaotic.”
“You’ve said as much,” Harry glanced around, wondering if Lucille was around.
Noticing him looking, Ginny shook her head. “They left on Friday,” she said. “Terry said their grandfather fell sick.”
“Oh…” Harry felt like a jerk. He hadn’t opened any of her letters. “I didn’t know…”
“I imagine why,” Ron said. “A bit fucked up that.”
“But she meant well,” Ginny added dryly. “Anyway, I’ll go — oh, Hermione’s parents aren’t here, are they?”
“No. Just Penelope.”
“I’ll talk to her then. She’s like Hermione’s guardian now,” she joined the circle and Ron went after her, his excuse to talk to Elliot. But Harry suspected he wanted to know what Ginny had to tell Penelope.
To his surprise, Ron did pull Elliot aside and began talking to him, something that seemed urgent.
“Well, look at you,” George grinned at him. “Back from the dead and already looking handsome—”
“—if a bit scorched—”
“—but we won’t mention that.”
Harry snorted. “Thanks. I think.”
“What’s the deal with Ron and your brother?” Fred asked, craning his neck to look at them better. “Since when are they so chummy with each other?”
“No idea,” Harry said. “I, um… I wanted to talk to you both. About the tournament.”
Fred’s attention returned to him, brows furrowed. “What is it?”
“It was awful what happened that night,” George added, nudging his twin with a reproachful, “but we’re glad you’re standing here.”
Harry nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. So,” he thrusted the money bag in their direction. “The winnings… I don’t want them.”
The twins looked at each other instantly.
“You don’t…? Wait, what?”
“Harry,” George didn’t dare to grab the bag, eyes wide. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I don’t want the money,” he said earnestly. “But… I want them to go to something good.”
“Harry,” George said weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, “there’s got to be a thousand Galleons in here.”
“Yeah,”Harry said, grinning. “Think how many Canary Creams that is.”
The twins stared at him.
“I want to invest them in you,” Harry continued. “In your joke shop.”
Fred and George froze.
“What?” George asked, voice cracking a little.
“Elliot gave me the idea,” Harry shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “We agreed you're brilliant. You’ve been talking about this shop for years. And Hogwarts… could really use the laughter. So, take the winnings. Use them to start your business.”
“You are mental,” Fred said, though his eyes glinted, searching for something behind Harry. “You are pulling our legs.”
“No, I’m not,” Harry insisted. “If you don’t take it, I’m throwing it down the drain. I don’t want it and I don’t need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need them more than usual before long.”
“You’re serious?” Fred whispered.
“Absolutely,” Harry said. “I want you to take it.”
George pressed a hand to his forehead. “I can’t believe this.”
“Just don’t tell your mum where you got it,” Harry added, suddenly realising Mrs Weasley could have his head too for indulging in their shenanigans. “Although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it…”
“Harry,” Fred began,grabbing Harry by the shoulders. “I may kiss you right now…”
“Ew,” he said flatly, “just take the money. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they’re from you.”
Fred’s eyes shone with a glint Harry’s never seen before. Not mischief. Something deeper. Gratitude wrapped in a bit of awe.
“We won’t waste a single Knut,” George said, grabbing Fred and pulling him away from Harry. “We’ll make you proud. We’ll make everyone proud.”
“And we’ll give you a lifetime supply of everything,” Fred added quickly. “Free of charge.”
“I don’t need free pranks.”
“Too late,” George said. “You’re a shareholder now. Legally cursed to receive promotional material.”
Harry laughed, and the tension loosened from his spine like a weight sliding off.
As George dropped the money bag inside his trunk, Fred was still looking at him weirdly.
“You said it was Elliot’s idea, right?”
“Sort of. He seemed worried I was feeding your pyromaniac tendencies.”
They turned to look at Elliot watching everything. Seeing he was caught, he quickly turned his back to them, throwing an arm on Ginny’s shoulders and pretending they had an ongoing conversation.
“I’m going to kiss him.”
Harry scowled at him. “I will punch you, I’ve already punched Seamus,” he said. “Just. Don’t rile him up. He needs… peace and quiet.”
There was a nervous laugh from Fred and Harry thought Hermione’s theory on Fred’s crush didn’t seem so insane now.
When Harry returned, dragging Hermione’s trunk and Crookshank's cage, Mrs Weasley was bearing goodbyes, kissing Elliot and Hermione. She pulled Harry into another hug, and promised they would meet soon. Ron and Ginny patted his back and went with their mother, who was yelling at the twins to hurry up.
Elliot bumped their shoulders together once Penelope and Hermione were walking ahead. The platform bustled around them, but for the first time in weeks, Harry reckoned the world was a little brighter. A little lighter. A little more hopeful.
“So?” Elliot asked, grabbing the cat’s cage and whispering a sweet hello to it. “How did it go?”
“They took it,” he said quietly.
Elliot grinned. “Of course they did.”
“You two hurry up!” Hermione yelled. We’re buying Thai!”
Harry and Elliot watched as she skipped next to Penelope, hands gesturing. She looked happy to have an adult listening to her attentively. Harry wondered how come he hadn’t noticed that earlier.
“She’s going to stay the whole summer with us, isn't she?” Harry asked.
“Unless the pink curtains are for you…” Elliot said. Then, he added very lightly. “Did you know Hermione kidnaped Rita Skeeter?”
Harry almost tripped. “What?”
“Because Ron reckons we should be aware of it, in case the Aurors raid our house.”