Book Two: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Commerce (chapters 1-7) (Patreon)

Book One: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Butterfly 

Chapter One

Brinkie popped into the lab when Severus was in the middle of a widdershins set of stirs. Despite being startled, Severus kept his hand steady. “What is it?” Severus refused to let himself worry. For all he knew, the boy had chosen to spend the night with a friend, but the instructions he had given the house elf would require him to report.

“Harry Potter is hungry, Master Potions.”

Severus frowned. “Surely he still has food in his trunk.”

“I’s is thinking he does. But Harry Potter is not having his trunk.”

Severus cast a stasis charm over his caldron. “Where is his trunk?”

“Harry Potter is having family who is not liking magic. They is putting the trunk under the stairs with many, many locks. Harry Potter is not having his trunk at all.”

What? Severus had checked the charms himself. Whoever had sold him that trunk had included powerful notice-me-not charms that should have kept his family from even seeing it. So how had they locked it away?

“What is the boy doing?”

“He’s is working harder than elfling. Long-faced woman giveses him lists of chores, and I’s is doing a few when I’s can without being seen, but yesterday I’s is busy in the kitchens, and the walrus man came with much yelling. Then Harry Potter is much hungry.”

Severus rubbed a hand over his face.

“And I’s is having trouble not being seen when there’s is another elf coming to the house.”

Severus lowered his hand. “Another elf?” Could Potter have borrowed an elf? He was friends with Zabini, Goyle, Longbottom and Draco—all young men who would consider house elves necessary for life. One of them could have loaned Potter an elf. That would be a violation of the Statue of Secrecy because keeping an elf in a non-magical area was an invitation to disaster. However, eleven- and twelve-year-olds were not well known for common sense. And it would not explain why Potter was working like an elfling.

“Do you know this other elf?”

“No, Master Potions.”

“And what is this elf doing for Harry Potter?”

“He’s is stealing mail. He’s is stealing much mail,” Brinkie wailed. “And Harry Potter’s is so unhappy, but Master Potion saids Brinkie is not to be being seen so I’s is not stopping the bad elfsie.”

Severus sighed. This is why he hated house elves. They considered any failure to serve catastrophic. However, saying that Potter was working as hard as an elfling was concerning. This whole story was concerning. However, if he went to Albus now, he could be cutting off his own nose despite his face. Albus had already dismissed far too many of Severus’s concerns. However, no borrowed elf would steal mail, and if Potter had not borrowed an elf, that implied a wealthy family was targeting him.

Albus would take note of that.

But he might ask the goblins to set up ward to preclude house elves altogether, and that would make life difficult for Severus. He had to supervise the boy during the school year, and while he was not the troublemaker Severus had expected giving the boy’s father, he did not want to spend his summer chasing Potter’s spawn as well.

Besides, Severus did not want to visit Potter’s house too often. Elves could mask their magical signature or even mimic the signatures of others. If Severus spent too much time around Potter during summer, Albus would find out.

So he had to find a way to manipulate this situation to his own benefit. He needed to tell Albus about the unauthorized elf visits, but he had to do it in such a way that Albus couldn’t handle it himself. First, he needed an excuse for knowing that an elf was visiting, and then he needed to wait until Albus could not handle the problem himself.

The ICW had regularly scheduled meetings he could take advantage of. He wondered if he should get Minerva out of the way to make sure Albus didn’t task her to deal with the problem, but Albus had never asked her to get involved, not even when Severus had loudly protested having to escort the boy to Diagon Alley to get his eye exam. And the more active a role he took, the easier it would be for Albus to see his hand in the scheme.

With a tentative plan made, Severus dismissed the teary house elf. Brinkie’s ears drooped When Severus did not take immediate action. No doubt, he wanted Severus to rush to Potter’s side and save him. That was the nature of an elf. However, Severus was playing this game against Albus, so he had to move slowly and carefully. If Potter had to go hungry for a few days, that was preferable to Severus losing access. He had to consider how to protect the boy over the next decade, not how to coddle the child.

“Albus,” Severus said as he walked into the office. He had timed it well because stacks of paper waited for Albus’s attention. The fact that the headmaster had three such important roles made him an inappropriate guardian, but it made Severus’s job easier.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I assure you, I have found a professor for the defense position, one with a wide range of practical experience.” Albus smiled at Severus, a twinkle in his eye. Severus assumed that meant that Albus had hired some academic who could not tell a vampire from an exhausted potions master. Severus had never been so tempted to murder someone. As far as he was concerned, Higgins had been the singularly least effective Defense Against Dark Arts teacher in a long and illustrious line of teaching failures.

“I look forward to having to, once again, tutor extensively to ensure my students pass their NEWTs,” Severus said dryly. He and Filius had debated ending their long tradition of teaching defense in-house and allowing Albus to be hoisted on his own petard when Hogwart’s entire graduating class failed national testing; however, they could not justify the damage that would do to their students’ futures.

“You always say you have too much on your plate. You are not required to tutor students outside your instructional area.” Albus’s voice had a touch of censure.

“And what would Lucius or the others say if I failed to prepare their children?”

“Yes, yes. I trust you to tend those relationships, especially now that Tom may pose a more immediate threat. Has there been a change to your mark? Is that why you’re here?”

Severus was now the center of Albus’s full and complete attention. “No. It remains the same. However, I have concerns about Potter.”

Albus immediately disengaged. “He is fine. I have to attend a meeting, so if you will excuse me, Severus…”

“I am less concerned about Potter than the strange house-elf who visits every day. Is it one of yours?”

Albus twitched. That was enough to let Severus know the man was silently panicking. “House elf? I’m certain you’re mistaken.”

“I set the wards myself, so I am sure I am not.”

“You set wards? I told you the boy was fine.” Albus’s voice had a thread of anger now.

“You also said the Dark Lord had the Philosopher’s Stone. So I set a few wards far enough away from the house to warn me if any unusual forms of transportation were used. Black loved that motorcycle of his, even though it was illegal, and he may have provided illegally modified muggle transports for other Death Eaters. Instead, my ward line identified a house elf making incursions into the area. I found elf magic around Potter’s owl and his room.”

Albus took a deep breath.

Severus continued. “Only goblins can ward against elves, and clearly the house must be warded. I recommend you request Bathsheda take over as guardian. As a new guardian, she can be encouraged to review security, and she will—without a doubt—notice the elf magic. She is currently in Haltwhistle. An owl can reach her in a couple of hours, or I can carry a message to her before I return to brewing.”

“Why do you believe Bathsheda needs to be involved?” Albus moved papers about on his desk.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the headmaster. “Your inability to identify the problem suggests you are too busy to provide proper oversight. I believe I have said that before. However, I have research projects and potions brewing I can only complete in summer. That means another must contact Gringotts, arrange for an elf-ward to be installed, oversee the installation and then attempt to track this elf back to its master.

“Either that, or you sent the elf to test my resolve to protect the child’s life. If so, understand this, Albus. I will protect his life, but that protection does not extend to spending time around his muggle family. It does not include giving up my own projects, and it does not mean I want to spend one minute with the boy during summer. I am already blessed with an excess of Potter’s foolishness during the school year. Let someone else take responsibility for him in summer.”

“He is Lily’s child as well,” Albus said, signaling that Severus had retreated from the boy more than Albus wished. Just as Albus would invoke James Potter’s name any time Severus showed any positive emotion toward the child, he invoked Lily when he wanted Severus to do something for him. Either Severus had learned to identify Albus’s manipulations far more accurately than in years past or the man was growing more obvious.

Or the ground work Albus had prepared for years had been derailed by the boy’s sorting. For ten years, Albus had told all the teachers how much the child was a replica of James. Only Potter’s placement in Slytherin had allowed Severus to see through that lie. After all, James Potter would have dropped out of school rather than socialize with snakes. He would have set fire to the Slytherin common room. He would have loudly accused his dorm mates of wanting him dead. He never would have defended the house to the rest of Hogwarts. And James Potter never would have asked for Severus’s advice and then followed his suggestions.

Sometimes Severus wondered if he would have seen through Albus’s schemes had Harry sorted into another house, but with the boy in the house of snakes, Severus could see the truth well enough.

Severus narrowed his eyes and engaged his mock objections. “Lily would want him to have a magical guardian with time to properly care for the child, and that is not me. Do not ask me to give up more of my life for James Potter’s progeny.”

“You made a life vow. If you feel that the boy is in danger from the attention of an elf, you should take action.” Albus began placing papers in his satchel. “You have the key for the Hogwart’s bank account. Use the facilities fund.”

“If you are not concerned, then I take that as sufficient evidence that there is no reason for concern at all and I will return to my brewing.”

Severus left the office. He was down the stairs and almost to the entrance hall when Albus’s patronus reached him. “I expect you to contact Gringotts today. Arrange for elf wards when you can supervise,” said the Phoenix in Albus’s voice before it disappeared.

Keeping up the appearance of aggravation, Severus indulged in several creative insults for several generations of Potters and Dumbledores as he walked out into the muggy Scotland summer. That had been easy. Too easy. Severus hoped that Albus was distracted and not that he suspected Severus was moving against him.

When Severus had first turned against the Dark Lord, he thought spying against his former master the singularly most terrifying endeavor in the wizarding world. However, the Dark Lord had about as much sanity as Bellatrix and he lacked the focus to notice any inconsistencies in the stories of his underlings. If he couldn’t see a betrayal through legilimency, he had no ability to perceive it at all.

Acting against Albus was far more fraught.

However, this was the path Severus had chosen when he swore to protect Lily’s child, and he would not fail in his task, no matter who he had to protect the child from.

Chapter Two

“You! Go away!” said Petunia after she opened the door. Severus put a foot in the opening to prevent her from slamming it in his face.

“Tuney. Where is your… husband?” Severus had any number of other words to describe Vernon, but he wanted to shift some of the Dursley’s anger toward Dumbledore. That meant he had to play this carefully. And to that end, he had waited until their unpleasant son had absented himself and he could deal with the parents.

“Go away!”

Severus pushed the door open and stepped inside. “I’m sure you don’t want to have this conversation in front of your neighbors.”

“We took that boy in on the understanding that you freaks would stay away from my family.”

“Be grateful I came. I am here to stop a magical being who has been invading your home.” He strode into the parlor just as Petunia’s walrus of a husband was struggling to get off the sofa.

“Pet? Who is this?”

Petunia pushed past Severus. “He’s one of the freaks. He’s the one who told my sister about that freak school.”

Vernon lurched forward. “HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOU FACE. I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER MY ROOF. GET OUT!”

Severus waved his hand, casting a wordless and wandless spell to silence the fool. “I wish I could leave, but the headmaster has found a vulnerability in the protections on this house. That vulnerability has allowed a magical creature to visit your house several times this summer. I have come to supervise a team that will close that hole. The sooner they can complete their work, the sooner I can leave.”

Severus pulled his wand, and both Petunia and Vernon stumbled back toward their couch, clinging to each other as if they were facing their own deaths. It was ironic because Severus had not baited muggles in at least twelve years. He hadn’t killed them for sport in longer than that. He swept his wand in an arc and a team of three goblins apparated into the room with a loud crack.

Petunia shrieked, but Severus’s silencing spell held so Vernon could only gape like a dying fish on dry land.

“These are ward setters. They will ensure that house elves cannot breach the house defenses.” Except for his own, of course. Severus had paid dearly for that exemption with his own money. The goblins walked away, one upstairs and two to the opposite sides of the house. They would only require a few minutes to complete their work and set the runes, but muggles wouldn’t know that. Meanwhile, he had time to manipulate the Dursleys. “While they work, I will check the boy’s summer work. His penmanship is atrocious and I have found his work questionable at best. He requires supervision, so fetch him,” Severus ordered Petunia before he sat on her horrible floral-print couch.

Petunia’s hands fluttered around her neck.

“Well? Get the child.”

“Professor?” a small voice asked. Harry stood at the doorway, most of the confidence Severus had seen develop over the year had vanished. Instead, he tried to vanish into shadows.

“Potter.” Severus made himself sound weary. The boy never seemed to take Severus’s moods to heart. Where another child would be terrified to see the dungeon bat in his living room, Harry’s fearful gaze was locked on his uncle. That suggested many things—none of them good.

Harry slipped another inch into the room. “Professor. Why are you here?”

“Have you been missing mail, Potter?”

“Um. Yes, sir.”

“Did you not think to contact anyone about this?”

“Um… no?”

“Are you truly such a dunderhead that you don’t realize that anything that can intercept your mail may pose a danger to yourself?”

“Danger, sir? Um, no. I never…” He swallowed. “I apologize professor.”

“Stop saying ‘Um.’ You sound like a fool. Get your potions homework. No doubt I shall have to correct any number of errors.”

Harry swallowed, looked at Vernon Dursley, and then looked at Severus. The boy projected terror and his hair looked like sun was shining on it. Apparently he didn’t have full control of his metamorphmagus powers. Whatever was going on in this house had escalated beyond the neglect Severus had seen in Harry’s mind. “Sir… I haven’t started my homework.” He swallowed again, no doubt wondering whether he should say that he had no access to his trunk.

“Lazy boy,” said Severus. “This is the trouble with muggle-raised children. They do not invest the proper time require for revision. They think summer is a time off from studies rather than a time to magically recharge their core and review theory. I will not have laziness in Slytherin, Mr. Potter.”

Harry stood a little straighter. “No, sir. I apologize, sir.”

“If I have to come back every week to check your homework, I will, but if that is necessary, I will have you in detention every day until Christmas, am I clear?” Severus carefully didn’t look at the Dursleys so they would not realize he was playing to their fears.

“Yes, sir.”

The threat to return should put the Dursleys on their best behavior. “Good. Now, I am not leaving until you have produced at least twelve inches on the significance of different stirring techniques.”

“Sir?” Harry sounded panicked now, and his hair took on orangish highlights.

Severus stood and stalked toward the boy, hoping to distract the Dursleys from the evidence that the boy was innately magical. He wondered if this Black family gift had inspired his family to hate him more than usual. “I am not leaving until I see you have started on your work. If you have not begun already, I suggest you get up to your room and start now. I have no patience for fools, Mr. Potter. GO!” Severus shouted, and Harry was halfway up the stairs before he stopped.

“Um, sir. My work is in my trunk, which is locked in the closet under the stairs.”

“Do you try to annoy me, Potter?”

“No, sir,” Harry quickly said.

With an aggrieved sigh, Severus walked to the cupboard and spelled the locks so he could levitate the trunk out of the space. A quick glance revealed that this dirty and spider-infested space had served as the boy’s living quarters for far too long. If Severus did not have a cover to protect, he would take revenge on the Dursleys, but that would have to wait. Clearly Harry knew what Severus had seen because several curls had turned pure white.

Severus levitated the trunk up the stairs, studying the charms as he did so. A master had had corrupted the runes. Now the trunk would attract the attention of muggles. That was not only malicious, but dangerous. As much as Severus wanted to undo the work, he suspected Albus had done it, and he could not risk tipping the headmaster off. Rather than challenging the old fart, Severus was going to have to work around him.

“Work quickly,” Severus said loudly as he started back down the stairs. “I will not be here one minute longer than necessary, but I will not stand for slovenly or inaccurate work, Mr. Potter.” Severus walked back into the parlor where Petunia now stood slightly behind her husband, hiding behind his sizable bulk.

Severus withdrew a potions journal from his muggle jacket and sat on the sofa. “If the boy has not finished the twelve inches before the ward setters have finished their work, I will have to return. I regret the day the boy landed in my house. He is more work than ten other children.” Severus gave Petunia and her husband a sympathetic look. “No doubt you have already discovered that.”

Petunia looked at her husband who opened his mouth but still could not speak.

Severus waved a hand to remove the spell. “Do not shout at me, Mr. Dursley. I am as unhappy about being here as you are about being forced to host me. However, my current visit will ensure that the house elf that has been breaking into your house will no longer trouble you, and if we are both lucky, I will frighten the boy into doing his homework so I am not forced to return to correct his lack of diligence.”

“What do you mean an elf has been breaking into MY HOUSE?”

Severus lifted an eyebrow because the end had definitely been a shout. Vernon Dursley clenched his jaw.

“I mean,” Severus said in his coldest tone, “that a house elf, a magical creature, has regularly crossed the ward lines set to protect the property. The headmaster tasked me to handle this, perhaps because I have been cursed with your nephew’s presence in my house at Hogwarts.” No doubt Albus would check the ward work, and Severus needed to make sure that any stray thoughts the Dursleys might have around Albus supported Severus’s strategy to publicly distance himself from the boy.

It was what Albus wanted. And going against Albus’s desires was dangerous.

Vernon turned on his wife. “THEY PROMISED WE WOULD NOT HAVE MORE FREAKS IN MY HOUSE. WHAT IF DUDLEY HAD BEEN HERE? WHAT IF DUDLEY HAD SEEN AN… elf.” He whispered the last word the way some people whispered curses or the Dark Lord’s name. He then glared at Severus. While Vernon was distracted with his own anger, Severus slipped into his mind.

The headmaster had sent a letter apologizing for Hagrid’s appearance the previous summer. He had promised that no other staff would bother them. So he had promised them that the magical world would not supervise their treatment of their nephew. Given the sort of narrow-minded and insecure mind Vernon Dursley possessed, that was an invitation to either abuse or neglect the child. Albus would understand that. What was the man playing at?

“I made sure to come when your son appeared to be absent,” Severus said. He wondered if he dared push this situation a little further. “If Harry visits friends in our community, I could check on him at the Longbottoms or Malfoys to inspect his work.”

Severus would not be allowed on any Longbottom property, and Severus would empty out his vault if it would keep Harry away from Lucius. However, he could not publicly take a stand against Harry’s relationships with the Malfoys, and the excuse would be enough to allow Harry to travel now that he had his wand and could summon the Knight Bus.

Petunia wrung her hands. “That might be best.”

Severus narrowed her eyes. “Assuming the boy has work to check. Hogwarts is a prestigious institution. He must take his studies more seriously. I thought I had impressed that on him during this previous year, but perhaps I need to be more forceful. I refuse to be held hostage to his need for supervision for the next six years. I find it better to instill enough fear their first year or two that they maintain their grades through their NEWTs.”

“Fear is the only thing that motivates that boy. We never should have taken him in,” Vernon said. He gave Severus a half-smile. When Severus slipped into that greasy mind, Vernon was joyous that Harry’s head of house hated him. He’d been afraid that Harry would find success—specifically more success than his own son. He had grown more abusive because the boy had returned from school happy while his own had been targeted by older boys and the staff had sent letters home questioning the Dursleys’ parenting. That was a petty jealousy Severus could manipulate. Severus found an old memory, words whispered between Vernon and Petunia in the dark of their bed, and he pulled them forward.

Unsurprisingly, Vernon leapt on the memory and immediately asked, “That man, the old one with ridiculous clothes, he said we had to keep the boy here because of some Nazi leader in your world.”

Petunia threw her shoulders back and looked down her nose at Severus and followed her husband’s lead. “I heard you followed that Nazi, Severus.”

“I had a trial. I was acquitted.” Severus gave her a cold look, and slipped into her mind. She was terrified. Before losing contact with Lily, Lily had explained muggle-baiting and the massacres and the horror of the Dark Mark hanging in the sky over the skinned bodies of the Dark Lord’s enemies. Petunia thought Severus’s answer meant that he had escaped justice.

Severus wasn’t going to disabuse her of that assumption. Fear was a useful tool.

Petunia also nursed not only a deep jealousy of her sister but also a stark terror that the magical world would take her son the way it had Lily. Her disagreeable son was the center of her life, and she would do anything to keep the magical world away from him and him away from the magical world.

If Severus couldn’t keep the Dursleys from noticing the trunk, perhaps he could use Petunia’s fear to make sure she kept her husband and son out of Harry’s room. He opened his journal and started to read. “Tell the boy he has at least an hour before the goblins finish, but he had better hope he has twelve inches of quality work before that happens.”

Petunia looked at Vernon. “Go on, Pet,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on the freak.”

She scurried away. The moment she saw huge desk that came out of the trunk, she would do anything to keep the others out of his room. That was the best he could do for Harry. He took one more look into Vernon’s mind and found a smug satisfaction that the adult responsible for Harry was a murderer. He hoped that Harry’s status as an orphan meant that Severus would target the boy if he had any stray homicidal urges.

Severus was having murderous thoughts, but they were not targeted at Harry. The human race would be better off without the Dursleys, but that was the sort of thought that had led Severus to follow the Dark Lord down a path so dark it had stained his soul and precluded any forgiveness. So Severus contented himself with fantasizing about what he might have done had he met the Dursleys thirteen years ago. Severus was reading an article on the declining quality of botanicals in rural England when a wave of magic swept through the house. The goblins had finished and left.

Severus kept reading.

Forty minutes later, Petunia herded Harry down the stairs. Harry held out his parchment like an offering, and Severus unrolled it.

The work was sloppy and rushed, but he had expected as much from the child. Hopefully now that he had access to his trunk, he would redo the work. After all, the threat of having Severus camp in their parlor would ensure that the Durleys were properly motivated to allow Harry to do his homework. And Petunia’s fear of her family members seeing that trunk should ensure that she banned them from Harry’s room.

“You have an unacceptable number of blotches, the penmanship is atrocious and you have only used one source for your research.” Severus looked at Harry over the top of the parchment. “Even a fool knows to cross-reference information. However, giving those limitations, it is minimally acceptable.”

Harry beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

Severus snorted and returned the work. “Redo the section on widdershins stirring. You have too much speculation.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

The child was terrifyingly willing to accept criticism. However, Severus could not address that problem. He stood. “I assume you do not require another intervention to complete your work.”

“No, sir. I promise I’ll work on the homework every day.”

There wasn’t enough for even the slowest student to work every day, but hopefully that meant the boy would spend at least some time with the occlumency book Severus had slipped in among his school books. “Do not make a promise unless you follow through. If I must, I will stand over your shoulder while you work to ensure you do not put Slytherin’s reputation at risk with your academically slovenly ways.” The boy was in the top twenty percent of his class, so he should understand that Severus was being hyperbolic.

“Of course, sir.”

Without another word, Severus left. When he reached the end of the street, he slipped into the shadows and apparated away. He had done what he could for the boy, and now Harry had to take advantage of the tools Severus had given him. Severus was not in a position to hold his hand, not when the Dark Lord had the Philosopher’s stone and Albus had some reason for wanting to drive a wedge between Harry and his head of house.

If Harry wasn’t clever enough to handle his family now, he had no hope of surviving having the attention of two such manipulative, old wizards.

Chapter Three

Harry understood full well that Professor Snape had come to help him. Not only did Harry have his trunk back, but he’d found the stasis compartment full of Hogwarts meals, and the fact that the professor had made such a production out of hating Harry meant the Dursleys were mollified.

Never before had Harry come home happy, so he hadn’t realized what a tactical error it had been. So now, when school came up, Harry talked about how mean Professor Snape was in class and how Professor McGonagall gave detentions if a person was even an inch short on an essay (which wasn’t true), and how Hagrid was cruel (which sort of was—Harry still teared up when he thought about the note Hagrid had written saying that Harry’s parents would be disappointed in him for going back to the castle during that disastrous detention).

It meant the Dursleys had returned to their previous course of ignoring him except for the dedicated homework time from one to four every day. No matter what chore Harry was doing, his aunt would chase him up to his room. One day she had even come to the public library to shriek at him about his summer homework and that night she had refused him any supper since he was not being responsible.

But that didn’t matter anymore because Harry pulled out roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and glazed carrots for dinner, and ate it with a large pumpkin juice.

To pay the professor back, Harry had spent extra time researching his potions essay and writing it in his best penmanship. He even copied it over twice because his quill had made splotches. Nearly everyone had splotches on their homework, but Harry wanted to show his appreciation. He also suspected the little book on Occlumency had come from the professor. It was the sort of thing a Slytherin would study. So Harry threw himself into meditating. He created a landscape of fire—a firestorm with winds that whipped around and orange flames that would warm Harry as he drifted off to sleep every night.

And Harry was getting his mail again. Hedwig was flying all the time—going to Italy with letters for Blaise and France to find Hermione on vacation and to the Malfoy and Longbottom manors. Harry had even exchanged letters with Millicent, explaining that he hadn’t been ignoring her father—his mail had been intercepted, and Professor Snape himself had needed to get involved. Mr. Bulstrode forgave him, but insisted that Harry come to the house in August.

Best of all, Harry could now arrange visits with Draco. Of all Harry’s friends, Draco was the most fun. Yes, he was spoiled and a prat, but when he got excited about something, he would drag Harry along. Harry had never really known how to be friends, so Draco’s enthusiasm made it easier. Harry didn’t have to do any work at all.

They arranged to meet at the Leaky Caldron, and Harry used the Knight’s Bus by himself for the first time. Without Hagrid’s large hand to pin him down, Harry got thrown around a lot more, but it was fun, and he reached London faster than any train. Harry was smiling when he stumbled off and ran into a small blonde girl. She fell to the pavement, and Harry started apologizing.

“I’m sorry. I was dizzy from the bus because it goes so fast. The Knight Bus, you know. Do you know? Have you been on it?” Harry wasn’t sure if riding the Knight Bus was common because it never seemed to have many people on it.

The girl looked up with silvery, gray eyes that reminded Harry of Draco. Maybe she was a cousin. “Oh, that’s fine. I was looking at the Blibbering Humdingers and I didn’t see you.” She looked toward the entrance to the pub, and three girls were huddled together, giggling and staring. Harry frowned. As bad as it was when people whispered about him behind his back, it was worse when they did it in front of him.

“It was still my fault,” Harry said as he helped her up. “What are Blibbering Humdingers?” Harry didn’t have any of them in his creature cards.

“They gather where people whisper,” the girl said. “They get tangled in people’s hair and brains. I’m Luna Lovegood.”

Harry took a small step back, wondering if there was something wrong with her. Creatures couldn’t get tangled in a brain. At least, Harry hoped they couldn’t. But politeness dictated that he offer his name in return. “I’m Harry Potter,” he introduced himself.

Luna’s gaze didn’t quite meet Harry’s. She focused over his head, and Harry looked up but there wasn’t anything there.

“She sees things that aren’t there,” one of the girls called out.

“You mean she’s a seer?” Harry asked. His book on famous wixen had several seers—some who could prophesy the future and others who had supernatural insights on the present. One, Matilda the Backward, had even seen events in the past, which had been a useless skill until she backward-saw the murder of the king, leading to a magical civil war in Bulgaria.

“No, she’s just crazy,” the tallest girl said.

“That’s not very nice.” Harry stepped between Luna and the girls.

“But it’s true,” the dark-haired girl said.

“It can be both true and not nice. Harry’s right. We should be nicer,” the redhead said with a dimpled smile in Harry’s direction and Harry recognized her as Ron’s sister—the one who had waved at him on the platform.

Harry turned his back on the trio. “Are you going in the Leaky Cauldron?” Harry asked.

Luna shook her head. “But you should. The Leaky Cauldron needs a solid wall.”

“Um, what?”

Luna finally met Harry’s eyes. She leaned closer and put a hand on his chest, which was definitely against every rule Draco and Blaise had pounded into Harry’s head. “Things change too fast in there. They need a solid wall.”

“You mean they shouldn’t have the moveable wall to the Alley in there?” Harry guessed.

Luna laughed. You have heliopaths everywhere. They like walls. It tells them where to go.”

Harry bit his lip and suspected that the three girls were right. They were also cruel, but Luna did sound a little crazy. She patted his chest. “Draco needs a wall even more than the Leaky Cauldron.” Then she turned and wandered down the street, her gaze on the sky. The sky. The centaurs in the forbidden forest had done that—they’d looked up while they’d talked as if being distracted by something so amazing in the night sky that they didn’t dare look away except for quick glances.

Shaking off the strange encounter, Harry headed into the Leaky Cauldron.

“Harry!” Ron’s sister called. “I’m coming to Hogwarts this year.”

Harry offered her an insincere smile. “Good for you.”

She shot her two friends a smug look and then darted toward Harry and reached for his arm. Harry spun away and put his back to the wall. “What are you doing?”

“A gentleman should escort a lady into a building,” Ron’s sister said with a frown, as if Harry had broke some social protocol.

“Only if the gentleman in question has shown a social interest in the girl, and I don’t know you,” Harry said.

“But you’re Ron’s best friend, and I’m Ron’s sister.” She set her mouth in a hard line.

“Finnegan is Ron’s best friend, and after he acted like a complete prat at the end of the year, I will be happy if I never see him again,” Harry said firmly. “I’m friends with Blaise and Draco and Neville and Hermione, not Ron.”

Her eyes grew huge. “Mother says you’re friends with Ron. Ron is supposed to show you how everything works in the magical world.”

“I believe someone else would be best suited to do that,” a deep voice said. Mr. Malfoy stood in the open pub door, a look of disgust on his face. “And you should not use certain words while on that side of the door given the company on the street.” He looked around with even more disgust at the muggles walking past, their eyes sliding over the Leaky Cauldron and its notice-me-not charms. Harry loved Draco, but his father… he was a bit of a racist. Harry could see that. He also thought that explained why Professor Snape looked so pained when he was around Mr. Malfoy.

At least Harry assumed that was the expression he was reading. In Slytherin, recognizing other’s expressions was a requirement. They actually practiced it in the common room. Harry was getting better, but he still often confused flirting looks for disgust, so he wasn’t the best.

Ron’s sister looked furious. “Harry doesn’t need you to get involved.”

“Such a rude child. I will be sure to notify the authorities that you are violating the Statue of Secrecy when you are still too young to get your wand. Tut-tut. Such a lack of proper upbringing and breeding.”

Ron’s sister turned bright red. Harry hated seeing the bullying side of Draco’s father. “Is Draco here?”

Mr. Malfoy continued to glare at the child. “Inside.”

Harry darted past him and into the dim interior of the pub. “Oh my, if it isn’t Harry Potter,” Tom said loudly. Like Hagrid, the barman was less than discreet.

“Good morning,” Harry said. He still thought Tom looked like a toothless walnut, but he smiled at the old wizard.

“So nice to see you. Come in, come in.”

Draco waved from a table near the center of the bar. “We’re over here!” There were two butterbeers and something amber in a skinny glass on the table already. “Father wasn’t sure you had time for breakfast, so he ordered something light.”

“That was kind of him,” Harry said. He’d had beans, eggs, and toast out of his trunk, but he’d eat a little something to make Mr. Malfoy happy. His occlumency book talked about legilimency where someone could see images from another’s mind, and Harry wondered if Mr. Malfoy had seen the number of times Harry had gone hungry in Harry’s memory or if he had just made a guess based on the fact that the healer’s report said Harry didn’t eat well. Mr. Malfoy might not be nice to everyone, in fact he was quite mean, but for those he did decide to be nice to, he was a very generous and thoughtful person.

Not trustworthy, but thoughtful.

“Ah, boys. Our food should be here soon.” He gave Tom a weary look before settling into his chair. “Harry, I understand Draco gave you a book on how laws are passed in the Wizengamot. That is an area in which I have some expertise. Do you have any questions?”

Harry tried to think. Not having questions when an expert offered their assistance was beyond rude, so he needed to ask something. “Why are there years and years and decades when no laws pass?”

“Ah. That is a complex answer.” Mr. Malfoy leaned back in his seat. “It has to do with how broadly power is shared in our society.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Mr. Malfoy’s smile was calculating, and Harry had the feeling that Mr. Malfoy had just won a point in some competition Harry didn’t realize they were having. “Take this proposed Muggle Protection Act. The Wizengamot has a minority who are firmly in favor, a minority firmly against, and the majority in the middle who could be swayed either way. However, those in the middle generally prefer to change nothing. They are comfortable in their lives, and change threatens that, even if they believe the ideas behind the Act are good.”

“So most of the time, the Wizengamot does nothing,” Harry said. “But then why do laws get passed at all?”

“Sometimes one person has gathered enough proxies from the uninterested majority that one person has enough votes to make things happen. During these periods, our society can and has changed rapidly.”

“Are laws changing now?” Harry asked. From Mr. Malfoy’s reactions, he assumed they were and the person with all those proxies was someone Mr. Malfoy didn’t like.

“Indeed. The Muggle Protection Act is only the most drastic of the changes to come before the Wizengamot in the last year, but everything from the required thickness of caldrons to import taxes to Ministry department budgets has been challenged.”

Tom put a plate with cut fruit and pastries in the middle of the table. “Thank you,” Harry said while the two Malfoys said nothing.

Draco asked, “What does the Wizengamot want to do to protect muggles?” By the end of the year, Draco would say muggle in an even tone, but the derision had returned.

“They would search people’s homes looking for muggle objects that have been charmed—things like keys designed to shrink when no one is looking so muggles thing they’ve lost them.”

“What?” Harry sat up. “They search people’s houses? Like without having specific evidence that people have created this stuff? That’s horrible!”

“It is!” Draco said loudly. “The Ministry just wants to look in manors with their family wards.”

“That would never be allowed in the muggle world,” Harry said. “Police have to have a reasonable cause and a specific item they’re searching for. They can’t just go through someone’s house. I can’t believe the wizarding world would be so backward.” Harry stopped when he realized everyone was looking at him. He expected Mr. Malfoy to give him a disapproving look and maybe even cancel Harry’s visit. Instead, he looked around the pub with unvarnished smugness.

“No doubt you will be on the Wizengamot one day. You may have already been gifted one of the hereditary seats. Do I assume you would vote against this Act?”

“Well, yes. I mean, I’m in favor of protecting muggles, and if someone is charming items to tease muggles, they’re putting the Statute of Secrecy in danger, and that’s bad. That’s about the worst thing I can think of because I’ve lived with muggles and I know how violent they can get when they feel threatened. So doing things that draw muggles’ attention is hugely bad, but this law… it’s not fair. The police shouldn’t be just searching people’s houses when they don’t even know what they’re looking for.”

“The wizarding world doesn’t have police. The DMLE assigns investigators, typically Aurors,” Mr. Malfoy corrected him. “I look forward to the day you join the Wizengamot, Harry.”

“If that’s the sorts of laws that get passed, I don’t think I am going to look forward to it.”

“Perhaps you can change the balance,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now, I believe Draco wants to share our plans for today.”

Draco’s face lit with excitement. “Father got us passes into the Dragon Reserve. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Whoa. Dragons?” Harry knew how much Draco wanted to see them, but he was a little afraid of giant, fire-breathing lizards that could eat him.

“It’s going to be wonderful. And Father knows someone who can get us into the private areas, so maybe we can get up close to one, just a small one or maybe an older one, not like a nesting mother or something dangerous.”

“I’m pretty sure all dragons are dangerous,” Harry said. The baby Hagrid had hatched nearly burned down the forbidden forest, and it had taken down a trained dragon handler.

“We’ll be fine with Father,” Draco said with confidence. Then again, Draco tended to think his father could fit anything. Unfortunately, Harry assumed a dragon would be as willing to eat Lucius Malfoy as anyone else.

“There will be adequate security,” Mr. Malfoy said, “although I am grateful one of you has the good sense to be concerned.” He gave Draco a look, but Draco was practically bouncing in his seat. Harry wasn’t sure Draco would notice if a fireball hit the street. “Both of you eat up. We have a big day. We need to visit Gringotts and check the Potter accounts before we can leave for the reserve. But first, I am going to go speak with an acquaintance.

He left the table and sat across from a woman in her forties. She had curled, blonde hair, jeweled glasses, and wicked long fingernails painted brilliant red. “Who’s that?” Harry asked when the woman stared at him.

Draco glanced over. “No idea. She comes to the manor sometimes, but Father has never introduced us, so she can’t be important. So, the reserve has the oldest Welsh Green dragon in the world.” Draco went on to regale Harry with the story of the dragon’s capture in the 1700s after it had burned down a muggle village, but the whole time Harry watched the woman meeting with Mr. Malfoy. Harry was missing something—he just didn’t know what.

Chapter Four

Mr. Malfoy stood in line at Gringotts, one hand resting on Harry’s shoulder. Draco was almost bouncing in place, and if they didn’t leave for the dragon reserve soon, he might explode. When they reached the front of the line, Mr. Malfoy urged Harry forward.

“Good morning. I need to speak to someone about the Potter accounts,” Harry said, keeping eye contact with the goblin in front of him. Mr. Malfoy had explained that they were a warrior race that considered eye contact and direct communication polite. He’d then descended into a racist description of why goblins were incapable of governing themselves.

Sometimes Harry wondered why Narcissa stayed with the man. He was kind of a jerk.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I wrote asking for one, but I didn’t get an owl back,” Harry said. The goblin growled, and Harry stepped backward, pressing himself against Mr. Malfoy. The goblin grabbed a paper and wrote a note.

“Wait in the north lobby,” he snapped. Harry was about to thank him, but Mr. Malfoy pulled him away, guiding Harry and Draco to a room half the size of a classroom with dozens of ornate doors set into three of the walls.

“Is this going to take long?” Draco asked.

“If your mother and I were not here, you would have to take responsibility for the estate. It is never too soon to learn these skills.”

“Yes, father,” Draco said, although he didn’t sound interested.

“Harry, do you have your list?”

Harry reached into his pocket and touched the narrow slip of parchment. “Yes, sir.” Harry could not ask Mr. Malfoy to handle the goblins or they would never respect him. They also might lie if they thought Harry was giving too much information to Mr. Malfoy because the Potter account goblin would not want to help a Malfoy. So Harry had to handle this, although Mr. Malfoy had helped him write his questions down.

A door opened. “Mr. Potter?”

Harry jumped. “Yes, that’s me.”

The goblin looked unimpressed. “Follow me.”

Harry gave Draco and Mr. Malfoy a smile before he followed the goblin down a corridor and into a cramped office. “What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry swallowed and curled his fingers around the list he’d prepared. “I don’t know who has my vault key. I assume it’s my magical guardian, but I don’t know who that is.” Mr. Malfoy suspected it was Headmaster Dumbledore, but Harry didn’t know for sure. Mr. Malfoy hated the headmaster, so it could just be that he hoped it was Dumbledore so he could tell everyone what a horrible job the headmaster had done of preparing Harry for the magical world.

The goblin looked over his glasses. “It’s the responsibility of wizards to safeguard their own key.”

“I never held my own key.”

“That is not my problem.”

“Can I get a new key made and all the old keys melted?”

The goblin pulled a paper out of his desk. “Fill this out and return it to a teller.”

Harry pulled the paper closer. “Who currently has a key?”

The goblin glared at him.

“Or who is my magical guardian since he should know where my keys are.”

“Ask at the Ministry.”

“They won’t give me an answer.”

“I am a banker. I do not keep track of whatever idiocy wizards engage in.”

“Then tell me who has been in the Potter vaults,” Harry tried.

“Anyone with a key,” the goblin said with a malicious smile.

Harry curled his hands into fists. Mr. Malfoy had made him practice the conversation, but Harry had thought he was exaggerating goblin stubbornness in order to make Harry practice his logic. Well, if the goblins wanted to play like that…

“I suspect someone is stealing from me, and Gringotts is being unhelpful.”

The goblin slammed both hands down on his desk. “Thieves do not get past our guard.”

“The ones you recognize don’t, but I see no evidence that you can protect my money. I don’t have any statements.”

“Not my problem. Gringotts has sent them.”

“Then you’re incompetent and can’t ensure your owls fly to the right recipient?” Harry demanded. The goblin started to growl. Mr. Malfoy had assured him that meant he was winning, but since the wizard was on the other side of a closed door and Harry was on this side with an angry goblin, that wasn’t a big comfort.

“We have the best trained owls in the UK.”

“And yet I don’t have statements. I don’t even know how many vaults I have or how much money comes in each month. I don’t know if my properties are rented out and are earning gold or if any need repair.”

“Your magical guardian should tend such matters.”

“But I can’t tell if they are because you will not tell me who that is.”

“Because we do not get involved in wizarding politics.”

“So it is someone politically important,” Harry concluded. The goblin looked homicidal. “Maybe I should ask Mr. Malfoy to have the Wizengamot pass a resolution to request an audit of my accounts.” Harry knew the goblins would consider that a horrible insult, but they weren’t being helpful. Not even a little. And Mr. Malfoy didn’t mind insulting goblins and had offered to draft that resolution, which seemed dangerous given they controlled the money.

Harry sighed. Mr. Malfoy had recommended that he never back down, but that didn’t feel right. “I’m not an adult. I can’t fight or reason or make money like an adult, but if an adult is stealing from me, I have a right to know. Everything my parents left me should be in those vaults, and I need to make sure that if someone is taking that away from me, I know where to prepare for battle.”

The goblin leaned back in his chair and studied Harry. “This is a battle you cannot win, child.”

“Oh, I know. I suspect I know who my magical guardian is, but I don’t want to waste time fighting the wrong battle if I’m mistaken, and I need to know what he’s taken so I know what I might need to fight for.”

“I served Fleamont Potter. You remind me of your grandfather.”

“Is that a compliment?” Harry asked. He knew what people said about James Potter, and there was a fairly even split between compliments and insults. More people seemed to like his mother. Even the Malfoys who were not fans of muggle-borns admitted that she was brilliant and dangerous—two traits every Slytherin admired.

“He could be too soft. He compromised instead of taking out his blade and chopping off the arm of the person offending him.”

“Oh.” Harry considered how that might look from a goblin point of view. Probably not good. “I can’t swing an ax, so I try to make my enemies miserable and cut them off from support.”

“Are you any good?”

Harry thought about Draco and Theo—once his two biggest enemies in his own year. Draco had come around to Harry’s side after the duel. When he wasn’t around his father, he was even less racist. Being a parselmouth in Slytherin had its advantages. And by defending Theo publicly, he had confused him so much that Theo had basically retreated, leaving Harry to make his own allies unimpeded. “So far it’s worked.”

“And the elder Malfoy?”

Harry took a breath. He could potentially impress the goblin, but he could risk his relationship with the Malfoys, who had been his best supporters so far. However, he could also tell Mr. Malfoy that he had said whatever he needed in order to get his way. Mr. Malfoy would appreciate that, or at least he’d appreciate an edited version of the story.

Mind made up, Harry said, “I let him use me because he can get information I can’t. But I’m mostly aware of when he’s using me,” Harry said. “Right now I am trying to get his son to stop following his father’s beliefs.” Mr. Malfoy hated creatures as much as muggleborns, and the goblins had to resent that. “My mother was muggle-born and I don’t think goblin or elf or centaur magic is any less than human magic.”

The goblin snorted. “It is far stronger.”

“I don’t know because I’ve barely started studying human magic, and I don’t know anything about non-human magic users, but I’m trying to get Draco to see the world differently. He’s stopped insulting muggle-borns, so I think I might be winning that battle. I’m pretty sure I would lose if Mr. Malfoy knew I was doing that, but as long as I’m the only one who knows we’re fighting over Draco, I think I can win.”

The goblin templed his fingers. “You are an interesting human child.”

“I’m a desperate one who has to protect his own interests because I don’t have a family who can.”

“We all have to protect our own interests. Most leaders are killed by their own families, and that is as true for humans as goblins. Do not rely on others, especially family.”

“Yes, sir.”

For long seconds, the goblin stared at him, then he pulled a chalice out of his desk and slammed it down on the desk. A ceremonial knife followed, then a charmed parchment and several vials. “This will require five drops of blood, Mr. Potter, and the considerable cost will come out of your main family vault.”

“Yes, sir.”

The goblin snarled at him, but they didn’t exchange any other words other than simple directions required for the identity test. Harry had known they would need one to rekey his vaults, but as the charmed quill kept writing and writing and writing on the parchment, Harry was surprised.

Once the quill stopped, the goblin cast a final spell on the parchment before thrusting it at Harry. “Now, go away,” he ordered. “Pick up a new key from any teller, but don’t bother me again until you are old enough to do something about that. I am here for commerce, Mr. Potter, not to help you fight your battles.”

Harry scrambled out of the room with the parchment held close to his chest.

Harrison James Potter

Father: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

Mother: Lily Jean Potter née Evans (deceased)

Godfather: Sirius Castor Black (incarcerated)

Godmother: Alice Longbottom née Sayre (incapacitated)

Physical Guardian: not on record

Magical Guardian: not on record

Estates:

Potter (inheriting upon majority, paternal)

Family Vault: 619,894 G / 8,865 S / 451 K

Heir Vault: 12,834 G / 1,945 S / 298 K

Properties: Hogsmead house (rented); Godrick’s Hollow (confiscated by Ministry); Potter’s Acreage (house destroyed, land available)

5,817 tomes; 219 on loan to Albus Dumbledore

12 wands; two on loan to Albus Dumbledore

14 pieces of jewelry; four on loan to Albus Dumbledore

Invisibility cloak on loan to Albus Dumbledore

Assorted household goods

On loan to Albus Dumbledore: cursed chest, six inches; sword, 22 inches; tarot set, 17th century; foe glass, 12 inches; sneakoscope, 18 inches; charmed chalice, 14th century; magic carpet, 16th century.

Black (heir, assigned by godfather)

Heir Vault: 34,081 G / 57 S / 9 K

Harding (assigned inheritance as gift upon death of previous estate-holder)

Family Vault: 9,710 G / 81 S / 823 K

Properties: Coatbridge house (illegally occupied)

9,725 tomes

Assorted household goods

Loren (assigned inheritance as gift upon death of previous estate-holder)

Family Vault: 214 G / 78 S / 51 K

Properties: London flat (confiscated for repayment of debt)

56 tomes

Norris (assigned inheritance as gift upon death of previous estate-holder)

Family Vault: 89 G / 2 S / 3 K

1 tome

2 pieces of jewelry

Sher (assigned inheritance as gift upon death of previous estate-holder)

Family Vault: 61,871 G / 275 S / 12 K

Properties: Aberdeen home (illegally occupied)

914 tomes

194 wands

162 pieces of jewelry

Assorted household goods

Turner (assigned inheritance as gift upon death of previous estate-holder)

Family Vault: 9,710 G / 81 S / 823 K

Properties: Exeter farm (illegally occupied)

193 tomes

7 wands

11 pieces of jewelry

Farm equipment

Variety of magical and muggle creatures

Assorted household goods

Yenurro (assigned inheritance as gift upon death of previous estate-holder)

Family Vault: 179,812 G / 5,698 S / 7 K

Properties: Cardiff home (illegally occupied); Ballycastle home (illegally occupied); Matoury home (illegally occupied); Addis Abba flat (destroyed); Cairo home (illegally occupied)

5,712 tomes

24 wands; 2 staffs

1,745 pieces of jewelry

Assorted household goods.

Whoa. Harry was the Black heir. He as fairly sure Draco would throw a fit over that, but maybe not. Harry knew he couldn’t claim an heirship until he was thirteen, and the Black family magic might reject him. From what Narcissa said, Black magic was wilder than most. So Draco might openly congratulate him and then hope the magic rejected Harry’s claim. That would be a Draco thing to do.

Weirder, six people had made him their family heir when they died. Harry wondered if those people had lost all their other heirs in the war or if they’d just hated their surviving family. That could make for a real mess, especially if Harry tried to reclaim properties that people were illegally staying in. If those families had surviving members who thought they owned the properties, Harry didn’t want to take them away. He could only live in one place, so he didn’t need all those homes.

But the most important revelation was that Albus Dumbledore wasn’t doing his job. He had to be Harry’s magical guardian because that was the only way he could have borrowed so many objects out of the Potter vaults. But Harry assumed the Goblins were upset because Dumbledore had never done anything about all the properties that were illegally occupied. A proper magical guardian was supposed to not only prepare a person to enter the magical world, but they were supposed to protect the child’s interests in that world.

The headmaster was not taking care of Harry’s accounts and the goblins were not getting rental income coming into the vaults. That would explain why the goblin told Harry to come back when he was old enough to do something about the mismanagement of his accounts.

Maybe Harry couldn’t take control of his own finances, but he was willing to bet Mr. Malfoy could do some damage with this information. After all, if Dumbledore was his magical guardian, then he was the one who had decided Harry should live with the Dursleys. If that was the case, Dumbledore deserved whatever Lucius could do to annoy him. And Lucius was very annoying.

Chapter Five

After the bank and the dragon reserve, the rest of the summer was boring by comparison. Harry traded history and charms essays with Blaise, herbology with Neville, and transfiguration notes with Hermione to get someone else to check over his work. Twice a week, he went to the Malfoy manor. Draco introduced Harry to his dueling tutor, who included Harry in a few lessons, and Narcissa taught Harry to eat a formal dinner using far too many knives and forks, but his days mostly consisted of doing chores for the Dursleys in the morning before heading back to his room.

Draco had told him in excited tones about Ron trying to attack him in Flourish and Blotts. Knowing Draco and his father the way Harry did, it sounded like Mr. Malfoy had made fun of the Weasleys for not having much money, but he had to agree with Draco that Mr. Weasley physically throwing himself at Mr. Malfoy had been way out of line.

Harry couldn’t even figure out why a wizard would try to punch someone like that. They carried wands. But maybe Ron had inherited his temper from his father. Since Harry didn’t know the Weasleys, he didn’t figure he had a right to judge.

But Draco had been terribly smug and prattish about their father’s fighting because—according to Draco—his father had won. Mr. Weasley’s lip was bleeding before Hagrid had broken up the fight. After an entire school year of trying to make Ron and Draco show some respect, Harry had given it up as hopeless. Instead, he convinced Draco to go with him to a muggle movie theater and an amusement park in a quest to get the boy to let go of the worst of his racism. That was more effective.

The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for Harry’s liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but he had found a rhythm to life at the Dursleys—one that he actually enjoyed. Going back to school meant more homework and stupid house feuds and quidditch. No matter how many times Harry said he didn’t think he wanted to spend his afternoons playing quidditch in the rain and snow, Draco insisted they had to try out.

Harry packed his trunk a day early and spent the last evening before the train with the Malfoys. The house elves created a feast with crusted duck and delicate fish soup and fancy cut potatoes and deserts topped with towers of delicate spun sugar. Hogwarts elves cooked the best homey meals, but the Malfoy elves made food into a art form.

Mr. Malfoy checked both their homework one last time and Narcissa went through their robes to make sure that there weren’t any frayed hems or stains the elves needed to sort out before they left. And then Harry and Draco were tucked into the largest, softest bed Harry had ever slept in.

“It’s going to be the best year ever,” Draco whispered before they fell asleep.

Harry hoped so. But his night was haunted by strange dreams. Luna and her gray eyes kept whispering in his ear, but he was distracted by old fashioned camera flashes all around him. A woman with long, red fingernails kept shoving a microphone toward him, and Mr. Malfoy kept saying, “Tell her. Tell her,” until someone gave a maniacal laugh and then Mr. Malfoy screamed like someone was killing him—or torturing him at the very least.

Harry woke with a start to find light streaming in the windows, and Draco was already combing his hair into place.

“That must have been a strange dream,” Draco said. “You were flailing all over the bed.”

“I didn’t hit you, did I?” Harry asked, embarrassed.

“I was already up. Did I tell you father has bought us all Nimbuses?”

“Yes,” Harry said with a sigh. Draco had told him at least ten times.

Draco looked crestfallen. “Oh. Yes. I’m sure you’re sick of hearing about it.”

“Not sick as much as not excited about the idea of playing on the team and potentially messing up.”

Draco whirled about. “Messing up? You’re a brilliant flyer. We are going to have an unbroken six year reign as quidditch gods.”

“Or I’m going to miss the snitch and cost Slytherin the cup, and then no one will ever forgive me.” Between Flint and Snape, that was a terrifying thought.

“You’re a parselmouth. You could single-handedly lose a hundred points a day, and Slytherin would still back you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“But it’s true.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t be,” Harry said as he slipped on his dressing gown. Someone—either the elves or Narcissa—had laid out clothes for him on a dressing bench. “Just because I can talk to snakes doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.”

“It obviously does. You have to be descended from Salazar Slytherin, and power travels in families. You’re learning dueling insanely fast, probably because of your Black blood, and having the blood of Salazar means you’re going to be politically astute and have an ability to bend the world to your will.”

Harry gave Draco an incredulous look. “You can’t believe that.”

“Yes, I can. Most old families do.”

“So, if someone is born in to a certain family, they’re destined to have a certain personality?”

Draco hesitated. “Maybe more likely to have that personality. I mean, if you’d sorted Gryffindor, most of Slytherin would have been torn about your ability. They would have looked for evidence to see if you had inherited Salazar Slytherin’s cunning. But a parselmouth in Slytherin—everyone knows you’re going to be great.”

“I don’t know that.”

“You should.”

“Boys, are you about ready?” Narcissa called from the hallway.

“Yes, mother.”

Harry pulled on his shirt and started buttoning his cloak. He would take it off on the train, but he knew Narcissa would want to see him looking like a proper wizard. Harry tried to grab the handle of his trunk, but Draco stopped him. “Honestly, what do you think house elves are for?”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure, but if he was a magical being who lived to make others happy, he would want to cook or garden or maybe even fold napkins into the fantastical shapes that appeared on the dinner plates before the food. He wouldn’t want to carry someone’s trunk, but Harry didn’t argue.

Mr. Malfoy met them at the floo, and all four of them flooed into Platform 9 3/4. They were early, but Draco had insisted they needed to get a compartment in a prime location. Apparently having both Gryffindor and Slytherin friends made the placement critical in a way Harry simply didn’t understand. Harry was so happy that Draco was considering Neville and Hermione a part of the friend group that Harry didn’t care about the rest (even if he thought it silly).

“Be good for Severus,” Narcissa said. “No chasing down trolls.” Narcissa looked amused. Mr. Malfoy didn’t.

“It was hardly my idea,” Draco said, glaring at Harry.

Before Harry could defend himself, An older student hit his trunk, and with the featherlight charms turned all the way to high, the trunk slid away like it was on ice.

“Sorry about that,” the unfamiliar Ravenclaw said without offering to help. Harry ran after his trunk while Draco called that he was going to claim a compartment. Harry was having some sort of bad luck because twice he almost caught his trunk, only for someone else to kick it. Finally, his trunk slid through the arch to the muggle side of the station.

Panic clawed at Harry. If muggles saw his trunk sliding around without wheels, that was bad. Hugely bad. Monumentally bad. Harry raced after it, grabbing the handle just on the other side. A number of people stared at him, and Harry blushed as he realized he had on his wizarding robes.

“School choir,” he said before he quickly slipped them off. Everyone wandered away, except for one old woman with a vulture on her hat, but she didn’t have any room to complain about how he dressed.

“Stupid trunk.” Harry took the strap firmly in hand and turned to head back to the platform. He stepped confidently forward and—

CRASH.

Harry hit he barrier and bounced backward. Harry was knocked off his feet, and a muggle guard yelled, “What in the blazes d’you think you’re doing?”

Harry blushed. “I tripped.”

“Whatever,” the guard said, but he walked away.

“Harry?” It was Neville pushing a trolly with two school trunks.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted before she ran forward and caught him in a huge hug.

“‘Mione! Neville! You two look great.” Hermione did, anyway. Her skin had darkened and had a glow that suggested lots of time on the beach and her dark hair had sun streaks. Neville, however, looked like he had shrunk an inch and he was watching the woman with the vulture on her hat with fear.

“Neville, introduce us,” the old woman said.

“Gran, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my grandmother, the Dowager Augusta Longbottom.”

“Let’s get onto the platform,” Mrs. Longbottom said, although she gave Harry an unpleasant look.

“Right.” Neville pushed the trolley with his and Hermione’s trunk at eh barrier and a half second later—

CRASH. The trolley bounced backward and one of the trunks fell off with a loud thump. Neville ended up on the ground where Harry had been sitting just minutes earlier.

“Really, Neville?” Mrs. Longbottom said in a disgusted tone. Neville hunched his shoulders as his grandmother passed him and strode toward the barrier without hesitation.

A second later, she sat on the ground and her vulture hat was upside down several feet away. “I have never—“ she stopped without finishing her thought. After standing, she snatched her hat off the floor and brushed it off. Several other wizarding families had shown up by then, and they had made a small crowd between platforms 9 and 10.

“What’s going on?”

“Does someone not know how the barrier works?”

“We’re going to be late for the train. If you’re not going through, get out of the way.”

The crowd was getting frustrated by the time Narcissa walked over. She looked as regal and calm as ever, but something in her movements was jerkier than usual. When she appeared, most of the crowd fell silent, and the adults crowded forward. When Narcissa reached Harry, she rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, ma’am. My trunk slid through, but I couldn’t get back.”

She nodded and then faced the adults who had clustered around her. “The barrier is closed, and no one knows why. Lucius has gone to stop the train from leaving, so no one will be late, but we need to make our way into bathrooms or private corners and call elves to transport the trunks to the other side. My husband and I are offering Dobby and Tilly to help transport children’s trunks, so once you are somewhere safely out of sight, call their name and ask them to transport the trunk to the platform. Then you can apparate with you children or use the nearest floo, which would be The House of Toby London, southeast of here.”

Mrs. Longbottom drew herself up. “I will not have your elves handle my grandson’s belongings, not after what that sister of yours did to our family. Not with what the Malfoys stand for.”

“That is your choice,” Narcissa said calmly. She didn’t look bothered, but Harry was blushing. Mrs. Longbottom was talking about Bellatrix. She was Narcissa’s sister, but she was also Harry’s cousin.

“Gran,” Neville said softly.

“Do not make excuses for that family, Neville.”

Harry stepped forward. “I’m really sorry for what my cousin did. It was horrible, and I don’t think she deserves to live if she’s willing to do that. But Narcissa and I didn’t have anything to do with that, Mrs. Longbottom.”

Her eyes grew large. “The Slytherin Potter, and now you’re claiming kinship with the Malfoys.” She sniffed.

“I don’t think it’s about claiming it. My grandmother was a Black, and I can’t change that anymore than you can ignore that you’re related to the Abbotts and the Selwyns. But I don’t blame you for what Volent Selwyn did in the war.”

“Well said,” someone in the crowd said, and Mrs. Longbottom turned red.

“Do not try to school me on matters of family obligation, young man.”

“No, ma’am,” Harry said.

“Impertinent.”

“I’m sure Professor Snape would agree.” For some reason, that made much of the assembled crowd laugh.

Mrs. Longbottom’s expression turned almost hateful. “And here I thought Rita Skeeter’s article was fiction. I never thought I would see the day that Fleamont’s grandson would argue against muggle protections, but perhaps that day has come.”

“What?” Harry frowned and looked at Neville. Maybe he could translate his grandmother’s ramblings.

“There was a newspaper article where Rita Skeeter quoted you as saying the Muggle Protection Act was a horrible idea,” Neville said softly. Hermione’s mouth fell open, and Harry knew he was seconds away from getting a lecture.

“I said muggles should be protected, but an act that allowed the government to just waltz into anyone’s house and search for anything they wanted without any evidence that something illegal had happened—that is horrible. Hermione is a muggle-born. I bet if you her or her muggle parents what they think of the government having the right to search your home without evidence, she’d say the same thing.”

Hermione closed her mouth so quickly that her teeth clicked. “What? Is that what the law would have allowed?”

“Among other things,” Narcissa said, her voice as dry as Harry had ever heard it.

“That’s terrible. The government shouldn’t be allowed to have that much power. That would never be allowed in muggle government.”

“Be that as it may,” Narcissa said a loud enough to make most of the whispers die down, “we are making a spectacle of ourselves. Everyone needs to scatter and find a way to get the children and their trunks to the platform. Harry, come along.”

“But Hermione…”

“I’m sure the Dowager Longbottom can help her,” Narcissa said without slowing. Because Narcissa had a hand around Harry’s upper arm, he had to trot to keep up with her. “I respect your enthusiasm, but this side of the barrier is not the proper place for a political rally.” Her voice was low and tense.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have answered back to Mrs. Longbottom.” Harry hated making Narcissa angry.

She stopped and looked down at him. “No, you shouldn’t have. That said, I believe that is the first time anyone has ever gotten the last word with that fossil.” She leaned very close—so close that Harry could feel her breath on his cheek. “I will never admit I said this, but excellent job, cousin.”

Harry was still smiling when Narcissa led them into a service corridor before calling a house elf named Dobby to carry his trunk to the other side. The house elves at the manor didn’t show themselves—just like the elves at Hogwarts didn’t—but when Harry looked into Dobby’s big, shining eyes, he had the feeling that the elf was the saddest creature alive.

Then Narcissa used side-along apparation to transport them to the platform, and Harry was too busy throwing up to care about anything else. Why couldn’t wizards find a sane way to travel? On the good side, Mr. Malfoy had gotten the train to stay and a team of a dozen wizards was investigating the barrier from the wixen side. The school year hadn’t even started and it was already getting strange.

Harry hoped that wasn’t a sign of things to come.

Chapter Six

When Harry stuck his head in the compartment, Draco shot to his feet. “How could you get stuck in muggle London in the space of a few minutes? Do you take trouble pills? Are you under a curse?”

“I don’t know, no, and maybe,” Harry answered.

Draco snorted at him, and Harry turned to Blaise. “You look great.”

“I had a whole summer to recover from your heroics.”

“Me? I’m not the one who landed in the hospital wing at the end of the semester. You’re confusing me for a Weasley.”

“You’re the one that went running after Granger when there was a troll lose in the castle,” Draco said as he fell back into a seat.

“A troll lose in the dungeon. That’s the message I heard. How about you, Blaise?” teased Harry.

“I heard dungeon,” Blaise agreed. Drago threw a crumbled candy wrapper at him.

“They’re going to be in one of these compartments,” Hermione said.

“This is Slytherin territory. And maybe he doesn’t want to sit with us after what my gran said.” That was Neville and he sounded miserable.

Harry got up and stuck his head into the corridor. So many students had been stuck on the other side, that it was pandemonium. Everyone was stressed and pushing and generally frazzled.

“Hermione! Neville! We’re in here!”

“Harry!” Hermione waved before she started pushing her way through the students who hadn’t yet chosen a compartment—which meant most of the first and second years. Neville followed in her wake.

“Harry, I am so sorry,” Neville was apologizing before he came in the door.

“If I don’t have to apologize for Bellatrix, you don’t have to apologize for your grandmother.” Harry winced. “Wait. No. That makes it sound like what they did is similar, and it definitely isn’t. Let me try this again. None of us have to apologize if we have family members who are less than kind.”

Most of the compartment glanced at Draco, who didn’t seem to notice.

Neville sighed as Blaise helped him get his trunk tucked away. “Still, I should have stood up for you. Gran is just really excited that the Light party has enough votes to actually pass laws, and that article made enough neutrals cast votes that the Act died when it really looked like it would be an easy pass.”

“Good,” Hermione said firmly. “Doesn’t the magical world have some sort of constitution or human rights guarantee?”

“No,” Draco said. At the same time, Blaise said, “Definitely not.”

“That seems like a bad idea. Maybe I should go into politics and suggest one,” Hermione said.

Draco snorted. Oh no. Harry had just escape the Draco-Ron feud and now Draco was trying to start one with Hermione. Worse, Hermione would verbally shred Draco, and Harry did not want to live with an insecure Draco. None of them did. Vincent and Gregory would declare war on Hermione if she made them endure a year of it.

“What does that mean?” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. That was her war pose.

“There is a very brief window every hundred years or so when any laws are capable of being passed. After Harry asked my father about it, he explained the history of power in the Wizengamot. By the time you’re eligible to take a seat, Dumbledore will be ready to retire or dead, and the laws will be locked in for another century. The odds of any of us being able to make a significant difference is negligible. Oh, maybe Harry can. He can bring his fame to bear on issues, but the rest of us are out of luck.”

“He’s not wrong,” Neville said.

“Politics in the UK is pazza. This is why I plan to live in Italy. Our politics is cut-throat, but we are generally sane. Relatively.” Blaise wrinkled his nose.

“What are all of you talking about?” Hermione asked.

Harry sat. “Didn’t you noticed that the Wizengamot does all the voting on legislation and acts as the jury for major trials and does the trade stuff that a chamber of commerce would do? If they functioned, the group wouldn’t have time for all that.”

Hermione frowned. “So, they’re not functional?”

“Other than as a jury in trials, not really.” Draco picked at the wrapper on a sugar quill. “There are too many voting members, and most don’t want to take a stand or don’t care. Since legislation requires either majority or two-thirds approval of the entire body to become a law, the Wizengamot generally can’t pass new laws. They’re a bit better with commerce because any area where the law has become unclear only requires a majority of the voting body present in the room to enact regulation. Father explained it all.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You might be right about that,” Harry agreed. He noticed that the three who had been raised in the wizarding world didn’t rush to defend wizarding government.

“But what does the headmaster have to do with that?”

“He’s the Chief Warlock,” Draco explained, “but more importantly, lots of people trust him to make good decisions. So instead of voting themselves or leaving their seat to abstain, they’ve signed their proxy over to him. So out of a hundred and sixteen seats, only fifty of which are actually attending in any given Wizengamot, Dumbledore has around twenty votes.”

“That’s not right.”

“That’s why we get things like the Muggle Protection Act, which should have been called the Snooping into Other People’s Business Act,” Draco said. “Dumbledore hates wizarding culture, and every time he sponsors a new bill, more of our culture disappears.”

“Wait. What?” Hermione frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Blaise and Draco exchanged looks before glancing over to Neville, but none of them spoke up.

“For heavens sake,” Harry said. “Fine, I’ll say it. Hermione, you can’t say any of this stuff to anyone, especially not in Gryffindor.”

“I’m not going to promise that.”

“You should,” Neville said softly. “If he’s going to tell you what I think he is, you don’t want people to hear you talking about it.”

Hermione looked around the room, confusion etched on her face.

“Wixen culture used to be a lot different,” Harry said. “There was a belief that magic had to be balanced—light and dark. People studied the stars because they would perform rituals that required the influence of certain planets. Women and men were seen as opposing forces and a good spell required equal numbers, but whether a person was a woman or a man had nothing to do with their bodies. A woman was someone who channeled female energy and identified as female. A man had male energy and identified as male.

“But then wixen tried to fit in with muggle culture. Suddenly witches stayed home. Even today, our female teachers are unmarried, but the potions teacher before Professor Snape had his wife in the castle, and about half the defense teachers have brought spouses. But married women mostly raise children. Wixen don’t even have primary schools because so many mothers are home to teach them.”

“But that’s not like muggle culture at all. Most women work outside the home, and men can be stay-at-home fathers as easily as mothers can. Well, maybe not as easily,” she admitted, ‘but it’s not weird or anything.”

“Yes, but wixen live a lot longer and change a lot slower. The culture you see now is trailing the muggle world by decades, but it’s still more muggle than wixen. Haven’t you noticed that married women don’t have jobs, and the women who do work, like Susan’s aunt or Tonks, dress super masculine. They have to prove themselves because there’s an assumption that those jobs should be held by males because that’s what muggle culture was a hundred years ago.

“And people who advocate for old religions, old rituals or the use certain techniques like gender balancing spells are called Dark.” That was the truth no one had been willing to tell Harry last year, but Mr. Malfoy would always leave books sitting out in Harry’s favorite chair, and over the summer, he’d found his answers. Mr. Malfoy might be manipulative, but Harry could count on him to have access to the good books.

“What?” Hermione practically yelped, and the rest of them flinched. “Dark is You-Know-Who. It’s evil. He’s the Dark Lord.”

“He was Dark because he believed in rituals and old magic and customs,” Draco said, his voice clipped. He definitely would have signed up to follow the Dark Lord if he was still around, and that was really sad because Voldemort wasn’t just a Dark Lord, he was an evil one.

“He’s evil because he thought he had a right to kill people to get his way,” Harry said. “I guess people started associating Dark and evil because so much of Dark culture is illegal, and once you cross the line to do illegal stuff, you don’t care about breaking the rules as much.”

“Not necessarily true,” Blaise said. “Dark magic is much more powerful, and that level of power can be addictive. Young people need to be taught how to handle Dark magics and recognize the signs of over-exposure or they can become too enamored of the magic and make disastrous choices. They say the Black madness is really an inability to handle Dark magic and that if recent generations had been taught better techniques to control the power and recognize the signs of exposure, the family wouldn’t have fallen apart. I’m Italian, and we haven’t banned magic the way the UK wizards have, so I can say that. But if the rest of you suggest that Dark magic can be safely performed, you’re already breaking the law.”

“Wait, it’s illegal to even say that?” Hermione looked around the room.

“British…” Blaise shrugged as if they were all to crazy to deal with. Then he added, “The Dark Lord actually started by trying to add classes back to the Hogwart’s curriculum to teach Dark Arts and Ritual. I imagine the warning signs would have been included in the curriculum, but I might be wrong. After all, he had a touch of Dark madness himself. Or more than a touch.”

“Worse,” Draco said, “some families have more of an affinity for Dark magic, just like some family lines have a talent for transfiguration or charms.” Draco looked at Harry. “The Blacks have always been revered for their ritual work.” Harry knew what he was implying. Harry was just as likely to be a dark wizard as Draco, although neither of them could know for sure without casting one of the old spells. Just then the door slid open and Gregory and Vincent tumbled into the room.

“I thought for sure we would miss the train. They still haven’t gotten the barrier open,” Vincent said breathlessly.

Gregory looked around the room before closing the compartment door. “What happened?”

Hermione threw her hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know. The government is non-functional, I’ll never get a chance to fix it because wixen accept decades-long periods of impotence, the Dark Lord had a point, even if he was murderous and insane in how he tried to pursue it, and the entire culture is sexist, apparently because wixen were so busy trying to fit in with muggles that they copied the absolute worst parts of muggle culture.”

Gregory and Vincent both stared at Hermione with huge eyes.

“Did I miss anything?” she demanded.

“Professor Dumbledore has so much power because people have signed proxies over to him, and he champions laws like the Muggle Protection Act,” Neville added.

Gregory and Vincent both looked like they were ready to run for the hills.

Hermione threw herself back into her seat with a harumph.

“Who told her?” Gregory asked.

Harry raised his hand. For a long time, Gregory and Vincent both stared at him like he was crazy. Then Vincent sighed. “At least they’re less likely to expel the Boy-Who-Lived for corrupting the muggle-borns.”

“Wait, they do that?” Harry asked.

“They used to,” Draco said. “That’s why a lot of people who are frustrated with the current system avoid muggle-borns.”

“That’s horrible,” Hermione said.

“What? The avoiding or the expelling?” Vincent asked.

Hermione threw her hands up again. “Both!”

“Hermione,” Neville said, “people have been associating Dark and evil for so long that if you say anything sympathetic to the Dark, people will see you as evil.” Neville sat up a little straighter and stared at Draco. “And plenty of people who say they only want the right to pursue Dark arts are willing to turn to evil to get what they want. Killing and torturing people makes you wrong, no matter what. Some people deserve to be in Azkaban or dead.” The fierceness in his voice made it clear that the hat had known what it was doing when it put Neville into Gryffindor.

“We all know that,” Harry agreed. “The Dark Lord was psychotic. He slaughtered people, and his cause is worse off now than before he started his stupid war. Whole families are gone, our families are gone, and what did he accomplish?”

“Pain and suffering,” Neville said softly. Harry’s heart ached for his friend.

“This is a dangerous conversation, even if everyone is distracted with the barrier,” Vincent said. “Can we talk about something else, like homework?”

Everyone except Hermione groaned. “Shove over,” she said before moving next to Vincent. “Which essay did you want to go over?”

“Potions. Definitely potions.”

By the time Millicent joined them, Vincent, Gregory and Hermione were deep into a potions text. While Hermione helped the boys write their summer essays, Blaise, Neville, Harry, and Draco played exploding snap. Millicent took one look at her options and shoved Draco over to join the card game.

The train finally got moving, over an hour behind schedule, and the dirty buildings of London gave way to suburbs and neatly manicured lawns and then carefully tended farms.

Parkinson opened the compartment door, but she took one look at Hermione and huffed off, and none of them tried to stop her. She was another one that Harry thought had been mis-sorted.

A real Slytherin should have respected how much talent Hermione brought to the group, even if they only cynically used her. Even Draco and his jealousy over Hermione beating him for top grades didn’t stop him from asking her for assistance with research. However, Parkinson had mentally labeled Hermione a ‘mudblood’ and dismissed everything else as irrelevant. Harry could see it in her expression every time she looked at Hermione.

As much as Harry loved his house and thought most of the kids in it—like Draco—just needed to be encouraged to develop a little empathy, there were a few that embraced prejudice like a fashion statement. Students like that—like Parkinson—gave the whole house a bad name.

And the worst part was that she tried so hard to suck up to him while refused to do the one thing he expected from his friends—respecting others. Some Slytherins had more ambition than common sense.

Chapter Seven

The fields had long since given way to rolling hills and wild forests when a red-haired boy opened the compartment door.

“Weasleys,” Draco said with a sneer as the twins appeared in the opening.

“Ah, the little Malfoy prince,” one twin said.

“Forgive us for disturbing your majesty.”

“Yes, forgive us, your majesty.” They bounced the sarcasm between them as Draco’s ears turned red. Harry had the feeling that wands (or at least Draco’s wand) was about to make an appearance.

“The compartment is a little full,” he said before the insults could get worse.

“We don’t want to interrupt the baby second-years,” one twin said. The other finished with, “but we were hoping to have a private word with Harry.”

“Buzz off,” Draco said.

“We will make like bees…”

“After we speak to Harry.”

Harry wondered how they managed to finish each other’s thoughts like that. Maybe their magic allowed them to hear each other’s thoughts or something. The other option was that they practiced every conversation ahead of time, and from what Harry had seen around school, they didn’t seem like the sort to waste that kind of time when they could be planning pranks.

“If you’re just going to prank me…” Harry let his voice trail off.

“Nope.”

“Absolutely not.”

“No pranks.”

The twins exchanged a look. “For at least the next thirty minutes,” one finished. Harry looked at Neville and Hermione. They knew the twins best, but neither seemed too concerned.

Harry abandoned his cards. “Okay, fine. Why not?”

Hermione looked up, her eyes narrow. “If you’re going to help your prat of a brother corner Harry and lecture him… again… I am going to practice my hexes on you,” she warned.

They chuckled, but Harry had seen how vicious Hermione could be. He wouldn’t aggravate her. “Trust us,” one twin said, “we are not likely to help Ron.”

“He is a bit of a prat, and since we’ve had to live with him for twelve years, we know that.”

“Says the two boys who boo Slytherins during sorting,” Harry shot back. The twins looked at each other before grimacing.

“The joke has gotten a bit out of hand,” one admitted. Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

“A lot out of hand,” the other added. “We admit that, and we are not here to cause trouble. In fact, we are hoping to help you avoid trouble.”

“Fine.” Harry pushed past them into the corridor and called to the others, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“He’s safe as houses,” a twin added. The other twin headed down the corridor and ducked into a compartment between Slytherin and Ravenclaw territory. Harry followed. He didn’t worry until the second twin closed the compartment door and cast privacy charms, muffling the sounds of students in the adjacent compartments. Then Harry slipped a hand into his sleeves where he had his wand. He didn’t want to be a victim of one of the twin’s pranks, and he’d fight back if he had to.

He’d lose because there were two of them and they were older, but he’d fight.

“So, Harry Potter, the great unifier of Hogwarts.”

“The what?” asked Harry.

“You have friends in both Slytherin and Gryffindor,” said one. “Not many can say that,” finished the other.

“Not many want to say that,” countered the first. “True, brother. Very true.”

Harry was getting a headache. He wondered how these two had survived potions because as cranky as Professor Snape got with just normal kid attitudes, these two had to make him homicidal. Harry respected that Professor Snape knew how to reach his goals and he was a great ally, but he lacked patience or any ability to teach.

“So, Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived to be Slytherin.”

If this was going to be another lecture about how Harry wasn’t really a Slytherin, Harry was going to help Hermione hex them. “What do you want?”

“Now that sounds like a baby snake in training.”

“He is in Slytherin, so…”

“You’re one to talk. You should be in Slytherin.”

“I thought it was you that the hat tried to put in the snake’s den.”

The first made a big production out of thinking. “Was it? I can’t remember.”

The other mimicked his expression. “Huh, me either.”

Harry looked from one to the other wondering if they were insane. Both smiled at him.

“It’s not so much what we want Harrykins.”

“We can call you Harrykins, can’t we?” the other jumped in, “after all, we’re almost family.”

“Are we related?” Harry asked. The family trees of wixen intertwined a lot, but he didn’t think he had any cousins closer than Narcissa.

One twin shrugged. “Some people want us to be.”

The other twin leaned closer. “Some of us have mothers that insist we should offer our protection—our friendship—our proper guidance…”

“…to a young snake who makes inappropriate friends.”

Harry frowned. “Who is inappropriate?” Harry knew lots of Gryffindor kids hated all things Slytherin, but he’d thought adults would be smart enough to avoid making those kinds of judgments.

“In terms of inappropriateness, I think we rank rather high, Forge.” He leaned toward his twin.

His twin rolled his eyes. “You’re Forge.”

“So I am. Anyway, back to our point, a certain maternal unit has tasked us with being friends because our little brother has embraced his true prattish nature and lost your favor.”

Harry jumped on the word that concerned him. “Tasked you?” Tasks implied someone had an agenda—they wanted to accomplish something and they had steps to reach that goal. But if Harry was a “task,” then he had to wonder what Mrs. Weasley wanted. What was her end goal?

The twins had on matching expressions of utter disinterest, but something in their face made it clear that they felt the exact opposite. Maybe Gryffindors were not as a brash and incapable of planning as Draco always said. “Well, we can’t have snakes being your best friends. You clearly need a new bestest friend.”

“Or two. I do believe she planned for two.” He wiggled his finger between his twin and himself.

“Why would your mother care who I’m friends with?”

“Now that is a question, little Harrykins.”

“A question for the ages. I mean, I don’t think our dear mother could name three of our friends, so it is puzzling why she is so intimately familiar with your social circle. Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Draco Malfoy.”

“She approves of Hermione. She quite approves of her.”

“And I don’t think she knew about Neville Longbottom, but she would definitely approve of him. I’m glad to see he has friends outside the house.”

“Gryffindor has been unkind to him.”

“We should do something about that.” The twins looked at each other, and a chill went down Harry’s spine. It sounded like the twins were on Neville’s side, which was good, but they were a little frightening.

“I would appreciate it if you could help Neville out,” Harry said slowly, “but I think I’m okay with the friends I have.”

“We assumed so, since you’re friends with them and all.” The boy studied him for a second, before adding, “I assume you know Draco’s daddy is using you for your political clout.”

Harry shrugged. Lucius had never been particularly subtle about it.

“Right, then we figure you can handle your own social calendar, but like we said…”

“… mother dearest is worried. She says there are entirely too many Slytherins around you.”

“I am Slytherin,” Harry said with frustration. Now he knew where Ron had gotten his annoyingness.

“A fact she dearly likes to ignore.”

The other twin made a face. “Can you imagine if you had been sorted Slytherin?”

“Or you. It might have been you under the hat when it argued that you were best served in the house of snakes.”

That twin shrugged. “But whichever one of us it was, they were brave enough to argue that our ambitions were best served being together in the house of lions.”

His brother’s grin grew predatory. “No one expects a lion to sneak about.”

“And yet they stalk their prey.”

“Well, the lionesses do, Forge. The lions roar at danger and charge right in.”

The one that was now claiming to be Gred, which Harry was almost certain had changed since they had started this conversation, leaned closer. “But we try to embrace the energy of the lioness. Much more snakelike.”

Harry definitely saw why the hat had wanted at least one of these boys in Slytherin. He could imagine one of the twins debating with Flint in the common room. He could imagine it easily. What he couldn’t imagine was their motivation for warning Harry that Ron’s mother wanted to arrange play dates for him the way Petunia had for Dudley. “Why would you tell me any of this? If your mother wants you to manipulate me into being your friend, then telling me all this doesn’t feel very smart.”

“Ah, but you are not the prey we’re stalking. We don’t care if you see us coming.”

“We’d prefer it.”

“Stalking a second-year feels distinctly slimy.” The twin speaking gave a full-body shiver.

“Not like a snake…” “…snakes aren’t slimy.”

Harry looked back and forth between the twins.

“More like a snail leaving a slime train over the leaves.” The twin made a hand gesture that could have been a snail crawling over leaves or a wave. It looked more like a wave.

“I would rather not be a snail…” “…very disagreeable brother.”

“However,” the twin’s voice grew more serious, “as much as we’re ambitions snakes in the house of lions, you’re a snake with all a lion’s loyalty to its pride. That makes us something like each other. If you need something, let us know.”

His brother nodded. “And if you want us to just hang around, it would keep our dear mother and whoever is pulling her strings from sending someone else.”

“And it would annoy Ron.” This inspired a huge grin.

“That’s just a bonus.”

“Yes, it truly is.”

“So, if you need anything, Harrykins, let us know.” They headed out of the compartment, leaving Harry wondering what was going on with the adults around him. The headmaster was letting people misuse his property and using the Potter vault like a lending library, although Harry assumed he had put an end to that by changing the key. Someone had sabotaged his trunk, and Professor Snape himself had come to the house to make sure Harry had access to his materials. The professor was not known for spending his personal time on making students’ lives better. And now Ron’s mother wanted to get him Weasley friends. It even sounded like she had sent Ron to be his friend in the first place, and Ron had messed it up.

As the second year started, Harry had the idea it was going to be more eventful than year one.