Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They stand together in the thick of an unremarkable forest in a nameless part of the countryside. Many years have passed since they first met on the train. Since they sealed their fate as pawns in a war. They were only eleven years old then, now they are forty-two years old, and the world is so drastically different than what they had imagined in their bright-eyed youth. The most important lesson that they learned was that tragedy is inevitable.
Hermione has a blank look in her golden eyes as she holds out the modified time turner and compass combination. She had tried on many occasions to explain what it was and how it works, but neither Harry nor Ron understood what exactly it was she had created. The concept was too complicated, too confusing, and besides, Hermione was always the smartest of them. Maybe if they had been born into a better time, a kinder time, she could have helped people, she could have changed the world. Harry was sure of it.
He could clearly see the lightened and raised scar tissue that spelled out MUDBLOOD in large messy letters. He wished that he could take a cloth and wipe away all of the marks that were unjustly left on his lovers’ bodies. But he can’t, he hates that he can’t take their pain away for them. He reached out and gripped one of the three handles. They needed to do this, there was nothing left for them here in this world. Hermoine’s dad died at the age of 73, and her mom at 78, it was never safe enough to tell them about their daughter. We wiped their minds of any knowledge of their only child, it was to keep them safe far away from the horrors of war. We meant to come back for them. But two weeks, turned into two years, turned into a lifetime. By the time that it was finally safe enough for them to come home, her mom had developed Alzheimer's, and her dad was already in the ground. They both died knowing nothing of the miracle that they created, never saw their daughter become the beautiful, strong, intelligent woman she became. Hermoine didn’t speak for nearly a month when she learned that she had missed her father's funeral by two years. The only people who came were a small handful of his ex-coworkers and his wife who didn’t know who he was anymore.
Harry made eye contact with Ron. He grew up to be so strong, Harry wishes that the world would have been kind enough to have let Ron be strong by choice instead of being forced to become strong enough to survive. The dim light of the moon reflected off of the deep scars that ran down the right side of his face, neck, and shoulders. Harry will never forget how scared Ron looked that day. They were twenty years old at the time, Greyback had found where they were hiding and decided to prove how useful he could be to his lord. None of them had any idea he was coming until he was on top of Ron. That was the first time Harry ever killed someone. Being turned nearly killed Ron, and his first full moon since nearly killed him a second time. But they got through it.
Ron grabbed hold of the last handle as Hermoine checked her watch. Three minutes until their window closed. “Are you sure?” Hermoine asked, she didn’t meet either of their eyes as she said it. “What’s left for us here?” Ron asked in a flat tone that rang through the air like a fundamental truth rather than a question.
The war was probably the hardest on Ron. The last of the Weasleys. The death of Fred at the beginning of the battle of Hogwarts was the first to fall, and George was the last to leave us, and to suicide of all things. Not that any of them blame him for his decision, the only reason they didn’t join him was because they couldn’t leave each other alone in this world. Now though, the war has been over for nearly five years. Most of the magical world in Europe has been either entirely decimated, or scarred so deeply that it will be many generations before the people recover. The three of them became something similar to celebrities, they couldn’t walk around in public without hearing the reverent whispers of the people around them. Harry himself had even been approached once by a grief-stricken mother who was convinced that he had the power to raise the dead, she begged him to save her child. They were not seen as people who were thrown into a war too young, and in the end lost everything but each other. They were almost seen as holy saviors. Harry couldn’t stand it, none of them could. They had to get out, they needed a new start.
Hermione looks them both in the eye, and then down at the time compass again. “If this fails, I’m sorry and I love you both.”

Chapter Text

Harry opens his eyes to a room so familiar but so alien that it makes his chest ache. The deep rich red walls, the gold accents, the Gryffindor posters on the far wall, the dragon themed bed sheets. He has lived in this room, HIS ROOM, for FOURTEEN YEARS! His memories all jumbled together as the memories from his first life came rushing back to him. War, Voldemort, Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron. Ron and Hermione. Oh god.

“Harry?” Harry turned and saw his mother, his mother. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah… yeah I’m good.”

His mom gave him a weird look before she asked, “What were you thinking about?” her brow creasing at the end of her sentence with worry. Harry felt himself pause for a moment involuntarily as he watched all of these minute expressions that were so unique to her. That was so normal and common in his life, that he so desperately wished for in his last one. “School,” he said, grasping wildly for something to say that would ease her worry for him, “I was just thinking that we haven’t gone out and gotten my school things yet is all.” She smiled and seemed to be put at ease by this, but not totally convinced. “It’s June. The end of June, but still only June.” she said skeptically, “Are you sure that there is nothing bothering you?” He put on his best smile, trying to fight back his growing panic attack, “Yeah! Just school, you’re right silly to be worried now. Thanks Mom!” Harry turned his back to her which made his skin crawl in a way that made every hair stand on end, but he was tearing up and couldn’t stop or let her see that. He really hoped that turning would clue her in to the fact that he really wanted to end their conversation. She hovered in the doorway seemingly trying to find something to say to that but ultimately coming up empty it seemed as a few moments later he heard her footsteps walking away from the door. Harry calmly walked over to the door and closed it, turning the lock to ensure that no one entered without making noise and began to cry. Cry for the people he lost, for the life he left behind, for the curse of having to remember it all so clearly. He needed Ron, he needed Hermione, or preferably both. Then he cried because if they didn’t remember, then he would never be able to bring himself to make them remember and he would be alone. Without them.

No. Stop. Collect yourself, compartmentalize and plan.
What do I know: Hermione’s invention worked, we have a new life and Voldemort is gone. Hermione is in this world, he remembers her but they were never friends. Ron is the same. This world is completely different from his first one. 1. His parents are alive. 2. He has a sister, a twin sister even. Rose. He doesn’t know what to think of that. 3. Harry didn’t kill Voldemort, Nevil did. 4. Nevil is popular? Harry still isn’t but that isn’t new. 5. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all apparently really bad at magic.

What I don’t know: 1. If Ron and Hermione are awake too, 2. If we all got sent to the same world. He really hopes so because there is no way for him to get to the correct versions of them without Hermione. 3.What to do next.

Ok, make a plan, preferably a good one. He’d even settle for a mediocre one as long as it worked. Step one, go downstairs. It’s time for breakfast, don’t be suspicious.

He walked to the door, wiping the last remnants of his tears from his eyes. Everything looks so old and so new. The house he had lived in his whole life being seen for the first time by someone who knew every crack and stain. There were photos on the wall. Christmas. Just the four of them, his mom, dad, and sister. They all looked so happy, no trauma of war lingering in the little boy's eyes. Harry wished he could forget his old life, he wished with the vicious desperation of an animal caught in a trap that wants to gnaw off its own leg. But he remembers the patterns in both lives and if he forgets then history will repeat itself in this world. He looks away and walks into the kitchen to see not just his family, isn’t that a weird thought, but also Sirius and Remus. Sirius looks so different here, in this time, he never went to Azkaban. He got married and lived happily with his wife and three children.

Then he looked at Remus. He couldn’t help it, the look of shocked horror that crossed his face as he saw him. He remembered Remus’s death. The look Sirius wore after he realized what he did.

(flashback)
Sirius was tired, they all were, but Harry could see his bone deep exhaustion as it pulled at his thin frame. But he kept fighting through the streets of Diagonally, they couldn’t lose this place, not so soon after they lost Hogwarts. Harry turned and blocked some nameless red hex flying his way only to be caught with something in the back and his vision faded out.

He woke up to find that he was on his knees in the shrieking shack. Arms bound behind his back; mouth gagged. He saw the Carrows, laughing as they manipulated Sirius’s body under the imperius curse. There was nothing Sirius could do. Too tired to fight it off. Too stubborn to stop fighting. Then Harry’s eyes fell on Remus. His arms and legs bound to a desk in such a way that he laid chest up upon the wood. His mouth was held open by the Carrows’ magic.

He saw as Sirius started to lose the fight, watched as he jerkily walked forward. Grabbing Remus's jaw and pouring the liquid silver into his open mouth. The first thing he saw was the smoke that began to rise out of Remus’s mouth. Then he sees holes begin to burn themselves into his cheeks as blood saturated silver liquid begins to spill out of the holes and pool onto the ground. He hears the sound of wet gurgling as Remus tries to scream. Then the sound of his agony cuts off as the silver burns its way through the back of his throat, through his vertebrae, and spills down onto the floor. Blood pours out from the hole that had melted through flesh and bone, and Harry can hear the crackling sounds of the silver residue as it eats through what little skin that was left that still connected his head to his body. A tear rolled down Remus’s temple from his vacant eyes. Harry hears the sound of fighting as Sirius breaks free from the spell and uses the now empty bottle to beat both of the Carrows to death. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Remus and the blood pooling beneath his head.

“Did you see that!” Sirius shouts, “No one can control Sirius Black! No one!” Sirius turned to smile at Remus, freezing at the scene laid out before him. “Remus…?” Sirius sounds lost, “No… No, I beat it… I won!” He was growing desperate. Harry could hear it in his voice, but he himself had yet to tear his eyes away from the corpse before him. Sirius reached out his hand to shake Remus’s shoulder, causing the last few muscle fibers in his neck to snap as Remus’s head tumbles to the floor with a dull wet thump.

Goosebumps rise along Harry’s arms as Sirius screams. The sound wet with tears and dripping with an unrestrained pain that burns a pit into Harry’s stomach. Magic whips through the air in a destructive frenzy as Sirius storms out of the room to wreak havoc upon any living thing that stands between him and unleashing the pain and agony he feels upon the world.

“rry! HARRY!” Harry looked up to see the worried faces of both of his parents, Remus, and Sirius staring at him. “Are you alright there kid?” Sirius’s voice felt surreal in the wake of his memories. Harry felt his head nodding and he numbly walked towards an empty seat at the table. His mother intercepted him halfway to his seat and placed her hand against his sweaty forehead. “You do feel a little warm, eat some food and then I want you to go lay down for a bit alright?” she said, making it clear that she wasn’t asking him to lay down, she was telling him.

He nodded as he took his seat and picked at his food, the others going back to their conversations but every once in a while, one of them would shoot him a worried look. Thankfully it seems that his sister Rose wasn’t the slightest but put off by his odd behavior, the last thing he wanted was her and her friends in his business.

As he ascended the stairs to his room to pretend to sleep while he planned to find out how to find out if Ron and Hermione had woken up as well.

Chapter Text

Ron woke up outside. Or maybe woke up is the wrong term, he remembered everything. Harry and Hermione, Voldemort, the war, the compass. All of it. He was kicked out of the kitchen and given the task of de-gnoming the garden so that his mother could make breakfast. He had just wrapped his hand around the ankle of a rather quick gnome that he had been chasing for the past twenty minutes when it hit. He collapsed to the floor as he convulsed in pain. It felt like the days leading up to his first transformation as a werewolf. The shooting pain down his spine, the feeling of the hair on his arms prickling as chills wracked his body, and his teeth clenched at the throbbing pain in his head.

He awoke to the sound of his father's frantic voice and most of his family standing over him. He blinked the tears from his eyes as he tried to sit up, his mother pushing back on his shoulders telling him not to move as she cast a myriad of diagnostic spells that he could not have named five minutes ago; now though he remembers intimately all of the time he had dedicated to learning how to heal people, and how little it really helped in the long run.

The spells ultimately came up empty and Percy ended up insisting on carrying him into the house. It was probably for the best as Ron didn’t trust his legs to hold himself up at the moment. They set him up on the sofa in the living room, and for the rest of the day someone is in the room with him at all times. Not that he blames them, as far as they know their fourteen-year-old child was suddenly and unexpectedly thrown into a seizure. He knew that it was the transfer of lycanthrope into this new body as his memories returned to him. This confirmed Hermione's theory that lycanthropy was not an infection of the body but one of the magical core. He had prayed that it would not follow him to his new life but had been prepared for the possibility. Not that it wasn’t absolutely devastating despite being prepared.

About an hour after his ‘seizure’ his mother had a bowl of hot food in front of him, a warm blanket around his shoulders, and had an appointment made for him at Saint Mungos. They would go in together in two days to get him checked out and make sure that he was ok. It didn’t help matters that he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He was acting off and he knew that but what else is there to do. He is looking at exact copies of his dead family members, people he either witnessed the death of in person or saw the aftermath of their deaths firsthand.

He knew that they weren’t the same people. That the family that had raised him in his first life were dead and gone, but every time that Percy readjusted his glasses in the same way that their father did, every time Molly passed by Ginny and brushed her hand through her hair, every time the twins shared a look that none of the rest of them would be able to figure out in a million years, it caused a painful lump to form in the back of his throat. They were so similar, so nearly identical that it hurt, and just different enough that it made him want to scream and cry and pull his hair out of his scalp at the unfairness of it all. They had wanted a fresh start, a new beginning. In the end all they got was an agonizing reminder of all that they had loved and lost.

While lost in thought he finds himself wondering if when he finally dies, where will he go? To the afterlife of his first life? Or his second? Has he doomed himself to never see his original family again? But if he goes there, he will be abandoning this one. There is no winning here. He remembers Flitwick telling him once when he looked into bringing back the dead that those who try to play God will be punished for their actions. He thinks now he might understand that sentiment. He really needs to find Harry and Hermione.

Hermione
She is reading in her room when it happens. There was a brief pause as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Then she screamed. Her voice cracking as all of the anguish over having to live this cursed FUCKING LIFE even just one time filled her as fast as she was able to pour it out through her voice, her lungs, and her breath.

She couldn’t do it, not again, never again. She would not be able to look her parents in the eye when they came home tonight and asked her, like they do every night, ‘how was your day dear, did you miss us?’ She was going to end up spilling her guts to them about just how much she had truly missed them. How she had missed them at her wedding, how she had cried and begged for her mother after her miscarage, how she wanted to speak to them when the three of them had decided that their world was not one to bring a child into. Her and Ron had both cried at the fact that they would not ever be having children. Ron being the last Weasley and from a huge family had wanted children so badly, Hermione herself had always wanted a big family as she was an only child with no cousins and only one grandmother to speak of for extended family. The war took that dream and killed it. She didn’t even know what her parents would say to that, there was no way they would believe her. Her scream broke off into incoherent breathless sobs as she broke down. She pushed herself into the corner of her childhood bedroom and tucked her knees into her chest as she cried. She cursed the pink walls of the room, they were too bright, too happy, this was not a time for joy, not when she had so much to grieve.

Her parents came home at 5:15pm just like the day before and everyday since she was old enough to no longer require constant supervision. And just like the perfect little soldier she was, she played the part of the perfect daughter flawlessly. She loved them too much to tell them the truth. Some things never change it seems. But she was always the planner, and as usual she had taken her time to grieve the carefree life she had before and it was time to move on, after dinner she would go to her room, wait one hour to make sure no one found out she snuck out. Then she will use the port keys she had made in the few hours before her parents return to gather Ron, and then Harry, make sure that they are alright, and then compare notes. After that she will be able to plan out their next moves, but she can scarcely think of anything save for their wellbeing. Baby steps.

But soon enough night fell, and it was time to go get her boys.

Chapter Text

Harry spent most of his first day back trying and failing at acting natural, the way that his memories returned meant that all of them squeezed into the space between blinks in the early morning. All in all, it made remembering how to act in the world he was now in, very very difficult. His family was getting suspicious. He knew that he was acting weird, but he didn’t know what else to do. He would find the others tomorrow, they would meet up, make a plan, and figure this whole thing out.

He didn’t need to wait all that long actually, not long after nightfall, when he had barely gotten himself relaxed enough to at least lay down. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight, but that was to be expected. After everything that occurred within the last 24 hours. He had placed a glass jar on the handle of his door so if anyone tried to open it, he would wake up immediately.

Just as he began to drift off into that haze between rest and wakefulness, he heard a knock on his window. A pattern he recognized immediately: fast, fast, slow, fast, slow, slow, slow, fast, slow. Hermione. It was Hermione, he was sure of it, she remembered them! She came for him!

Harry rushed to the window, throwing open the curtains and unlocking the windows as fast as he could. The moment they were open they threw themselves at one another. Harry nearly toppled out of the window in his urgency to hold her close to him, but Hermione threw herself with just as much strength and kept him from falling the fourteen or so feet to the ground below. They held each other in silence, careful not to wake the rest of the Potter family.

Harry pulled her inside and hugged her with everything that he had. He didn’t realize that he was crying until she started to wipe the tears off of his face with the sleeves of her sweater. She shushes him gently as he sobs quietly into her shoulder, relief flooding into his system. “Shhhh, it’s ok, we’re ok, it will all be alright now.” This continued for a few minutes until Harry was able to collect himself, when he looked up, he saw that her eyes were red from crying as well. He felt the absence of Ron like a physical ache, but her presence filled a part of him that he didn’t know was missing. Luckily their next stop was Ron’s home.

Ron

He was outside when the other two arrived. He couldn’t sleep, the twins were sleeping only one door down, Ginny was only two down, and the others spread out throughout the house. The only thing worse than having walking reminders of his dead loved ones only a few doors away was the fact that Charlie and Bill were not in the house. For the past three hours he had been compulsively checking each room to ensure that every living member of the Weasley clan is sleeping safely in their beds. Ten minutes ago, he was able to get himself to actually walk out the door and sit himself down near the barriers on the edge of the property. It was all he could think of to do to stop himself from staying up all night checking in on them every five seconds. This way he could rationalize that he was keeping guard over everyone.

Only a few moments after he began pacing the perimeter the other two arrived. He stood in shock as they both embraced him. He let out a sigh as he breathed in their scent, it was different from what he remembered from their past lives, but it was them, he would learn their new scents. He led them out deeper into the yard, far enough that no one would be able to see them from the house. They lay there on the ground in the thick of the small woods, they curled themselves around each other. He stayed there basking in their presence. Hermione gently placed kisses along his cheeks, temple, and the bridge of his nose, while it seemed that Harry would only be satisfied when he found a way to bury his face so far into his chest that the two could merge into one. It was perfect. It was bliss. And he had to put an end to it after only an hour, lest someone find him in the yard, at night, cuddling two people that were meant to be strangers to him. They were all good at lying through their teeth, but even this would be hard to explain smoothly.

He shifted slightly and the others both groaned in unison. “Noooooooo” Hermione complained. “Don’t wanna go yet” Harry muttered sleepily into his chest. Ron chuckled at their reactions; they knew him far too well. “Up,” he said, patting their backs, “we can’t stay here, we’ll be caught.” They sighed and pushed off of him. Hermione gave him a glare, it would have been much more effective if she was still a warrior goddess of a grown woman, but unfortunately for her she was a fourteen-year-old girl with several angry red pimples on her face. “Planning time,” she said getting serious, “I have spent the time I’ve had pouring over magical history books, and from what I read there are no differences. With the exception of the Potters' survival, the freedom of Sirius, and the fact that Neville took your place.” she ended her sentence looking at Harry. “So first,” she held out two round gray stones for them to take, “These are illegal portkeys. Do not lose them, don’t let anyone else see them. They will activate just before 8:00 pm on the night of the full moon.” she then paused, I was correct, wasn’t I? Lycanthropy is an infection of your magic and not your body?” Ron smiled fondly and nodded. She and Harry grinned in response, Harry reaching over to pat Hermione’s shoulder in congratulations.

“Well then,” she said blushing lightly at the pride of being the genius that she is, “this will be a reoccurring trip for us, it will take us into the forbidden forest, that way we are not registered as leaving the Hogwarts grounds while in school. Because as stated in “The Making of Hogwarts,” the expansion of “Hogwarts a History” one of the first headmasters of the school after the founders installed a system to track the comings and goings of students during the school year." She pulled out a notebook from the green fabric back she came with, “So, we know that the stone was not taken in our first year, and from the clues we have from our memories we can infer that the attack still happened the way it did for us.” She paused and Harry picked up where she left off, “Only we didn’t take out Quirrell, that honor went to Neville, and two people who didn’t exist in the other world, my sister Rose, and Sirius's son Jake. as we were not present, we don’t know exactly how it went down, but the outcome was the same, so…” He trailed off, leaning his body into Ron’s side. He was very tactile today, probably because he hadn’t seen the other two in so long. Ron spoke up then, “We’ll operate off of the assumption that very little or nothing was different between worlds, the stone and the chamber both occurred as we remember for the most part, and Sirius never went to Azkaban so third year was quiet. Ginny became friends with the three mentioned after they rescued her in her first year and have been causing trouble ever since.

Now into our fourth year the tri wizard tournament is coming up and we need to make sure that Neville isn’t chosen. If the tasks are different then we could have a repeat of Voldie's resurrection.” They both nodded in agreement, so Ron continued, “And we also have the issue of ‘Scabbers’ to deal with.” he didn’t see the way that Harry’s face changed, but he sure saw the expression when he sat fully up and turned to face him head on. “Where is he now?” Ron nodded his head toward the house, “In my room in the cage, a simple draught of living death put him right out.” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “We need to find a way to tell someone without being suspicious.” Hermione nodded solemnly, she stood and gestured for the others to stand as well. “Well,” she said as soon as they had joined her, a light melancholic grin forming on her face, “Let’s go save the world. Again.”

Chapter Text

By the time the rest of the Weasley’s woke up and began to stumble down the stairs, Harry and Hermoine had already left and Ron himself had finished making himself some breakfast.

The first to stumble in were of course the twins. They blinked in surprise that the kitchen was occupied, before he “woke up” Ron had been a heavy sleeper and had a habit of being the last person to wake up. So, to the twins, it was odd to find him there. Not that his presence gave them any pause. They grinned at him as they walked over. “Ronnie-kins!” Fred called sweetly, George continuing for him, “you’re up early, whatever for?”

He could already tell this was going to be an exhausting morning. “No reason,” he said carefully, making sure that neither of the twins got close enough to touch his food. “Just felt like it.” They clearly didn’t believe him, but they couldn’t prove anything, and they didn’t know anything.

Whatever it was that they wanted to do in the kitchen could not be done while he was there, so all there was to do was harass him. Oh joy. This activity of pry, get denied, question, get deflected, speculate, and get ignored, over and over and over again lasted for a few hours until the rest of the family began to trickle in. Percy first, then mom and dad together, then Ginny coming in last. No one seemed to really take note that he was in the kitchen earlier than usual other than his mother, who smiled at him and gave him a pat on the head as she passed him. But other than that, the morning went smoothly, and he released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. No one suspected anything, he was in the clear.

For the next two weeks before the full moon Ron had flipped his behavior from what it had been in the past, into something far more productive. He spent most of his time during the day studying for the upcoming year, and of course the years after that. He hadn’t done actual schoolwork in a long time. Or at least it felt that way. The twins and Ginny kept trying to catch him doing something he wasn’t supposed to, but he really was just studying, which at first confused them. But of course, then they realized that they could have a good laugh about how he suddenly became bookish like Percy. Not that Ron minded, one of his favorite people was the most bookish person he knew. So he chose to take it as a compliment.

By the time the first full moon rolled around he’d developed a good base to build up his muscle mass, and the slight pudginess that he had was quickly dwindling. And in the academics' area he had made it all the way through his first through fifth year books and was working on the sixth. All in all, with the time he’d been given, he’d done pretty good. Though no doubt Hermione had made it through all seven years and was reading more niche books.

He thought that it would be difficult to excuse himself for the night in a way that would deter anyone from going to check on him during the night, and also allow him to go. But it was almost painfully easy to convince his mother that he was sick and had to spend the rest of the day in bed, and considering how he looked mere hours before the moon would rise it really shouldn’t have surprised him. But soon enough 8 o’clock rolled around and he pulled out the small stone and held it while he waited. With a twist of his gut and a pulling sensation that nearly made him lose his lunch, he was whisked away into the forbidden forest.

Harry

He hit the ground as gracefully as he could, which is to say he stumbled a small bit before righting himself so that he didn’t fall. Hermione landed as gracefully as ever, which is to say she didn’t even twitch and she appeared, and Ron fell flat on his ass. Harry stifled a small chuckle as he helped him up from the ground and abruptly lost all humor as he saw his face. Hermione hurried over and placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “It’s alright ‘Mione,” Ron said with a slight rasp to his voice, “This body has never shifted before, so the stress of my body preparing for it has been a bit tiring.” The other two nodded in understanding as they walked further into the woods together.

The moon had nearly reached its peak of the night as they came to the clearing they planned on using. They stopped and despite the situation they shared a few small smiles with one another, this was always fun. The transformation wasn’t usually painful, as Ron’s body had accepted the wolf inside of it as a part of itself. This much younger body had yet to do that so it would hurt, but they would be there with him. Hermione was the first to shift, her body contorting into the shape of a large barn owl, her large black eyes blinked at them, waiting. Harry placed an encouraging kiss on Ron’s cheek before he himself followed suit. Bending and curving into a very large black panther, sitting down and curling his tail around his paws to wait patiently.

Moments after he shifted, Harry saw in Ron’s face the moment he started to feel the pressure all along his skin as the transformation began. He fell to his hands and knees to make it easier. It would hurt, of course, but it didn’t look like it was as bad as he thought it would be, and it was quicker than he thought it would be as well. It didn’t take long for a large, jarringly red timber wolf to stand where Ron once was. Hermione let out a screech as she swooped low over their heads and Ron leapt up to playfully snap his teeth at her tail feathers, and the game began.

The three of them jumped, ducked, and weaved around each other, Ron’s happy yips echoing through the night air. This was one of the few things they did in their old lives that left them with happy memories. It was nice; nice to be able to return to something so familiar when they felt so adrift. But like all good things, it had to come to an end at some point. They had tired themselves out after hours of playing together, all of them curling up together to sleep. By the time the sun rose over the horizon Ron was back to his normal self and snoring loudly.

Harry shared a fond smile with Hermione as they slowly and quietly got up off the forest floor and together got Ron’s pants on before giving up on getting the rest of his clothes on him. They would need to go back soon so that no one got suspicious but that could wait for a moment and enjoy the sunrise. Harry sat petting Ron’s hair to help gently coax him towards consciousness. He hummed pleasantly and arched his neck into Harry’s hand. Ron turned his head, catching Harry’s hand by the wrist and pulled it towards him. He started planting sleepy kisses onto the tips of his fingers. His eyes cracked open in greeting, his once bright blue irises now shown in a striking shimmering gold. Hermione cooed at the sight, they’d both deeply missed that color.

As they readied themselves to leave Hermione handed him a locket. “This will work similarly to the way your ring did, it will camouflage your eyes and teeth to make you look human. And by the way, I’m glad that you were able to accept the wolf again, it will be inconvenient to hide the subsequent features you now sport, but I’m glad you will not be exhausted or in any more pain during your shifting.” Ron smiled in understanding after she finished speaking. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek in thanks.

They bid each other goodbye as they each took their leave, each returning to their own homes before they were missed. It was simple enough for Harry to slip back into his bed after the Portkey sent them back. He didn’t get much sleep, but his muscles felt more relaxed in that moment than they had since he’d arrived, or woke up he supposes, and he felt calm. He felt like things could truly get better and that he could do this. They could do this.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry woke with the sound of the jar hitting the wooden floor of his bedroom with a bang that rang through the small space like the firing of a gun, and the buttons scattered across the floor. Before his mind could catch up to what was happening, he was standing with his wand in his hand. He had half of a disarming spell out of his mouth before he recognized the figures in front of him as his father and sister.

They stared at each other for a long silent moment before James raised his hands in mock surrender. But Harry could see in his eyes that he was only half joking. Part of him, probably the part that went through Auror training, was looking at him in slowly mounting suspicion. Rose followed his lead, though a lot more sarcastically, and without the tiny bit of caution that James did. She likely didn’t even recognize the spell, cut off and slightly slurred from sleep as it was. But James did, and he was eyeing Harry with an odd edge in his eye. “Harry?” he asked gently, he spoke in a soft, quiet voice, the kind of voice one would use to talk to a cornered animal with. “Do you want to lower your wand?” Harry jolted at the realization that his wand was still raised at the two of them. “Sorry,” he said as he lowered the wand to his side. He searched frantically for something to say, some way to explain that his reaction was completely normal, and not at all weird. Thankfully there was a god looking out for him that day, as Rose stepped up to unknowingly diffuse the situation. “Were you sleeping with your wand?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow and a condescending lilt to her voice.

He nodded mutely, not able to find his voice in the ocean of relief that washed over him when he saw his father relax, but his brow scrunched together in confusion. Which in Harry’s opinion was far better than the suspicious caution of before.

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned her body weight onto one of her legs, cocking her hip to one side, “Why?” she seemed more confused than annoyed at the prank gone wrong. This time around, he had his head on straight and found his voice, “I uh… was using it as a back scratcher, and I fell asleep before I remembered to put it away.” he shuffled his feet and looked away for extra effect. James’s still slightly tense shoulders completely melted away into an emotion similar to disappointment, or whatever the opposite of pride for one's child would be. Second-hand embarrassment maybe? A stern and mildly annoyed look grew on his face, “That is very irresponsible, and also could have ended very badly. Wands can be great tools and dangerous weapons; you need to be more careful with them.” James sends a weak glare his way before shaking his head and walking out of the room, but with a notable backward glance at the jar on the floor, buttons scattered from wall to wall. Before dismissing it as a teenage boy being messy and the jar falling over on accident, “And clean up the glass carefully,” he called over his shoulder, putting a purposeful stress on the word carefully.

When he was out of sight Harry walked over, careful of the shattered glass all around him, and closed the door gently. He slid to the ground with his back to the wall as he breathed a sigh of relief. He had not showered since he and the other two had spent the night on the forest floor. But neither James or his ever-perceptive sister had noticed the light layer of dirt and grime that coated his skin. He sat for a long moment collecting his scattered thoughts from his abrupt awakening. He went through his occlumency exercises, collecting himself and all of his emotions. The moment passed and when his heart calmed, he began to pick up the small pieces of glass from the floor.

When the task was finished, he took a quick shower trying not to be suspicious, got dressed, and made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. There at the table sat his parents, floundering in the kitchen. Lily frantically trying to make sure that nothing would burn and keep James from helping her with magic. She always insisted that the food tasted weird if it was made with magic. Not that her husband ever listened to her on that particular subject. Rose sat at the table watching the events unfold with a small grin on her face. Her fingers tapping out a quick rhythm on the wood, it wasn’t a song he recognized but that mattered little. What mattered more was the fact that his parents only became this flustered when they were due for early guests.

“Are we expecting people today?” Harry asked, trying his best to maintain a facade of innocent curiosity. James, momentarily distracted from ruining breakfast, turned to face him, “Remus, Sirius, and his band of menaces will be invading our home this morning!” his gratingly chipper voice explained. It was at that moment that Harry realized he had forgotten Sirius had children. He was married to a lovely blond muggle-born woman from France. Her name Marria, she was kind but more of a homebody, so she and Harry didn’t interact much beyond ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. He had completely forgotten about her, and her children. Though that isn’t too much of a surprise, they didn’t exist in his old life, so he hadn’t really been paying them any mind.

Their arrival would also mean that he would be stuck playing babysitter. Gaining his memories back had changed him a great deal into who he was before this new life. And with that change came a complete lack of any desire to entertain small children when he had better things to be doing and his sister got to go off with Jake Black. Harry chose to focus on the food his mother placed in front of him and worry about how he would escape the children when they got there.

He didn’t have to wait long, as soon as he finished his last bite of egg the flu burst to life in a flurry of green flames and Sirius and his four children tumbled out of the fireplace and into the Potter residence with a cacophony of all their different voices. Jake, a boy three months younger than Rose and himself, immediately went over to Rose. he looked like a clone of his father, none of his mother's features shown through in him in any discernible way, which was starkly contrasted in his younger siblings. Sienne age ten, Alanna age nine, and Simon age four were all sunshine blonds, with pin straight hair and deep blue eyes, just like their mother. They had none of their fathers' striking features, his curly dark hair and icy blue eyes nowhere to be seen in their little faces. Harry had spent countless hours entertaining the smallest three Black children, he can’t believe that he forgot about them.

Just then Sienna chooses to prove his point by barreling into his side nearly knocking him to the ground, “Harry!” her little voice cries out happily as her sister copied her aggressive greeting, gluing herself to his other hip. Harry kept his arms up above their heads in an attempt to keep himself from getting his own arms pinned by their octopus arms wrapped around him tightly, “Hi girls.” he said, returning their greeting far more calmly. Alanna pulled at his arm insistently trying to lead him deeper into the house, “Dad said you’d play with us today!” she said smiling from ear to ear, “We decided we want to play princess ball and you can be the king…” she continued to babble on and on about the part he was expected to play in their game and ‘how it will be so super awesome’. Yeah, no, there was no way he was going to be entertaining Sirius’ rambunctious kids. If he couldn’t entertain them then he should have left them with their mother.

The two girls continued to pull him down the hall as he tried to come with a plan to escape their tiny clutches. Harry spotted Rose snickering at his expense as he was dragged away. Could he easily stop and decide that he didn’t want to go along with their insistent pulling? Yes, yes, he could. Could he do it without arousing suspicion from every person in the room? No, no he could not. So he allowed himself to be dragged all the way to his room.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to shake the kids. Every time he was almost out the door, Simon, the tiny observant snitch, would reveal his position by asking ‘where he was going?’ or ‘Is someone at the door?’ drawing attention to him. But eventually he was able to slip away and make his way down the stairs towards the kitchen where his and their adult guests were speaking.

He crept down the hall on trained silent feet, spotting Rose and Jake through the crack in her bedroom door. They were playing exploding snap, which meant that they would both be sufficiently distracted while he eavesdropped on their parents. He was careful not to be noticed when he reached the entrance of the kitchen and he strained to listen in on their conversation.

He heard the voice of his father first, “I heard that Amelia has been really putting the pressure on everyone about the upcoming game.” James said, voice clearly directed at Sirius, “How did you manage to get off duty for the day?” Harry practically felt Sirius roll his eyes before he spoke, “Aside from falling to my knees and begging? I told her I’d go undercover to watch Neville.” Harry heard his mother suck in a breath and make a small sound of sympathy. James on the other hand gave a humorless laugh, “Ha! I wish I’d had the idea to take on Neville watch, I got off with the honor of being Tonk’s partner for the week.” Harry, Lily, and Sirius winced in cinque. “Good luck!” Sirius said with no small amount of amusement in his voice. “Sports,” Lily cut in, “people are bound to get injured. Either before the match or after it. Or in the middle if things are particularly unlucky. I’m glad we get to go as spectators instead of security.” He heard the other two huff in agreement with her.

The group lapsed into a short silence until Sirius broke it, “So, Lil’s, did you hear who would be taking up the DADA position?” Harry heard the grin in her voice as she answered, “Oh yes, I spoke with Minerva and she said that Dumbledore had asked Moody, to take up the position.” “MAD EYE?!” Sirius responded horrified, “he will traumatize those poor students for life! We all remember our first Auror lesson with him.” “Yeah, and apparently, he has only gotten worse since the three of us got out of the ‘academy’, I heard that his first lesson with this year’s group began with him slamming the door open and hexing three trainees.” James said with an audible shake of his head, “At least we know that the kids will be well taught on how to survive.” he added.

“He can definitely be a bit brutal, but it’s not like he’s a dangerous psychopath.” Lily commented, trying to defend Dumbledore’s decision. Harry had to hold back a mad cackle as the words echoed in his mind. If the timeline follows the same path that his last life did then that was a very very false statement. The conversation then fell into more mundane conversation and Harry decided that there was nothing more that he could gather from the conversation. He entered the kitchen, giving no indication that he had heard their conversation.

Their talking quickly came to a halt as he entered the room and Sirius turned to him, “Hey Harry, everything okay up there? Kids not too much trouble?” It was odd to see Sirius so healthy and happy, Most of Harry’s freshest memories of him only contained the sorrow, pain, and exhaustion that came with the war and the years he spent in prison. “No. They are fine, just kids being kids.” Sirius gave him an odd look and he remembered that he was meant to enjoy playing with the little kids. Too late to back up, probably best to push forward, he decided.

He turned to his mom, “where is the profit from this morning?” he asked, turning away from Sirius’ gaze. “It’s in my office.” she answered with a quirk in her brow and a curious smile on her face, “Why do you ask?” He raised his own brow in a mocking mimicry of her and answered with far more sass and sarcasm than he usually displays, “Because I want to read it. Is that not what most people do with the paper?” All three of the adults stood in mild shock to his response. “That is fair I suppose.” she replied, “I hadn’t realized that you had any interest in the day-to-day events detailed in the newspaper. I thought you only had interest in the happenings of things that happened a few hundred years ago.” Harry had expected curiosity. He had before been solely interested in history, herbology, and divination before he woke up, but he hadn’t expected her to match his sass. It wasn’t an unwelcome event by any means. It was nice to be met with that instead of them treating him like a small child. He hummed noncommittally in thought before turning to make his way into his mother's office, “Whatever.” James looked like he wanted to say something but kept his thoughts to himself as Harry walked out. Leaving three utterly befuddled adults in his wake.

That was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t get himself to be upset with himself for his actions, so he brushed it off. Perhaps in such a relatively safe environment he was finally able to experience the aimless teenage angst that was supposed to come with his body's age. He was unable to experience it the first time around so the novelty of the intensity of his irritation at being questioned about his reasoning behind his actions was a bit amusing to him. Or maybe he just didn’t like being questioned. Either way the result was the same.

He scooped up the paper and slipped off to a small room deep in the house. Well really it was the Potter Manor house, but he had always called it home in this life. It struck him as odd that he had never thought of his home as large or grand, but that's exactly what it was. He felt embarrassment creep up his neck as he recalled how spoiled his young self was in this life, entirely unaware of the wealth that his family had. And how ungrateful he was for it. You were young. Young with no friends to reference. It is fine that you didn’t know. He thought trying to will the feeling away.

Back in the kitchen the three adults were left staring at the doorway in confusion. That was odd. Very odd. Harry Potter was shy, clumsy, and a little cowardly. He was the model of the kind of kid that the marauders would have made fun of in their youth. Pathetic was the word that Rose liked to use to describe him when she was frustrated with her twin. If Lily and James were completely honest with themselves then they would have to agree with her.

They would never admit it, especially out loud. They still loved him with all of their heart, but they couldn’t help their desire to be selfish. James especially wished that his son would laugh because he understood the jokes and not because everyone else was laughing, or that he didn’t have some of the lowest grades in his entire year, he wished so badly that he was a little more popular, that he showed just a little bit of that Gryffindor spirit. He was a coward and the boy reminded James of a young Peter. It left a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he spotted the resemblance. James hated himself for it but he really just wished that his son was a different person. He felt a spark of hope flicker to life in his chest at the idea that his boy could finally be developing a backbone.

Over the past several days Harry had been acting more confident, almost more mature in some ways. He spoke to Lilly and James as if they were peers rather than adults with a large amount of power over him.

Sirius was the first to snap himself out of his trace, “Did ickle Harry just dismiss us?” he asked bemusedly, his brows pinched in utter disbelief.

The days continued as usual and Harry fell into a pattern of normality that was unimaginable in his past. It was nice. James and Lily seemed to have noticed the change in his demeanor and were quite pleased with the difference. Harry still took great care to avoid showing how much of himself had really changed and keeping mostly in character. It was unavoidable that he would have noticed something going on with him, they were his parents after all. No matter how thin their relationship was or how sparse their interactions. They were always bound to notice.

But he fell into a routine. Exercise, study, meet up with the others in secret. Over and over and over. It was good. He made great progress with his physical fitness and had practically memorized the information that he should and shouldn’t know. Now all he needed to do was confirm the history of this world that wouldn’t be in the papers. Like what happened to Peter Pettigrew in this world. James was already suspicious of him from the difference in his behavior so Harry couldn’t ask him, and Lily tells him everything and vice versa. Harry doesn’t have a very close relationship with Sirius, so it would be odd if he tried to integrate him about his traitor of an old friend. So that left Remus.

He was the best choice, him being Harry’s godfather and all. But the problem was that Ron could smell the difference between werewolves and non-werewolves, which means that it was possible that Remus also might be able to smell a different werewolf on Harry’s skin. He couldn’t bear to keep himself apart from Ron or Hermione and he needed to get the information soon. So there was nothing to be done about the issue but to try to speak with him and keep a healthy inconspicuous distance during their conversation.

All Harry had to do was wait for a chance to get him alone. To corner him for a chat.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry’s chance to get Remus alone came one week later. His parents hadn’t gotten home from work yet so the only people in the house were Harry himself and his sister Rose. there was a knock at the door and when Harry opened the door there stood Remus. He looked surprised to see Harry on the other side of the door. “Hi Harry,” he greeted with a warm smile, “I’m here to see James, is he home yet?” Remus asked. Harry shook his head, “No, sorry. He isn’t home yet; come in he’ll be home any minute now.” Remus nodded and walked through the doorway, swinging the door closed behind him as he did so.

It was a little awkward at first, the Harry that Remus knew before was immature and a little wary of Remus due to his status as a Lycanthrope, something that the present Harry is ashamed to admit. The current Harry was keeping his distance because he didn’t want the man to smell Ron on his skin. He would not be able to explain away the scent of another werewolf to Remus. So Harry had to be smart about getting the information he needed, and he needed to be quick with it before his parents got home. Harry led Remus into the Living Room and together they sat on the sofa in silence.

Before Harry could come up with a cohesive plan, Remus gave him a perfect opening all on his own, “So, your birthday is coming up,” Remus started, “your sister is obvious, all she can talk about is getting a firebolt. But what about you? What are you wishing for?” Time to test the waters, “I was thinking that it would be cool to have a companion for the school year.” he began watching Remus’s face carefully for any reaction he might give, “I was thinking about maybe getting a rat, they are easy to care for and kind of cute.” Remus flinched slightly at the mention of him wanting a rat, “Are you sure about wanting a rat? They’re not very trustworthy animals.” Remus had a disgusted, almost angry look on his face. It was clear that there was some sort of discomfort surrounding rats, which almost guaranteed that the same events that occurred surrounding Peter Pettigrew in his last life also happened in this one.

Harry was happy to retract his desire for a rat, “I suppose you might be right,” he said quickly, “Maybe an owl would be a better pick, I could send letters and have a pet at the same time.” Remus’s shoulders relaxed a bit and he nodded enthusiastically at his idea of an owl as an alternative, “I think that is a great idea,” he said in reply.

Suddenly Remus stood and made to walk into the kitchen, presumably to get some tea from the kitchen, but on his way, he walked directly past Harry, and he held his breath praying that Remus wouldn’t smell the minute traces of Ron on his skin. For a moment he thought he’d not sensed anything from him, but then just as he was passing Harry, he whipped his head back around and took a deep breath in.

The two of them locked eyes and Harry did his very best impression of cluelessness, “Is everything alright Remus?” he asked, he could almost feel the sweat building on his forehead and had to resist the urge to gulp. For a moment they just stared each other down, neither of them saying a word. The moment passed as Remus seemed to decide that he was imagining things and waved his hand as if to dismiss himself, “Nothing, sorry. Just thought I saw something.” They both laughed it off, but neither of them could manage to keep the thick tension from settling over the pair like a heavy morning fog.

Luckily Harry only had to keep the man company for a few more minutes as his parents walked through the door and Remus forgot all about the exchange in favor of greeting his friends. While the three of them were distracted Harry slipped away. He grabbed a handful of flu powder and threw it into the burning flames, watching as the flared higher and burned a vivid emerald color. He stepped into the green flames and whispered his desired destination as he was whisked away without a trace.

Hermione

Hermione sat on her bed waiting for the boys to arrive. She rotated between gently pressing on the spine of each of the books in her room to make sure each volume was flush with the back of the shelf, fixing the placement of the pillows on her bed, and ‘fixing’ her hair even though it very much did not need to be fixed. A few weeks ago, she had been able to convince her parents to let her get her hair braided under the pretense of stopping her hair from falling in her face. Which was actually one of the reasons she wanted them, but more because having hair in her face for even a second in a real fight could end very poorly for her one day. So now her braids fell about 6 inches past her shoulders, and she couldn’t stop herself from playing with the ends at every opportunity.

She first braided her hair three years into the war proper, but back then she had cornrows due to a lack of materials needed for box braids and because it would be better in a fight to have her hair plated flat against her head. Not long after she ended up needing to cut it all off as it was becoming too hard to justify to herself keeping and maintaining her long hair.

But when she was young, she had always wanted box braids. She thought that they were beautiful, and she would often daydream about how pretty she would look with them. But she never got the chance to have them in the end. There was something that felt so wrong about indulging in the little things she never got to the first time. Was it wrong though? She didn’t want to think so, but every time she did anything but directly prepare for what was to come, she felt relentless waves of guilt, shame, and anxiety well up inside of her, threatening to overflow.

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of her fireplace flaring to life downstairs, as well as the telltale crash of Harry tripping over the iron grate at the bottom that was meant to keep the wood where it belonged. She considered going down the stairs to greet him, but he was already on his way up the stairs, so she stayed put. She could feel the warm embrace of his magic as he sent out a wandless spell of her own design. It was similar to the sonar that was used in muggle ships to see in the water, it scanned for life in every direction for roughly sixty feet. They had been able to alter it in their later years to be able to reach out with the charm and feel specifically for each other.

Harry opened her door and she saw the way that his shoulders relaxed at the sight of her standing there waiting for him. “You changed your hair.” he said smiling. He had one of the softest and warmest smiles that Hermione had ever seen on anyone, and if she looked hard enough, she could see small dimples on each cheek. It was something that she secretly mourned when he had returned to their home of the week with a new scar that ripped through the dimple on the left side of his face. She was overjoyed to see that it had returned now that they are bare of any scars. “I did,” she responded, returning his smile with one of her own, “it will be much easier to pull it all back so that I don’t get any hair in my face in a fight. Loose hair is too much of a hazard in the field.” Harry just gave her a knowing smile and nodded, “Well, I think that’s a good idea, and it has the added benefit of being beautiful.” Hermione felt blood rush to her cheeks, and she was grateful that between Harry’s eyesight and her dark complexion the boy was unlikely to see her blushing face. hopefully.

The flu flared again and the heavy foot falls of the last of the trio were audible as he made his way up the stairs towards them. Ron smiled brightly as he came into the room, “Hello,” he said, walking over to wrap her up in a hug, his fingers running across the braids that flowed down her shoulders. “I finally got them,” she said with a small smile on her face as she reached up to brush her fingers through the braids on the other side. Ron smiled back and pulled back away from her to walk over and embrace Harry, who was standing on the other side of the room. The two held each other close for a moment before they parted and together made their way to the edge of the bed so that they could sit and listen to what Hermione had to say.

“So, what have we learned so far, “I have been unable to collect much unfortunately, though it does look like the general history of the world is the same as it was the first time around.” Harry was the first to begin speaking, “Peter was definitely the same, or similar, to the last time, if the reaction Remus had to me suggesting a rat as a familiar was anything to go off of.” Hermione nodded absently along as she jotted that down in a notebook she plucked up from the desk. “Good, Ron?” she said turning her attention to the ginger boy, “I tried to get a read on what happened to the basilisk, but Ginny didn’t have any reaction to my questions about snakes at the school, though I did remember that at the start of last summer she threw out all of her old diaries and journals, and never got any more of them since then. So, I’d say it’s safe to assume that the same events, or at least ones similar to what we remember also took place.” Hermione scribbled some more notes on that onto the paper before her. Harry leaned forward and glanced nervously from her to the window, then the door, then back to her, “Are you certain that writing these things down is a good idea?” he asked, eyeing the book as if it was going to turn on them at any moment. Which given their experience with journals in the past was entirely possible. She shook her head and waved away his fears with her hand, her braids flicking back and forth as she did in a way that made her consider putting brightly colored beads on the ends just to hear the clacking. She dismissed that thought though, they would be eye-catching if they were bright, and make noise with every small move, practically a death sentence on any real stealth mission. “I’ll remove the used pages and burn them when we are done here, there will be no chance of anyone finding them.

Hermione watched as Harry and Ron both relaxed a little bit more, Harry’s shoulders untensed and he leaned back to how he was sitting before with a small nod for her to continue. It was nice to see the way her boys would relax with the knowledge that she had a plan, they trusted her, and she knew that they always would. It was intense, knowing that if she ever miscalculated or got fed bad information, then there would be no telling what would happen, but they trusted her and believed in her plans. “Now,” she continued, beginning to pace back and forth, “what have we learned about our families?” Harry was the first to speak again, “My sister Rose is pretty much exactly like how she acts while in school.” He says, not bothering to explain who Rose is, she is obnoxious enough that everyone knows her. She did her best to follow in her father's footsteps and became athletic, popular, and a prolific prankster, and just like her father she could never tell when something pushed past the line of harmless fun into bullying. “There isn’t much to say there. It seems like she and Ginny are the de facto ring leaders of their little group. What is concerning though is that it doesn’t seem like they possess the skills that we had in our own youth that let us survive as long as we did on our own.” Harry’s eyes shifted back and forth between her and Ron, looking as though he was hoping one of them would contradict what he’d just said with and observation of their own, but when neither of them did, he continued, “None of them are particularly book smart, nor do any of them have a particular interest in learning,” Hermione wrinkled her nose, but nodded in agreement, “They have no skill in strategy or anything like that, and only Neville has any unique or advanced for our age skill with magic. And even then, he seems to have almost no interest in furthering his abilities beyond passing classes.” Harry finished, his brow furrowed, and a frustrated look painted over his features.

Ron snorted, “Odd to think of Neville as being naturally talented in magic.” Hermione shot him a halfhearted scolding look but didn’t voice any actual disagreement. They all remembered the Neville they used to know. The sweet, shy, chubby kid that grew into a true force to be reckoned with by the end, but in all that time he never lost that kindness. He was good until the very end, which is more than they could say for most people. But he could never be described as naturally talented at anything other than herbology, he worked for every shred of skill and magical ability he had. This other Neville was completely different. He was bold, he was talented, he was still a little chubby, but this time around it was entirely baby fat that they could see slowly melting away with each passing year. He was nothing like their Neville. So it was odd, practically alien, for them to think of Neville as simply naturally gifted. “Mione, you have to agree it’s weird to think about.” Harry said, drawing her eyes away from Ron. She sighed and rolled her eyes which was probably the closest they were going to get to her agreeing with them on this.

Hermione sighed, “Well regardless of how strange you feel it is to refer to Neville as talented, he is this time around. And that is a problem.” she tapped her foot in annoyance, “I had hoped that the lackadaisical approach he took to his education was all for show and he did put in effort on his own, but that seems to not be the case.” Harry nodded solemnly, “No, he really does think very little about his academics or their importance to his survival. I was new to the world of magic, so I was eager to learn all that I could, and I had you push me with your books.” He said with a hand coming out to gesture at Hermione. “They are unmotivated and unprepared.” Ron surmised. Hermione stopped her pacing and looked at him, “Yes.” she began to twirl the pen between her fingers as she spoke, “The tournament is going to happen this year,” she looked to Ron for confirmation. “Yeah, Charlie has been really busy and dropped by for the afternoon about a week ago and let slip that there was going to be a surprise at school this year, and that he would be around much more. So yeah, just like last time, nothing’s changed on that front.” Harry sighed in relief at that, “Thank Merlin for small mercies.” Hermione righted herself to continue, “E-hem,” she cleared her throat, “while this is good for our ability to plan, it does mean that we need to make sure that Nevilles name isn’t placed in the goblet. I really don’t think he’d survive.”

“Yeah, but how?” Ron asked, clearly frustrated with this problem. Knowing him, he’d probably figured that out already but couldn’t think of a way to fix it. Hermione understood that feeling. “I,” she began hesitantly, “may have an idea, but it could be tricky to pull off.” she walked over to the bed and sat herself between the boys as they moved to make room for her, “We know that the way that Crouch jr. got Harry into the tournament was to sign him up under the name of a fake fourth school, which meant that as the only candidate for that school, he was automatically selected. But if we can get the name of the school then enter someone else who would be a better fit, then that might just work.” as she talked, she wrote out a bulleted list.

Crouch (will he still replace Moody?)
Are the trials the same?
Find the name of the school.
Save Cedric

“Ok, but why not just, you know,” Harry waved his hands through the air in a vague manner, “Stop his name from going in?” Ron nodded along as Harry spoke, and then they both looked to her for her answer. They knew that it was the obvious answer so she must have already thought about it, but they just couldn’t work out why they weren’t taking that option. “Well, like it or not, we don’t have the ability to just do whatever we want anymore,” she began to explain, “Once we disrupt the way that the timeline goes then we won’t know what happens next. Stopping the name going in would mean turning Barty in early, and if that happens then who knows what Peter and the other death eaters that helped get Voldemort back will do. But we can make sure that his plans still fail, while keeping the enemy where we can see them.” she finished. Harry and Ron nodded satisfied with her answer, though it was clear they didn’t like having to let Barty be their teacher all year. Not that they would have learned anything from anyone else, but it was the principle of the matter.

When she finished talking, she looked over to the other two, “Anything we should add to the list?” Ron nodded, “We need to remove our magical tracers.” he said matter-of-factly, “We can’t act freely if we can’t use our magic, and I don’t trust the floo. The floo can be tracked, or shut down, or hijacked, it is an unnecessary risk we wouldn’t have to take if we could apparate.” Hermione nodded rapidly as she wrote that down at the top of her list. “Well,” she ripped out the pages in the book and she dropped them in her wastepaper bin before pulling a match out of her desk drawer, lighting it, and dropping it onto the papers below, “I’m glad you like the plan. The easiest way to do it would be to just watch him to see what he writes, but how we do that is still a mystery to me.” she shook her head gently side to side, dismissing the building stress in her chest. They made progress and now she gets to spend her afternoon with her favorite people in the world. Stress has simply no room to exist in her head at the moment.

“Well, with that out of the way,” Harry started, standing and pulling her duvet off of her bed and laying it out flat along the dark hardwood of her bedroom floor, “I know picnics are usually outdoors and all, but I thought that maybe a nice indoor one sounded nice, and since we have the time,” he began to pull small containers of sliced fruit and sandwiches out of the garish red and yellow drawstring bag he’d brought with him. Ron hopped off the bed and plopped himself down so that he laid on his stomach facing them, his legs kicked up behind him and crossed at the ankle. He turned and, supporting his upper body with one hand, moved his other hand in a wide sweeping gesture to indicate the spot that they’d left open for her. Hermione felt her lips tug upwards in a loving smile and sat on the floor with them. Harry leaned over and passed her a container that had been set aside for her. Inside was a simple ham sandwich cut into two even triangles with the crust removed, and a few strawberries sliced vertically and without the stems. It was simple but it was perfect. The three of them sat there for a while, just existing together in a world that was not dying, and it was bliss.

Only a few hours later the three had to part ways so that no one would go looking for them. It saddened all of them, but it was what had to be done. Hermione wrapped each of them in a tight hug before they left and wished them well. They would meet again in only a week for the full moon so it wasn’t really a goodbye for very long, but it still felt as though it would be ages until she could see the other two again. Harry went first, and then Ron, and soon enough she was left alone in the empty house.

Hermione breathed out a heavy sigh and turned around and headed up the stairs, it was time to get to work figuring out how to get into the ministry to remove their traces.

Chapter Text

Harry

Rose’s and Harry’s Hogwarts letters arrived at the Potter home early in the morning. All four members of the family were gathered around the table for breakfast when they arrived, and Rose jumped up from the table to open the window for the courier birds, her curly black hair bouncing obnoxiously as she did. She quickly untied them both from the horned owl's leg, tossed Harry’s letter carelessly onto the table, nearly sending it sliding off and onto the floor, and held her own letter aloft triumphantly, as though the letters that they got every year that contained only their supply list and the previous years end grades was some sort of victory. How she managed to have energy to waste after just waking up was beyond him, and he watched as she tore into the paper with the vicious efficiency of a small child on Christmas. Lily walked over to her daughter and took the page containing her grades as Rose read through her school list, probably looking for anything that could be used as an excuse to buy something cool. A memory floated to the surface of Harry’s brain as he watched her, she did the same thing every year, dragon hyde gloves required for potions class? Clearly, she needs matching boots, “What if the potion spills, I need them to protect my feet.” and when their father gave in, “Well they might as well be multi-purpose and get the ones designed for quidditch.” he also recalls never once seeing her wear those boots to a single potions class.

Harry slipped one of his fork’s prongs under the lip of the envelope and used it to tear open his letter. He absent mindedly fed small pieces of ham and egg to the weary owl as he read through his own list of supplies. All of it looked normal, restock potion ingredients with extra poppy petals, the standard book of spells, etc… but there at the end of the list was a requirement for dress robes. His lips pursed automatically at the reminder of what was to come, Hermione hadn’t said who was going to end up as their Neville stand in for the tournament, but he knew it would be him. As much as he trusted Hermione and Ron to be able to beat all of the tasks without issue, he would never want to put them in that sort of situation.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by a long-suffering sigh from his father. He looked over at him and was met with an expression of exasperation and disappointment, in his hands he held the paper containing Harry’s grades. They were abysmal. He remembered now that he was thinking about it, that in this world, he had almost no interest in grades or academics, and his grades reflected that. He winced at what they must look like, he was sure he’d passed every class, but only just barely. There were no O’s on his paper he was certain, and the only E in sight would be in History of Magic. The goblin wars they went over last year was the only thing Hogwarts had to offer that could have held his interest last year. His sister snickered, though she tried to hide it behind her hand. Lilly shook her head in annoyance, she didn’t even bother correcting Rose’s behavior.

“Harry,” his father began, something like anger edging into his voice, though it was clear that he was putting in real effort to keep his cool, “You promised your mother and I that you would try harder this time.” He looked up at Harry, waiting for him to reply. Harry avoided eye contact, it was embarrassing to think that he had ever acted so idiotically, “Sorry dad.” was all he could think to say, though apparently that was the wrong thing, as it started James’s lecture. “Sorry isn’t good enough! You promised that you would do better, you don’t have an excuse for these grades to look like this! You have a D in defense! A D means dreadful!” He was speaking animatedly, waving the paper about his head wildly, and periodically pointing to the grade in question. Harry looked away, James was right, he hadn’t tried, if he had then it would be better, but he had no excuse, he’d just been lazy. “I got an O in defense.” Rose said, her chest puffed up in a way that reminded Harry of Crookshanks. “Rose!” Lily hissed in warning, “James.” She tried gently, trying to get her husband to calm down a bit. He hadn’t been yelling, but it was a near thing. James whirled around to face her and pointed at another spot on the list, “He got a T in potions Lily. Troll is only supposed to exist to scare students into getting good grades, it isn’t supposed to be an actually achievable grade to get! Even Rose got an ‘acceptable,’ and Snape hates her!” His mother deflated, no longer having a leg to stand on against James’s ire. He was right, and while Lily wanted James to give Harry a little grace, there was no point. Harry had been given grace on his grades for the past three years now, and it hadn’t helped. “No,” She shook her head, “You’re right,” she turned to address Harry, “You do better this year, or you are going to do summer tutoring, and remedial classes with the third years.” She said with finality, “At the two months mark we will be contacting McGonagall, and if there isn’t at least an ‘acceptable’ in every single class, then you will begin remedial classes.” Harry nodded, it wasn’t like it was going to be hard to do that, he can’t believe that there was ever a version of him that could be so different from who he is now.

Ron

The whole Weasley clan, sans Bill and Charlie, were all gathered in the kitchen. The cacophony of voices drowned out almost any thoughts that Ron might have had in a quieter room. At one end of the table sat Percy, waving around his fork with a bit of egg on the end, though he hadn't taken a bite in the past fifteen minutes and so the egg had long grown cold. His grades were open on the table to the side of his food, all E’s and O’s as expected, not that anyone was paying attention to that. Percy himself was too busy rambling about cauldron regulations to notice that no one cared that his grades were great, or that his food had gotten cold, or that no one was listening or cared to listen. Ron remembered the days that Percy had been like this in his first life, and here it was no different. All he wanted was for someone to care, that was all. He remembers how Percy grew distant, how their relationship became strained. Back then he couldn’t figure out why Percy drifted, but now seeing Percy care so much about this thing, as boring as it is, and be ignored, Ron can see how drifting was the only real choice for his older brother.

In one corner of the small room Molly stood lecturing the twins on their awful grades, somehow, they’d managed to get identical grades to each other, but Molly was as unimpressed as ever. Ron understood how frustrated she must be, the twins were smart, they just didn’t apply themselves, too preoccupied with their own projects for most of their schoolwork. The two of them stood with their heads down and their shoulders hunched, trying to make themselves appear smaller than they were as their mother, who stood a good five inches shorter than them, ripped into them about effort, and applying their talents. It was an odd sight to see, the twins were so rarely chastised. Their mother was still holding out hope that Fred and George would join their father and Percy in the ministry, but it was a lost cause she just hadn’t accepted yet.

Ginny, Molly’s perfect only daughter had of course gotten good grades, though not exceptional like Percy had. Even still, their mother gushed about how smart she was, and took the opportunity to point out that one can be a prankster, have fun, and also get good grades. Though she still firmly stated that she did not approve of the pranking. Their mother continued rambling on and on about her promising future, and how proud she was of how hard she worked in her classes. Percy luckily didn’t seem to notice that Ginny was being praised for her majority A’s and E’s while his O’s were dismissed without a second glance. The girl preened under her mother's approval and smiled even wider when Arthur congratulated her. Drinking in all of the love and attention that she was receiving, it was a great feeling to have your parents give you attention with a family of their size, even as the baby, the girl, and the golden child. Not that Ron blamed Ginny, it wasn’t her fault, but he wished that it didn’t have to be that way.

Ron slipped away from the table without a sound, doing his best to not draw attention to himself or his exit from the kitchen. He slipped up the stairs, his own letter held tight in his hand, and he closed the door to his room silently. The results were awful. It wasn’t surprising that they were bad, but he didn’t really have any real desire to get yelled at, and besides, his grades were about to drastically increase. Molly would likely assume that she looked his letter over and that they just weren’t very memorable letters. In truth, they were rather poor, but she didn’t need to know that. Sometimes being the forgotten kid sandwiched between the twins and Ginny paid off.

He tossed his letter in the bin next to his closet and went to sit on his bed. He picked up a book on runes that he’d borrowed from Percy and picked up reading where he’d left off. He could faintly hear the ruckus that is elicited from five Weasleys being in the same room at the same time, but it was distant, and so Ron slipped into the rhythm of the words he read, and by the time that he heard the knock at his door, it was the middle of the afternoon.

There was a soft knock at the door before it began to slowly open without waiting for a response, “Hey,” Percy said as he stepped inside. He looked surprised that Ron was actually reading the book he was borrowing, but quickly the surprise was replaced with happiness at the fact. “I saw you disappear earlier, I just wanted to come check on you.'' The older boy sat himself in Ron’s desk chair, absently flipping through the pages in the open notebook. “I’m alright,” Ron replied, trying to keep the conversation away from the letter in the trash bin only a few feet from his brother and poking out of the top like a flag, waving through the air and begging for someone to spot it. Not that it was any use, Percy looked over, furrowed his brows and walked over to it. He plucked it out of the bin and unfolded the papers inside. Percy’s face morphed into one of pity and disappointment when he read through his little brother's grades. Ron looks away, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

The two had grown closer over the time since Ron had remembered everything, they sat together, and they talked. Ron took the time to actually listen to his brother and take an interest in what he was doing. Percy was visibly overjoyed at this new development, though at first, he was wary. He really had a hard time believing that anyone would care about the things he liked, or that even if they didn’t care, that they would humor his ramblings. But after a few days of trying, it finally worked, and the two of them began to spend a lot of their time together. Ron even ended up surprising himself by opening up about a few things to the other Weasley. Though never enough to make anyone suspicious of him.

And while having one sibling in the house that for once was actually on his side was nice, it made going unnoticed very difficult. Percy dropped the paper back into the bin and ran a hand through his hair as he walked back to the desk chair to sit back down, “It’s ok,” he said after a second of thinking, “Grades are important, but they really aren’t everything. Don’t dwell on it too much, Mom didn’t even notice you didn’t show her.”

Ron looked up in surprise, he never thought that he’d see the day that Percival Weasley said grades weren’t that important. He let his eyes drift up to meet his brothers, and nodded slightly in acknowledgment, “Yeah. I mean, who cares about grades anyway, right?” Ron asked, mostly joking and trying to see if he could push Percy’s ‘prefect’ buttons, and lighten the mood a little bit, hoping that it would also get them off of the topic. He hated discussing his shortcomings, certainly a side effect of being a part of such a large and accomplished family, but he didn’t have the time or the mental energy to get into that at the moment, or possibly ever. Percy looked shocked and his face pinked slightly, “I am absolutely not saying that your grades aren’t important, or that it isn’t important for you to take measures to improve them this year! I’m just saying that they aren’t everything, and if academics aren’t really your strong suit, then there isn’t anything to be done about it.” He paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “But if you ever want to get a little help on your homework or with studying for tests, I would be more than happy to help, we can use the fireplace in the common room to talk.” He looked a little like he wasn’t sure of what he was saying, but seemed genuine. Ron felt a flood of warmth fill his body as the knowledge that Percy was 100% in his corner slipped into his head.

Ron inclined his head towards the other in gratitude, “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve really started to buckle down and get to studying my work,” he put on an only slightly fake smile, “I think I’m really getting it now; you know? But thank you, really, it means a lot to know that you are here for me if I need you.” Percy seemed to be relieved that he’d said the correct things to his little brother and made to give Ron a hug, but he half aborted the motion mid-way, seemingly not sure how he would be received, so Ron stood and pulled him into a hug. They had never done this the first time, and it was something that Ron would regret for the rest of his life, but this time around was a second chance for him and the other two thirds of the trio. This time Ron would not be a regretful man in the end. He was determined to fix everything.

Harry

Harry’s birthday was quickly approaching, it threw him off kilter a little bit every time someone asked if he was excited, or what he wanted, or talked about the party. He’d never had a party before. With his aunt, uncle, and cousin, he was never allowed, and then the war followed him out of school and there wasn’t time or resources for frivolous things like parties. His sister was practically bouncing around their home, reminding everyone who would listen that all she really wanted was a fire bolt. It was like an itch beneath his skin every time she talked about it, but it was tolerable if he took deep breaths and pretended, he couldn’t hear her.

He had been informed that Jake, Ginny, and Neville would all be coming to their celebration, and that he was more than welcome to invite any friends that he’d made over the last school year if he’d like. Though he hadn’t made any, and he saw the small spark of barely there hope in his dad’s eyes at the thought that his son might have made any sort of personal connection with another person, but he also saw the resignation behind that. And James was right, if he hadn’t ‘woken up’ then he wouldn’t have had any friends to invite this year, and probably never would. But as it was, he had two. When he mentioned having not one, but two whole people that he wanted to invite, his dads face slackened in shock before splitting into a bright grin and reaching out to aggressively ruffle Harry’s hair. “Of course they can come! We’d love to have them!” James exclaimed, Lily looked over from her seat at the table, confused at the sudden outburst from her husband, “Harry made TWO friends that he wants to come over for his birthday!” James’s grin never faltered for a moment as he relayed the great news to his equally elated wife. Harry’s mom smiled happily at him, “That’s wonderful,” she stood and walked over to embrace him, “What are their names?” she asked, trying very hard to conceal her excitement.

Harry spent the next fifteen minutes explaining all about Ron and Hermione, and making up stories about how they met, and giving details about them, until he was interrupted by Rose making a snide comment about how ‘of course one of Harry’s only friends he’d ever made was the older brother of one of her closest friends.’ And how ‘Harry was always copying her.’ it was juvenile, but she was fourteen after all, so it wasn’t surprising that this was her response. If only their parents could see it that way, Lily turned around to scold Rose for her behavior and not so delicately point out that other children found her brother unlikeable, and that she should be happy that he had made friends. James nodded along at all the right moments to support her. And all at once Harry is glad that he was an idiot before this, because it was clear in every word spoken and every movement that they made that Rose was their favored child, and he was a sort of inconvenience to the rest of them. Which is not to say that they did not love him, but it was clear that they didn’t like him as much as her. But he had never had the ability to see it until he was too separated from them emotionally for this fact to bother him as much as it should have.

With the attention diverted to his sister, Harry left the room to do some reading in the manors library on ways to survey people from a distance. The distant sounds of his sister being scolded for her rude comments gave way to casual conversation before Harry had even made it far enough down the hall for their voices to have faded out.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry’s birthday started once again with the crash of his glass jar upon the floor and the sharp sound of several dozen small plastic buttons sliding, bouncing, and rolling across his floor in every direction. Thankfully this time he was already up and dressed so there weren’t any awkward moments or repeating of wands being leveled at his pajama clad family members. He really didn’t think that he would be able to explain away nearly attacking his father and sister a second time. This time around he was at least able to control himself for the most part. As the door opened to show his father's slightly put out face, “You kept the jar where it was.” he stated disappointed, clearly saddened that he wasn’t able to come into the room with the element of surprise. Harry nodded, “Yeah, I figured it worked to alert me to you and Rose the first time, so I kept it.” James deflated slightly but quickly recouped and his grin spread again, “I guess that I’ll just have to get more creative then.” he said, eyeing Harry’s window for just a second longer than he was comfortable with. Then he turned down the hall and headed back to the main living room, where the party would take place.

Harry sighed, gathered the buttons, and dumped them back into their jar where they belonged, then placed the jar back onto his desk until he would need it again that night. Harry slowly headed down the stairs, and into the main living area of the house, and for some odd reason, it felt as though he was walking to the gallows. As if with every step he was sealing his own fate.

Harry emerged into the room that the rest of his family was already occupying. In the room, there were ribbons and balloons in red and gold hanging off of almost every surface, a table was set up along one wall, and it was almost overflowing with colorfully wrapped boxes of varying shapes and sizes. The dining table had been enlarged and elongated to accommodate far more people than usual, and a bright scarlet cloth covered the dark wood, and sitting in the center of the table is a large cake with obnoxiously bright, blue frosting covering what Harry assumed to be a plain white cake, yellow writing on the top proclaiming “Happy Birthday Rose & Harry!” The baked monstrosity had clearly been handmade and hand iced, most likely by his father if he had to guess based off of the craftsmanship. Inside the room milling about where his mother and sister. James bustled around the room joyfully casting all kinds of spells that Harry had never even heard of, successfully covering different surfaces in streamers, or balloons, or glitter. It brought a small grin to Harry’s face, all of the joy and simple happiness that was brought from a single day that he had previously seen as insignificant. He felt all of the dread and apprehension for this day slowly melting off his body like candle wax with every passing moment.

“Good morning sweetheart,” Harry’s mother said as she approached him, “happy birthday.” she leaned down and placed a kiss along where his still sleep mussed black hair met the tanned skin of his forehead. “Thanks mum,” Harry replied, smiling wider. She turned and made her way back to the dining room, Harry following close behind her. “What would you like for breakfast Harry?” His dad called over to him as he sat down at the table, “I’ll make anything you’d like!” Harry thought for a second or two before answering, “Eggs are fine for me please.” His dad shrugged but got out the eggs and a pan to begin cooking them, “It’s your birthday, if you want eggs, then eggs you shall have.” James turned to the stove and began to cook, humming a chipper tune as he did. The eggs came out just slightly burnt around the edges, but they tasted great, and the phrase ‘made with love’ popped into his head unbidden.

The four of them ate their breakfast together in relative peace, Harry with his plate of eggs, Rose with an English muffin, bacon, eggs, and a chocolate donut, and their parents with a much more normal breakfast than their daughter. How his sister could eat all of that sugar so early in the morning without being sick was a mystery to him. They all finished their food not ten minutes before the first of their guests began to arrive at their joint party.

The first to arrive being of course the Black family. Sirius sauntered in with his usual swagger and pulled James into a one-armed hug, while his oldest child immediately ran over to Rose, and the two disappeared outside, probably going straight for their brooms. Marria flowed into the room like a gentle mist. Light and airy in a way that made Harry think of Fleur, and wonder, not for the first time, if she was part veela as well, despite her muggle heritage. Thankfully she only brought Jake with her, and Sienne, Alanna, and Simon were likely left with a sitter.

Marria made her way over to Lily and smiled at her as they began to speak to each other about life and whatever else it was that rich moms talked about. Meaning that Harry was free from the torrent of Sirius’s kids, and he wouldn’t end up having to watch them. The Black household was quickly followed by Neville and his grandmother, both entering in a much smoother manner than either Sirius or Jake, though Neville’s decorum only lasted for a few seconds before he rushed out the door to join Jake and Rose who were already out there. His grandmother, never one to break posture, swept her way over to James and Sirius, likely to say a quick hello before moving on. Remus appeared at the door and James rushed to let him in, pulling him into a hug the moment the door opened and ushering him inside. Remus was living in the muggle world and working at a bookstore at the moment, Harry remembered, he hadn’t gotten an apartment with a fireplace, so he couldn’t floo.

Remus walked over to where Harry sat at the table and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Happy birthday Harry,” he said cheerfully, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “Having fun?” Harry’s heart warmed at the care that Remus showed for him. He always made sure to check in on Harry, make sure that he was happy, make sure he was comfortable. It was nice to have someone check in, he’s only ever had that in Ron and Hermione. Harry nodded up at him with a smile, “Yeah, this is nice.” Remus smiled wider in response, “good, that’s good to hear.” He gave Harry’s shoulder another squeeze and then walked off to say hello to Harry’s mum and Marria. Hermione arrived next with the Weasley’s arriving seconds after her. Thankfully it was only Ginny and Ron that came with Mrs. Weasley, and not the entire brood.

Harry stood and made to walk up the stairs as Ron and Hermione fell into step behind him as they always had, but he was stopped when his father called out to him before he could get out the door. “HARRY!” James waved his arm around in the air wildly and beckoned him over to the now large cluster of adults that had formed when the two groups had, at some point, merged into one. He sighed and walked over at a slower pace than necessary as the three of them made their way over to his parents. When they finally stood before the group, his father was practically jumping up and down with delight, “Well,” James looked between the three of them excitedly, “introduce us!”

Harry turned to his right, “This is Ron,” he motioned to Ron, “and this is Hermione.” he motioned to his left where Hermione stood, each of them waving politely as their name was declared. James practically bounded forward to shake each of their hands in turn, nearly going back to shake their hands a second time, if Lily hadn’t stepped in to stop him. “It’s wonderful to meet you both,” She beamed at the three of them, still standing before the group of staring adults, “Tell me about yourselves.” The three of them stood for a moment not saying anything, then Hermione stepped forward and began to speak. This went on for nearly an hour, until Rose came in to ask about what time gifts were going to happen, successfully pulling the attention away from Ron and Hermione’s interrogation.

Everyone gathered round for gifts, and two piles of colorful boxes were deposited in front of Harry and Rose respectively. Rose grinned and rubbed her hands together like a cliche villain, and selected her first victim, a bright pink square box about the size of a drink coaster. She was about to rip into the pretty paper, but before she could, James snatched it out of her hands, “Not so fast,” He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around to face a massive gift box. The rectangle stood nearly four feet high and two feet wide, all hot pink with a light green ribbon tied loosely around it. Remus nudged Harry closer by pushing gently at the middle of his back, “go on,” he said encouragingly, “It’s for both of you.” Harry walked over to stand next to Rose. “Happy Birthday!” James and Remus both shouted together, Rose, taking that as her que to go, rushed over and attacked the box with vigor.

The moment her hand touched the pink paper, the box exploded in a shower of streamers, sparkles, and fireworks. Harry’s vision tunneled, and he grabbed Rose by the bicep and yanked her back with him as he leapt back from the danger, maneuvering is such a way that Rose was pushed behind him, and away from the danger. Ron and Hermione instinctively came up on either side of him, ready to defend one another. The world was thrown back into focus as laughter rang out through the room, and Harry realized that the ‘danger’ he was preparing to defend against was Sirius. The man in question was laying in a heap on the ground, in a clown costume, and moaning in pain. “AAAAAAAA,” he cried out dramatically, “My leg! My leg is cramping! Ow ow ow ow!” he rolled about on the floor, drawing further giggles from the watching crowd. “Sirius!” James called out laughing hysterically, “You were meant to jump out of it, not fall over out of it!” he called to his friend between the peals of laughter that wracked his frame.

When everyone had collected themselves, and Marria had de-clowned her husband, giggling all the while, the party moved onto actual gifts. The little box that Rose had first tried to open contained a ruby necklace with a gold chain. She also got new chasers' gloves, and head gear from Sirius, a collection of muggle and wizarding candies from Remus, a hand stitched quilt from the Weasleys, a small jar of glowing moon-rose seeds from Neville, and a firebolt from their parents, along with a host of other gifts. Most of which she couldn’t care less about with the appearance of her precious new firebolt. She spent nearly ten whole minutes cooing over the thing, its shape, its abilities, the fact that their parents had gotten her name carved into the wood of the handle in pretty loopy lettering.

Harry quickly remembered that the version of him that the people in this room would have bought gifts for is not the same as the person who is opening them now. He got several puzzles of varying sizes and genera of image, though most of them were of historical events and battles, a few tomes on different time periods in history that he was sure Hermione was internally salivating over, some high dollar gobstones, and a set of deep emerald green and ink black dress robes. Those might have been his favorite ones, seeing as they were truly lovely, and he’d grown to like nice clothes, and looking well kept. It had become a rare treat in his life that usually meant a general lack of extreme danger in the near future, and a few precious moments to spend with his lovers in a social setting. His younger self would have called him girlish, but he also would have gawked at the idea of having a boyfriend, so his past-self's opinions held little sway over how he felt at any given moment.

The last gift he opened was one from Remus, “Here Harry,” he said, handing over a tall dome-like object covered with a tattered dark blue cloth, “careful, it’s fragile.” Harry nodded in understanding, and with a sensation of near reverence, he lifted the covering to reveal a wire bird cage containing Hedwig. She chittered excitedly upon seeing him and his eyes widened in astonishment and for just a few seconds, actual disbelief. To Remus it must have seemed like an expression of disappointment though, because he began to explain rather quickly, “She was cheap, I found her at the Eeylops Owl Emporium a few days ago.” he wrung his hands as though he was trying to wipe away his anxiety, “The shop keeper said that he’d had her for over four years, and no one was ever able to keep her for more than a couple days, said she bit anyone who tried to touch her, let alone tried to tie a letter to her leg. But I figured she might be a good project for you. Or at least a good companion if not a courier.” Harry could feel the glare that Lily was shooting Remus for bringing a mean bird into her home, but all Harry could feel was overwhelming joy and relief at seeing one of his oldest and greatest friends returned to him once again. “She’s perfect.” He said with a whisper, and unlatched the cage, holding out his arm. “Hey- No- I wouldn’t do that!” Remus said, voice jumping nearly an octave at Harry’s action, but to everyone's surprise, the large snowy owl simply stepped up onto Harry’s outstretched arm and settled herself down calmly.

“I-” Remus started dumb struck, but couldn’t find it in himself to continue his train of thought, too shocked to say anything right away, “I’ve been trying to get close enough to feed her without getting bitten all week, how did you do that?” The astonishment in Remus’s voice was clear as he looked on in awe and confusion and rubbed absently at a few blue Band-Aids on his hands. Harry shrugged and petted her soft head feathers, “I think maybe she could sense that she and I were going to become good friends.” He said simply, that was one of the only things that was good about being a child again, you are allowed to say vague and even cryptic things without having to explain them too much. Remus just nodded in a confused manner before giving up on trying to figure it out. Rose jumped at her opening and nearly launched herself at him and Hedwig, “I wanna pet it too!” she said excitedly, but the moment her hand made contact with Hedwig's wing feathers, the owl screeched and made a move to bite at the girl's hand. Rose cried out in shock as she yanked her hand away from the suddenly aggressive animal in her brother's lap. She nearly fell to the ground in her hast to get away from the duo, but luckily their father, who was watching the interaction from only a few steps behind, caught her under the arms and hauled her back onto her feet with a tense laugh, “It seems that Harry’s owl is Harry’s alone.” James said, trying to clear the tension from the suddenly thick atmosphere.

Harry smiled and continued to stroke Hedwig's white head, murmuring to her all the while, and sensing the presence of his other halves standing on either side of him, even if they were a good few paces away, he could feel their happiness rolling off of them in metaphorical waves. Rose sniffed haughtily, “Well he’d better never send me any letters using that.” she said, glaring at the owl, and Sirius snickered, “I don’t think she’d make a very good post owl for any recipient,” he said in an amused tone of voice. Harry replied by stroking under the owl's chin, Hedwig tilting her head up at the action, “I think that she’ll make a wonderful post owl,” He smiled, knowing already how well she would do. Rose continued to glare at the owl, and Hedwig glared right back at her. Lily looked back and forth between her daughter and the bird, “Remus look what you’ve done, you’ve brought a war into the Potter home,” she shook her head, trying to hold a straight face through her joke, “Bird vs daughter, a battle for the ages.” The room dissolved into laughter, and Jack pulled Rose away from the table to go test out her new firebolt outside. And just like that the party resumed as it was, and the trio were finally free to slip away from everyone else.

The three got up to Harry’s room, Hermoine set Hedwig's cage in Harry’s wardrobe, pulling her perch out and placing it on Harry’s desk. Hedwig hooted and fluttered from Harry's shoulder over to her perch and began preening herself. Ron smiled at the owl, “I never thought we’d see her again,” he said almost wistfully. Harry nodded, understanding what he meant. It was hard when he’d lost her in the war, it wasn’t fair. She’d been his first and oldest friend in the wizarding world, and she sacrificed herself to save him, all because Dumbledore was a senile old man who couldn’t come up with a good plan to save his life. Hermione nodded, understanding too, “It’s good to have her back, even if she isn’t the same.” Harry nodded at the acknowledgement that this owl, as much as she looks and acts like their old friend, simply couldn’t be the same one; but when he looked into her eyes, it seemed like she was. All Harry could see was that same loyal companion that he’d lost all those years back.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Ron tugged him down to the floor, guiding him to sit on one of the pillows that Hermione had placed on the floor for them. She pulled out his new gobstones that he’d just received and began setting up the game for them, “We obviously can’t purchase you anything as a gift, seeing as we are children right now, and thus have no money,” Hermione began as she finished setting the game up. Ron continued, jumping in almost seamlessly in a way that reminded Harry of Fred and George, “So we thought that we’d give you our time,” Ron finished, giving Harry a fond look, “It was something we were never able to give you before, time was always so short and so fleeting, slipping through our fingers like the sand inside an hourglass.” a sad look entered Ron’s eye before he looked back up at Harry, and away from the colorful gobstones, “It isn’t much, but we figured it would be enough.” Harry smiled and leaned over so that he was resting against Rons side, the red head shifted to put his arm around him in a half hug, half hold. Hermione picked up a light blue stone and began their game.

They played gobstones for nearly two hours before Harry heard his door creak open gently, if he;d still been a normal fourteen-year-old boy, he surely would have missed it. He tried to subtly glance over at their observer to gauge the possible, but unlikely, threat. Thankfully, he’d already shifted position so that he was laying on his stomach on top of his cushion and facing the door, meaning he wouldn’t have to explain the innocent but intimate position he’d been in previously, and it gave him a good window in which to see the spy. It took only a second for Harry to spot the flash of a pair of round glasses much like his own, meaning their watcher was none other than James. Harry looked away, knowing that his father posed no threat to them, and not wanting him to know that he’d been spotted. Ron and Hermione were both stiff and looking to Harry for a signal, neither giving away that they’d also heard the door, but neither in a good enough spot to see their intruder without giving away that they knew they were being watched. Harry subtly flexed his left hand, his non-wand hand, signaling that there was no threat. Hermione smiled, relieved and they continued their game as if nothing had happened.

They went on like this for a few more seconds before Harry caught the flash of a camera out of the corner of his eye, just as he was tossing a dark green marble. His smile widened at this just the tiniest bit. His dad had come up to check on him, to see his son finally having fun with real people that he could honestly call friends. He was so happy for his son that he was taking pictures to remember this moment. The other two noticed as well, and if they held poses of exaggerated fun for just a few seconds longer than usual, or smiled and laughed more than strictly necessary just so their families could have some nice photos of them, then no one ever needed to know that.

That night Harry went to go to sleep, mind still thinking through his first real birthday. It was wonderful. Truly one of the best days he’d ever had in his entire life. Not a single moment throughout the day to ruin it. Harry fell asleep with a smile on his lips and a feeling of lightness that he had rarely ever felt before.

Chapter Text

Harry

Diagon-alley was the same as Harry had remembered it, bright, happy, bustling, and filled with the constant flagrant use of flashy spells that were meant to awe any new muggleborn children and their muggle parents, as well as regular witches and wizards. All done in the hopes to draw them into buying some random magical nic nac. It had been a long time since the last time Harry had seen the alley looking so joyful.

Harry had sent out a letter to Hermione letting her know that the Potters, Weasleys, and Blacks were all going to be in Diagon-alley exactly one week after Harry’s birthday to gather school supplies. She was most likely already somewhere in the alley trying to find Ron and himself, but neither of the boys had spotted her yet. Percy had already sort of caught onto what was going on and had been quietly teasing Ron for the past five minutes about how keen he was to find Hermione. Harry was having a terrible time trying not to giggle at Ron's red face, and Percy’s friendly jabs.

The group make their way into flourish and blots for the parchment, ink, and quills on their lists, and there in the corner of the store, Harry spotted their girlfriend. She had her back mostly to them, so she didn’t see them right away. Her braids gathered in a neat ponytail with a bright yellow hair tie that matched her simple yellow T-shirt that Harry knew had a happy orange sun decal on the front, she had her wand stuck through her hair like a hair pin. Smart, easy access and mostly inconspicuous. He and Ron approached in what he hoped looked like a casual pace. When they had gotten ten feet away from her Harry saw a shift in her posture as she registered their presence and she turned to face them. Hermione’s expression brightened as soon as she realized who they were, and she greeted each of them in turn with a hug. Harry heard the faint snickering of Percy who saw the whole exchange and most likely thought it was an adorable interaction between a pretty girl and his little brother's first crush. Ron shot a quick glare at his brother, trying and failing at subtlety.

They spent a few moments catching up in the relative peace of the shop before Harry’s mother called them over, “Harry, Ron, time to go!” she called from the door to the store. The three of them walked out of the store together to join the rest of the Potter, Weasley, and Black parade as they continued down the alley.

“Mum?” Ron called politely to his mother as they walked. Molly turned away from watching the twins for a moment to look at her youngest son with a raised brow, “Yes dear?” Ron smiled as sweetly as he could, “Would it be alright if we,” he gestured to the other two, “went and got our supplies on our own?” The red head did his best to look as hopeful and well intentioned as he could while they waited for her, James, and Lily to respond, seeing as the Potter parents had tuned in at some point. James shrugged but shared an apprehensive look with his wife who look similarly unsure but nodded as well, Molly waved the three of them off, “Go, go,” she said already getting distracted looking for where Ginny might have run off to, “be safe and meet us back here in two hours.” She handed Ron a few galleons as Lily did the same for Harry, and the two groups separated. Harry could hear his sister already asking if she and her friends could go off alone too, and he heard his parents deny her in unison.
Hermione

The moment that the three of them are out of sight from their parents, Hermione pulls out the list she had prepared. The boys leaned in close to her to see what she had written. “Here,” she started, “we should start here,” she pointed to the top of the list, where ‘Olivander's’ was written in curly letters. Ron gave her a confused look, brows furrowed, and lips lightly pressed together in the way he always did when he didn’t understand something, “Why?” he asked, gesturing subtly to the wand he already had strapped to his arm and hidden by the sleeve of his street robe. From this distance she could see the light distortion in front of his eyes that made them appear blue to onlookers. Slightly hazy, like there was a thin sheet of clean glass in front of his face, barely perceivable but definitely there. She wished dearly that she could see through her own illusion to the shining gold that lay underneath.

“You haven’t tried to feel your wand yet have you?” She said, looking to Harry to see if he was the same. Both shook their heads, neither had thought to check if their wands still fit them through the change apparently. The three of them had gotten used to forcing wands to behave for them, in a true battle, keeping your own wand is a herculean task. So having the ability to adapt to any wand is a valuable skill. A stolen wand won’t work as well as one that fits the user, but it will keep you alive long enough to get yours back. So she wasn’t really all that surprised that the boys hadn’t noticed an ill-fitting wand. Harrys had been snapped soon after the battle of Hogwarts, and he had been wand hopping since Olivander's was destroyed a few years later. Ron had no excuse; he had been the only one of them to keep his original wand all throughout their schooling and through the war. He lost it enough, sure, but it was never broken. But she supposed that they each had a lot on their minds, it wasn’t their fault that her mind apparently just had more room for thoughts than theirs did.

Harry pulled the three of them into a narrow shade filled alley between two shops and pulled out his wand. He held it low against his leg, keeping it hidden from any onlookers, and pushed a bit of magic through it. Not enough to send out a spell or even sparks, just enough to infuse the wood. Across from him, Ron did the same. Harry shook his head, “It would work but it isn’t a great fit,” he looked up at Ron who also shook his head, his thick red hair swishing with the motion. “No luck I’m afraid,” He put the wand back in its holster and slid the blue sleeve back over his arm to cover it up. Hermione nodded absently, “I thought as much, it’s the same with mine,” she lightly tapped the wand in her hair, “I’m sure I’ll be able to cast just fine, but it’s an ill fit.

Ron’s face reddened slightly in what must have been embarrassment at not noticing that his wand didn’t fit the way it used to. She lightly bumped his shoulder as they all walked together. He looked over and gave her a reassuring smile, she was glad that they all knew each other well enough to give comfort silently, words were hard to assign to emotions.

The three of them made it into Olivander's without anyone noticing, not that strangers in the alley would be watching three teenagers shopping for school supplies, but they still were watching, old habits and all that. Thankfully the shop was empty except for the sound of Olivander himself clattering around amongst the mountains of precariously stacked boxes. Hermione cleared her throat, hoping that it would be enough to call the eccentric man over to them. The racket stopped for a moment before resuming tenfold and slowly getting closer to them. Within moments, the thin old man appeared from the throng of magical conduits. He smiled ear to ear when he spotted them, his left eye drifting ever so slightly up and to the left, so that it was looking over her shoulder while the other eye was glued to hers. “Hello and Welcome!” he nearly shouted, “It’s great to see some familiar faces! You’re too young to have brought children of your own to get a wand, so what brings you three down to my shop?” He talks fast, never dropping his smile as he does. Before any of them can answer, Olivander lunges forward over his front counter, snatching Hermione’s wand from her hair. For a moment she pictures a tiger leaping from the brush to pounce upon its prey, and she thinks that the counter might be there more to keep Olivander away from the customers rather than to keep customers out of the dizzying jenga tower of wand boxes. “NO! No, no, no, no, no.” he shook his head back and forth, thin white hair whipping around his face, “No. All wrong, this is all wrong,” he turned, grabbed a box from one of the towers, shoved her wand into it and put it back so fast that the tower didn’t have time to fall.

Ron chose that moment to jump in, “Yes, our wands don’t quite fit anymore,” he pulled out his wand and tapped Harry to get him to do the same. Harry nodded as he held his own wand out, “Yeah, but we don’t have any money, on us that is, um, so, could we maybe just-” Harry’s nervous rambling was cut off by the old man's shriek and he nearly through himself over the top of the counter to grab the wands from the boys. Hermione wondered how a man as old as he was, was able to toss himself about in such a manner. She didn’t get to dwell on it for long though, because then Olivander was speaking. “EEEEEEEE AAAAAAAA! NO! GIVE ME THOSE!” Hermione clapped her hands over her ears as he shouted and shoved the old wands into unmarked boxes. He retreated quickly into the back, shouting something that might have been words, but she had no hope of understanding what they were.

There was a great clattering before he came back up with an arm full of boxes that he promptly dropped onto the floor. “Try this one,” he said, thrusting an open box out in front of her. She gingerly took the wand from the velvet lined wood, only to have it snatched back from her seconds later. “Mmmmmmmmm,” Olivander grumbled from where he was bent over behind the desk, five boxes were set aside from the pile he brought out, “Not unicorn, no, too gentle, too skittish,” the man mumbled as he grabbed a different box, opened it and gave it to her. The same happened again, but this time the crazy old man was muttering about yew being too confrontational. Hermione wasn’t sure how wood could be confrontational, but wand makers were always odd ones she supposed. The third one was one she recognized before she even picked it up, vine-wood and dragon heart. She’d missed it. When she lifted it from the box a flood of golden warmth spread through her from her fingertips, Olivander nearly jumped up and down, “Good, yes, very good!”

This process was repeated once more for Ron, finally trading out the hand-me-down wand that the him of this world didn’t break in his second year. He gets his willow and unicorn wand after his fifth tried wand. The two of them smiled at each other and stepped back to let Harry get to work. After thirty-some odd wands, Olivander is practically pulling his hair out. Harry’s wand isn’t present, obviously, Neville has it, but there should be another that will work for him. Hermione will admit that she didn’t know much about wands, but she knew that a person could fit more than one wand, as long as it has the right components, he just needs a holly and phoenix feather combination, from there he will just need to win the wand over. With the lack of success, Olivander had transitioned from frantically screeching at failed wands to harping on them for being ‘changing little children’ it was mostly incoherent, and entirely one sided, but from what she understood, the reason hers and Harry’s wands didn’t suit them was because they changed too much too fast, which she thought was reasonable enough. He mumbled something about their patronus changing forms, then eyed them closely for a few seconds, looking almost suspicious of them before huffing something about them being ‘too skinny’, whatever that meant.

After nearly fifty wands, Harry finally gets one that sort of fits. Olivander smiles, but it’s subdued, “You will need to win it over, earn its trust, but it will work for you.” Hermione was glad that his original wand wasn’t here waiting for him, it might have been selfish, but she didn’t want him to be tied to Voldemort again like that. The three of them were ushered out the door of the shop, Olivander half mumbling to himself, something that sounded like “Take a wand, leave a wand, like a bogo, NO! Not a bogo, BYOB, nonononono, BYOW, waaaandd.” But after that the door closed and whatever he was going to say next was silenced by the heavy wooden door.

“Well, that was,” Ron started to say, but trailed off, not having the words to describe the crazy wand maker. Harry grinned, “That was exactly how I remember it being.” Hermione laughed at that and the three of them rushed about the alley, collecting their supplies as quickly as they could. About half an hour before they were due to meet back up with their parents, they saw the Black family, led by Marria, heading into Olivander's to get Sienna’s first wand. It was a good thing that they headed straight to Olivander's first, it would not due to have run into them while they were there.

Ron

The three of them were able to collect everything they needed and get back to the spot they were meant to meet everyone else right on time. Everyone else was already there, waiting for them, and Ron could feel his sisters glare at the fact that he got to run off with his friends when she didn’t. He ignored her, and turned to see Percy trying very hard to hold in any comments until they were alone. The older boy clearly wanted to harass Ron but was kind enough to not do it in front of the twins or Ginny. Those three would never let him forget it. Everyone bid each other goodbye and floo back home.

Once in the burrow, everyone dispersed to their own corners of the cramped house. He did his best to slip away without being noticed, but Percy followed anyway. He could feel the tips of his ears heating as he slipped through his door and sat down on the bed to wait for his older brother. Seconds after Ron had sat down, Percy slipped through the door, a grin already on his face. It was odd to see ‘The Percy Weasley’ smiling, humor glinting in his eyes as he looked at Ron. “So,” Percy started, “Who was she?” Ron sighed internally; this was going to be embarrassing. He debated what to say for a moment. The truth was that Hermione was his wife. Maybe not in this world, not in this life, but they were still the same people, so he figured that they could still be married in their hearts. But he couldn’t say that to Percy. He could say that she was his girlfriend, which was technically true, but then Harry would have to be careful about showing affection towards her, otherwise it might look bad, and people might start asking questions. “That was Hermione. Harry was there too, but I’m going to assume that you meant the girl.” Ron settled on trying to give away as little as possible about their personal relationships to one another. He didn’t want to lie to Percy, but he also couldn’t have him poking his nose in their business.

Percy raised a brow and his grin turned into a smirk, “Hermione?” For what might have been the first time, Ron finally saw a real resemblance between Percy and the twins, but he really did wish that the resemblance could have been anything other than a shared love of hazing him. Ron rolled his eyes, trying to convey to Percy that he was acting ridiculous, usually at the first hint that his behavior might be seen as undignified, Percy would scramble to cover for the slip. But the two of them were closer now than they’d ever been in the past, so Percy didn’t even try to back down or put on a mask of forced maturity. “Yes, Percy. Her name is Hermione Granger, and she is a Friend. Just a friend, so I don’t know why you’re being so weird about it.” Ron almost convinced his brother that he had misread the entire situation, it was something he was prone to doing after all, but then his face betrayed him. Red began to rise in his cheeks, spreading down his neck. A light dusting of pink, bleeding into an ugly, splotchy flush that covered his face.

All hesitation or thought that he might have been wrong immediately fled Percy’s mind at the sight of his little brother's face, “Oh! Yes of course!” he said sarcastically, nodding his head with far more enthusiasm than was warranted, “I never meant to insinuate otherwise!” The absolute shit eating grin that split Percy’s face was almost worth all of the embarrassment that this conversation was giving him. Almost.

Ron scoffed, and shoved Percy’s shoulder hard, trying to knock him off of where he sat beside him on the bed. The older boy gave a short, surprised shout as he tumbled the few feet to the floor and looked up at Ron from his new spot on the ground. Shock and disgruntlement coloring his pale features for a moment before he grabbed Ron's sweater sleeve and began to try and pull him onto the ground as well, laughing all the while. The two of them tussled for a moment, Ron could have won, he easily could have won. Percy was bad at rough housing, he wasn’t very physically fit, he was thin and boney, with very little muscle to speak of, and little to no experience being a participant in rough housing, but he looked so happy that Ron let his brother pull him off the bed.

When Ron’s knees hit the floor, he had a moment of being glad that his body was so young, it didn’t even hurt to kneel on the hard wood of his bedroom floor. The two of them collapsed into breathless giggling, lightly shoving each other back and forth, until they couldn’t get enough breath in their lungs to muster the strength to push the other anymore.

There they sat on the floor of Ron’s bright orange bedroom, until it was time for dinner. Percy had gotten up to get a book from his own room after they had calmed down some, and then come back to join Ron who had grabbed his chess set to play a few games against no one, the pieces on the opposing team directing themselves against him. There they sat, together in the quiet, not speaking but keeping the other company for a while. ‘It was really nice to have Percy in his corner,’ Ron thought as he reset the board for the third time.

After a few hours, their mother called them down for dinner. Percy stood, and held out a hand to Ron, helping him up off the hard wood. Together they descended the stairs into the kitchen, Ginny gave them an odd look as they came in together but quickly dismissed them in favor of dishing out mashed potatoes for herself. They sat close to each other at the table as they ate. Percy began to ramble about the book he’d been reading upstairs, voice nasally and haughty, back to the prudish prefect that he knew and loved. Ron listened absently to what he was saying, pitching in when he thought it was warranted, but otherwise allowing himself to quietly relax into the familiar atmosphere. Ginny kept eyeing the two of them as he continued to respond to Percy’s monologue. But there was nothing for her to really complain or confront them about, for now she just had to stew in her curiosity, because Ron certainly wasn’t going to jump right in and explain anything to her.

Harry

Harry sat in his room. Dinner had finished thirty minutes earlier and now he sat at his desk, sketching out his new wand. The best way to win over a wand is to know it, know every crack, every crevice, every fiber of it, know it as an extension of your own body. Though that would be a long and tedious process, first he studied it, drew it, and cataloged every detail he saw.

It was a lovely design, the handle fit nicely in his palm, the grip curved slightly, and the wood was carved into spinning spiraling shapes, subtle but beautiful. It was slightly longer than his first wand, a little thinner too. He found himself being glad that it was different, each part of the wand that he found with no resemblance to his own made him both upset that it was different, and happy at the same time. He missed his wand sure, but its absence showed that he wasn’t tied to any sort of prophecy anymore.

There was a knock at his door, and he slipped his wand into the sleeve of his jumper and flicked the pages of his notebook to a page filled with transfiguration notes. “Yeah?” he called, trying to hear who was on the other side of the door. A voice came in through the door, “Can I come in?” Remus asked, his voice sounding nervous. Harry got up, brows furrowed and opened the door to let the man in. There stood Remus, smiling down at him as he walked into the room, “Hi, Harry, how are you?” he asked, and yeah, he was really nervous about something. Remus walked over to Harry’s desk and sat down in the chair, motioning for Harry to have a seat on the bed so that they could talk. Harry had to stop himself from audibly gulping as he did as directed.

“What’s up Remus, is everything okay?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level, he had no idea what this could be about. Remus couldn’t know about the wands, they’d been so careful, no it had to be something else, it just had to be. But what else it could have been, he had no idea. Remus shifted uncomfortably, “So, you know you can talk to me, right?” the man’s eyes kept shifting about, never landing on one spot for too long, “I know we’ve never been that close, but I think we’re getting past that. Right? Yes, yeah, so, well what I mean is- well of course you are entitled to your secrets, I don’t mean to imply that you need to tell me everything- BUT of course you can if you want to,” Remus began to bounce his leg up and down, clearly trying to get his thoughts in order and failing horribly, “What I mean is, is there anything you want to tell me? Maybe about your new friends?” Harry stared at the man in confusion for a second, trying to see what Remus was going on about when it clicked in his head, but before Harry could say anything, Remus spoke again. “Maybe something about your friend Ron?” he pressed.

Harry desperately tried to find some sort of cover, anything he could say, but there was nothing. He came up empty, except for one. “I know!” he said, jumping in before Remus could continue, “Everyone knows about him,” he started, “well, not everyone, but both me and Hermione both know, and his parents of course,” he lied, he needed Remus to say nothing to his parents or to Rons. They had no way to explain why Ron has lycanthropy, when or how he got it. “But they don’t talk about it, his parents I mean, they are ashamed.” He tilted his head down to break eye contact, he never did like to lie, “Not of Ron of course, but that they couldn’t protect him. We don’t really talk about it much, but I know about him. Please, he doesn’t want anyone else to know.” Remus nodded, face grim, “I understand, and I won’t tell anyone don’t worry, and if he ever needs any advice, just, let him know I’m here to help.” Harry nodded, and Remus stood to leave. “Remus?” Harry said, “Thanks, for this, and for not telling anyone.” the older man nodded and smiled as he left the room.

Harry closed the door behind him and rested his forehead against the wooden frame. That could have gone better, he can’t believe that he’d forgotten that Remus could sense Ron’s condition. He hadn’t been the only one to let it slip their mind, even Hermione forgot. Hopefully Remus will keep his word. That’s all he can really hope for to be honest. He sighed heavily and pulled out a piece of paper. He needed to tell the others, they need a plan, they really really need a plan.

Chapter Text

Harry

They had no plan about what to do about Remus and the fact that he now knew about Ron’s lycanthropy. Hermione was still practically kicking herself for forgetting to take any precaution about their boyfriend's scent. Ron did his best to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault, but she still took it hard. Their best plan as of now was just to hope he tells no one, and if people do find out, pretend he’s been a werewolf for a very long time, and that he was turned as a kid by Greyback. It was ridiculous, there was no way that Ron, as he was, would have been able to hide the fact that he was a werewolf. It was plausible enough that he could have gotten bitten, but the rest was absurd, but it was the only plan they had, so it would have to work.

Their last chance to see each other before they would board the express ended up being at the world cup. The Weasleys having won tickets to the event, and the Potters buying Tickets for their family plus Hermione, which had surprised them. James and Lily were so over the moon that their son had made friends that they wanted to include the two in absolutely everything that Harry did, which was fine by Harry. Though it did make things a bit more unpredictable, the presence of several new people at the event could change the events that were meant to happen during the tournament, which could easily throw a wrench in their plans.

When the boys had first heard that Hermione would be joining them again this time around, they nearly shouted in delight. Even with all that would happen at the end of the night, the day itself was fun and they were glad that their girlfriend would get to enjoy it, even if she still really didn’t care about quidditch.

Soon enough, the time came for the families to make the trip to watch the world cup.
It was only moderately difficult for the three of them to sneak their emergency knives past their parents during the packing and traveling to the campsite. The blades strapped to their legs and then covered by their pants legs. Ron nearly got himself caught by Molly as he strapped the small, thin blade to his calf with a bit of twine, but was luckily able to pass the motion off as him just adjusting his trouser leg. Though Hermione did give him a mean glare for nearly getting himself caught and blowing all of their covers, or at least the covers of their pocketknives, which would have been hard to explain.

But as it turned out the trio needn’t have worried about getting caught, as they weren’t the only ones sneaking things on the trip that they weren’t meant to. It wasn’t until the whole lot of them had made it to the campsite that Molly found the twins stash of prank candies, and a small collection of bright purple candles that no one recognized. The twins whined and groaned as their mother, red in the face and whisper-yelling at them in frustration, took all of their goodies away. Thankfully, the Weasley matron didn’t start yelling at the two of them while they were in the open and crowded campgrounds. Harry wanted to keep himself as low profile as he possibly could for the time being.

That did not last long though, because as soon as the shared Potter/Weasley tent was up and a silencing charm was placed over it, Molly’s livid, shrieking voice made its appearance. Harry had to cover his ears with his hands as he rushed as far away from the screaming woman as he could. The twins clearly also wanted to run from the sound, but Molly had one of their ears in each hand as she bellowed at them about bringing dangerous experimental candies on the trip.

The spot he found while looking for a place to hide from the shrill sound of Ron’s mother, ended up being the small addition tent that he, Ron, and Hermione had spent months in while on the run. He could see the echo of his past self there, along with the echoes of the other two. They all had a lot of memories wrapped up in the small space. He could practically see the ghosts of their former selves standing and moving and living in the space.

He could see Ron reading “The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore” on the couch, his back flat on the cushions that were so worn they were practically falling apart, his sock clad feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the arm of the couch. He could see Hermione tinkering with a new gadget at the rickety folding table they shoved into the corner, twisting her latest mass of metal, wood, and magic this way and that, trying to see the object from every angle.

He pushed the memories of those days out of his mind as he laid his pack on one of the two cots in the room. A thump came from his right and he saw Ron drop his pack off on the other cot. Ron looked over and gave Harry a small smile, more one of acknowledgment than anything else. From behind Ron, Harry saw Rose and Ginny approaching the duo. He repressed his groan as he saw the look on his sister's face.

The girls stepped through the opening of the little sectioned off bit of tent, Rose made her way over to the bed that Harry had put his bag on, and she knocked his bag off the cot. “This is our tent actually,” she said, a smug look already spreading across her face. “For us girls, mom said we could have it.” Ginny finishes, her voice mocking and sweet, knowing that the brother she knows would simply roll over and let her take the room.

Harry’s eye twitched, but he couldn’t fight back against the girls. The Harry and Ron from before the change would have never fought against their sisters. They needed to keep their profile as low as possible, they needed people to not be suspicious of them. Harry grabbed his bag from off the floor and nodded to Ron to do the same.

Just as Ron had re-slung the bag over his shoulder again, Hermione walked into the room and plopped her own pack on top of Ginny’s, feigning cluelessness of the action squashing the ginger girls bag, “I heard that this was the girls tent?” she asked, voice light and friendly as she did. Rose looked surprised for a moment before she rushed to try and correct Hermione, “Yeah, but there are only two beds, so there isn’t enough room,” she glanced over at Ginny for support and the ginger girl nodded, her red hair swishing about with the vigorous movement. Hermione only grinned wider, “That’s ok!” She turned to walk out of the side room while her pack was still sat firmly on top of Ginny’s, “I’ll ask Mrs. Weasley to put another cot in here since you want there to be a girls' tent! That way we can get to know each other better!” she called over her shoulder as she bounced off to add a third cot to a room far too small to comfortably fit a third cot.

The girls looked upset that their petty powerplay had been hijacked by Hermione, but they forgot about it quickly in favor of teasing Fred and George about their confiscated treats. Harry really wished that his sister and Ron’s would back off of them a bit, but he understood that they weren’t trying to be mean, they were just kids. Idiot kids who were being rude for no reason, but even still, they were just kids. Teasing was normal, and even expected of siblings. Especially when one was sociable and athletic, making her well liked amongst her peers, and the other was the Harry or Ron of this world.

While Hermione got Mrs. Weasley to whip up an extra bed for her to squeeze into the small room, Harry and Ron got themselves set up in one corner of the larger communal tent. The two boys had tried to snag the slightly larger third off shoot tent, but the twins and Percy had already laid claim to the space, if the mess of the twins' things on the floor, and Percy's bag set neatly on the far cot was anything to go by. So the two of them picked a corner and set down their things, it’s not like they'd really be sleeping there anyhow, so their placement didn’t matter.

It only took about an hour for the tent to be set up and for sleeping spaces for everyone to be negotiated. Rose and Ginny were unhappy with having to share their space with Hermione, but they didn’t say anything about it. If then they might lose the room to the boys who were there first, so they kept quiet and muttered together about it annoyedly. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to spend the rest of the day wandering around the campsite together.

Hermione

The campsite was just as magical as she remembered. Witches and wizards rushing about every which way, children playing on small toy broomsticks, groups of young adults getting drunk outside their tents. Everywhere she looked there were people in marry spirits, smiles split every face and laughter was thick in the air.

As she and the boys made their way towards the market area that had been set up only about a five-minute walk from their tent, she watched all of the magic everywhere. The air practically danced with it, women using their wands to do their hair, men spelling paints onto the faces and bodies of the people around them, a thin blond wizard practicing a fireworks spell in the colors of the Irish team. It was amazing, it filled her chest with joy and feather-light contentment, bringing a small smile to her face as the three of them walked around.

It wasn’t hard to pretend they’d never been here before, it had been so long that they hardly remembered the layout of the place, and as fourteen-year-olds, the first time they were fourteen that is, they weren’t very good at paying attention. Now though, they soaked it all in. Harry bought binoculars, enchanted to help the watcher follow the movement of the players as they zipped about the field. The green-eyed boy turned the binoculars over in his hands, examining it as they walked. He nearly ran into three people, so preoccupied with enjoying his new trinket that he allowed Ron to steer him by the shoulders through the throngs of people milling about. They all knew that he didn’t need to be steered, he was agile and observant enough that he would never actually run into anyone, but he seemed to be enjoying the casual physical contact that it allowed.

Ron bought a pair or Ireland themed mittens this time around, they hand a small warming charm on them. Hermione felt a small pang of melancholy. The first time around he’d picked something expensive and frivolous. Something silly, and she’s certain that it was Krum related. Perhaps it was one of the posters of him, or a jumper with his face on it, or one of the little figurines running around in the glass box that kept them contained. He should be buying something dumb and expensive for no other reason than because he wants it. He was buying the mittens for the coming winter; he was buying them so that his mother wouldn’t have to later on. She was proud at how considerate he’d become, but wished he didn’t have to be.

She herself bought nothing, quidditch still wasn’t her thing and she saw no reason to buy any of the trinkets. Though she did place ten galleons on Ireland winning with Krum catching the snitch, the winnings from her wager would be small, but this way they could have a bit of cash that no one knew they had. The three of them simply walked about the rest of the time, looking at the other things sold at each stall and generally having a grand time. But nothing lasts forever, and they had to make their way back to the tent so that they could all get to the match on time. By the time that the whole group of them got to the stadium, most of the seats had already been filled, which made getting up the stairs to the top box much easier than if they’d come a bit earlier. She was glad that they were running a bit behind, if only because it meant she didn’t have to push through a crowd.

The top box was larger than it was the first time, seemingly expanded to fit all of the people there, but just like last time, there sat loyal Winky, sitting still as a statue next to an empty seat in the top box. She wanted to kill Crouch here and now, pull out her wand and blow him up. She wanted to grab Winky and force Crouch to free her, but she couldn’t. There was no way that she should know about any of that, and Winky wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want her freedom to come at the expense of a man's life, even if it’s what he deserves.

So she waits, she waits and grips the arms of her seat to ground herself in the moment and keep from glaring daggers at the seemingly empty chair next to the house elf. It worked, the game ended, and Ireland won while Krum caught the snitch, exactly the same as last time. She grinned at the thought of her winnings and at her gamble paying off, even if she had inside information.

It was easy enough to slip away from the group to collect her winnings, Ron trailing behind her, she was the most vulnerable in this situation, Harry was a first-generation pureblood, or at least descended from an ancient pureblood line, but the difference depended on who you asked, not that it really mattered he wouldn’t be anyone's first choice target. And Ron was a pureblood, even if the family was very different from most pureblood lines and they were considered blood traitors. Hermione was a muggle-born, which means that of the three of them, she would be in the most danger.

As it turned out though, he didn’t need to follow, she got her winnings and returned to the tent with little fanfare. There were now thirty galleons in her coin purse, and she couldn’t be happier about it. It wasn’t much, but it was funds that no one knew they had, and no one could stop them from using it if they needed to.

By the time that the pair had gotten back to the Potter Weasley tent, the celebration of Ireland's win was in full swing all around the entire camp. The inside of the shared tent was no different, the twins danced about, singing loudly and horribly off key, Ginny and Rose clapping along slightly off beat to their dance. Everyone was laughing and smiling, the adults were drinking and relaxing together in the rapidly cooling air of the evening. Arthur kept one eye on the celebrating children, but there was very little tension in the space they all occupied. Even uptight Percy was waving a novelty Irish flag back and forth in time with his siblings' truly awful performance.

She peered about the room, trying to find Harry within it. There, in the corner, the black-haired boy sat, his body calm and an expression of contentment rested comfortably upon his features. Ron waved at him from the entrance of the tent, Harry looked up at the movement and smiled at them in greeting as they walked over to him.

In the corner of the main tent, the three spent the rest of the evening. It was pleasant, and when night falls, they slip out of the tent as silent as the shadows around them. She takes a moment to look around the tent and make sure that everyone is asleep in their respective sleeping spaces before they fade into the night.

It only took a few moments for them to reach the Roberts family home. The small white farmhouse was tucked back into the corner of the campgrounds, wedged between several tall trees. It was nice, quiet and well kept, and for a moment, Hermione had trouble picturing any sort of conflict occurring in the area. But there would be trouble here soon, she knew that for certain.

She wanted to make an example of the death eaters that would ruin such a sweet night, she wanted to kill a few at least for what they planned on doing to the kind family in that house. But she couldn’t, she knew that she couldn’t. It would reveal the three of them, it would ruin the timeline, and it would likely paint a target on the backs of these muggles, turning them from random victims to active targets in the upcoming war. No, she couldn’t do that to them, not to this family, and not to her boys.

They didn’t have to wait long. Harry had tucked them away in the bushes so that they would be out of sight when the death eaters arrived. It was less than an hour later that the first crack of apparition sounded from the darkness. Then another, and another, and another, soon a dozen or so hooded figures stood together in the darkness, barely distinguishable from the rest of the night air. “Where’s Nott?” one of the shorter members whispered, looking around at the rest of the figures. An illumination spell flared to life from the tip of a wand, and suddenly she could see the faces of each and every one of the death eaters gathered there.

It was Malfoy holding the lightly glowing wand aloft and glaring around, presumably looking for Nott. “He isn’t here,” Avery said in a harsh whisper, lip curling up in a snarl at the words, “He chickened out, the coward!” Spittle flew from his mouth at the last word. Luscious shook his head dismissively, “No matter, we are here, we are the Dark Lords loyal few!” He pulled his skull mask out from where it was hidden in the folds of his cloak and donned it. “Now is the time my brothers and sisters, inside this house are muggles, it’s time we sent a message to the world!” he clenched his fist and pointed dramatically at the quiet farmhouse, “Grab them and make them our message!”

A great cry went up from the crowd of now masked death eaters as they all stormed the house. Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm as she felt her body begin to move forward. She whipped her head around to face him, her braids nearly smacking him across the cheek with the force she used to turn her head. She glared daggers at him, but he only shook his head, “Too soon,” he whispered, “we can’t act yet.” reluctantly, she allowed him and Ron to pull her back into the thicket, but when she looked back at the house, screams of terror now spilling out from it, all she could see was her own home, her own family inside. She gritted her teeth and breathed deeply as the mother was pulled from the building, the father following close behind. Both of them kicking and thrashing about, crying out to each other, and for the death eaters to stop.

Then the rest of the death eaters left the house. She glanced at Ron who mirrored her confusion on his own face, they didn’t bring the couples kids out. They should have, they did the first time, there was meant to be a little girl and a littler boy. She remembered their faces vividly. Hermione turned back to the scene just in time to see a willowy woman with mousy brown hair cast fiend fyre upon the little home with the children still inside.

Hermione screamed and burst forth from the bush, the death eaters looked over at her in shock as she blew her cover, but she didn’t care. There was a little girl in the window, nine or ten years old at the most, clutching her much younger brother in her terrified, trembling arms. She was crying. They were both crying, and their parents screamed for their children, begging for the monsters around them to let their children go, even as they themselves were hoisted into the air.

Chapter Text

Ron

Ron gasped and lunged for Hermione as she exploded into a flurry of motion, screaming and bolting for the house. Harry was already up and following after her, as Ron scrambled up off of the ground from where he’d fallen to the dirt. When he got to his feet, Hermione was already throwing open the door of the blazing house and hurling herself into the inferno, Harry mere feet behind her.

‘Fine, this is fine,’ Ron thought as he took up defense for the two. Ron turns his wand on the black clad figures that were standing in shock at the two children who just dove headfirst into a burning building. Within an instant, spells were flying through the air. Ron had the advantage of experience and surprise on his side, but he was vastly outnumbered by those on the other side. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long, but he didn’t have to, all he had to do was chase them off.

One thing that he was eternally grateful for in every fight was the hand-to-hand combat practice that Harry insisted they all take part in. At the time, he thought it was stupid, he had a wand, why did he need to know how to throw a punch, dodge a kick, why learn any of it. Now though, as he bounced on the balls of his feet, dodging each ball of light that rushed through the air.

It would have been amusing how frustrated the death eaters were getting at their inability to hit him with a single one of their spells, but the issue was that with every second that ticked by, was another second that Harry and Hermione were inside a building filled with magical flames that cannot be put out from within the blaze. The spells that the death eaters were firing were gradually getting more and more dangerous, until they were exclusively firing killing curses at him.

Add to that the fact that, while the death eaters couldn’t seem to land a hit, he himself couldn't cast any spells back. It was taking all of his focus to stay out of the way of the oncoming spells. They were left at a stalemate.

Ron ducked below a curse and took cover behind a tree, he needed to end this now. He was out of time, Harry and Hermione needed him in that building, and not out here wasting his time.

Spinning out from behind the tree, he swept his wand out in a wide arch, bright blue flames spewing from the tip and igniting the grass it touched. It was a modified blue bell flame spell of Hermione’s own design. Hot as blue fire should be but unable to spread. All it did was sit in the same spot and burn to ash whatever it first landed on when cast, which made it the ideal spell for separating yourself from the enemy.

After a few moments of trying to put the fire out to get to him, Malfoy rallied the group, calling out that they should leave them to burn trying to rescue the children. They had a message to send after all, and it was clear that Malfoy didn’t expect them to survive the inferno raging inside the home. A few of the death eaters grumbled about leaving them, some even suggesting that they use him along with their muggle victims in their display, but those voices were swiftly silenced as they marched off. One death eater lifting the still screaming and crying parents higher into the sky, as the same woman who cast fiend fyre on the house, began to contort the bodies of the poor muggle couple.

Ron turned back to the house, still alight with flame creatures, sewing their destruction into every sliver of wood. Harry and Hermione were still inside, but the children were no longer visible in the window, the space where they were now being taken over by what appeared to be a ram made of fire. Its every movement lighting up more and more of the crumbling home.

He panicked as he looked into the house, no sign of them within the inferno, he counted, trying to calm himself as he searched. 1 2 3 4, still none, 1 2 3 4, nothing, they weren’t coming out of the house. Putting out the fire would take nearly an hour if he worked quickly, but that was an hour that Harry and Hermione and those scared little kids didn’t have! Ron grit his teeth and ran headfirst into the open door, with determination in his heart and a bubble head charm on his lips.

Harry

Running through the door he was hit with a wave of heat that stole the breath from his lungs. His eyes burned from the heat and the smoke, goosebumps prickling along his skin with the dramatic change in temperature. He rushed through the house, casting a bubble head charm and a cleansing spell in quick succession to clear the bubble of smoke so that he could breathe, then applying a layer of permafrost to his skin as he went. It wouldn’t keep him fully safe from the fire, but it should keep away the heat and fight off any glancing blows and grazes. Looking ahead of him, he saw Hermione’s skin glistening with the same sparkling crystal patterned sheen of frost as his, and there was a bubble of clean clear air around her head as well.

Even frantic as she was, she was still thorough, he thought, as he quickly wove his way through the house after Hermione. The house was small, so it wasn’t that hard to find the stairwell that led them up to the floor that the kids were on, it took them longer than it should have to get up the stairs, they had to wait for a beast of flame that had taken the form of a black bear to leave the space before they could follow it up.

Hermione cast strengthening charms on the wooden steps as she picked her way up them, Harry laying down a layer of permafrost, hoping that it would be enough to ensure that the stairs stayed in place for when they needed to come back down them. Though he didn’t hold out much hope of that happening. If one of the flame beasts came up already, chances are that the other will be up soon too, and the staircase would not survive a second trip. They got lucky that there were only two flame beasts to spread the fire, but even just two could be catastrophic. They needed to find those kids and fast.

Luckily, with the speed at which Hermione was clearing the house, it didn’t take them long to find the children's shared bedroom. Unluckily, the ram found it first. The little girl stood with her back against the far wall, baby brother clutched to her side with one arm, and a short plastic play-sword held out in front of her with the other. She was crying and swinging the thin piece of flimsy red and gray plastic back and forth in front of her, but the glowing orange ram-shaped fire just kept advancing on them.

Harry blasted out a torrent of permafrost at the beast as Hermione swooped in, dodging to the side as the ram whipped around to face its attacker, and scooped both little kids up into her arms. She spared a moment to look at Harry who nodded in assurance that he could handle the situation, before rushing out of the room with the children. Harry could barely hear her footsteps over the roar of the flames and the crackling of the burning home as she started making her way down the hall towards the stairs. He did his best to mentally track her journey as he refocused on the now enraged fire-ram in front of him.

The molten ram shrieked, the inside of its maw glowing white with the sheer heat of it and hot embers flying from it along with the shrill, piercing sound of tearing metal. He took the opportunity to try and spray the frost into the beasts exposed core, but it melted midair before it even got the chance to touch the first tooth. Frost turning to water and then to steam without even making contact.

Fiend fyre was widely regarded as one of the most dangerous spells in the world for this very reason, there was virtually nothing that he could do to stop it. Or at least, there was nothing that he could do while within the burning house. Here within the flames was the beast's domain and he and Hermione had very little power here. If he was outside, then it would be a different story, but he didn’t have that luxury.

As Harry faced off with the ram, dancing around the room so as to not be struck by the creature's charges. A scream came from where Hermione ran off to. It wasn’t her, if he had to guess, it was probably the little girl. The cry caught the attention of the ram and it charged. Harry rolled out of the way just as it was about to bowl him over, and it barreled out of the room, Harry close on its heels.

He came upon the scene of Hermione, permafrost waning slightly if the perspiration collecting on her arms and rolling down her dark skin in thin streams of water was anything to go off of, glaring down at a blazing bear that cleared the last step just as the staircase collapsed under the intense heat. The bear began slowly closing in from the other end of the hall with a deep growl that Harry could feel through the floor, as the ram did the same from Harry’s end of the hall.

The children were shaking and sobbing, choking on the smoke every few breaths as the smoke slowly seeped through the bubbles of clear air, the spells keeping them in place waning more and more with every passing moment. Harry rushed forward, blasting streams of permafrost as quickly as he could at the ram so that Hermione could focus her attention on the bear before her.

As the two of them fought, it became clear that their plan wasn’t working. They were tiring, and the spells protecting them from the smoke and the heat were quickly failing. Theoretically, if he could get the ram to get out of the way, Hermione and the kids could come back into the child's bedroom and the four of them could risk jumping from there. If he took one of the children and Hermione took the other, they might be able to each cast a feather fall. It would be risky, and one or more of them would probably end up with a broken bone or two at best, but there didn’t look to be any other ways out.

The only issues with this plan were that he had to get the stupid fire-ram out of the way without it charging at the trio of people it had pinned and relaying the plan to Hermione quickly over the roar of the flames. Harry cast about frantically for how to move the ram, his spells weren’t working, the fires were too hot, the permafrost was nothing but steam almost as soon as it materialized in the air, the ram just kept advancing, as did the bear.

Suddenly a sharp snapping sound cut through the overwhelming drone of the fire. Harry looked down at the ground beneath the flaming creatures, down at the cracked and smoldering planks of wood crumbling beneath the paws and hooves of the inferno. “HARRY!” Hermione called, her golden-brown eyes locked with his for just a moment as she pointed at the floor beneath the ram, “TAKE OUT THE FLOOR!” she shouted, barely audible over the din around them, as she bodily scooped up the children once again.

Harry pointed his wand at the wood flooring as Hermione dropped into a dead sprint towards him, and subsequently the ram as well. “BOMBARDA MAXIMA!” He shouted. The spell shot from the tip of his wand and the second it made contact with the charring woodwork, it burst, showering the area around it in searing embers and splinters. The ram scrabbled at the edge of the Uncollapsed floor for only a moment before falling to the ground below with a great crash.

Harry didn’t have time to worry about the embers, or the splinters, or the damage the ram could cause below them though, as Hermione leapt into the air, jumping the newly formed hole in the floor with her arms ladened with wailing children. “ACCIO HERMIONE!” He shouted barely managing to get his wand to perform the required movements in time.

Hermione and her panicked cargo rocketed through the air towards him, clearing the gap and tumbling to the ground on the other side of the hall. Hermione shrieked upon landing, she managed to land on her back so that the children would not take the brunt of the fall, but that meant that she landed on top of a burning hoof print, smothering the fire with the skin of her back.

The bear, still on the other side of the door roared in rage and paced around on its now island-like platform. It would soon figure out that, although it was in the shape of a black bear, it was still as light as fire, and could easily make the jump, or travel along the walls to get to them. They needed to not be here when it figured that out.

By the time Harry had gotten over to Hermione and the kids, she had gotten up off the floor, there was a clear mark on her back where she had gotten up off the floor, and her burned skin had not. She ignored her pain and fresh injuries, in favor of quickly turning to him, “Do we risk jumping down the hole and making a break for the door, or do you have a better idea?" she asked, jesturing around them with one arm, and holding the little boy on her hip with the other. “The window,” he started, nodding to the child room, “It’ll hurt, but it’s the best chance we’ve got!” She looked around her and nodded, “Ok, yeah ok.” she seemed to be more reassuring herself than anything else. Not that Harry could fault her for that.

They turned to rush towards that room, when a loud creak echoed from above, and the roof over the room in question and a portion of the hall in which they stood came crashing down on top of them in a shower of burning wood and brickwork.

Ron

Inside the house was an inferno. The heat beat down on him from all sides as soon as he entered. The smoke was so thick in the air that he could barely see anything around him except for the glow of the fires creating it. The staircase, or what he assumes used to be a staircase, is nothing but smoldering rubble on the ground, from what he can see, the living room is nothing but a white-hot glow from the entryway of the room, the kitchen where he stands seems to be in the best shape out of everything in the house.

As he picks his way over to the place the stairs used to be he can see the shape of a flame beast on the landing. It looks like something big, but he can’t tell what shape it took from this angle. Whatever it was, it was creeping ever closer to something up there with it, which could only mean either it found the children, or it found Harry and Hermione, neither of which was a good thing.

A shout suddenly cut through the air, and the ceiling about ten feet to Ron's right collapsed in a burst of flaming debris, a white-hot goat with thick, curved horns fell with it. The creature landed with a hiss of heat and the sizzle of steam as a burst water pipe that was in the ceiling began spraying all over the lower level of the house. The massive goat shrieked and barreled into the living room, running from the cooling spray.

The water had no hope of putting out fiend fyre, but it seemed that the creatures in the flames still weren’t too fond of the substance.

Ron made it over to the place where the floor exploded just in time to be hit with a blast of ash from above as something else fell. The forceful shower of dust and embers popped the bubble he had around his head, leaving him without any breathable air. He hacked and coughed, but with every inhale, he breathed more debris and smoke.

It took several seconds to get a new bubble set up and purge it of debris so that he could breathe again. He could barely see through the dust, smoke, and the burning in his eyes, but he couldn’t leave without Harry and Hermione, or without those poor kids. Ron glared up into the opening above him, jagged wood and snapped pipe being the only thing that he could see, the spray of water raining down was doing him no favors, beyond the lip of the hole, it was just smoke and darkness, with an ominous orange glow coming from the side of the hall where the staircase used to connect.

“HARRY! HERMIONE!” Ron called, staring into the hole and trying to blink the debris from his eyes so that he might be able to see into the opening better. There came no answer, so he called for them again, “HARRY!” silence, “HERMIONE!” silence. Just as he was about to risk actually going up to the second floor, regardless of its clear instability, he saw someone poke their head out over the hole. Or rather, he saw what might have been the vague outline of a human head and shoulders as a slightly darker gray than the rest of the decidedly less dark-dark gray around it.

“HEY!” Ron shouted, hoping that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and that the constant water spray would be enough to keep the ram away for the time being, despite the amount of noise he was making.

A gust of unnatural wind blew down from the hole, clearing the smoke, and revealing Hermione looking down from above. She was covered in soot from head to toe, she had small minor cuts and burns dotted about her skin, and her permafrost coating was practically gone, her hair band had snapped from the heat at some point and her braids hung loosely around her face, but she looked relatively alright otherwise, which was a relief.

She turned away from the hole, already being refilled with smoke with every passing moment, returning a mere second later holding the unconscious body of the little boy by his wrists over the opening of the hole. “CATCH!” she shouted, swinging the child gently once to indicate her trajectory, and Ron only had a moment to allow his stomach to drop before she dropped the child and Ron was forced to quickly use his wand to cast accio and summon the boy into his arms so that he wouldn’t land on the pile of hot, sharp rubble beneath him.

Looking up again he saw Harry, he was in a similar state to Hermione, covered is soot and scratches, though his hair didn’t look much different to how it normally looks. Harry was holding the little girl, his arms around her middle as he hauled her to the edge. The girl, unlike her brother, was awake this time, her legs kicking wildly as she screamed in terror fighting to get out of Harry’s grip.

The girl was too big to be held the way the boy was, which meant that in order to make sure she cleared the sharp wood and metal around the edges of the hole as she fell, she had to be pushed. Hard. And so she was. Hermione, knowing how important time was at the moment, gave up on consoling the girl and as soon as Harry had dragged her to the edge of the hole and set the child down, she shoved her through the hole.

Once again casting accio and summoning the airborne child to him, Ron took an elbow to the face as she flailed about while being summoned through the air. Thankfully she calmed down a bit as she met solid ground, but unfortunately, she seemed to be nearing unconsciousness as she swayed on her feet.

Looking back up, Ron saw the flame beast that had been previously out of sight now at the edge of the hole, though it wasn’t looking down at him and the kids, it was looking at the pair of teens it had trapped up there. But before the creature, possibly a bear, could do anything, the floor beneath Harry and Hermione buckled and began to slowly give way.

Ron scooped up the kids and bolted for the door. Harry and Hermione were seasoned warriors, they would be fine, but the kids he held in his arms wouldn’t be.

A crash sounded as Ron cleared the door to the house, and he felt a wet thump as something struck the back of his shoulder, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. He ran thirty feet from the house before setting the kids down.

There were aurors already surrounding the house and shocked gasps sounded as people registered that he just ran out of the house. A senior auror with close cropped black hair ran up to the three of them, a pair of medi wizards close behind her. The auror began asking him questions, but he couldn’t hear her, he kept his gaze focused on the house.

It was barely a house anymore, the roof and most of the upper floor had completely burned away, just leaving a few freestanding walls that were quickly crumbling, several windows on both the upper and lower-level spewing fire like the mouth of a dragon. It was so bright that it was hard to look at.

“h-Harry, ‘Mione,” Ron interrupted the auror. She paused, “What?” she asked, brows furrowed in confusion. Ron did not have time for this, the two of them were in there and these aurors needed to GET them OUT! He pointed to the house, “In there, they’re still in there,” he rasped. Understanding dawned on her face and she looked at him with pity, “I’m sorry hon, but there’s nothing we can do,” she raised her hands in a helpless gesture, “it’s too dangerous to send anybody in after them.”

No. Ron stumbled to his feet, he didn’t remember sitting down but that didn’t matter, nothing mattered other than the fact that the two most important people in his life were in that building and no one was going to help them. The auror tugged at his wrist, trying to get him to sit back down. Ron jerked his arm out of her gentle hold and ran as fast as he could back towards the house.

“HEY! NO STOP!” the auror called after him, trying to grab him as he sprinted back towards the burning house. He got to the door, not even taking the time to put his bubble back up, he held his breath and dove in. He cast his eyes about wildly, eyes stinging from the smoke and the heat. There was so much rubble everywhere, so many places he couldn’t access due to the spreading flames, places that the loves of his life could be trapped.

It took him thirteen seconds to find them, he knows because he was counting each and every one of them with mounting dread that was only overshadowed by choking panic. They were leaning on each other for support when they emerged from the smoke, stumbling over a smaller pile of rubble, trying to reach the door. Ron rushed forward, ducking between them and slinging an arm around their waists to support them as they raced towards the door, the building crumbling around them.

They burst forth from the door, into the fresh air with gasping lungs, to a crowd of astonished onlookers. The auror from before rushes towards them, a look of astonishment on her face. The three of them were quickly surrounded and ushered further from the fire, and over to where the two medi wizards were helping the muggle kids.

For the next fifteen minutes they watched the house turn to ash as the medi wizards checked over and treated their injuries as best they could. Picking debris from their wounds and healing what could be healed immediately. Harry took up answering the questions that the aurors asked, which Ron was eternally grateful for.

Everything was calm for a moment; quiet questions and the quiet workings of the doctors left the three teens in a rather jarring peace after the intensity of the night. But as always, things never stay calm for long, and the hushed atmosphere was cut through by an alarmed shout. All heads turned to look at the wizard who’d shouted, all eyes looking for an explanation for the yell, but the man's wide eyes were locked on the night sky in the distance.

Ron knew what the man was seeing without looking, he knew what he’d find when he turned his own gaze upwards. There in the night sky, was the dark mark, a mark that no one had seen in many years. A mark most hoped to never see again.

Chapter Text

Rose

Rose awoke to a shriek that came from outside the tent, her green eyes snapping open in the dark. There had been screams and shouts all throughout the night, all from the parties that were raging just outside ever since the end of the world cup. There were shouts of triumph, of joy, of drunkenness, but the shriek that woke her was not one of celebration, it was one of fear.

The cry was sharp and shrill and it cut through the bubbling happiness like a hot blade. Causing the volume of the celebration to lower just a bit.

Rose jolted in her cot, eyes blinking blearily in the dark room. Confused, she looked over at the other two cots in the room, trying to see if anyone else was awake in the darkness with her.

Ginny was also groggily sitting up and looking around, just as confused as Rose was, but Granger's cot was empty. The thin cotton sheet was sitting in a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed. Rose could hear the beginnings of stirring from the connected main tent where the rest of their group was staying.

“DEATH-EATERS!” came a terrified scream from outside the tent, “THEY’RE BACK! OH GOD THEY’RE BACK! DEATH-EATERS!” Rose's heart leapt into her throat, thumping so hard that it made her dizzy. It felt as if the small tent was slowly closing in around her as the room began to spin.

Rose felt her breath begin to quicken with her pulse as screams began to start up all around the campgrounds, and soon the air was filled with the muffled sound of feet thumping against the ground as the camp occupants ran away from the impending threat.

Ginny, upon hearing what was being shouted, sat bolt up-right on her cot and whipped her head around to look over at Rose with wide blue eyes.

Rose met her gaze with a matching expression as they both froze in fear, this couldn’t be real, they just went to some random outing that wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. This had nothing to do with The Dark Lord, this was supposed to be safe. They hadn’t even done anything, they weren’t prepared. With the stone and the chamber, she and her friends had each gone willingly, they had known that what they were doing would be dangerous.

They’d had time to plan.

She wasn’t expecting this, and it was clear that Ginny wasn’t either. They were both suddenly and violently thrown off kilter, and neither of them knew what to do. The two of them just sat there on their cots, with wide eyes, quick breaths, and shaking hands, with a cacophony of cries echoing around them from outside the tent.

When finally, it seemed like the whole world outside of their little canvas walls had descended into chaos, the thin beige curtain that separated the “girls tent” from the shared family tent was whipped open. Light began pouring into the small room.

Rose threw herself out of her cot, trying to get to her wand that she’d left in her bag that laid on the floor at the foot of her cot, but she got tangled up in her blanket and ended up landing with a hard thump on the floor. Ginny hadn’t moved at all though, other than to twitch slightly at the sound as she closed her eyes tight and let out a short, sharp screech that rang through Rose's ears.

“SHHHHHH!” Molly Weasley stood in the doorway to the girl's tent, a finger pressed to her lips as she shushed her daughters scream of fright. The two girls quieted down considerably at the realization that the woman in the doorway was Ginny’s mother, and not a death-eater.

“Come here! Quickly!” she whispered-shouted at the pair, waving her hands in a beckoning motion, before she turned quickly and rushed out of the doorway, the ginger woman’s nightgown flowing around her legs as she rushed off, trusting Rose and Ginny to follow her. And follow they did.

Rose scrambled up off of the floor, and rushed to catch up with Mrs. Weasley, Ginny right on her heels. The shared family tent was in chaos when they entered, a messy sea of shouting frantic red-heads, and Rose’s father somewhere within the fray. It was dizzying, so much so that Rose lost sight of Mrs. Weasley for a moment. Just as she was about to panic though, she felt a hand grip onto her wrist, and felt as Ginny pulled Rose after her mother.

The moment that the girls had caught up with Molly, the woman had turned to face them, pushing Percy forward, “GIRLS, STAY WITH PERCY AND THE TWINS, PERCY WILL LEAD YOU OUT OF THE CAMPSITE AND GET YOU SOMEWHERE SAFE!” she shouted over the din, and as soon as the last word was out of her mouth, the five of them were pushed out of the tent, into the stampede, and swept away with the current in a flood of thundering footfalls.

James

James watched as the children were whisked out of the tent, and Aurthur and Molly’s oldest, Percy, began pushing a path through the crowd for the younger kids to follow. The twins quickly join their older brother in the front of their small group, helping him try to fight through the crowd.

Even with the three older kids trying to make a path, they were still all being jostled about by the crowd. They would be fine though, everything would be fine, Percy was a bright kid, the twins were resourceful, and the girls were survivors. They would be safe together. He had to focus on the fight that was quickly approaching.

He could see them now, barely visible as they were through the thickening smoke rising from the various fires that were spreading across the grass. Several cloaked figures with bone white masks covering their faces. They seemed to move like marriages through the dim light and smoke, making tracking their movements difficult.

They cut an imposing image on the horizon, all wrapped in shadows and glowing cinders. James felt the memories of the past war echoing in the back of his mind. He shook away those thoughts, he refused to let the memories overwhelm him, he didn’t have time for that. He had a new battle happening in the present to worry about now, he couldn’t be stuck dwelling on past wounds.

He saw Lily appear at his side out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t turn to look at her. She was saying something, but the screams of a thousand battles from a war long over were too loud in his ears, he couldn’t have heard her if he tried. She seemed to realize this though, as a look of upset understanding crossed her face before she simply turned to stand at his side, facing the oncoming forces like he was, as together they waited for the approaching enemy to come closer.

He did his best to ensure his attention was entirely focused on the monsters approaching them from out of the smoke, flames, and screams. James was an auror, he could handle this, Lily was an auror, she had his back, it was their job to protect the innocent witches and wizards that were getting caught in the crossfire during battles like this. The two of them were trained to be able to defend themselves against the dark arts.

It didn’t matter that he thought he was finally done with this god forsaken war, there were people in danger. It didn’t matter that he still had nightmares about the battles he took part in when he was far too young to have been fighting, people were in danger. It didn’t matter that not a month ago he clutched Lily like a lifeline as he sobbed into her arms after having a panic attack over the nightmare he had of his sweet, fiery, reckless daughter Rose, being forced down the same path of blood and pain and fear that he was when he was only a little older than she was now. Those poor muggles that he could now see floating through the air needed rescuing, and he needed to be the one to do it. He wasn’t sure anyone else would.

The curse of the Gryffindor spirit, his mother called it. He always needed to be the hero, always needed to stick his nose where it didn’t belong in the hopes of helping others. She was the same way though, all Potters were. They were fighters, through and through, James was no different, and neither was Lily.

James took a breath to steady his trembling hands and rushed towards the oncoming horde. His feet pounding upon the softened earth, small patches of night-dampened grass being torn asunder by the reckless abandon with which he hurled himself across the grassy field. The screams of the present mingling with the screams of the past as the crowds of panicked quidditch fans thinned the closer that the four ex-order members got to the rogue death-eaters.

The jubilant campgrounds, turned battlefield, suddenly bathed in acidic green light as the dark mark rose high and menacing into the void black sky. The four of them never broke stride as the visage of the snake and skull began taking form amongst the stars, swaying slowly as if with the breeze. The snake opened and closed its mouth in slow motion, revealing wickedly sharp fangs and imitating the motions of a hiss, though no sounds could be heard from it. It was a sight that still haunted James’s nightmares, just another thing in a long list of things that still keep him up at night.

Molly laid down a permafrost across each of them as they approached, then sprayed the permafrost upon the ground all around them so that it would slow the flames' advancement across the fields.

The permafrost wouldn’t put the fires out, but it did help with combatting the flames that spewed out of the death-eaters wands in blazing streams from the swarm of black cloaks, creating an image that was almost reminiscent of an enraged hydra approaching from the gloom.

Ever the protector, even years after the war, Molly was still looking out for her comrades. Placing a few last protection spells and shoring up the permafrost as they drew nearer. The Weasleys in their hay-day were a highly effective duo, now though, they were older. The once fearsome pair had become slower and had fallen out of practice. But they were smarter now with more years of experience, and they had more to lose if the death-eaters got past them here. The Weasley parents fell into step with the Potters, determination shining bright in their eyes. James prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that their determination would be enough.

Spells flew through the air as the two groups met, and the night around them burst with light. The battle that began was so bright that it turned the dark night into day. Molly began throwing up shields and counterspells all around them, doing her best to protect them from every stray spell that came close. Starbursts flashed in James’s vision and left spots dancing in his eyes as the luminescent spells shattered against Molly’s shields. Arthur at her back throwing curses as fast as he could speak them, throwing the ranks into chaos and corralling them towards Lilly who was waiting on the other side.

Lily was waiting, crouched in the taller grasses to remain hidden, picking the cloaked figures off from her cover, every spell that left her wand was practically locked onto her intended target and taking them out one by one. Not one shot was missed, each one she released flying straight and true at her target. Spell after spell springing quick as a whip from her wand and crackling through the air in an instant like a bolt of lightning. James himself stood directly in their path, dancing around the battlefield, dodging every spell that came his way, and the remainder being handled by Molly.

James held the line; they would go no further upon their trail of terror and blood. Here he would remain, he had to. Standing as an insurmountable wall that separated the death-eaters from all of their would-be victims that were still running away behind James. Unable to escape magically due to the wards that prevented apparition on the campgrounds.

A lucky spell finally slipped through the cracks in Molly’s shields and struck him in the left leg, burning like acid as it melted through his pants leg and began eating through the skin on his leg. He shouted out in pain and fell to one knee as the black ooze that now covered a large portion of his leg hissed and spit like a furious snake. The acid quickly eating through the skin and revealing the muscle hidden beneath it.

Molly moved swiftly, casting a counter as she moved to take up his post. The vicious fluid became a dull gray color that sloughed off easily, though there was now a gaping wound in James’s leg. Within a few seconds he was back on his feet and casting again, but with the few seconds that he was down the death-eaters had gained ground and with the lack of distance the spells were coming quicker. Worse, with the new injury, James was slower, and severely limited on movement.

Thankfully, where James was faltering, Molly was picking up the slack. Offensive spells being randomly mixed in with her shields, deflectors, and counters, helping her husband to throw the enemy ranks into further chaos and confusion.

James was doing his best to ignore the pain from the still lightly steaming gash as the blood that freely flowed from it began to fill his boot. Slowly, inch by inch the four of them were pushing the death-eaters back, but he was losing steam, and he could tell that the others were too.

Spells were getting closer to him, Molly not being able to catch them as fast as she had been. He could see her chest heaving with her heavy breathing as she tried to keep up. He couldn’t really see Arthur through the smoke anymore, but James guessed that he was likely in a similar state, and most likely Lily.

The Weasleys and Potters were better trained than these death-eaters seemed to be, but there were only four of them, and two of them hadn’t fought in years. They needed their back up to show up and they needed it soon. They weren’t going to last much longer.

Just then a spell whizzed past his head from behind him and an explosion went off in front of the horde. Chancing a look behind him, James saw the blood red robes of a dozen aurors approaching quickly from behind. They were far later than they should have been, but at least they were here now.

A wave of relief flooded out from James’s chest as their backup arrived. Within five minutes of their arrival the horde of cloaks had been brought to a full stop and put on the defensive, and one by one they began to disappear in a whirl that indicated the use of portkeys. Each one dissolving into a black mist and flying into the sky like a spiraling firework.

Within seconds the field was clear of any combatants, and the only ones left in the field that had served as the battleground were the pair of muggles. Their bodies twisted and disfigured, tears streaming down their cheeks as they groan out in exhausted pain, unable to really move on their own. James stumbled towards where Lily had been, the disheveled redhead stumbling out of the smoky haze to meet him halfway, and they sat down on the grass together as the medi-mages rushed over to the muggle pair. Molly and Arthur slowly make their way over to join them as the new arrivals rush around them.

After a moment, one of the medi-mages peeled off from the group to go check on the four of them. Healing the open wound on his leg with a bright pink cream. He pulled the vile from his billowing white robes and upended it above the burn, it felt as though it was buzzing when it made contact with the exposed muscles, but it didn’t hurt. As soon as the vial was empty, he was already moving on to checking the next person over for injuries.

Thankfully the only other injury was a scrape on Arthur's knee, soon they were cleared and free to go. As soon as they had been cleared to leave James was up and moving towards where the children ran off to. Lily and the Weasleys close behind him.

It took them nearly ten full minutes to get to the place that the game attendants had gathered away from the fight. They had to walk a bit slower due to his leg injury, though the pain was already fading into the faint buzzing sensation that the pink slime was leaving on the limb.

The crowds were jittery and packed together tightly. Finding the kids was a challenge on its own and every moment that passed with their absence caused James’s anxiety to spike viciously in his chest. But after a short while that felt much longer than it really was, Lily shouted out in wordless relief and pushed her way through the throngs to embrace their daughter.

A breath of relief rushed out of him as he watched his wife clutch Rose to her chest, pressing frantic kisses to the girl's face and hair, but there was a thread of unease as he soon realized that Harry wasn’t with her. He searched the faces around Rose and the small bubble of red hair that had gathered around her, but with an increasingly frantic buzz he realized that Harry wasn’t there.

James pushed his way forward and as he reached his wife and daughter, he saw Lily’s realization of their missing son bloom on her face as she turned to meet him. “Harry,” he said, still looking around in a manic haze, “I can’t find Harry!” he nearly shouted. Lily’s eyes widened and she looked around her, movements growing more and more frantic as she realized that James was right. Harry wasn’t just out of her range of sight, he was nowhere to be found, and neither was Ronald or the Granger girl. The three of them weren’t with the other kids.

James grabbed his daughter by the wrist and pulled her away from the huddled masses, Lily and the Weasley clan following close behind him. As soon as he got the group a suitable distance away from the cramped crowd he turned to face Rose. “Where is your brother?” he asked, a hint of panic stealing into his voice, “Where is Harry? Rose, where is Harry?”

“I-,” Rose started, eyes widening at the question, and then her gaze dropped to the floor with shame as she answered, “I don’t know. Everything happened so fast, by the time I thought to check to see if Harry was with us, we were already swept up with the crowd. I couldn’t see if he was with us or not through the people, and we couldn’t stop. We would have been trampled if we did.” her voice grew quieter and quieter the longer that she talked, “I thought that we’d be able to find him in the crowd once we got somewhere safer, but he wasn’t with us.”

James’s heart dropped into his stomach at the admission that the children had no idea where his son was. That they had no idea where any of the three missing children were. Of all of the kids to have gotten separated from the group, this was the worst. Rose, or Ginny, or the twins, or Percy, or any of them would be better than Harry or Ron.

James loved his son; he loved his little boy more than anything in this world other than Rose. He loved Harry just the same as he loved his daughter, but he couldn’t help but to be selfish. He couldn’t help but to wish that his son was different from who he was.

Harry was a sweet kid. He was polite, he was quiet, he loved puzzles and history, and he was so much like Peter Sometimes that it made James sick, and he knew that Lily saw it too. James saw the way that her face would twist with distaste or anxiety in those moments where Harry was most like the rat, though neither of them ever spoke of it.

Harry was cowardly. When Harry was younger, James had thought that he would grow out of it as he aged, but he never did. Harry was a different kind of Gryffindor than James, he wasn’t brave because he was not afraid, the way that James, Lily, and Rose were. Harry was brave because he was afraid. Harry was brave like the most scared kid in the haunted house, Harry was brave because he went inside knowing it would be scary. It was a different kind of bravery than the bravery of heroes. It was a kind of bravery that looked a lot like cowardice.

And that’s who Harry was, he was different from the rest of them, and not for the better. Harry wasn’t very bright, unlike Rose who always surprised James with her cleverness. He wasn’t very athletic, unlike Ginny, who could run circles around other kids her age in quidditch, or any other sport for that matter. He wasn’t very good at magic, unlike Neville, whose magical prowess was nearly synonymous with his name. Harry wasn’t very sociable, unlike Sirius’s son Jake, who could charm his way into any conversation.

And didn’t that one sting. James and Sirius had always been competitive with each other. So, when they both had sons nearly back-to-back, it quickly became another thing that they would be competitive about. But it soon became clear that Harry would provide no competition for Jake.

Where Jake thrived, Harry failed. James got to watch as Sirius’s son succeeded while his own struggled with things that younger kids had already mastered. It filled James up with annoyance and shame and jealousy. But most of all, it filled him with envy. There was a point when the kids were younger that James stopped inviting Sirius over to the house as much, because he always brought his son to play with Rose, but as soon as the boy walked in the door it highlighted all of his own son's shortcomings. Harry always looked so inadequate in comparison to Jake, and Sirius was always sure to remind him of all the ways Harry was behind his peers. Lily eventually knocked some sense back into him, and it became clear that she’d spoken to Sirius, as the two of them never spoke their little spat again, and Sirius stopped trying to compare the boys to one another.

It always seemed like Harry was ten steps behind the other children his age. James loved Harry and there was nothing in the world that could ever change that, but sometimes he wished that the boy would laugh at his mother's witty comments because he understood the joke, rather than laughing because everyone else was laughing. He wished that when he talked about his kids to the other aurors in his department, he could talk about his son and his daughter, instead of just talking about his daughter. He wanted his son to give him something to be proud of, but his son was not that boy.

His son was scared of dogs, and horses, and mice, and flying, and storms, and deep water, and the dark, and very large bugs, and heights, and loud noises, and germs, and his son couldn’t defend himself against pixies. His son can’t help but cry when he gets frustrated, or angry. James’s son was all alone in a dangerous situation, and James knew that there was no hope of Harry being able to defend himself against a threat of any sort. Harry wasn’t a fighter.

Lily placed a hand on his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. As they locked eyes Lily took a clear deep breath, then another, and then another. James took a moment to match her breathing, calming himself. He needed to calm down if he was going to help find the missing kids. Harry wasn’t the only one missing after all.

James directed his daughter to stay here with the Weasley kids so that himself and the other three parents could go search for their missing children. Thankfully, Rose didn’t argue or try to claim that she could help, or demand to go with them. Instead, she just quietly nodded her head and went to go sit quietly with Ginny. Her shoulders stiff and her hands shaking slightly, James had never seen her so shaken up before.

It was jarring to see his spitfire of a daughter so quiet and reserved, all wide eyed and pale. She looked so young like this. All of the kids did, even Percy, who was on the cusp of adulthood. They were too young to look that scared. Had he really looked that young too when he’d gone off to fight? Had he ever looked that young at all?

James, Lily, and the Weasley’s were practically running through the campgrounds, wands held out in front of them, the tips casting cones of bright light so that they could see. James stanchly ignored the heavy buzzing in his leg as he ran. They called out for them every few steps, their voices carrying loud through the fields, but there came no replies. They stopped to ask each person that they came across if they’d seen the kids, but it seemed that no one had.

“He’s about this tall, black messy hair, medium dark skin, and big bright green eyes - she’s about this tall, dark skin, medium/long dark brown braids, and light brown eyes - he’s about this tall, short bright red hair, pale freckled skin, and bright blue eyes.”

Nothing. No one had seen them, and each person gave them this horrible, awful, pitying look as they shook their heads, apologies on their lips as they denied having seen them. It was like they were all just so ready to write them off as casualties of this disaster, they didn’t seem to think that there was any hope. And with each passing minute, James could feel the weight in his stomach getting heavier.

He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight, and he couldn’t get a deep breath in. He couldn’t breathe. The fear of the million different things that could have happened to Harry had taken his breath away, had stolen the air from his chest. He couldn’t BREATHE. His baby was missing and all he could see was his tiny baby boy in terrible danger, and James couldn’t reach him. His baby was missing, and he couldn’t find him, his BABY was MISSING and JAMES COULDN’T FIND HIM!

James was inches from the edge of the cliff that would send him into full panic mode, and he was doing everything he could to keep his footing and stay mostly calm, but he could feel himself slipping. He could see the same fear in Lily’s eyes too, the manic desperation that was slowly taking hold as the seconds dripped by like molasses. He could see her fear in how tightly she gripped her wand, he could see it in the way her nails dug into her skin on her free hand, he could see her fear in the way she whipped her head around at the slightest of sounds. She was terrified. They all were.

At the edge of the campgrounds, well past where James and the others had intercepted the death-eaters, they found a house, or rather they found the charred remains of the skeleton of a house. The outline of a life that had been burned and blackened, reduced to simple charcoal lines against the sky. There was a thick, black gouge in the earth where a fire had burned the vegetation to ashes, similar to the gashes that were burned into the grass on the battlefield that James had helped defeat the death-eaters on mere moments ago.

There were a few medi-witches and aurors milling about, seemingly having just put the fire out, fiendfyre if James had to guess based on the amount of damage it had caused. There was a small family of muggles that likely lived in that house, being huddled around by the healers. They all looked spooked, the two kids still crying quietly, and the parents had clear tear tracks down their faces. But there didn’t seem to be any pressing injuries. Thank goodness.

“BABY!” Molly practically shrieked and took off down the grassy lawn of the muggle property, running for a smaller gathering of people, a medi-wizard in his bright white robes stuck out from the darkness of the night like a candle burning in the darkness, and with him were the kids. All three of them wrapped in shock blankets and sitting cross legged together in the grass.

James’s feet were already moving without any input from his conscious thought. Heart pumping rapidly as he closed the distance between himself and his child. He’s alive! He’s alive and he’s alright, were the only thoughts that filled James’s head as he ran. He ran faster than he ever had before in his life and within seconds he had crashed down to the ground on his knees and had pulled his baby into his chest. Moments later he felt the impact of Lily’s body join the two of them, but he couldn’t convince his arms to loosen their grip enough to let him look up at her.

There they sat for several minutes, tears of joy and relief filled his eyes as he held his boy. He held Harry tight to his chest, just listening to him breathe, listening to his heartbeat. Eventually though, the three of them were approached by what appeared to be the highest ranking auror on the scene, along with two others, and they had to leave their little family huddle to talk to them.

All four of the Potter/Weasley parents were pulled away from their children and taken over behind the hastily set up tent that now sheltered the muggle family from the sight of the ashen remains of their home. The senior auror present, an Asian woman that James didn’t recognize from his own auror department, cast a mufflio charm so that no one could overhear them. James and Lily shared a quick glance out of confusion, the aurors behavior was odd, very odd.

The senior auror from before stepped forward, separating herself from the group, “Were you aware that your children were out of their tents before the attack?” she asked, her voice level and with an edge of a challenge in it. James furrowed his brows in confusion, “No,” he began his own voice full of bewilderment, “No, all of the kids were asleep when the attack started.” he glanced over at the other parents to see if they maybe knew that the kids had stepped out. All he was met with was confusion, clearly, they hadn’t known about the kids’s midnight escapades either.

The auror narrowed her eyes, “So, you had no idea that the three teenagers over there,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the kids, “had left their tents in the middle of the night and walked three miles across nearly the entire campsite to get to this house?” she asked, clearly doubting their story. “I’m sorry,” Arthur interrupted, “my son did what?” he asked with visible anger flowing across his face, turning his cheeks a blotchy red color, and his nose scrunched with irritation.

The aurors looked surprised at the reaction, and the one to the left of the senior officer, who hadn’t spoken yet, nodded at the other two, conveying some sort of message between the three. James for his part was getting tired of not knowing what was going on, and it must have shown on his face, because the senior auror was quick to retake the reins of the conversation.

The head auror took a steadying breath and summoned chairs for everyone to sit in, and gestured for them all to take a seat. James didn’t want to, he wanted to stay standing and demand that they explain what was going on. But he could already tell that there was no point in arguing, and the only thing that arguing would cause would be a delay in the explanation. So he pressed his lips together in an annoyed manner and compiled.

James sat in the plush chair with a quiet huff and crossed his arms over his chest. Lily and the Weasleys following suit, each of them clearly not amused with the situation. Arthur’s foot was tapping incessantly on the ground in annoyance and impatience, the blotchy red color hadn’t faded, and had even grown a bit darker in his anger.

“Your children saved those muggles today.” the senior auror stated, tone completely calm and matter of fact. Jame’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he started to ask how that was possible but before he could, the auror continued. “The death-eaters,” she began before being cut off by the officer to her right, a tall blond man, “Or, the copycats, we don’t have confirmation on whether or not they are real death-eaters.”

The senior officer simply nodded distractedly before continuing with what she was saying, “the possible death-eaters, if that’s what they were, set fiendfyre upon the home with the muggle children still inside,” she explained, hesitance slowly creeping into her voice the longer she talked. Molly gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth in horror, “Are they…” she trailed off, unable to ask the officer if the children had died. They had, surely they had, the children that he saw outside must have been the ones who were left. James shuddered, he couldn’t imagine, he lost his son for only a few minutes, and he was already falling apart. He couldn’t imagine what would happen to him if either of his kids died. Nor could he imagine being a child and losing siblings to a house fire. James felt his heart break for the poor family inside the tent.

The auror shook her head, “The children are alive, minor burns, bruises, and smoke inhalation, but they are fine.” Lily sat up straighter in her chair, and a bolt of surprise zipped down James’s spine. The auror ran her hand through her short cropped black hair, all illusion of composure leaving her frame, “Those children are alive because your children. Those children,-” she spun around and pointed at the three kids that they just left, all three still huddled together in their blankets, “-ran into a house filled with fiendfyre and pulled those kids out of the burning building.”

The auror was clearly shaken up by what she’d witnessed the kids doing but James hardly registered it over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. Lily’s hand shot out and gripped his hand tightly, holding onto him as if he could provide some stability from the hurricane of conflicting emotions that were swirling around inside her, but James was too busy being swept up in his own emotional storm. Molly’s face began to redden with a lethal cocktail of emotions, she opened her mouth to speak, but the auror resumed her explanation as if she hadn't even noticed Molly’s pending tirade.

“The boy,” she began, “the red haired one, though at the time he was so covered in soot and ash that I thought it was brown, he carried both kids out of the building.” she looked up at their faces now, James couldn’t remember when she looked away from them, “He asked about his friends, and then he collapsed to his knees, and he asked for them again, he told us that there were two others still in the house.” she said, sounding so overwhelmed that she was edging into hysterics. “When we told him that there was nothing we could do he started to freak out. We tried to explain, the whole house was on fire, the entire structure was compromised.” she shook her head and turned her gaze away from them again, “We couldn’t risk sending people in after two kids we thought were certainly dead. Then, he got up, and sprinted back into the house. Minutes later, he reappeared with the other two. According to them, Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger had tossed the children to Mr. Weasley, from the second floor of the house.

When Mr. Weasley got the kids outside, he went back in for his friends, only to find that the floor they were standing on had collapsed, thankfully they were alright and all three escaped alive.” She finished her story with a whisper, almost fighting to get the last syllable out.

The asian auror stepped forward, “We questioned the kids once we were given the all clear by the medi-witches, and they said that they’d all gone for a walk.” She seemed much calmer than her superior, her demeanor quiet and relaxed as she talked, “then they heard voices, they followed them, and came upon the house just as it went up in flames.” she nodded to the columns of ash that remained from where a quaint house used to be. “They said that the girl, Hermione Granger, had run in immediately, and that the other two had followed her inside. We believe that the death-eaters who attacked tonight, set this fire with the intent to kill those two children. Your kids are heroes, they saved those kids’s lives.” a smile graced her face, small though it was. “But do be sure to teach them that rushing into burning buildings is incredibly dangerous and that they are not to repeat the actions they’ve taken today.” the third auror added, his eyes slipping over to the other two, looking to them for support.

Both of whom nodded in tired agreement. James continued to listen to their words, but very little of it was actually getting through the constant mantra that was playing in his head. Harry saved those kids. Harry saved those kids. Harry saved those kids. Harry saved those kids. His Harry. His tiny, scrawny, bug fearing Harry, had run into a burning building after his friend without a second thought. He had risked his life and saved two little kids in doing so. The aurors said that they should be proud, but Jamed felt no pride. No swelling of love and happiness in his chest, all he felt was dread.

Why couldn’t his kids have been Hufflepuffs? Sweet and loyal and kind, but most importantly, safe. Hufflepuffs don’t run into burning buildings. They stayed safe and warm in their bed all night long. Parents of Hufflepuffs didn’t have to worry like this.

He had one child already that rushed into danger without a second thought, and he couldn’t seem to get it through her thick skull that she needed to be more cautious, that she was precious and that there was no heroic deed that would be worth losing her. Harry was meant to be the kid he didn’t need to worry about, he was the kid who was so cautious that James had never had to worry about his safety before.

James took it back. Every late night wish for his son to be more like him, more like Lily. James wanted nothing more in that moment than for Harry to be a coward, for Harry to be selfish. James wanted Harry to prioritize himself over others and stay safe, far, far away from any danger. But that’s not who Potters were, it wasn’t what Gryffindors were. They were always so damn heroic.

The aurors were still talking but James didn’t care, he stood up and began to make the trek back towards his son. The aurors words faltered for a moment at his sudden movement, but they made no moves to stop him. He needed to hold his son and make sure that he was real, and that he was okay. Make sure that he never ever, ever, ever, puts himself in that kind of danger again.

The sound of the aurors and the others discussing the events of the night faded into the background as he reached where Harry was still sitting, pressed in close to the Granger girl, the Weasley boy pressed to her other side. The two of them effectively sandwiching the lightly singed girl between them. His boy was visibly exhausted, with drooping eyelids, bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and soot coated cheeks.

James knelt down in front of him, tears filling his eyes once more. With trembling hands he reached out and clutched Harry’s shoulders, pulling the short, thin boy into his chest. James wrapped an arm around his shoulders and cradled the back of his son's head to his shoulder with his other hand. Tears finally slipped from his eyes and soaked into the messy black hair on top of Harry’s head.

He was safe. Harry was safe. Rose was safe. Both of his children were safe and alive and safe.

The war was starting again, no one was safe. Not really, but for now, James’s family was alive, and that was enough.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry felt his body stiffen as his father pulled him away from his huddle with Ron and Hermione. He had to fight off his natural reflex to rip himself out of James’s grip when he felt the man's arms wrapping around him, barely managing to keep himself still, but there was nothing he could do about how his muscles involuntarily went rigid. He was both wired and out of it at the same time, barely registering the man grabbing onto him as his father, seconds before his fight or flight took hold.

He took a few moments to process the situation and calm his racing heart, before he allowed his face to be pressed into his father's shoulder. Allowing his limbs to be restricted by James’s iron grip, no matter how loud his brain screamed at him that he was in a horribly vulnerable position.

It was a foreign sensation, being hugged after a fight. He was generally expected to risk life and limb and then go to class like it was an average Tuesday. It sort of was while he was still in school. He had gotten used to it, he’d expected it, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he thought that his parents would be ok with that.

Once upon a time the fight was what was expected of him, no one had ever thought that he might need or, God forbid, want comfort. Other than Ron and ‘Mione, of course, everyone gave him a wide berth after every battle.

When he was dripping in blood and sweat, with tears in his eyes and mud caked under his fingernails, that was when people averted their eyes. Those hungry, angry, loving, envious eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere; but only when he was clean, never in the aftermath of a battle. Not when he looked so broken and young and scared, never when he looked human enough to bleed.

The thing about being a symbol of rebellion and resistance, was that people were always bound and determined to place you high up on a pedestal, the issue was that everyone saw you as untouchable.

Until you fell, and by God did he fall. Again, and again, and again, his body came crashing to the earth, his thin and brittle bones shattering like fine china against the cold stones of failure and defeat. His body laid down there on those stones with the rest of the casualties, but his lungs still kept drawing breath, no matter how hard he tried to make them be still and silent.

Every time he had convinced himself that this was it, he was finally dead, his body would draw in just enough breath that he could smell the decaying corpses of those he had failed, and he would be yanked upright again so that he could keep fighting.

Harry would never understand why they kept shoving his limp, bruised, reluctant body back up on that damnable pedestal. He knew he was going to fall again; everyone knew he couldn’t stay balanced on the pedestal forever. His shaking hands and trembling legs were not strong enough to keep him up there. They could all see the way his cursed precarious perch alternated between shaking violently and quivering lightly as he did his best to keep his feet planted.

But in the end no one cared that the pedestal shook. they only cared about how long he managed to stay on top of it. It was never long.

But here and now, all wrapped up in strong, warm, trembling arms. It felt nice, it felt so nice. Harry had memories of when James used to hug him. All throughout his childhood there were hugs. Hugs of comfort when he was hurt or upset, hugs of love when he was sent off to sleep every night, hugs of thanks when Harry would gift his father a drawing that he’d made, but they felt so long ago now. He couldn’t remember through the foggy lens of a child's faulty memory, when the hugs had stopped and why.

He hadn’t even realized that they had stopped until this very moment. The thought made his chest fill with cement for some reason.

Harry had never had anyone that would hold him like this in his first life. Sirius might’ve, if he’d been given the chance, if he’d been given the time. Or maybe Remus would have, if Harry had asked.

He never asked.

Molly had always hugged him sure, but it was after she had checked on all of her real children first. He was always an afterthought to her, or perhaps he was just always the lowest priority. That seemed a little more accurate, he hoped he wasn’t an afterthought to her.

He’ll never know, never got the chance to ask her, not that it matters; he never would have asked her. Harry didn’t blame her for loving her real kids more than she loved him. She had, in some way, loved him after all. Even if she couldn’t love him the way he wanted her to. The love she could give him was more than he could say for most people he knew back then.

Harry felt as his shoulder began to grow damp, James’s face pressed there, his shoulders beginning to shudder with the effort of crying as quietly as he could manage. It wasn’t very quiet. Harry didn’t mind.

Harry felt his eyes widen with the shock of it though, and he finally started hugging James's back.

He was crying, James Potter was crying, Harry’s father was crying. Harry rubbed one hand up and down his father's back as the man continued to clutch at Harry. Holding onto his son's much smaller frame as though he thought that Harry might just disappear if he let go.

Harry looked over to Ron and Hermione, turning his head discreetly towards them, hoping that James wouldn’t notice the movement and interpret it as discomfort. As strange as it felt to have James clinging onto him, Harry wanted nothing more than to remain like this forever.

The other two were still cuddled up together, smiling softly at him from their seats only a few feet away. Seeing that they were still there, just a few feet away, Harry let himself melt fully into the embrace.

Closing his eyes and tucking his head back into James’s shoulder, allowing himself to just breathe in and out, the scent of smoke, sweat, blood, and his father filling his nose. Under normal circumstances the smell would be gross, but at the moment it was nice. It was the smell of the living rather than the dead.

James was so warm, one of his arms tight around his middle, and the other gently cradling the back of Harry’s head, fingers brushing soft, slow nonsensical patterns through Harry’s wild curls. The movement was likely unconscious to James, but it was practically all Harry could think about. The soothing up, around down, up, down, around motion. Harry felt his eyes droop as he slumped further into his dad and let go of all the tension left in his muscles.

He could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, his awareness of his surroundings flitting away bit by bit. He tilted his head so that it rested facing Ron and ‘Mione and let his eyes droop closed.

Logically he knew that he was outside, surrounded by strangers, mildly injured and exhausted. But it was nearly impossible to feel anything beyond the all-consuming safety that was James’s embrace.

So Hary closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

———————

Harry awoke to the feeling of being lifted into the air, his head lying against a warm chest as he was carried. He looked up, expecting to see Ron’s short cropped red hair, strong lightly stubbled jaw, hundred thousand freckles, and sharp golden eyes, but was instead greeted with his father's dark curls and soft hazel eyes.

Harry jolted hard, nearly dislodging himself from James’s hold. His father had to quickly readjust his hold so as not to drop him. “Shhhhh,” James soothed, thinking that the startle was because Harry was still shaken up. Which he wasn’t entirely wrong about.

Harry felt the vibrations resonating through James’s chest more than he heard them, “you’re safe sweetheart, I’m here, you’re alright. I’ve got you.” James’s voice was soft and gentle as he spoke. It was as if he was speaking to a scared animal.

As embarrassing as it was to have the ‘scared child’ tone directed towards him, it actually did have a calming effect. The rush of calm that came over him when he realized he was safe was good, great even. It wasn’t a feeling Harry often got to indulge in.

For just a moment there, in the whispered baby's breath between sleep and wakefulness, Harry had forgotten. He’d forgotten that the war was over. He’d forgotten that it was just beginning. He’d forgotten where he was, what had happened, and who he now was. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t meant to be a seasoned veteran in this body, he had forgotten that he was just an injured fourteen-year-old boy.

He wasn’t sure if he was happy that reality was James’s arms instead of Ron’s. He wasn’t sure of a lot of things at the moment. He decided not to dwell on it.

The walk back to the ‘safe zone’ was long and quiet. James refused to put Harry down, not that Harry was fighting him about it. Ron was squarely tucked under Mrs. Weasley’s arm, Mr. Weasley shooting him worried looks every few steps.

Hermione walked next to Harry, or rather, she walked next to James as James carried Harry. She looked like a mess. They all did, but it was clearer to see on her since she wasn’t tucked into a chest or under any protective arms. Her hair was singed and covered in soot, as was the rest of her. Her walk being slightly slowed by her quickly purpling knees from where she had bumped them.

Lily walked directly behind her, looking like she was ready to catch her if she were to fall. She wasn’t going to fall, Harry was sure of that, but it was nice to know that there was a sort of safety net if she did.

By the time that they had made it back to where everyone else was, a sharp chill had begun to permeate the air. Goosebumps began to prickle up his arms and send shivers across his skin.

Once they got within sight of the camp James finally found the strength to set Harry down on his own two feet. He didn’t even have enough time to miss the comforting warmth of his father's grasp, because as soon as his feet touched the ground he was nearly bowled over by an incoming body.

Rose collided with his chest hard as she ran, full tilt, directly into him. As she made contact, she flung her arms around him, squeezing the air from his lungs.

Harry stared down at the head of wild black hair that was crushing itself into his sternum, leaving him completely dumbstruck as his sister shook with great heaving sobs. His arms hovered awkwardly out in the open air, unsure about where they should rest. His breath came wheezing out of him as Rose's arms constricted tighter around his rib cage, as his sister ugly cried against his shoulder.

“I loo-looked for you,” she started, but her sobs were stealing the air from her lungs, making her voice come out wobbly and too loud, cutting off her words with sharp gasping breaths, “but-ut when I-I looked for you, you wer-weren’t there!” She finished, breaking down into a fresh bout of sobs.

Harry brought his arms to carefully rest around Roses shoulders as she tried her best to squeeze the life out of him, “It’s alright,” he began, his tone laced with an awkward hesitation as he spoke, “I’m just fine, I went for a walk while you were asleep, and the attack started before, we got back to camp.” Harry explained quickly, trying his absolute hardest to comfort the sobbing mess of a girl in his arms, but this didn’t seem to calm her down at all.

Rose pulled away, but didn’t let go of him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly, nearly tight enough to hurt. Her face was blotchy and red, tear tracks running down her face and a small amount of snot sitting just under her nose. Rose’s face contorted into one of anger, “You don’t get to do that without telling someone about it!” she practically screamed in Harry’s face, “No! You were missing and we COULDN’T FIND YOU!” fresh tears began springing forth anew and she hiccupped with a sob that cut off whatever she was about to begin shouting at him about.

Harry reached forward and pulled Rose back into a hug, a much calmer and more relaxed hug this time around, and he just let her cry. He didn’t really know what to do in this situation, it was weird. He had expected anger, he’d expected yelling and screaming, but he didn’t think that this would really affect her as much as it seemed to be. He looked at their parents over his sister's shoulder, trying to gauge their reactions to this.

James and Lily looked surprised at Rose’s actions, James looking more concerned than Lily. Harry understood where his concern was coming from, his lungs hurting from the smoke inhalation, and his skin aching from the heat of the fire, the cold of the perma-frost, and from sheer exhaustion. Rose was hugging his middle just on the uncomfortable end of too tight, and he was having to wheeze breaths in and out. He really wished that she would loosen her grip just a little, but he didn’t have the heart to remove her, so he stood there and wheezed quietly while she cried herself out.

Hermione

Hermione watched as Harry was practically smothered by his sister, her face smeared with stress, tears, and snot. Harry wasn’t struggling though, so it seemed like he was alright. Ron was in the same boat, Percy flitting about him like a helicopter parent, Ginny and the twins hovering nearby. The three of them clearly wanted to swarm around Ron, but Percy was keeping them at bay with sharp snapping words and physical jabs.

After everyone had calmed down, the Potters and Weasleys began to get ready to leave, deciding to leave the tent and things to get another day. As the people in the designated safe zone began to be evacuated, the minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge, came running towards them. He was screaming and shouting like a mad man, demanding to know who cast the dark mark.

The man was raving, and Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if he actually started foaming at the mouth. He shrieked accusations at anyone close enough and brave enough to make eye contact with him, waving his wand around wildly, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted his babbling nonsense into the cold night air. Most of the people all around them seemed more confused by the minister's actions than intimidated by him, but there were a few people who were clearly being riled up by the commotion, their eyes shifting nervously around, eyeing those nearest them with suspicion.

Hermione glared at the minister and his completely unacceptable behavior. If he kept this up then he would end up whipping the crowd into a frenzy, and there were too many kids in the area to freak people out this much.

She couldn’t believe that she didn’t see his absolute incompetence back when this happened the first time. Just looking at him she could tell, he was well and truly terrified, despite the fact that he was never really in very much danger. She could see the guards flanking him on either side, both doing their best to appear as though they were not paid security. This was made extremely difficult as Fudge's erratic behavior was putting him directly in harm's way. The man was clearly too stupid to realize that though.

He stomped around the clearing, ranting and raving about the horribleness of the action of casting the dark mark and the consequences that were sure to follow when the ones who cast the spell were caught. Shouting and blubbering nonsensically about Azkaban and snapped wands. He was looking around with a manic glint in his eyes, searching the crowd, desperately looking for someone to blame. Looking for someone who looked guilty.

The problem was that the person who cast the mark was long gone, and the only people currently present were innocent civilians, though clearly that didn’t matter to Fudge. All he was looking for was a scapegoat. Someone, anyone, to blame for what happened, because while he wasn’t smart enough to see the damage he was causing in the moment, he was smart enough to know that if they didn’t find someone to pin this on, then it would be pinned on him.

He only seemed to get more agitated as no mystical scapegoat appeared before him. After all, The Boy Who Lived, wasn’t there, and Harry was a nobody this time around, just another face in the crowd. The man’s agitation grew until Hermione was certain he really was about to start foaming at the mouth, and he had to be quickly escorted away by his bodyguards, who had given up on trying to be subtle.

That was going to be a big hit to his campaign for reelection for certain. Hermione looked around at the crowd, there were several prominent families present. The Potters, who everyone knew had ties to the Blacks and the Longbottoms, there was Amelia Anker, sister to Danica Greengrass, Draco Malfoy was there, though obviously his parents were absent, on and on the list went. After all, only the wealthy and the lucky were ever able to attend the world cup.

Unluckily for Minister Fudge, this meant that all of the businesses that had endorsed him the first time around would abandon him for his public breakdown, and there in the back Hermione could see Rita. her red clawed fingers clutching a notebook as her pen wrote on its own. The world cup was covered by every press company in magical europe, and even a few others in Africa, Asia, and she thought she heard a man with an Aussi accent interviewing a vendor before the match. Whatever the case, Fudge's career was finished.

That thought gave her pause though, if Fudge was going out, which it was likely he was, though she'd have to actually see what the papers had to say about his fit to be sure. Though she couldn’t imagine that they would leave the minister's tantrum out of their articles.

Which meant that there would be someone new in office, most likely it would be Rufus Scrimgeour. Just like it was the first time, but, if they could find a way to play this right, then maybe they could fix a lot of things that went wrong the first time.

Hermione looked over at Ron, who was clearly lost in thought as he absently batted away Percy’s mothering. Always the chess player, he probably already had a list of people that he wanted in office and was trying to see if there was a way for them to get their favored minister elected. He would tell her as soon as he figured it out, and he would eventually, all she had to do was wait for him.

————————-

It didn’t take as long as she thought it would to get out of the campground and back to Potter manor, all in all it only took about an hour. Though by that time Harry was nodding off from where he was tucked under his mother's arm and Ron had completely given up on trying to pry himself out of Percy’s grip.

The Potters, Weasleys, and her were all swept up and sent back to the edge of the wards surrounding the Potter household. The aurors that were on duty had organized dozens of portkeys out of the campgrounds to take everyone home. She had to commend them for their speed, with the chaos of everything it was an impressive amount of organization.

Hermione stumbled slightly as they landed, her feet slipping slightly on the dewy grass, but she quickly regained her footing before she fell. The rest of the group wasn’t nearly as lucky, the unexpectedly slippery grass surprising most of the group and causing most of the Weasleys save for one of the twins, George she thinks, as well as Mrs. Weasley and Ron, to go crashing to the ground.

On her other side she saw that the Potters were in a similar position, though they didn’t seem to have slipped. It seemed that Rose had wiped out hard and dragged both Mrs. Potter and Harry down with her, leaving the tree of them in a tangled heap in the wet grass, and James finally cracking the ghost of a smile for the first time since the attack.

Once everyone had picked themselves off the ground and had thoroughly dusted themselves off, they began to make their way across the grounds of the Potter estate towards the house. If it could even be called that, she thought as her eyes widened upon seeing it, with its huge floor to ceiling windows, dozens of rooms, and imposing size making it loom over the grounds it rested upon.

It was styled oddly too, like a mansion trying to convince people that it was just a normal farmhouse. With its light, cheerful, powder blue color with white shutters and matching white trim. A homey porch wrapped around the whole house, with rocking chairs and garden boxes dotted along the fenced wall of the porch. There were daisies blooming in the garden boxes. Everything looked so happy and peaceful.

It wasn’t the type of place that she had imagined Harry living in. Once upon a time, when she was in her early 20’s, she had daydreamed about finding a nice safe home for the three of them to live in when the war was over, but in all of her daydreams, she always pictured something small. A warm stone cottage high up in the mountains, an ivy-covered cabin nested deep in a thick wood, something small, cozy, and secluded. A house this big would set her teeth on edge, there would always be rooms that she wouldn’t be able to hear what was happening inside, always corners that she would need to check behind. The house would never feel cleared. She hoped Harry liked it though, even if it wasn’t what she had

The next few hours were a blur. They all gathered inside the kitchen, then the Weasleys left, then Lily came and pulled Hermione to the fireplace, then she was in her home and wrapped up in her parent's arms.

Hugs were exchanged and her parents both cried and shouted about the dangers and about how this never would have happened if they’d never sent her to that horrible magic school. They talked and shouted and talked again for hours until everyone was calmed down enough to go to bed, and Hermione had secured the continuation of her education at Hogwarts.

As she laid in the dark of her bedroom staring up at the ceiling, all she could think about was what was swiftly approaching. The trials they would soon be facing. She didn’t want to do this again, but she didn’t have a choice, she never did. Not in this life, not in her last life. It was never going to be her choice; she just had to play her hand and do her best to outsmart everyone else.

She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep until the sun shone through her window curtains.

Chapter Text

Ron

Platform 9 ¾ was well and truly bustling with activity by the time that the Weasley flock had entered. It always took them longer to get through the barrier than it took other families, muggles tend to stare at nine people all with the same bright red hair and freckles. Which meant that they were each draped in low level notice-me-not charms and had to go through the barrier one by one with long breaks in between each of them.

So by the time Ron crossed the threshold the twins were starting to grow impatient, George already fiddling with a small bright pink ball that looked suspiciously like candy and eyeing the passing children with a glint of mischief. Percy had already found a quiet corner to sit down and read in while he waited for the rest of his family to come through the barrier, and Ginny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked around the platform for her friends.

Finally the Weasley parents came through the barrier and they were all together on the platform at last, but at that point they were starting to run out of time to say their goodbyes and get on the train. It was the same every year in both lifetimes. They never seemed to learn from the year before and always ended up pressed for time once they were all at the platform. The constantness of it made him smile just a little.

Molly fretted about the twins' hair, calling them by the right names the first time, only for the twins to pretend that she had gotten them wrong. She rolled her eyes and swatted lightly at their ears as they ducked away grinning, quickly embracing their father on either side before bounding onto the train, shoving a boy in their year aside by grabbing him by the face and pushing him back until he went reeling backwards.

Ron thinks that he might vaguely recognize him, but he can’t place his name. That realization sent a sobering jolt through him. The sensation zipping down his spine and settling as a roiling mass in his gut.

Ron knew the faces and the names of every single Hogwarts student that survived the battle of Hogwarts, so if he didn’t know the name of this kid that he’s sure he’s seen before, then that means he dies. Whether at the battle of Hogwarts or sooner he can’t be sure, but this child dies. If they fail, that kid, who is currently picking himself off of the floor and running after the twins, will be dead in three years or less. He was getting nauseous.

Molly huffed and shook her head as she watched the twins go, trying to seem as if she was annoyed, but the corner of her mouth was ticked up and gave her away. Her smirk morphed into a warm smile as she turned to wish Percy farewell. Their embrace was much less chaotic than the twins' farewell had been, and then he was hugging Aurthur and walking off as well. Ginny wrapped her arms around their mother and father quickly and then ran off to go find her friends with so little fanfare that her mother was left calling her well wishes at the girls retreating back. Mrs. Weasley then turned to Ron with a look of anxiety on her face.

She had been fretting about Ron every minute of the day since the World Cup, never letting him out of her sight for even a moment, always keeping one eye on him or the family clock whenever he was out of sight. He knew it was because she loved him, but her love could be suffocating sometimes, especially when she hovered about like he was about to keel over.

To be fair to her though, his lungs were so shot from the smoke that every time he coughed it really did sound like he was on death's door. That, and with the full moon approaching soon he really did look a rather sorry sight.

They hugged briefly and she pulled back to remind him to put his burn cream on his shoulder every night before bed, then she hugged him again before letting him go and hug his dad, like his siblings before him. As soon as he turned to walk towards the train that had just blown the warning whistle, he felt her spin him back around for one more hug. A “I love you. Be safe,” whispered into his hair.

Then he was released and running to get onto the train.

The train's interior was packed, kids pushing and shoving and calling out to each other so loudly that Ron could already feel the volume of it giving him a splitting headache. He was jostled left and right by the bodies around him, occasionally being rammed into from behind as someone rushed by without taking proper precautions. He pressed his lips together in annoyance as he squeezed past the other students. Eventually he came to a compartment with a very low notice-me-not charm over it that he recognized immediately as Hermione’s handy work.

He smiled to himself as he quietly opened the door and slipped inside, mildly surprised that Harry paranoia-central Potter hadn’t locked him out. But once he stepped inside, he realized that the reason it was unlocked was because Harry wasn’t there yet. The compartment was small, with dark wooden walls and the kind of red carpet that Harry called movie theater carpet. It was exactly the same as it had always been, and a flood of nostalgia filled him as he looked around. Consciously he knew that he was on this train just a few months ago when school got out for the summer, but it feels as if he hasn’t been here in a lifetime. He supposes that the two things weren’t mutually exclusive.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d missed it, and from the look on Hermione’s face, it seemed that he wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Her warm brown eyes linger on different spots in the room wistfully. Ron placed his trunk in the overhead compartment and took his seat opposite Hermione on the plush red faux leather seats.

Together the two of them started up a card game, it was a muggle one that Hermione was still half teaching him as they started playing. Go fish he thinks she called it. She was winning by quite a bit by the time that Harry opened the door. Or at least that's what Hermione said.

Harry

Harry slipped out of his mother's embrace as he ran to get on the train before it started moving, waving over his shoulder at them as he boarded the train after his sister, who had already disappeared into the packed train.

Harry had to practically push inside the train it was so packed full of children, each one pushing and shoving one another, trying to get the ‘best spot’ on the train, despite the fact that every single compartment was exactly the same. Once inside the narrow corridors of the train, he squirmed and squeezed his way along the cramped and crowded passageways, peaking into each compartment, looking into each of them for Ron and Hermione.

After a bit of maneuvering, and no small amount of effort, he came to a relatively clear hallway that allowed him to stand up straight again and move more freely. To his left was the compartment that Neville, Jake, and Ginny were already sharing. Harry took a moment to observe them when they didn’t know they were being watched. They laughed so much, smiles painted on every face.

Neville and Ginny were arm wrestling, both had their elbows propped up on Jake’s trunk, seemingly having decided that it made a great table for their game. The two of them were fairly evenly matched, their hands drifting from one side to the other, slowly moving back and forth as they both tugged at the others arms. until suddenly Ginny reached out with her other hand and tried to poke Neville in the eye. The boy dodged with a yelp, losing focus for a moment. A moment that Ginny took advantage of, and during his lapse in concentration she slammed his hand down on the

Rose walked past him, eyeing his suspiciously as she passed him, “Look,” she started, stopping to turn and face him, one of her hands on the door. Her eyes shifted back to the filled compartment for the briefest moment, “I know that mom told me to look after you, but I am not going to be your babysitter,” she said with narrowed eyes. “You need to go find your own compartment.”

Before Harry could even think to say anything in his defense, Rose had stepped smoothly into the compartment and snapped the sliding door to the compartment closed behind her with a soft ‘snick’ sound. All Harry could think was, ‘well at least she’s finally leaving me alone.’

In the days immediately following the attack at the World Cup, Rose had made sure that she always had something to do in the same room that Harry was in. It didn't matter where he was or what he was doing, she would always find a reason that she needed to be in the same room as him. Even once following him into his bedroom and pretending to look for a book she claimed she’d lost for nearly an hour. A book that he was fairly certain she’d never owned.

She also started to speak softly when he was in the room, as though he was a small animal she didn’t want to scare off, and she always seemed to have one eye on him no matter where he was. It got to the point once or twice that he started taking breaks from her constant surveillance in the bathroom, which was the only place she wouldn’t follow him.

Thankfully though, this only lasted a few days, and within a week, she was back to her typical moody, prickly, teenage self. Which was good for his privacy and less good for his overall mood, but he would just have to take what he can get. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the same for James and Lily.

The two of them had been hovering over him since the moment they found him in front of the burned-out shell of the muggle family home. Since then, he’s done everything he could to put them at ease, he laughed extra loud at James’s terrible jokes, took second helpings at dinner even when he really didn’t want any more, engaged in active conversation despite his exhaustion, but nothing helped. Thankfully they had to divide their time between hovering over Harry and hovering over Rose. So there were occasional moments of reprieve. Though Harry got the distinct impression that the only reason James didn’t stand over his bed to watch him sleep every night was because Lily wouldn’t let him.

He was pretty sure that he is supposed to feel suffocated by their helicopter-ing, but he just feels wanted. He’s pretty sure that he should be telling a counselor that, but he can’t. He is a time traveling/dimension hopping wizard, so even if the magical community was big on mental health (which they weren’t), he would have a hard time explaining why he would need a counselor in the first place. On second thought, there might be nothing he would hate more than having to spill his guts for some stranger to analyze. Harry grimaced at the thought.

Now though, he was finally alone on the train, with no watchful staring eyes following his every movement. For the first time since the attack, Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of his chest squeezing uncomfortably.

He let his legs carry him in the vague direction that he was pretty sure Ron and Hermione were in, and eventually he was able to squeeze past the throngs of sweaty teens and sticky children and into a mostly empty compartment. Hermione looked up from her book to give him a kind smile before quickly returning to her reading.

It was a thick tome written in a language that Harry thought might have been gobbledygook, but he wasn’t sure. It was red with gold lettering and an embossed serpent along the spine, he wondered what it was about but didn’t ask. She would tell him eventually.

Ron stood up and stepped over a stack of discarded playing cards to greet him, wrapping him in a loose hug, careful not to stretch his injured shoulder. After exchanging pleasantries and placing his trunk on the overhead rack with Ron’s, Harry sat down and waited for the train to start moving. Tapping his fingers on his knees in a sporadic rhythmic pattern to help pass the time.

They decided to wait until the trolly woman came around to put up their silencing charms. Thankfully though, she came to their compartment relatively quickly, so they only had to sit quietly in their seats for fifteen minutes before she came by.

Hermione finished putting up the wards as Ron helped Harry organize the abundance of snacks into piles based on the type of treat, the size, and their color. When she turned around and saw what they were up to she snorted loudly, her eyes crinkling with amusement, and sat back down in her chair, content to simply watch them work.

“So,” Ron started as he and Harry finished sorting their snacks, “how was the fall out of the uh…” he paused for a moment to search for what word he wanted to use, “incident,” he settled on, “on your ends?” he finished, his eyes flitting from the pile, to Harry, then Hermione, then back to their pile of treats. He toyed with the corner of an empty wrapper as a way to avoid making eye contact with either of them. Hermione shrugged, “There was a lot of hugging and crying,” she began, her voice filled with a forced sort of calm casualness, “then they threatened to not let me return to Hogwarts, but I talked them down, obviously.” she finished, gesturing half-heartedly around at the train car they were in.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, same here, except they never threatened to not let me stay at Hogwarts,” he turned to look over at Hermione, brow furrowed slightly in confusion, “Why would they keep you from school?” he asked, head tilted slightly in question, “The attack had nothing to do with Hogwarts.”

She shook her head and shrugged indifferently, “Their only frame of reference for magic is through Hogwarts, and I guess all they were thinking was that magic had put me in danger so removing magic from my life would thus remove the danger.” she finished, then turned to look out the window at the countryside passing by. “They’re not wrong,’ she added, her voice barely a whisper.

Harry observed her for a moment, not saying anything. Family was still a sore subject for each of them, even with their closeness, there were some things that would always be hard for them to talk about. Ron stood up and swapped sides to sit next to Hermione, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

He always did that. After the first time she had punched Malfoy out for bad mouthing Ron, any time she got distant or frustrated, Ron would be there and run his thumb over the knuckles of her right hand. It helped to calm her, or at least to keep her grounded.

She once told Harry that she liked it because it reminded her that she was a fighter. Ron was like that. Good at reading people, good at knowing what they needed, knowing how people were going to act and react in certain situations. He wasn’t so good with words though, always letting his mouth run faster than his brain. So, it made sense that the two of them would have this. This quiet, loving, intimate gesture. One where no words were ever exchanged, just a promise. A promise said again and again with no words passing between them.

Harry deeply wished that he had something like that with one of them, but that's not what he had with them. He doesn’t think he ever could, he’s always needed words. He probably always will. They had to tell them what they felt and why or Harry would have no idea, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wish he could understand their strange silent comforts and promises.

The somber air vanished in an instant as the door to their compartment rattled. It was locked up tight, so no one could get in, but clearly someone was trying. They had plenty of time to draw their wands from their sleeves and stand up into ready fighting positions before the door jerked open roughly to reveal Draco Malfoy. The three of them just barely hid the wands back in their sleeves before the door fully slid open.

The boy’s face contorted in a sneer as he leaned into the compartment to look at them, both of his goons in tow, arms crossed across their chests and flexing. They seemed to be trying to look as intimidating as possible in the doorway, but unfortunately, all three of them were fourteen years old. They ended up looking like an odd parody of the gangsters from the corny action movies Vernon used to adore. Harry nearly choked trying to suppress a laugh, but thankfully managed to disguise it as a cough.

It seemed though, that Draco wasn’t finding what he was looking for and confirmed as much when he spoke, “Oh, it’s just you three,” he grumbled with a dramatic eye roll, “not clinging to our sisters this year then? What a surprise.” he sneered, one eyebrow raised mockingly, his smile creeping back onto his face as he spoke, gazing between Harry and Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance, placing one hand on her cocked hip, “What do you want Malfoy?” she asked with a calm, though annoyed expression on her face.

The goons looked dead to the world, barely blinking at her, but Malfoy looks a bit taken aback by her response. Not surprising, Harry thought, he’d likely expected for them to act meek and scared by his display, stuttering or maybe trying to deny his jab through flushed cheeks. They could but there was no point in it, as far as Malfoy was concerned, they had simply matured over the summer break. Besides, fear is way too exhausting to fake just for Malfoy.

They’d fought dragons, goblin battalions, giants, evil wizards, rogue werewolves, giant spiders, and a million more terrifying and violent creatures in their lives and there was no way that they would ever be afraid of a fourteen-year-old schoolboy ever again. Regardless of the fact that they were technically also fourteen-year-old school children.

Draco’s momentary confusion abated swiftly, and he straightened back up to what Harry assumed was meant to be an intimidating height, but of course as he was just fourteen, it wasn’t a very intimidating height. Though it was unfortunately still a taller height than what Harry had.

“Well,” Malfoy began, brushing his hand through his white-blond hair in a painfully obvious attempt at faked casual confidence, “Then I suppose I’ll just be moving on, no point in wasting my time here. You lot are underwhelming.” he finished, raising his nose high in the air and strutting off in a way that reminded Harry of a peacock.

Malfoy had dismissed them. Just like that he had decided that they weren’t worth interacting with and had simply moved on. Harry felt a twitch in his brow at the realization that the boy truly did not care. He didn’t even care a little. He was an annoying thorn in their side for almost all of their schooling, and to be passed over was a very strange thing in Harry’s opinion. For a moment it caused him to stall, the wind suddenly taken from his sails.

He turned to face the other two, Hermione moving to close the door back up, but even with her back mostly to him, he could see the small smirk gracing her face, which perfectly, in Harry’s opinion, complimented the nearly manic grin that stretched across Ron’s. The ginger giggled like an over-caffeinated child, “He doesn’t care about what we are doing in here,” he said, his smile never once dropping from his face for even a second, “he doesn’t care at all! He didn’t even check to see if we’d put any spells on the door when it didn’t open for him straight away!” Ron’s giggling bubbled up from his chest in endless peels and soon he couldn’t speak past the peals of laughter that filled his throat.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed almost dumbly, his own smile growing by the second, “I’d wager that almost no one will care about us or what we are doing.” Harry’s own laughter quickly builds in his chest. Soon all three of them were falling over themselves laughing, the light and joyful sound filling the small space they were in.

“I knew that this would happen,” Ron started, laughter finally dying down enough for him to speak, “but to really live it, to see the honest disinterest on Malfoy's face was incredible!” Hermione hopped up and linked arms with Ron as they began to dance around in the cramped space. “WE ARE NO BODY!” “WE ARE NO BODY!” “WE ARE NO BODY!” “WE ARE NO BODY!” they chanted as Harry clapped along and chanted with them, a smile practically splitting his face in two.

It took them nearly half an hour to calm down, and by the time they’d finished their impromptu celebration they’d quite thoroughly tired themselves out. Ron laid reclined on the seats with his head resting in Harry’s lap as Hermione took up the other side of the compartment. Her arm slung over her eyes and both of their chests rising and falling as they panted with exhaustion.

“Are you two done now?” Harry asked with a wry smile as if he hadn’t been there chanting right along with them. Ron jerked his head back to look up at Harry with a playful glare. Harry smiled down at Ron snickering at the flush that filled his cheeks as it always did when he got out of breath, Ron glared harder and reached up to flick at Harry’s nose. Harry jerked back to avoid the flick, and a barking laugh escaped him as he dodged the attack.

Finally catching her breath, Hermione sighed and propped herself up on her elbow to look at them, motioning with her hand in a smooth rolling motion to begin speaking when Harry looked over to her. He cleared his throat and his smile faded as he spoke, “I’ve been thinking all summer about what to do this upcoming year,” he began, “I can’t think of a way around the tournament other than just putting myself in Nevilles place.” he turned to look between them as he finished, both of the them had foul looks on their faces, but said nothing to correct him or reveal their own, far better plans, “He won’t be able to get through it, he doesn’t have the same skills we had at that age. I don’t think he’d be able to make it past the first task.”

“I hate this,” Ron practically spit, “I don’t want you in that stupid competition again.” He wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes as he spoke, choosing instead to glare out the window, though he didn’t sit up from his reclined position either. Harry sighed with an exhaustion that came with age and ran a hand through Rons bright red hair soothingly. The red head relaxed into the sensation but the crease in his brow remained as prominent as ever.

Hermione glared at the carpet of the compartment as she spoke up, “For the record, I also hate this plan,” she said bitterly, finally meeting Harry’s eyes when she finished. “So,” she continued, “how do we actually accomplish this? It won’t be easy to figure out the name of the school Jr. used to put your name into the goblet first time around.”

Ron sat up, combing his hair back into place with his fingers, “That’s assuming that he will even use the same one as the first time, or that he will use a real school at all. He might just make one up.”

Harry sighed, “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” he chewed his lip in thought, “I was hoping that maybe the three of us could come up with something.” He smiled at the two of them as they gave him withering glares full of exasperation. Ron curled in around himself and gave a long, over exaggerated, suffering groan. Hermione sighed heavily, pressing both of her hands to her temples as if to stave off the oncoming headache.

Harry felt a wry grin stretch across his face at their reactions. They would figure it out, they always did, but in the meantime, they were both going to be over dramatic babies about it.

Chapter Text

Harry

The rest of the train ride went smoothly and soon they were stepping off the train and finding their way to an empty waiting carriage. The thestrals were standing tall in their harnesses, excitedly stomping their hooves as the children approached them.

They always seemed so happy to draw the carriages, Harry almost wanted to ask why the thestrals weren’t used more. But the problem was that he wasn’t supposed to be able to see the thestrals in this life, so running around declaring that he’s watched someone die would be a truly idiotic idea.

So instead, he found an empty carriage near the front and hopped in, pretending that he couldn’t see the majestic beasts tied to it.

A head of white hair skipped past the door to their carriage. Luna Lovegood going up to one of the thestrals, chipper as ever and gently patting their necks. Harry watched her smile dreamily as she chatted idly with the creature for a few moments before climbing through the door to the carriage in front of them.

He had to remember to visit them later in the forest, they deserved more love than they got. Perhaps he could find time to form a friendship with Luna again. He hopes so, she was so kind in his first life, and she seemed to be very much the same this time around.

He wonders how she was getting on in this life. Ginny and Neville certainly weren’t friends with her. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think he could remember anyone being friends with her. Harry frowned in thought.

It might be odd befriending a thirteen-year-old but there wasn’t really anyone else for them to choose from, after all, any adult willing to befriend a seemingly fourteen-year-old would not be someone they should be speaking to.

Harry blinked, breaking out of his thoughts and recentered himself in his seat in the small dark carriage. By that logic, he, Ron, and Hermione would all be in the same group of adults trying to befriend children. He winced, deciding that he wasn’t going to think about that for now. He felt like this was different, he wasn’t sure how, but it felt like it was surely different. Definitely.

Harry turned his attention to the view of the land passing by outside and let the idle chatter of his partners distract him.

As he relaxed into the moment he was hit with a powerful wave of melancholy energy, causing a prickly of tears to sprout in his eyes. The sensation of crossing the wards leaving warm buzzing across his skin like pins and needles.

It had been so very very long since he’d been within the territory of Hogwarts as a student. He’d been here for Ron a few times now, but that was the forest, they were never truly close enough to the school grounds proper to see the castle. It was too risky, the professors live there full time and there are alarms set up if any creatures walk out of the forest and onto school grounds.

He’d missed his first real home. The one that had been destroyed. The home that he himself had helped to destroy during the battle of Hogwarts.

He remembered the devastation that had been left after the first initial fight, the crumbling towers, the charred bricks, the shredded portraits. Everything that made his home a home having been stripped from it.

The way that it had been transformed over the next few months into a stronghold of the enemy, crawling with death-eaters and covered in the hanging banner emblazoned with the symbol of Voldemort.

He vividly remembered the way that his home had been defiled by the men and women that attacked it. The once elegant stone spires hung with the corpses of the deceased, each strung up like morbid Christmas ornaments and the dark mark hanging over everything as a constant reminder of their failure. He couldn’t get the image of Fred’s body, strung up by the ankle out of his head.

He was forever grateful that he never got close enough to see his face.

But looking up now into the rapidly darkening sky, he saw nothing more than the orange and pinks of the sunset reflecting off of the clouds in the sky.

The thump thump thump sound of the carriage wheels bouncing along the ground made for a monotonous metronome, that when paired with the idle chatter of his companions, made for perfect white noise. Harry closed his eyes and let the feeling of joy flow through his body and the memories of the past float away as he felt their carriage rumbling further and further from the wards that covered the school grounds.

As the carriage bumped along the road Harry found himself nodding off and then suddenly, he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Morning,” Ron said softly, his eyes crinkling with warmth, “we’re here,” he continued, motioning to the door Harry was leaning his head on. Harry blinked. Once, twice, three times before the words fully processed in his mind.

They were here. They were actually back on the grounds and soon to be in the castle itself. An excited smile nearly split his face as he sat up and looked outside. There it was, bright as ever, glowing with firelight from every window, reminding Harry of an impressionist painting of a night sky. The kind that Ron likes so much, the sort where you can only tell what it’s meant to be if you squint.

The castle towered over everything, huge and looming and grand in every sense of the word, but full of warmth. Like and embrace ready to wrap you up and swallow you whole.

The three of them clambered out of the carriage as gracefully as they could with their still stiff traveling legs and gathered with the rest of the students around the front doors. The wide doors swung open and seeing the glamor of the interior took the breath from his lungs. Harry heard Hermione’s soft gasp and turned to see her staring into the open doors with wide eyes and a face flush with excitement. The lights from inside washing her face in a warm glow and the hundred thousand candles lighting the interior reflecting like galaxies in her warm brown eyes.

Harry jerked as Ron clapped his shoulder. He was grinning ear to ear and the warm light lit his hair like fire.

They looked so alive.

The crowd moved then, the whole swell of them pressing forward and through the doors. Sweeping down the halls and into the great hall like a wave. From there everything went by as a blur.

The three of them sat together at the end of their table, the firsties got sorted, the school song was sung, and the standard opening speech was being delivered. Everything was going exactly the same as how he remembered it.

Dumbledore spread his hands out towards the crowd from his place at the podium, hushing the chatter that had started up in the hall. “Quiet please,” he said with a mischievous smile as the few whispers that had started to bubble up quickly died back down, “May I introduce,” he turned, sweeping out a wrinkled hand towards one end of the staff table with a grand gesture and a mist-like billowing of pearlescent blue robes, “our new Defense against the Dark Arts Teacher,” said Dumbledore brightly, into the silence and pausing a moment for dramatic effect, “Professor Moody.”

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with an applause upon their announcement, but none of the staff or students clapped for the new ‘professor.’ with, of course, the exception of Dumbledore, and surprisingly enough Hagrid. Both men put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed to be far too transfixed by Moody’s bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Harry had to give it to the imposter, he’d gotten the look down to the letter. He wasn’t confident that he’d have been able to tell that the man now hobbling over towards the podium wasn’t the real deal if he didn’t already know what to look for.

The fake leg clacked and scraped against the stone of the floor with every step he took, the sound ringing out into the hall in the silence. He finally came to stand to the left of and slightly behind Dumbledore after a few intense moments of staring on the part of the students.

Dumbledore stepped aside, seemingly inviting Moody to say a few words to the student body. He shuffled forward, hunching over the podium to lean forward and glare around at the students. “Hmmmmm,” he hummed, his glare intensifying, before huffing and stepping back.

There was a pause before everyone realized that that was all Moody intended to do, and Dumbledore stepped back up to continue speaking.

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore said, smiling out at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad Eye Moody, though with his renewed speech he saw that a few of the students were flicking their eyes back and forth between the new professor and the speaker, “we are to have the splendid honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months! An event which has not been held for over a century.” the old man leaned forward slightly as he spoke, voice filled with excitement, “It is my absolute greatest pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year,” an impossibly wide smile split the man's face, and his eyes twinkled brightly behind his glasses.

The twins stood up as one from their seats and gawked at the headmaster, then at each other, then back at the headmaster again, “You’re JOKING!” burst Fred Weasley, his brother gripping onto his shoulder and leaning forward to see around his double.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively at the childish excitement that was rapidly gripping the student body. Even the muggleborns, who did not have the first clue what a Triwizard tournament was, were grinning and whispering excitedly to the other students around them.

“No, I am not joking Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore spoke from the head table, “Though I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar –” he trailed off, fondly reminiscing on whatever amusing thing he’d heard over the summer.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and pointedly indicated the crowd of excited students with her eyes.

“Er – but maybe this is not the time… no...” said Dumbledore. “Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves,” he glanced briefly at the first years that were scattered about at each of the tables, “so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and are more than welcome to allow their attention to wander freely as I do so.”

He waved his wand through the air in graceful loops and images made up of hundreds of tiny bright blue lights began flashing through the air as he spoke, “The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry – Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.” The glowing lights formed the shape of the three schools in the air, with Hogwarts in the center and shown as the largest, though Harry knew the blocky shapes that formed the Durmstrang school should have at least rivaled the great castle if not overtaken it.

“A champion was selected to represent each school. These were the best of the best that the schools had to offer, and the tournament became both a show of the skills of the individual as well as a show of the schools' ability to teach. The three chosen champions competed in three magical tasks.” The lights formed three humanoid silhouettes, all in fighting stances with their wands raised.

“The schools took it in turns to host the Tournament once every five years and it was generally agreed to be the a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities – until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued.” The last sentence was uttered solemnly, and the lights vanished from the air.

The speech continued as Dumbledore told them about the trials of the past, the numerous attempts to bring the tournament back, and finally the prize money that the winners got if they succeeded.

At the mention of prize money, the whole of the great hall descended into chatter and soon the headmaster gave up on his speech and signaled for the start of the feast. As the food appeared for the feast, students could talk of nothing else but the prospect of winning the tournament for themselves and how to sneak over the wards that kept those underage from competing.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared a long look between them as they listened, it was the same and it was completely different. All three of them replayed fond memories of the chatter of their peers, and recalled a few words that they themselves had spoken. The air was buzzing with students' conversations, all of whom were overcome with grand ideas of heroism and glory.

This was like the strangest sense of dejavoo that he or any of them had experienced. They knew exactly what each person was going to say before they said it, every action that they took was one that they’d taken before. It was like watching a muggle movie where the sound is just a few seconds faster than the images on the screen.

Of course there was always going to be things that they forgot, who remembers exactly what everyone around them says and does every second of every day, and the fact that this world was not exactly the same. Harry’s eyes flicked over to his sister who sat further down the table closer to the head table.

Rose was laughing with Ginny and Nevile, the three of them toppling over themselves as Jake told some kind of story that apparently needed a lot of exaggerated hand waving. This timeline was different for sure, some differences were in their favor, some though, would definitely throw a wrench in their plans.

One problem in particular fits into both categories a bit too nicely for Harry’s liking.

Harry caught Ron looking at their sisters too, his mind likely filled with the same thoughts as his own. Those four were a huge help to the trio. They were loud and popular and most importantly they were distracting.

They would help to keep the eyes off of the trio while they worked. Because of their existence and the way that they acted, no one in their right mind would be paying too much attention to Harry and Ron. They were the less impressive brothers of Rose and Ginny. Hermione was in the clear too, of course, no one has to keep an eye on the world's most perfect student.

In that same vein though, if the four students sitting further down the table from them were truly taking their place in all this, then that means that the trio really needed to make it a priority to watch over them.

They all still had the memories of growing up with them, even if the memories themselves were a little fuzzy, and Harry was absolutely certain that they wouldn’t survive the challenges to come if they ended up in the thick of it.

Hell, the only reason that Harry had survived long enough to become a competent soldier was because of Hermione's brains, Ron’s boldness, some natural skill on his part, and a few buckets full of good old luck.

All their replacements had on their side was luck, and luck just wasn’t going to be enough.

Harry reached out to snag a treacle tart from a plate near Ron when Hermione gasped. He whipped around to see what had happened, but her eyes were fixated on “Mad-eye Moody” who was too busy glowering at the Hufflepuffs to notice all of the attention suddenly on him.

Ron flicked his eyes to Harry, his brow scrunched in confusion, but Harry had neither comfort nor answers to give, he was just as confused as Ron.

Harry flinched and ducked under the flying braids as Hermione whipped her head back towards them, her warm brown eyes glittering with excitement, “I think I’ve figured out how to get you chosen as champion over Neville!” she exclaimed in an intense hushed whisper.

Harry’s eyes widened and he saw Ron already leaning in to hear her plan, but she held a finger to her lips. “Not here,” she said, eyes flicking around the table. Harry glanced around and caught sight of Fred eyeing them curiously from his seat, “too many ears,” she finished.

Harry nodded as Ron already started setting up a time and a place to meet to discuss. Tonight, midnight, common room.

Finally, something is going right, Harry sighed and picked up the treacle tart.

Chapter Text

Hermione

Hermione chewed on her lip absentmindedly as she paced back and forth across the floor in front of the fireplace. Her uniform shoes clicked softly on the hardwood with each step and the flickering flames of the hearth caused her shadow to dance erratically along the floor.

She glanced up at the stairs that lead to the boys dorms, but they were still nowhere to be seen, and she could hear no motion indicating their arrival. She huffed near silently and resumed her pacing as she checked the watch in her skirt pocket for the third time in the last five minutes.

They weren’t late, she reminded herself. She was just getting nervous lingering in the middle of the common room like this. The boys would be here any minute and then they could find a place to talk, there was no need to worry.

She perked up and her head whipped around at the light sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. She slid into her hiding place behind the long velvety curtains so that whoever was descending the stairs wouldn’t see her while she watched the stairs to see who appeared.

She needn’t have worried though, because the two people that appeared were exactly who she was waiting for.

Three minutes early, she thought to herself as she slipped the watch into her pocket again and smiled tightly at the two of them as they descended the steps towards her.

“Sorry ‘Mione,” Ron said with a whisper and a roll of his eyes, the blue color of them looking much brighter than normal in the flickering firelight, “Seamus would not go to sleep.” She smiled fondly, though it was hard to see in the firelight, he had become such a stickler for time as an adult, it was nice to know that that had carried over.

She nodded understandingly, and without another word all three of them walked out of the common room, swinging the portrait closed behind them gently.

They made it down the hall only a few steps before they were stopped, “Now,” came a pinched voice from the portrait, “where do you trouble makers think you are off to at this time of night?” the fat lady questioned, one well manicured brow raised and her lips pressed in annoyance.

Hermione couldn’t blame the painted woman for her annoyance, she had a whole school year of keeping track of the twins, Lee, Neville, Jake, Ginny, and Rose, as well as every other restless gryffindor in the house to look forward to. And there were always restless Gryffindors eager to stretch their legs in the middle of the night.

Hermione would probably be a little peeved too if the very first night started off with three students already trying to sneak out. She also felt a twinge of annoyance at herself. She’d forgotten about the portrait and so she hadn’t planned on how to convince her to let them all pass without alerting anyone to their midnight escapades.

She could make something up on the spot, sure, but that wasn’t the point. She shouldn’t have to, she is better than this. This should have been accounted for.

Before she could come up with anything though, Ron stepped forward. “Sorry to wake you Portia,” he started, plastering on a look of mild bashfulness on his face, stepping forward to address the portrait directly, “I was just so excited for the start of school that I was too queasy to eat anything at the feast,” he explained, letting his feet shift uncertainty and a touch of a childish whine creep into the words, “my friends were just going to walk down to the kitchens with me… if that’s ok?” he looked up at her hopefully.

Hermione was always astonished by how well he could act, how fast he could come up with cover stories, how easily he could slip on a new face and fill a role not his own.

During the war they’d coupled his skill with polyjuice potion and he truly became a terrifying force to be reckoned with. A shadow with a familiar face. She was profoundly glad that he was on their side.

Now though, that skill that belonged more in the pages of a horror novel than it did living under the skin of her lover became something else. It became soft around the edges, innocent, a little white lie that would bring harm and ruin to no one and nothing. She got a glimps of what his life could have been had they been born muggle.

Ron would have loved being an actor, she was certain of that.

The portrait looked surprised that he’d known her name, Hermione was too, though she knew better than to let it show on her face. Carefully maintaining a blank neutral expression.

Portia, as she was apparently named, smiled, her cheeks dimpling with the motion, “Oh honey, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” she began, any sort of annoyance or suspicion gone from her voice and her hands coming up to make pinching motions at them, as though she wanted to pinch their cheeks, “of course it’s ok!” her voice was dripping with sweetness and lilted with the slightest tone of ‘baby voice’, as though she was talking to a small child, or perhaps an adorable dog.

The portrait woman made a shooing motion with her hands, “off you go now, we don’t want you hungry but we also don’t want you up too late,” she crossed her arms and gave them a slightly sterner look, “and no detours now, you three do have class in the morning.” she finished, her soft smile returning as she shooed them off for a second time.

Hermione nodded to the portrait and saw Ron do the same and wave at her as he turned to follow Harry, who had already begun to quickly walk down the corridor.

The three of them walked quickly in the direction of the kitchens before Hermione tried to turn towards the Room of Requirement once they were sufficiently out of sight of Portia.

She only made it a few short steps before she felt a hand close around her wrist and pull her back.

She turned, confused, and looked at Ron who had a hold of her. She cocked her head to the side and raised a brow in question, “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, stepping back to be in line with the other two once again.

Ron shook his head as he spoke, “Not the Room,” he looked over at Harry, who looked similarly putout, cutting him off before he could interrupt, “There are other secluded places in the castle and if we get caught by a prefect or a professor, then we can’t use the kitchens excuse,” he gestured down the corridor that would take them to the Room of Requirement and most certainly not anywhere near the kitchens.

He looked back at Hermione, releasing her hand and letting it fall to his side, “and I am absolutely certain that the twins are out causing chaos tonight, I heard them whispering about it before we went through the barrier at the station.”

Ron’s voice turned annoyed at the end, his pale eyes glancing around as if he expected to find the twins in one of the shady corners.

She nodded in understanding, “Yeah, yes, no you’re right about that.” She bit her lip in thought as Harry nodded in agreement and understanding, his wild curls bouncing with the movement, and the three of them began walking again in the direction of the kitchens.

“So where to then?” she asked after a few steps, looking at Ron who was now leading the way.

A mischievous smirk tugged at Ron’s mouth, “The kitchens,” he answered slyly, as though there was a joke there, “the elves won’t try to listen in if we put up wards, and they probably won’t even notice them going up this time of night when they’re busy shutting everything down for the night, and there are no portraits in the kitchen to listen in where they aren’t wanted.” he paused for a second before his smile slipped back onto his lips, “there’s also the fact that I was actually feeling a little hungry” he smirked and jogged forward to miss her playful shove.

She rolled her eyes and Harry failed to stifle a laugh as they walked slightly faster after him to catch up. “And besides,” the red head continuedfrom a few paces ahead, though he was careful to still keep his voice down, “I figured you’d want to check in on the conditions of the house elves,” Ron finally slowed his pace a bit as his tone sobered again, “You haven’t started S.P.E.W. yet this time around, so I figured we could start work on that now that we’re back on school grounds.”

Ron’s words nearly made her stop in her tracks. She’d completely forgotten about her work with the house elves, she had been so busy since remembering her past that she hadn’t even given a passing thought to the plight of the slaves of the magical world. Guilt began to bubble in her stomach and her chest felt hot with shame.

How could she have forgotten about them? She was busy with refiguring out her family dynamic, and she was busy trying to regulate her own emotions on the matters at hand, and she was busy with planning, and she was busy with getting her body into shape, and she was busy with her boys, and she was busy with planning, and she was busy problem solving, and she was busy with reviewing her coursework, and she was busy, busy, busy, busy. But was she really so busy that she didn’t once even think about them? Not even a passing thought?

Hermione was pulled out of her spiraling head abruptly as she felt a hand grab hold and squeeze hers. Harry’s bright green eyes bored into hers, “You alright?” he asked, concern seeping into the words. She nodded, but didn’t make any moves to pull her hand away, simply letting their clasped hands swing gently between them as they continued walking. They had to speed up again to catch back up with Ron, she hadn’t realized that she’d been slowing down.

Her mind was running a million miles a minute and she was only pulled from her thoughts when the door to the kitchens swung open and the warm light flooded into the corridor.

The elves inside were bustling about, pots and pans clanking and banging about as the elves carried large stacks that looked far too heavy for their small thin frames to support, lugging them from the soapy sink over to the shelves. She could see tucked into the corners of the kitchen some dough already balled up and placed onto trays to rise before baking in the morning.

A small female elf approached them when they entered, her skin had a more greenish hue than most of the elves in the room and she had a small, slightly wilted daisy poking out from behind one of her large ears. She smiled as she approached.

“Hello!” She greeted them cheerily, though Hermione could see how tired she was by the droop in her shoulders and in the low set of her eyelids, “How can we be helping yous?” she asked stiffly, a forced chipperness in the words that Hermione would have missed if she was really fourteen.

Ron smiled shyly at the elven woman, much like he had with the portrait, “Hey Piffel, sorry to intrude,” he began, once again startling the one he was talking to by knowing their name, “my friends were accompanying me down here to grab a small snack, I was to nervous about the first day to eat much.” He looked down, away from the elf’s face and shuffled his feet in a way that made him look uncertain and young.

The only give away in his demeanor was that there was no blush coloring his face or ears like there usually was when he felt anxious or uncertain, he had no control over that after all, but he otherwise looked like the perfect picture of a nervous and embarrassed kid.

Hermione nodded hurriedly as she tried to look like a supportive friend. The elf, Piffel apparently, simply nodded in understanding, her large ears flopping with the motion and miraculously not dislodging her daisy. “I sees,” she said, though her back was stiff and her lips pressed for just a second in annoyance at the three of them, “what can we be getting for yous?” She asked, trying to cover her annoyance with pep. She would never ever in a million years let on that she was inconvenienced by the request of a wizard, no house elf that wanted to keep their head ever would, it made Hermione’s stomach burn with an anger that she carefully kept off of her face.

“Just an apple or something I think,” Ron said quickly, smiling at her apologetically, “I don’t need much.” Piffel’s shoulders lost their tension when she realized she wasn’t going to have to undo any of her hard work and could just grab the kid a fruit. “Of course,” she squeaked and then tottled off to grab Ron an apple, all too happy to help now that she knew it would be of no real consequence.

Hermione raised her eyebrow in question as soon as the elf was out of sight. Ron shrugged, “There was a time once that I really had loved the kitchens,” he nodded his head in the direction Piffel disappeared in, “learned the name of the head of the kitchens,” he smiled fondly in remembrance, “Piffel seems to have made it as head of the kitchens in this world too. Good, she runs a tight ship, good leader.” He turned to look over a Harry, “she’s why the desserts improved so much during our third year.”

Harry looked surprised for a second before humming appreciatively in response, a faint flicker of remembrance in his eyes.

Hermione nodded in understanding as well, though she didn’t like sweets as much as Harry did, and so hadn’t noticed any major improvements in dessert flavors. With that they all fell silent until Piffel returned and handed Ron an apple, directing the three of them to a relatively secluded corner of the kitchens so that they wouldn’t be in the way of clean-up.

As soon as they were sure that the staff weren’t paying any attention to them, Harry cast a quick silencing charm paired with a notice-me-not, and a very minor blur over them, so that even if someone was watching them, they would have a real hard time reading their lips.

“So?” Harry started, finally properly breaking the silence and dropping any pretense that they were here for anything other than strictly business, “You said you had a plan to figure out the school Barty jr. plans to use?” he ended the sentence as though it was a question, though it was clear that it was anything but that. She nodded but waivered her hand side to side at the same time in a so-so motion, “sort of,” she started, “I don’t have a plan per say, but I have an idea as to how we can go about ensuring we see the name of the school he uses.”

Both boys perked up at this, leaning forward slightly as if to keep the secret safe by cocooning it in a smaller space between them. “We need to make sure we see what he writes of course, but we can’t just follow him around all day and night until he does it, and we don’t know when he will do it.” The boys both nodded, brows furrowed in confusion, neither understanding what she was getting at. “So we need something that can watch over him all the time, regardless of where he is.”

She paused to see if either of them were going to see where she was going with this. Harry scrunched his brows further together and looked at Ron to see if he figured it out, but the other just shrugged and looked back to her for answers.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, voice dripping with confusion, “that’s the problem, we need something to observe him all of the time that can see everything we need it to see, regardless of where he is in whatever room he’s in.”

Ron continued, “We could put something in his office, but who's to say he didn’t write it in his rooms, or in the same room as the goblet and then just dropped it in straight away.” Harry nodded in agreement, chiming in, “Not to mention that even if we are able to figure out when and where he will write it, we’d have to get the angle right so that he doesn’t block our view with his hands or his body. Oh, and every inch of his personal space, like his classroom, office, and presumably his quarters are filled to the brim with devices that trigger if an observer comes within range.” he trailed off, knowing that she knew all of this but that they couldn’t think of a way around the problem themselves.

Hermione felt a small swell of pride well up within her just as she always did when she was able to think her way out of a problem that the other two couldn’t solve combined.

Sure, Ron could talk his way into or out of anything and Harry was magically stronger, but she was clever in a way that they weren’t. It made her feel powerful, unstoppable even.

Ron always said that was why he thought she’d make a great comic book supervillain, the twit.

“That is an almost perfect assessment,” she complimented, a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth, though she tried not to show it too much, “the detectors are keyed to go off if an unapproved surveillance device enters their range, but there is one thing that he always carries with him and that should, with any luck, camouflage our own observation spells, so long as they are placed atop one another.” she was unable to keep the excitement from creeping into her voice as she spoke, her words pitching higher the longer she talked.

Suddenly Harry’s eyes widened at the same time that Ron whispered “the eye!” in realization.

She nodded almost frantically as she pulled a small crumpled note out of her pocket, “this,” she said as she tapped it to the paper, revealing the symbol hidden on it, “is what we will use, it’s perfect, it will record everything and we can key it to alert us if the subject of observation does something specific, like if he writes Nevilles name!”

“The problem is that for it to be effective, it needs to be carved into the eye itself, not written or cast.” she chewed her lip in thought, “I know it can work, all we need to do is get that eye.”

She looked up and saw the glimmer of determination in Harry and could already see the gears turning in his head.

Harry grinned, “I may have a plan.”

Harry

The trip back to Gryffindor tower was surprisingly quiet, they only had to duck into an alcove once to avoid Professor Sprout walking the rounds, but soon enough they were waving to Portia and thanking her as she swung her gilded golden frame forward and let them back into the common room. They had barely set foot inside when he looked up and realized that they weren’t alone.

Fred, George, and Lee looked genuinely startled to see them climbing into the room. For a moment everything was still and silent before twin cheshire smiles spread across the Weasley twins faces.

“Ickle Ronnie-kins?” George asked in mock innocence confusion. Lee snickered as Fred continued, “And friends too! What were you three little ones doing out so late? Don’t you know that’s” he looked side to side in an exaggerated motion, as though he was making sure no one else was listening in on their conversation. “Against the rules!” George finished his brother's sentence.

Lee covered his mouth as though aghast at the idea of broken rules, though he still had his other arm full of what appeared to Harry to be assorted candies and at least three stink bombs that he could see. “Goodness me!” Lee said “Rule breaking? In MY common room? In MY Griffindor tower?!” Lee whipped his head over to look at the twins who were both shaking their heads in disapproval, though the smiles they didn’t even try to hide ruined the image.

“Now, now, now, we can’t be having that now can we,” Fred said with a downright evil cackle. “It seems that we have no choice! We’ll have to turn you in! Our own little brother, a RULE BREAKER!” George said, doing his best to appear serious.

“Unless,” George said, looking over at the trio, Fred continued the sentence, “You don’t want us to tell McGonagall.” the twins and Lee leered at them as they awaited their answer.

Ron glared back at them, though the effect was lessened by the fact that he was still a good five inches shorter than Lee and about six inches shorter than the twins, “We don’t mind if you tell,” he said, his teeth sharp and dripping with challenge, “go ahead,” he waved his arm in the direction of the stern professors door, “she’s right there, just go knock.”

The three boys stopped giggling at this, shock painting their features. They’d clearly expected them to be cowed by their posturing and go along with whatever they told them to do, and when they didn’t it left the older boys floundering, unsure about what to do.

Fred's face reddened with anger at the challenge, “Fine, we gave you a chance,” and he bounded up the stairs towards the professor's door. Lee and George both looked surprised and just a bit panicked, but before either could do anything to stop him, Fred had rapped his knuckles against the dark oak door.

Within just a few seconds, the door flew open and Fred came face to face with a very annoyed and flustered McGonagall. Her hair was spelled up haistilly and there were stray strands flying every which way, and her green over robes were slightly crooked and had a few wrinkles in them, having obviously been thrown on over her sleepwear seconds earlier.

“What is the problem here Mr. Weasley, is something the matter?” she asked in a harsh clipped tone, her voice holding just a bit of gravel, proof that she’d been asleep mere moments before, but even under the gravel and rough tone, there was an edge of worry detectable there.. Fred paused, his earlier anger induced bravado fading fast, “They, uh, they snuck out,” he muttered weakly, one finger raised to point half-heartedly at the trio waiting down below.

McGonagall’s eye twitched and she pinched the bridge of her nose, “You three? Really?” she waved Fred out of the way as she swept down the stairs. The green of her robes billowed out in a way not unlike Snapes, but in this case it didn’t make her look like an overdramatic vampire. No, this distinctly reminded him of the sky just before a tornado touched down. Where the air itself seems to be charged with malice and the whole of creation would hold its breath and wait for devastation to descend and decimate everything in its path.

Harry was about to speak, though he didn’t know what to say that would halt the storm that had now reached the bottom of the stairs and was rapidly approaching them with long purposeful strides.

The beginnings of his stuttering was stopped before they began by Ron sniffling loudly, his eyes watering as he rubbed at at them as if he was trying not to cry. Harry was startled by this approach, but backed off to let Ron take the lead. Harry personally didn’t think that crying was the proper approach for placating this particular professor, but he trusted Ron’s gut and so remained silent.

He did his best to mimic Rons posture, making himself as small as he could and looking scared, though he didn’t have the gift of crying on command and there was no way he was going to risk casting any sort of spells with McGonagall this close. She may be getting on in years but he was under no illusions that she was anything other than needle sharp, and she would certainly catch the attempt.

He could see Hermione doing the same as him, her feet shuffling nervously and he could hear her sniffling quietly too. Two out of the three of them in tears would likely be enough for whatever plan Ron was cooking up.

Rons lip quivered with his voice as he began to speak, “I’m sorry professor,” he said, meek as a mouse and head tipped to the floor, “we weren’t doing anything wrong I promise! I was just nervous about the first day so I didn’t eat much at the feast, but then when we got back to the dorms I was really hungry. Harry and Hermione offered to walk to the kitchens with me so I could pick up something small to eat.” He tilted his head up to make eye contact with the seemingly less angry woman.

Harry nodded frantically, “Thats all we did, swear! No detours or anything honest.” he let his voice trickle off into a mousy squeak at the end, as though he was losing his nerve the longer he spoke.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously for several seconds, “Pebble!” she called out into the air, and in less than a second Piffel appeared in the common room with a sharp pop.

“Yes madams? How can Piffel be helping yous today?” asked the elf with a deep bow, putting just a touch extra emphasis on her name, though the professor didn’t seem to pick up on it. McGonagall waved a hand towards the three of them, “Have you seen these three students in the kitchens tonight?”

Piffel looked at them and then nodded without hesitation, “Yes, ma’am, master Weasley sirs was hungry and asked for an apple.” The professor sighed loudly at the answer before waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, “Yes, alright, thank you, you may return to your work Piffel.” With that Piffel nodded curtly at the trio and popped away.

When McGonagall returned her gaze to them Ron had a few tears on his face and was sniffling horribly and Hermione was so teary-eyed she was nearly crying herself.

“Professor?” Hermione asked, “Are we in trouble? They said that if we didn’t help them hide their tricks in Professor Snape's office then they would tell you we snuck out and we would get detention” Hermione said, pointing a shaking finger at the twins and Lee, “but we didn’t wa-want to because that seems just so mean and then they woke you. We really are very very so-sorry, we didn’t think it was such a big deal! We told the portrait where we were going and she said it was fine! We are so sorry!” she finished, the few waiting tears she’d managed to make finally making their way down her cheeks.

Professor McGonagal scrutinized them closely, “Is that so?” she asked them, seemingly addressing all of them at once, ignoring the sputtering of Fred, George, and Lee behind her, trying to explain that they hadn’t asked the younger trio to do that.

Harry and Ron nodded rapidly, Ron letting out a few more blubbering sob sounds and Harry did his very best to look scared.

The professor whipped around and approached the twins and poor Lee who was practically purple in the face with how hard he was sputtering, trying to explain but he and the twins voices were cut off with a quick silencing charm. “It is the first day of school. Messrs. Weasley and Mr. Jordan, fifteen points from gryffindor for blackmailing younger students, ten points for the contraband,” she snipped, whipping her wand sharply through the air, the candies and stink bombs vanishing out of sight, “another fifteen for planning to use them on a professor, and fifty points for waking me up in the middle of the night to deal. With. it.” she finished with a glare as she towered over the now thoroughly cowed students.

She then spun on her heel and began marching back up the stairs to her quarters, turning as she reached the top of the stairs, “And detention for the three of you, every night for the next week.” She then turned and returned to her room.

Lee, Fred, and George stood there stunned at the sudden turn of events. Fred was the first to turn and glare at them but all he caught were their backs as Ron swiftly climbed the stairs, Hermione, and Harry himself following Ron’s lead. Fred and George's faces were turning red as they did their best to yell at them but no sound could be heard from them.

They nodded goodnight to Hermione as she entered the girls dormitory before they entered their own, locking the door behind them for good measure and placing an alarm that would wake them if it opened while they slept.

No one wanted to wake up to being on the receiving end of one of the twins’ revenge pranks.

Harry pulled the curtains around his bed closed around the two of them while Ron set up a few secrecy charms just in case one of their roommates woke up. “Well that could have gone better,” Harry started, blowing out a breath.

Having Fred, George, and Lee as enemies wasn’t really that big of a deal. It would be annoying, but they weren’t actually dangerous. Though if they got in the way of their plans or started looking a little too closely at them that could actually be a bit of a problem.

Ron sighed as flopped back on the bed, “Yeah… but it could have also gone worse. Small blessings at least,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes and letting all of his limbs go limp against the mattress. Harry shrugged in response.

“Do you think the plan will work?” He asked Ron quietly, his nerves showing plainly in the words. There was no need to hide when it was just them, no one to judge or take advantage of the unsteady ground.

Ron moved his arm to stare at him for a few seconds, “It has to,” he said finally and placed his arm back. “Reckless as it is, we only get one shot at this, Barty might not really be as paranoid as the real Mad-eye, but he is still a paranoid freak who would catch on after the second attempt,” he placed his arm back over his eyes, “and besides, if it fails we can always just make him tell us and then erase the memory of it.”

Harry snorted, “yeah, hehe, there’s always that.” he then flicked Ron on the nose and shooed him out of his bed. “Now get out, I’m tired and we don’t need rumors spreading home on the first night that we are sharing a bed.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but got up without complaint and shuffled back to his own bed, letting the secrecy spells drop as he did so. “Night Harry,” he whispered into the darkness of the room, just loud enough for Harry to hear him as he slipped under his own covers.

“Night,” Harry called back just as quietly, pulling his covers up and drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry woke to the soft snick sound of the curtains around his bed sliding open a few inches, and a beam of sunlight poured through the opening and draped itself over his face, warming the skin.

He scrunched his nose in annoyance and cracked one eye open to glare at Ron who smirked and began to softly humm a cheerful toon as he walked towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. His socked feet thumping softly on the floor as he walked.

His hair glowed like fire in the light. He looked like an angel brought to life, Harry thought in his sleep-addled state, like one of the demigods from myth, or like a beautiful oil painting done by the masters of old. Though he knew he was biased on the topic.

Harry closed his eyes and groaned softly at the thought of getting up. He was careful to not wake their other roommates as he rolled over, sat up, and opened his curtain the rest of the way.

The gentle yellow-gold light of the early morning was streaming unfettered through the windows and casting soft warm light into the room. The air was so still and calm that he could see tiny dust particles dancing in the beams of light.

No one else was up yet aside from himself and Ron of course, though he could see Seamus’s drooling face through the gap in his bed curtain starting to twitch with the first brushes of wakefulness.

Harry rose and began to get ready for the day to the sounds of snoring, a strange novel feeling clinging to the activity. He wasn’t sure he was ever one of the first ones up in the morning when he was still living in the dorms. He was always tired, always oversleeping or waking up just in time for breakfast.

It brought a sort of peace to him, when everything felt so familiar in so many ways, to remember that this was all new. A world of fresh starts and corrected mistakes. A second chance. Once upon a time it was everything he had ever wished for.

Ron’s muffled meandering melody hung like a fine mist in the air and Harry found himself trying to match the toon with the pace of his footfalls as he dressed in the serene atmosphere.

Would this have been how every morning could have been if they had been allowed to live in peace? This image of soft domesticity?

A lifetime of golden lit mornings and aimless melodies, with warm soft beds and warmer softer arms. They’d never lived together in peace. Never had the time for the calm enjoyment of the first warm rays of sunshine dancing on the walls in the early morning.

This moment felt so fragile. Fragile like the frost that forms on the edges of the windows in winter, fragile like the stem of a wine glass, fragile like the scales on a butterfly wing, fragile like hope in the face of hunger and cold.

He found himself trying to breath as quietly as he could, almost holding his breath as he oh so quietly pulled on his socks. As though if he breathed too loud the moment would shatter into a million million pieces.

Is this what they could have? If they succeeded and they killed Riddle. If they saved everyone, or as many as they could. If they ended the war before it even really began. Could they have this?

Could they live in a world of morning melodies and golden sunrises? He’d heard that nothing gold could stay, Hermione used to mutter it when the three of them laid together in the darkness, when she thought he and Ron were asleep.

He’d asked her about it once and she said it was a line from a book, the last one she’d read in muggle school. The last book she read before her life changed forever.

But this was so good, so perfect. Surely if he gripped it tight enough he could hold onto it. He could make this their reality.

Seamus choked on a snore and coughed himself awake on it. Blinking blearily around the room and wiping the drool from his mouth. The rest of the dorm came to life like the movement of a glacier. Slowly but surely each gangly limbed teenager blinked tired eyes and started stretching out their sleep-stiffened bodies, coaxing themselves towards wakefulness.

That was it. The moment passed and Ron opened the door to the bathroom, his absentminded humming cutting off as the chatter of their dorm mates gradually filled the room.

But that didn’t matter, the moment happened and the sun would rise again tomorrow, and Harry decided that it didn’t matter what they had to fight or do or risk, as long as what they were fighting for was that moment.

He walked over to the bathroom, combing his fingers through his hair until it looked mildly presentable before turning to walk with Ron down to the great hall.

When they got to the common room, Hermione was already there waiting for them. Her braided hair hung loosely about her shoulders and flowed elegantly down her back.

The trio soon left the tower and made their way towards the hall. Ron turned to wave at Portia and they closed the portrait door behind them. Keeping good relations with the portraits was always a good idea. People always forgot that, although the paintings weren’t technically alive, they could still talk.

If they liked you, then your secrets were safe, and if they really liked you, then you had a pair of eyes and ears all over the castle. That was the secret to Dumbledore's near omniscience. No magical ability or future seeing powers, just portraits that people were arrogant enough to ignore.

Hermione

The great hall was already beginning to buzz with students by the time the three of them got there. The Ravenclaw table was practically full, only a few seats left to be filled, and the Slytherin table wasn’t far behind. The Gryffindor table on the other hand had only a few people sparsely populating it.

Percy Weasley being one of them, his nose already pressed deep into a thick tome, and although she couldn’t read the title from where she was, she was willing to bet that it had something to do with wizarding law. She thinks she remembers his interest in government taking root about this time, though her memory could be wrong. It had been a long time since she was first fourteen.

Ron seemed to have spotted Percy too because he took the lead and headed towards him. The three of them all taking seats across from him.

Percy glanced up at them and gave a hesitant smile, she and Harry smiled back as Ron started up idle chatter while Harry and Hermione waited for their class schedules to be handed out.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long after she had filled up her plate with food that their schedules were being handed to them by McGonnagal. The woman gives them a tight, tired smile as she hands them their papers, and Hermione finds herself surprised by the weight of hers. There seemed to be more papers than she thought there should be.

She looked over at Ron and Harry who were preoccupied with looking over their own schedules. Everything looked the same from what she could see, potions, charms, transfiguration, history of magic, defense against the dark arts, divination, and care of magical creatures. She directed her attention back to her own schedule papers, a sinking feeling bubbling in her gut.

Surely she didn’t, third year was rough in both timelines, but even as she thought that to herself she felt the time-turner slip out from between the pages to land in her open palm.

Oh god. She didn’t stop. She didn’t remember signing up for “extra classes” again, but class registry wasn’t exactly a prominent memory and everything was fuzzy and mixed together. This all just got a lot harder.

She unfolded the paper and carefully looked at what was written there, as if opening it slowly would soften the blow.

It didn’t.

There on the pages was a schedule from hell. Sure, before the change she would have been ecstatic, but this could really complicate matters.

She flipped through, all of the regulars were there, potions, charms, transfiguration, history of magic, defense against the dark arts, and care of magical creatures. Along with classes like arithmancy, runes, herbology, astronomy, alchemy, and enchantments. It looked like the only class she wasn’t taking was divination, thank god she at least didn’t have to put up with that drivel. .

She nudged Harry with her elbow, sliding the papers towards him and flashing the time turner under the table as she did. She saw the look of shock that flashed in his eyes for the briefest of moments before he nudged her back in acknowledgment. Then a short nod and he deftly grabbed the papers and slid them under the table and over to Ron.

Harry jumped into the conversation with Percy to distract the older boy so that Ron could see their predicament. The boy's sharp blue eyes flitted over to her and she flashed the time turner again before slipping it into the pocket of her skirt, effectively hiding it from any other prying eyes.

He gave a short nod and then slipped back seamlessly into the conversation with Percy. They were discussing the OWL’s that the trio would be taking next year, Percy’s nasally voice droning on and on about how important they were and really they should start studying now. It was easy to tune him out, letting her thoughts wander to their planning.

It made sense now that she thought about it. There was no reason for her to give up her excessive course work, she had no friends to hang out with, no school to save, no runaway criminals to hide, nothing to keep her occupied other than her mind and her studies. She should have remembered but she was coming to accept that she would have to do some legilimency training to get her memories all sorted out.

Some reorganizing of her mental archives, just so that she could get all of the fog cleared away from her more recent memories. But that could wait, right now she had to figure out how she was going to do all of this.

By the time breakfast was finished she had figured out her routine and the different routes that she would take throughout the castle so that no one would be able to pass her in the corridor only to enter a classroom she was occupying.

As she learned her first time in third year, seeing yourself is fine, it's other people seeing you twice that is the problem. It raises questions that shouldn’t be asked. That was a part of the stipulations that came with being allowed to use this particular magic item, no one aside from the staff can know she has it.

A rule she’s already broken by showing the boys, but no one else had to know that.

The trio got up from their bench together and bid Percy a good day, turning and walking out of the great hall just as Neville and Ginny came rushing in to join Rose and Jake who had sat down further down the table just a few moments before.

They were running out of time for breakfast, they might even be late to their first class if they didn’t hurry. That wasn’t her problem though, what the four of them did was their business and their business only.

She turned her attention back to the doorway and let her feet lead her out of the hall, Harry and Ron at her side.

Harry

The trio made their way back to Gryffindor tower swiftly, Hermione wanted to grab a notebook so that she could get her schedule in order and write down all of the paths she was going to take. The portrait swung open to admit her as Harry and Ron started their trek down to the dungeons for their potions class.

They didn’t wait for Hermione, she said that she’d catch back up with them when she finished.

And just as promised, they saw her waiting in the hall ahead of them, notebook in hand with two dozen more neon sticky-notes sticking out from between the pages from the last time they saw her. She smiled at them as they approached and fell into step as they headed towards the stairs.

The only thing Harry remembered hating about the first day of school was that they started off their day with potions. It was early and Harry remembered Snape being particularly crotchety that day, or rather, today. Not to mention that Snape still hated Harry in this lifetime as well, he wasn’t particularly gifted in potions in either life and he didn’t get the practice with cooking in this life as he had in his previous life.

He’d gotten better with time of course, and was now perfectly proficient with the subject, but in this life he had terribly bad luck with potions and was worse than anyone he’d ever seen before.

Honestly Harry couldn’t even find it within himself to blame Snape for hating him. He blew up potions that were so benign that he had no idea how he got them to be reactive, let alone how he made them volatile enough for them to explode.

He can make the excuse now that he has gotten better over the summer, Both of his parents had caught him studying a couple times and he was certain that Rose had heard about his reading a few times now, so he had an alibi if he suddenly got better.

Or, he thought as he continued walking towards the dungeons, he could use this time to experiment. Ideas for another time though, he decided as the trio approached the door to the potions room and filed into the room quietly, they had a task to complete during this particular class.

Hermione splitting off to stand at an empty desk, she would have no issues with finding a partner, she would just wait until a student who didn’t really want to take the class pulled up a chair next to her. She knew that she would end up doing the bulk of the work, and she still preferred it that way, even after all this time.

Ron and Harry on the other hand stayed together and picked a spot in the back corner of the room, far enough out of the way that they could talk if they needed to and Snape would have a hard time keeping too close of an eye on them. Not that he thought that would be too much of a problem, seeing as Rose, Neville, and Jake were in this class with them. Along with Malfoy, Harry noted as he saw the flash of white blond in the corner of his eye.

The other boy was taking his seat next to Goyle. The great oaf of a fourteen-year-old was already clumsily setting out potions materials. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Malfoy would be taking the lead in that partnership. Annoying as he was, the blond was very very good at potions, and if he were a little humbler about it then Harry was certain that he would be at least 20% less annoying.

He was pulled from his musings as three familiar students came rushing into the room, scrambling to find seats. Neville and Rose paired up at a seat and all that was left was a spot next to Hermione.

Jake groaned loudly, and Harry saw Ron’s fist clench out of the corner of his eye, but neither of them moved to tell Jake off. It would draw too much attention, and besides, Snape was due to come slamming through the door any second now.

Jake hefted his bag and slumped over towards the seat open next to Hermione. Dropping the bag on the floor and falling into the seat sullenly, turning to look dramatically towards Rose and Neville. Clearly uncaring about how his actions would make his classmate feel, Harry was sure that most other students would be upset by the display if they were in Hermione's shoes.

Hermione was a grown woman though and could handle it, but that didn’t make the boy's actions any more tolerable. Hermione turned her head back towards him and Ron and smiled reassuringly at them.

Hermione turned back to the front just in time for the door to the room to slam open and knock hard against the wall, Snape billowing in like a thick fog. Stepping slowly and deliberately towards his desk, dark eyes sweeping the room.

He was counting, Harry realized, taking role. Once the man made it to the front of the room he grabbed a piece of chalk off of his desk and tossed it lightly at the board. The chalk flew and then began to write as he spoke.

The man described the potion that they would be brewing that day. It was a simple boil cure, nothing crazy, Harry had done it a hundred times, and when Snape finished speaking and dramatically declared for them to “Begin!”, he and Ron began to get out the appropriate materials.

They brewed in peace for a while, tuning in absently to the rude remarks the professor gave the Gryffindor students and the neutral ones he gave to the Slytherins. Harry and Ron brewed their own potion carefully all the while, before Snape eventually made it to their station, leering over them and peering into their cauldron. He wouldn’t find anything wrong with it, Harry was sure, he had brewed this so many times it was practically second nature to him.

Ron was relegated to ingredient prep. He never was able to fully get the hang of potions and though his concoctions were technically usable most of the time, they were never going to be perfect. Ron didn’t seem to mind chopping and crushing ingredients though, in fact Harry was sure that he was quite happy to not have to do any of the actual brewing.

When they were living together out of a tent, he always complained about the slight sour scent it left in Harry and Hermione’s hair when they finished a brew. Not that that ever kept him from curling up with them when it came time to sleep.

Snape sniffed haughtily and his lip curled in destain, “So, we are adequate potion makers all of a sudden?” he asked and raised a brow, “Or did you just like blowing up my classroom every chance you could?” His voice was disdainful and his words clipped.

Harry said nothing, knowing that any response he could give would just further anger the dour man. Snape sneered at them, “Ten points from Gryffindor for,” he paused to think, “excessive lack of care.” he glared at the pair for a moment longer, then turned and stalked away like a great black cat.

Harry rolled his eyes as soon as the man turned and continued to brew the potion, he hated that he had to ruin it but this was his only double potions of the week and he had to test how far he could push his luck before he chanced getting caught, and he didn’t want to wait for next week.

Harry dropped the diced deadnettle into the pot and stirred. The nettle was meant to go in on the next step and it was supposed to be sliced, not diced. This change would make the potion less potent and leave pink circles on the skin where the boils used to be before application, but, more importantly, it also caused the potion to release more fumes, covering up the smell of anything else brewing in the room.

Or at least Harry hoped it would.

Ron quickly pulled out the cauldron from his kit and placed it under their shared desk, then he lit a small fire under it with magic, layering a notice-me-not charm over top, just in case. They had to work quickly, but the potion they needed wouldn’t take long.

Ron pretended to be prepping the proper ingredients as he carefully used magic to carve a tiny sigil out of redwood, the one that Hermione had shown them in the kitchens. Dropping it into the cauldron before anything else was added and then they divided up the work between them, Harry taking over for the boils potion and instructing Ron on the new one.

By the time that Snape came around the second time, their boils potion was looking perfectly subpar, an acceptable, was Harry’s goal, and he thought it looked like the model of a passing but poor product.

Their personal project was a glaringly bright fuchsia and Harry held his breath. It was still tucked under the desk, Ron was doing his best to obstruct the potions master's view with his body and Ron’s spell was still sitting comfortably over the bubbling pot.

Snape shook his head almost kindly, but he and Ron knew better, “Not so careful after all it seems, and here I was thinking you were finally ready to apply yourselves,” he tsked in a condescending tone, “five points from Gryffindor for my disappointment,” and with that he swept away from them.

Harry sighed, they were in the clear.

They finished what little they had left to do and then poured their assigned potion into a vial and labeled it. Then stooping down and pulling three vials out of Ron's kit and filling them with midnight blue liquid, and then slipping them into the pockets of their robes and vanishing the contents of their second cauldron.

Just like that they were home free. Ron couldn’t hide his grin as they walked to the front and dropped their vial into the holder for the professor to grade.

Harry smiled too as he turned to go back and grab his things. Rose caught his eye as she and Neville walked up to turn in their slightly better potion, “What are you two so chipper about?” she asked with a confused expression.

“We are done with potions and didn’t blow anything up?” Ron answered, phrasing the sentence as a question. She rolled her eyes and Neville snorted, “that really isn’t very impressive,” she commented and walked past the pair to turn in her work.

Harry’s smile melted away but he needed to keep a cool head, Defense was in thirty minutes and they needed to be ready. Ron bumped his shoulder lightly in support, a quiet, ‘relax’ relayed without words.

Hermione fell into step with them and Harry slipped a vial of their potion into her hand, they would all have some, just in case. They only had one shot, one chance to get this right, otherwise they would have to change things far more than they wanted to.

One chance. It has to be flawless.