Chapter Text
If you had asked Harry 15, or even 10 years ago, how he would spend his 25th birthday, the answer you’d have gotten would have sounded something like this.
10-year-old Harry might have imagined a future where he had left the Dursleys behind for good. He didn't know what he would do, but maybe he’d have a job, a cheap apartment in the city. Maybe a few friends, and a cupcake or two. He might even be married, or dating some nice Alpha, who’d always love him, even if the Dursley’s said that would never happen, that nice Alphas didn’t want freaks like him.
Now, if you had asked 15-year-old Harry, the scenario would have solidified some. He would be sitting in the Burrow, surrounded by Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Sirius and Remus, Molly and Arthur, the whole Weasley clan. The war would be a long distant memory, replaced by laughter and ridiculous stories from Hogwarts, like -
“Did I tell you that time Filch almost caught me sneaking around at night, and I knocked over a whole suit of armor trying to escape?”
And then Sirius would laugh, “That’s nothing compared to the stuff me and your dad used to get up to when I was that age-”
And then they'd smile fondly at each other, and Hermione and Mrs. Weasley would exchange disapproving looks, still unable to hide the smiles creeping onto their faces. And he wouldn’t feel alone.
Harry had never expected to spend his 25th like this, huddled in a cave deep within the Gringotts tunnel system. An explosion shook the cave, causing Teddy to shift uncomfortably in his arms.
Harry shifted positions, allowing the 8-year-old to uncross his legs nd readjust. He glanced anxiously at Hermione and Griphook, who were muttering to each other as they checked over the ritual circle.
“Is it done?” Harry asked. He shushed Teddy absentmindedly, rubbing his back as the boy squirmed again. “Almost finished, love.” He whispered.
It had been a shock to everyone when the first bombs fell. In those frantic hours, the desperate evacuation from Hogwarts, the fall of the Ministry, the destruction of Hogsmeade, no one knew what was happened, or why the muggles were attacking. The next two years were a desperate struggle to survive. They quickly learned that gathering more than 50 wizards in one space was a recipe for massacre (Harry remembered the losses. Child sized limbs sticking out from under wooden rubble, third years desperately shielding the first years with their own bodies). He had initially tried to hide the refugees from Hogwarts in Grimmauld place. Harry thought the muggles wouldn’t bomb their own people to get to Wix. He was wrong.
(After the second Blood war, Harry gave up his original dreams of becoming an Auror. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life fighting, not when he had been forced into so much of it already. Instead, he got a job teaching at Hogwarts, and began to work towards his DADA mastery. He knew the bodies. Recognized the face of Fourth Year Oliver Bennet, covered in blood as it was. Knew the eyes of Amelia Fawley, a Hufflepuff first year, as they stared unseeing at the remainder of her headless corpse, lying a few feet away.)
The Order of the Phoenix was no more. Kingsley had died when the Ministry fell. Most of the Weasleys went with Ottery St Catchpole, as it went up in flames. Molly and Ginny died almost immediately in the barrage; George and Ron ran into the rubble to try and rescue them, and didn’t make it out. The building collapsed around them. When Harry went to check on his Godson, he found his face fanned by crackling flames. The fire was up to the rafters, and half the ceiling was collapsed. Andromeda lay in the kitchen, and for a moment Harry thought she might have just passed out, before he saw the dent in her head. He pushed his way through, coughing as the smoke seared his nose. The burning in his eyes and sinuses, fire licking at his heels, wand out defensively in front of him, desperately making for the Nursery. As he carried Teddy out, the building collapsed, shattering to pieces in one last exhale. Had he arrived even minutes later, Teddy would have been killed.
“Almost done,” Hermione murmured, startling Harry out of his thoughts. He swallowed dryly as she knelt to add the last candle. The ritual spiraled out in a kaleidoscope around him—circles, squares, and runes of salt and blood, with him and Teddy awkwardly kneeling in the center. Harry’s mouth felt dry as he gripped Teddy tighter. He locked eyes with Hermione. They had already said their goodbyes, a luxury few had these days. The circle was complete. He steeled himself. He was the boy who lived, and he would survive this too.
He smiled at Hermione. It was a half quirked, ironic sort of smile. “I’ll see you on the flipside.”
She half giggled, half sobbed, before taking a deep breath and stiffening her back. Her hair was braided tightly upwards, and her forehead was shiny with sweat. There was a angry, red line across her cheek where she had been brushed by shrapnel - they joked that if only she had zigzagged, they could share a lightning scar. After Harry met her eyes for a long moment, she nodded firmly at him, steel in her eyes. I love you, her eyes said.
He glanced over Hermione’s shoulder to where Draco, Luna, and Susan stood.
“Look after each other, alright?” Harry smiled grimly.
Draco saluted sarcastically, but Harry could see the sincerity there. They had both grown up since their Hogwarts days, and Harry could honestly say he could trust Draco at his back anywhere.
“‘Course, Potter. Someone’s gotta keep this lot from tripping over their own robes.”
“Yes, and that person is me.” Susan grinned.
Another explosion rattled the ceiling. Teddy shifted in Harry’s grip, and Harry kissed him on the forehead. He blinked, hard, trying to push back the wetness in his eyes.
“Teddy. Teddy, say goodbye to your aunts and uncles, ok?” Harry’s voice broke in the middle, and he cleared his throat. “They love you very much, ok?”
Teddy sniffled. “I love you. I don’t wanna go.” Harry rested his chin on Teddy’s forehead, releasing soothing pheromones.
Hermione’s smile trembled. “We love you too Teddy. We love you so so much, and you’re going to be so happy in your new home, ok?”
Dust rained down from the ceiling, the supports shifting under the fresh barrage. Harry rubbed Teddy’s back, gritting his teeth, his instincts burning at him to defend his pup at all costs.
The last holdouts of the Wizarding world defended Gringotts, along with the remains of the Goblin Nation - but it wouldn't last long. They all knew that now.
They lost a lot of people in that initial wave. Most of the faculty of Hogwarts was lost in the initial battle when the castle collapsed. They had held it up until the very last moment, sacrificing themselves for their students. The casualty list went on and on, engraved in Harry’s bones. The IWC was near disbanded, each country fending for itself as best it could.
It took three years of running for someone to find out why the muggles had turned on them. A group of escaped death eaters fleeing justice infiltrated the muggle government. They thought if they couldn’t win, they may as well take the world down with them, and so they did, one Imperiused leader at a time. Wizarding shields were never intended for missiles, after all.
Griphook cleared his throat roughly. “You need to leave. Now.” He looked at Harry, and nodded curtly. “Good fortune, Mr. Potter.”
One by one, each person took their place at their designated point. Draco behind him, watching his back. Hermione at his right hand. Susan to his left. And in front of him was Luna, her big blue eyes piercing into his.
And they began to chant, first in latin, and as the magic began to swirl around them, a building pressure that popped his ears, it turned almost understandable. He looked down at Teddy, who was clutching his robes like a lifeline, and began to pray, mouthing the words.
“Mother Magic, bless your child, Enfold him in your shadow. Bear witness to his trials and triumphs; granted him victory, wisdom, and fortune.” Their voices resonated, speaking with the voices of the dead, speaking with the force of magic in their lungs, in their eyes. Luna’s gaze ignited with a sapphire flame. “You have bestowed your gift on him and and he has honoured it with word and will; We beseech you Guide him to his destined path.”
The pressure built and built as they chanted. Harry wet his lips and spoke, his voice unfaltering.
“Mother Magic, bless your children, Enfold us in your shadow. Bear witness to our trials and triumphs; granted us victory, wisdom, and fortune.” His emerald eyes began to glow “You have bestowed your gift upon us and and we have honoured it with word and will; I beseech you Guide us to our destined path. We offer ourselves to you, all that we are - body, blood, magic, and soul. Unmake us and all we are for time remade.”
The air crackled with energy, and a blinding light began to build, shining with colours that Harry could not describe.
"As I will, so mote it be." His voice was raw, his throat burning and bloody from the power coursing through it, the sheer electricity frying his lungs, and suddenly the Cave began to shake. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling, sending shockwaves through the stones around them. The light built and built until all he could see in front of his eyes was the searing blue of Luna’s eyes burnt into his vision. A force blew him off the ground with a bang, and the world itself warped, until he knew no more.
***
Harry whipped through nothingness, feeling magic tearing apart the world around him, and reshaping him with it. His head spun. He had no idea how long it was until he landed, instantly on his feet. Teddy had been torn out of his arms. He snarled, the bitter scent of enraged Omega filling the air.
“Teddy!” he called out, voice frantic. “Teddy Lupin where are you?”
He had landed in the middle of the forest, and judging from the fog surrounding him it was early morning. It was so thick Harry couldn’t see a foot in front of his face. He overpowered a Ventus, and a strong gust of wind swept the fog towards the sky in a thick plume. Suddenly he spotted a head of Ice Blue hair beneath a nearby bush.
“Teddy!” Harry sprinted over, lifting his child out of the bushes. Teddy barely stirred, eyelids flickering but not opening. Harry cursed, casting a diagnostic spell. Oh thank Merlin it was just magical exhaustion. Teddy would most likely sleep for a few hours and then recover perfectly. Harry’s heart was hammering in his ears, and he rocked back on his haunches and took a deep breath. It was alright. They were safe. Everything was alright.
The first thing Harry did was apparate them straight to Diagon Alley. Slipping into a darker corner, he pulled the invisibility cloak out of his mokeskin pouch and pulled it over his and Teddy’s heads. A part of him was relieved to find the alley was not much different from his own home world. Of course, there was no Weasley Twins or their shop, and the architecture was much older than he remembered, a hint to the time period, but otherwise it was almost a mirror of his remembered reality. At least before Diagon Alley - Harry pinched himself, a reminder to focus, if not for himself, for Teddy.
The dimension hopper walked over to a nearby kiosk, and studied the newspaper. LORDS MALFOY AND BLACK DECLARE NEUTRAL; HISTORICAL ALLIANCES SHATTERED. January 7th, 1981. In his original world, Harry would have been 1 at the time. He frowned, shifting Teddy on his hip. Lord Malfoy had been a bastion of the Dark faction in the Wizengamot right up until his death in 2003. And around this time, he had most certainly been lying low, after the death of the Dark lord- unless -.
Harry slipped into Flourish and Blotts, heading straight for the History section, scanning the titles. No mentions of Voldemort, no mentions of the boy who Lived, the Potters, nothing. Nothing nothing nothing-Harry cursed, silencing himself as his rapid breathing became too loud to disguise. After an hour of searching, Harry’s hip was aching terribly where he held Teddy, his stomach was growling, and he had not found a single mention of Lord Voldemort or the Death Eaters.
He scowled, slipping his cloak back into the pouch. Harry was standing a few buildings away from Gringotts, in a shadowed alcove. The differences in times were near negligible for that great marble building, if one didn’t consider that Gringotts was in ruins by the time he left. But the great marbled pillars, the building, even the warning engraved on front, was all just the same as when Hagrid guided him in at just 11 years old.
Once inside the bank, Harry made his way to the line to speak to a teller. A few people in line shot him odd looks, but he stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. Teddy had woken by then, and stood, clutching his hand. His eyes were drooping shut, however, and his hair had gone a charcoal off-grey.
Harry kept his head down as he approached the nearest available goblin. The goblin, wearing a nameplate that read Borgod, barely glanced up from his work as Harry approached. “State your business.”
“I need to speak with the Peverell account manager,” Harry said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. He tightened his grip on Teddy, who was stirring against his chest. “It’s urgent.”
Borgod’s quill stilled mid-stroke. Slowly, he raised his head, his sharp eyes narrowing as they scanned Harry from head to toe. “Peverell, you say?” His gaze flicked briefly to Teddy, then back to Harry. “That account has been dormant for centuries. What claim could you possibly have to it?”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “A blood claim,” he said tightly. “I’ll pay for the verification if needed.”
Borgod’s thin lips curled into something that might have been amusement—or suspicion. “A blood claim, is it? Very well. Wait here.” He flipped a small wooden sign on his desk to indicate his station was closed, then disappeared into the labyrinthine halls of the bank.
As Harry waited, Teddy tugged at his robes. “Uncle? When’re we gonna go sleep?” Harry kept a comforting, protective, hand on Teddy’s back.
“After we meet with the goblins, we’ll find somewhere to sleep, ok?”
Teddy nodded, face nestled in Harry’s side. Someone cleared their throat next to them, and Harry’s wand went up in a flash, snarling as he pushed Teddy behind him. The Goblin guard standing near the wall drew his sword before Harry registered that it was just Bogrod.
He paled, immediately sheathing his wand. “My sincerest apologies Teller Bogrod.”
Bogrod bared his teeth. “See that it does not happen again. Follow me.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking toward one of the side corridors. Harry followed, cradling Teddy as they wound through the maze of hallways. They finally stopped outside an ornate door with Ironclaw’s name etched into a gleaming brass plaque. Inside the office sat a younger version of the dark-haired goblin he had met a few months ago ago; behind him on the wall hung war axes Goblin-made and intricately decorated. The rest of the office had floor-to-ceiling shelves, some of which had books, the others occupied by various other weapons displays. Harry barely noticed Bogrod leaving, his task done.
“I have been informed you claim a blood tie to the Peverell account,” Ironclaw said, lacing his fingers together atop the desk. “Such claims are… unusual. Particularly when they arise centuries after the lineage was believed to have ended. Explain yourself.”
Harry held Ironclaw’s gaze, his exhaustion pressing against his temples like a vice. “Let’s just say I come from a different dimension, one where the Peverell line continues. I have a blood connection, and I’m willing to prove it.”
Ironclaw’s expression didn’t flicker, but his sharp eyes seemed to gleam with interest. “A dimension hopper. Rare, and costly. You understand that if you fail to prove your claim, the consequences will be severe?”
Harry nodded. “I understand.”
Ironclaw snapped his fingers, and another goblin entered the room, carrying a small box. Inside were a silver knife, a vial of dark red liquid, and a parchment scroll. The assistant set the box on the desk and exited without a word.
“You will provide three drops of blood,” Ironclaw instructed, sliding the knife toward Harry. “The potion will verify your lineage.”
Harry didn’t hesitate. He pricked his finger and let three drops fall into the vial. The liquid hissed and turned a pale, iridescent blue, the color swirling like smoke as Ironclaw poured it onto the parchment.
As they waited, Ironclaw studied him steadily. “Your child?” Ironclaw asked mildly. Harry stiffened, his arm wrapping around Teddy.
“Yes. He’s my pup.”
Ironclaw raised his hand placatingly. “Peace, I mean your young no harm.”
Harry nodded stiffly. Words began to form in elegant black script, listing Harry’s name, parentage, and lineage.
Name
Hadrian James Potter
Date of Birth
31 July 1980
Blood Status
Halfblood
Classification
Omega
Sire
James Euphemia Potter {Deceased}
Bearer
Lilian Marie Potter nee Evans {Deceased}
Godfather(s)
Sirius Orion Black
Frank Algeron Longbottom
Godmother(s)
Alice Jasmine Longbottom nee Fortescue
Heirship(s) and Lordship(s)
Member of House Potter
Lord Peverell [Biological, Magical, Claimed]
“This… this is unprecedented,” Ironclaw murmured, his claws tapping against the desk. “The Peverell vaults have been dormant for centuries. If you truly intend to claim them, there will be responsibilities—debts to settle, assets to manage.”
“I intend to claim them,” Harry said firmly. “But first, I need your help. I need papers—an identity for myself and my godson. Something that will allow us to move through this world without drawing too much attention.”
Ironclaw leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Such services come at a price.”
“I’m aware,” Harry said. “You’ll be compensated.”
For a moment, Ironclaw said nothing, his sharp gaze appraising Harry. Then he nodded, his expression hardening into one of businesslike determination. “Very well. The vaults will be reopened, and arrangements will be made.”
Harry inclined his head. “Understood.”
Ironclaw smiled, and a shiver ran down Harry’s spine.
****
Two hours later, the newly christened Hadrian Ignotus Lily Peverell and Theodore Remus Tonks Peverell stumbled out of Gringotts, exhausted beyond belief. Harry had their new identification papers in his possession, and a lordship ring on his hand.
Apparently, the Peverell vaults had lain stagnant for centuries before Harry’s arrive. Gringotts made no money from stagnant gold, and so Ironclaw was willing to do quite a bit to make sure Harry would be able to fix things.
Harry reached down and lifted Teddy onto his hip, grunting a bit with the effort of the movement. Suddenly, Harry’s spine stiffened, and he turned to look across the street from Gringotts, to a building a few houses down. He hadn’t turned an inch when the smell hit him like a freight train; it smelled like pine wood and smoke, like anticipation and heat, and he felt a tingling on the sides of his neck, where his scent glands were hidden. His instincts flared, and his grip on Teddy tightened reflectively.
When he turned, his breath caught for a moment. There, staring at him from across the road, was a tall, handsome Alpha, with long blond hair down to his shoulders and a strong jawline. His eyes were locked onto Harry with a startling intensity, like the world itself was falling away, and the two of them were the only ones left in it. Harry’s heart pounded, and in his overtired state he wasn’t sure if it was excitement or anxiety. Alphas were trouble; always would be, with their posturing and bullying, and Harry has a pup to protect, a young omega to watch out for. There was something about this alpha though….something about how he stood, how he watched Harry, how he tilted his head as if to catch Harry’s scent on the air….His gaze was sharp and assessing, and Harry could have sworn he saw an amused, teasing glint, as if the man was playing with his prey.
The man started towards them, his stride sure, but unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Harry cursed. “Teddy, hold on tight,” he murdered. Teddy’s arms tightened around him, and as the man began to get closer, Harry apparated with a loud Crack, landing on the opposite side of Diagon, next to the Leaky.
An alpha. Because Harry couldn’t get any more unlucky. Even with the last name Peverell, the infamous Potter luck struck again.
He rushed in, and headed straight to the counter.
“Hello, could I get a room for the week? Two beds and a bathroom please.” Harry tried to smile, but with how Tom looked at him, he was afraid it hadn’t come across properly. He could only imagine what he looked like right now. A young omega, all alone, with a child, radiating bitter distress and looking exhausted. Whatever it was, Tom ushered him up to the highest, furthest back (securest) room, pitying eyes resting on his back as Harry carried Teddy into the room.
It was small but clean, with two narrow beds pushed against opposite walls and a wooden table beneath a single, cracked window. A basin and pitcher sat on a small stand by the door, and a tiny fireplace in the corner provided just enough warmth to chase away the chill of the evening. Harry set Teddy down on one of the beds, the boy stirring slightly but not waking.
Harry sighed, watching Teddy carefully. He had fallen into a deep sleep in mere moments, and now looked completely at peace burrowed into his pillows; his limbs splayed in everywhich direction, like a starfish hugging a pillow. His mouth hung open slightly and his hair was stuck up at the front in a little cowlick. The color had changed sometime during the evening, and was now mustard yellow. Harry brushed a hand over Teddy’s forehead. “You’re alright, cub. We’re alright.”
Teddy had always been an easy sleeper. Most of the survivors fell into two categories. They either woke at the slightest of noise, or could sleep through air raid sirens. Harry didn’t want to think about which category he fell into. Perhaps the type that could only sleep under heavy warding.
He sat down against the locked door, and leaned his head back with a soft thunk. His eyes drooped with exhaustion and his limps trembled, threatening to give in, but his mind was frantically racing. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Teddy needed him. And even then, in the safety of the rented room, the Alpha’s scent lingered in his mind, like smoke curling in the back of his throat. It made his heart pound to remember. The memory of the Alpha’s piercing gaze, pinning him in place, interspersed with Luna’s blazing eyes in the ritual circle in his confused mind, playing on loop. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he let himself cry, silent tears burning tracks down his face.
A soft knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Harry was on his feet in an instant, wand in hand, his magic coiled tight and ready to strike. “Who is it?” he called, his voice low and tense.
“Stew,” came Tom’s voice from the other side. “Supper and Breakfast come included with the room.”
Harry hesitated, then lowered his wand. He unlocked the door and opened it partway. The bartender gave him a reassuring smile and handed him the tray through the gap.
“There you go,” Tom said. “Get some rest, lad. You look like you could use it.”
Harry nodded his thanks, locking the door again once the tray was inside. He set it on the table and glanced at the bowls of stew, the thick brown broth steaming gently. There was a hunk of bread to go with each bowl and two glasses, one full of water and the other milk. Harry’s stomach growled, but he didn’t move to eat. Instead, he walked over to Teddy’s bed and sat on the edge, running a hand through the boy’s hair, allowing the soothing motion to calm his own shaking hands.
“You first,” Harry murmured, lifting Teddy slightly and coaxing him awake just enough to eat a few bites. Teddy mumbled sleepily but managed to swallow some stew before curling back into the pillow. Harry tucked the blanket around him tightly, pressing a kiss to his temple.
“We’ll be safe here, Teddy. I promise.” He stroked the side of Teddy’s face gently, careful not to wake him. “I promise.”