Amidst all the noise, Dumbledore simply smiled, that same serene, grandfatherly expression he always wore, as if he had just ensured Harry's happiness.
Harry's voice, when he finally spoke, was dangerously low.
"You. Disgusting. Old. Man."
Dumbledore's expression faltered ever so slightly. "Harry, my boy—"
"I am not your boy." The mere thought of that caused bile to rise up.
Harry stood, his magic coiling around him, the temperature in the chamber dropping as his rage surged.
The very air itself crackled with barely restrained fury.
Dumbledore, for the first time in many, many years, looked nervous.
But then he straightened his shoulders and lifted his hands, his blue eyes filled with manufactured regret.
"My dear friends," he addressed the chamber, voice calm yet carrying, "I understand this may seem… shocking. But you must look at this through the lens of time."
Dumbledore continued smoothly, his voice filled with the perfect amount of regret and wisdom.
"This contract was signed years ago, at a time when many unfortunate circumstances were already in motion," he explained, turning to the crowd as if trying to appeal to their reason.
"Consider the situation then. Lord Voldemort had revealed himself a couple of years prior, bringing terror back to our world, though unknown to many. And then Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."
A wave of muttering passed through the Lords and Ladies, some nodding slightly, recalling the panic of that time.
Dumbledore took this as encouragement.
"I knew then that should Sirius Black gain custody of Harry, it would have been disastrous."
Dumbledore's eyes glowed with false conviction, his voice grave as he elaborated.
"At the time, we believed him to be a Death Eater, a dangerous criminal—"
"We?" Harry cut in sharply, his emerald eyes blazing with fury.
Dumbledore ignored him.
"If the Dark Side got Harry through Sirius Black," he continued, "it would have been an instant victory for Voldemort. There would have been other ways for him to gain custody of Harry after all, even on the run. Imagine if the Dark faction had control of those fortunes, it would have been disastrous for the Wixen community."
Harry's stomach twisted.
The gall of this man.
He knew.
He knew Sirius was innocent, even back then.
And yet—he still justified this?
"The situation was dire," Dumbledore went on, "I had to act quickly."
"So you did this," Harry spat.
Dumbledore sighed dramatically, as if he was the one suffering.
"I did what had to be done to protect you, Harry."
Most Lords and Ladies still looked uncertain, their faces drawn with conflict.
Dumbledore sensed it and pushed harder.
"I tried to arrange a marriage contract with another suitable candidate," he admitted, his gaze sweeping the chamber. "Miss Ginevra Weasley, in fact."
A chorus of gasps rippled through the crowd.
"What?" Augusta Longbottom demanded, horrified.
"But her father, Arthur Weasley, refused to sign the contract on her behalf," Dumbledore said with a sad smile, shaking his head as if disappointed.
Harry fought the urge to recoil.
"So that left you with no other option but yourself?" he bit out, his voice dripping with disbelief.
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
"It was the only way to ensure your protection. You were not yet of age, what else could I do?"
Dumbledore lifted his hands in a calming motion.
"I do not intend to bind Harry to me permanently and there is no clause for consummation," he assured the court. "Once he turns seventeen, I will gladly sign a divorce agreement, and he will be free to marry whomever he chooses."
Gasps of relief and horror mixed together.
"But," Dumbledore paused, his expression grave, "unfortunately, as the contract stands… we must marry, or we both lose our magic."
For a moment, it almost seemed like he had swayed some of them.
Then Harry laughed.
A sharp, humourless sound.
The chamber stilled and Dumbledore's expression froze.
Harry tilted his head, a slow, knowing smile curling on his lips.
"You can weave your lies wrapped in your justifications, but I see you as you really are." His voice rang through the chamber, sharp and unrelenting.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered.
Harry took a slow step forward.
"All these years, you've been coveting my wealth, my family magics and histories." His voice turned sharp, cutting. "And when I refused to come to heel, you thought, why not become my husband? My master, in all but name."
He took another step forward, his magic pressing down on the room.
"You have always sought to control me. First as my guardian. Then as my Headmaster. And now you try to bind me to you legally."
Dumbledore, looking genuinely alarmed, reached for his wand.
Harry barely twitched his fingers and a wordless, wandless Expelliarmus sent the wand flying across the room.
A collective gasp of shock rang through the chamber.
"Harry, calm down," Neville urged from the audience benches, his voice tense.
"Think this through," Blaise added. Most likely for the magical offences Harry was committing in the chamber right now.
Harry exhaled slowly, forcing himself to rein in his emotions.
With deliberate movements, he turned to Augusta Longbottom.
"Is this contract legal?" he asked, voice calm but deadly.
She swallowed heavily, scanning it once more before looking up, her face grim.
"…If this was created when Dumbledore was your magical guardian, then yes." She closed her eyes briefly. "And since it was finalised before your emancipation. It holds weight."
Harry clenched his fists.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," Augusta spat at Dumbledore.
Harry inhaled sharply before saying, "I'm calling my account manager to the chamber to verify this before we move forward."
He flicked his wand, sending his Patronus streaking out of the chamber. "Grimbok, please meet me in the Wizengamot chamber immediately. Escorts will be waiting in the atrium."
The chamber settled into a tense silence, only disturbed by the occasional murmur or shifting of robes. Dumbledore retrieved his wand but sat down, his expression shifting back into the smug mask he had perfected over the decades.
Harry, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on the contract, rereading its clauses. Control over his estates. Control over his person. Control over his vaults. Control over his Wizengamot seats.
He let out a small, humourless laugh.
The chamber doors burst open, and Grimbok strode in, his breathing slightly heavier than usual. He immediately made his way to Harry's side, ignoring the humans gaping at his presence.
"Lord Potter-Black," he greeted, before his sharp eyes locked onto Dumbledore. His lip curled in disgust.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," Harry said sincerely. "I apologise for the abrupt summons, but Dumbledore has made another move." He handed Grimbok the contract.
Grimbok skimmed the document, his grip tightening on the parchment. His face contorted with rage, and he snarled something in Gobbledegook, his sharp teeth bared in fury. "You foul excuse of a human," he hissed at Dumbledore. "The Hoard should have taken your head when we had the chance."
A ripple of unease spread through the chamber.
Dumbledore rose to his feet. "Then I ask this court to confirm the future union between Harry James Potter and myself."
Grimbok turned back to the court and announced, "You will let me finish examine the contract before you force my client to do anything."
Harry startled—then, suddenly, he started laughing. Pure, unadulterated relief flooded through him.
"Oh, please Merlin."
He frantically scanned the contract again and turned to Grimbok, explaining.
"A marriage contract must be specific to the person, correct? Names must be exact?" He whispered.
Grimbok's eyes widened in understanding before he grinned, sharp and full of teeth.
"Yes, that is correct. I see you have learnt something from me after all." Making Harry roll his eyes fondly.
Harry turned back to the chamber, his grin turning almost feral.
"Grimbok, would you be so kind as to announce my full legal name given to me at my birth, as recorded in Gringotts, to this court?"
Grimbok inclined his head and, in a loud, clear voice, declared, "Harrison James Potter-Black."
Dumbledore paled, his face a mask of shock as his entire plan unravelled before him.
Harry smirked, leaning back in his seat.
"I'm afraid, Headmaster, that your contract is null and void." Summoning the original and ripping it in half, full of relief when the magical pages dissolved in his hands.
The Wizengamot chamber erupted in cheers, a wave of relief washing over the gathered Lords and spectators.
Dumbledore, however, was trembling in barely concealed rage. His hands clenched at his sides, his usual grandfatherly mask slipping away as his face twisted into something ugly—furious, desperate, and utterly exposed.
Harry tilted his head, watching him with a detached curiosity.
Dumbledore's entire body tensed, and then he relaxed. "How fortuitous that this matter could be put to rest so suddenly. It would have been quite an ordeal for the both of us."
Harry didn't panic. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Yes, I suppose its luck that there isn't another young wizard out there with the name 'Harry James Potter'. My, if the contract hadn't dissolved then I imagine some poor muggle boy would have been in for quite a shock." Making many in the court smother their laughter.
Harry wouldn't even wish a contract like that on Voldemort. The mere thought of some innocent child being forced to marry this man was vile. He would sooner kill him than allow that to happen to someone else.
Chief Greengrass, who looked positively gleeful, raised his gavel. "Well, Lord Potter-Black, I daresay this has been the most entertaining session since you claimed your seats."
"If there are no further petitions—" Silence. "Very well then. This session is adjourned."
The sound of his gavel striking the podium was final. Dumbledore stood frozen, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.
With a sharp turn, he walked towards the exit.
Blaise and Neville caught up with him in seconds, Neville pausing only briefly to exchange a quick word with Augusta before following. Grimbok fell into step beside Harry.
As soon as they stepped into the Floo, Harry felt the weight of the moment crash down on him.
"The Cove," he murmured, tossing the powder into the flames. The green flames roared high, swallowing them whole.
The second Harry's feet touched the stone floor of the cottage, his knees almost buckled. He would have collapsed if Neville hadn't grabbed him by the arm, steadying him with a firm grip.
The room was silent for all of three seconds before hysterical laughter bubbled up between them.
Neville slumped into the nearest chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "Merlin's balls—did that just happen?"
Blaise let out a sharp bark of laughter, running a hand through his short curls. "Oh, it happened, Nev. That smug bastard actually thought he could enslave you like that."
Harry let out a breathless chuckle, dropping heavily onto the couch. "He planned this just after third year. I was thirteen and he planned to control—"
"Your entire life," Grimbok finished darkly, his usually stern features twisted in something close to fury. "That was a close call, Harrison. Had Dumbledore known your true name, the contract would have been solidified."
Harry exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We got lucky."
Blaise sneered. "The nerve of that old man, claiming it was for your protection. You're right, Harry, he's after something more, this was just his final move."
"And let's not forget," Neville added bitterly, "he claimed he was protecting you from Sirius—Sirius, of all people—because he thought he was a Death Eater. What bullshit. He's known Sirius was innocent well before that contract was signed."
Grimbok huffed, crossing his arms. "He would not have annulled that contract when you turned seventeen. That man had every intention of keeping you under his control."
Harry sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Thank you for coming so fast. I couldn't just take his word for it. I needed you to verify it."
Grimbok nodded approvingly. "It was a wise decision."
Harry's gaze had drifted towards the bedroom, where Sirius lay in his magical stasis, unmoving and silent. Slowly, he pushed himself off the couch and walked into the room, placing a hand over the medallion resting on Sirius' chest. He could still feel the steady pulse of magic, keeping his godfather frozen in time.
A soft clink of porcelain caught his attention, and he turned to see Neville and Blaise standing there with tea.
"Drink," Neville ordered, pushing a cup into Harry's hands.
Harry gave a wry smile as he took it. "Don't expect every Wizengamot session to be that exciting."
Neville groaned, rubbing his eyes. "No offense, Harry, but how do you deal with this? I was ready to fall asleep during the first few petitions."
"And then the world's most disturbing proposal happened," Blaise muttered.
A small smile tugged at Harry's lips, but it quickly faded when Neville asked, "Do you think Luna knew about it?"
Harry hesitated, swirling the tea in his cup. "Maybe," he murmured. "But even if she did, she might not have been able to make sense of it. She's forgetting more than she remembers these days. As it is her last vision took a lot out of her."
Silence settled over them, heavy and suffocating.
Then Blaise spoke, voice quiet. "We're running out of time, aren't we?"
Harry stiffened.
56. That was the number of sacrifices still needed. The weight of it pressed down on his chest, suffocating and unrelenting.
He forced himself to take a sip of tea, but it was bitter on his tongue.
"Yeah," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "We are."
Neville and Blaise shared a look.
~
The summer was drawing to a close, but for Harry, time had all but lost meaning. Days blurred together in a haze of research, frustration, and restless nights spent by Sirius' side. It had been three months since Bellatrix had cast that cursed spell, three months since Harry had barely left the cove, and he still hadn't found the counter-curse.
He was running out of books, out of patience, and out of options.
But he wasn't giving up.
Sirius lay motionless, as he had for the last ninety-eight days, the only thing keeping him tethered to life being Harry's stasis medallion. Harry checked it religiously, his fingers tracing the intricate runes embedded into the silver surface.
And today, like every week, he had to collect Remus for his visit.
Harry apparated to the designated meeting point, an empty stretch of land outside of York where no one would hear them arrive. Remus was already there, waiting with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked thinner than the last time Harry had seen him, his clothes hanging looser on his frame, exhaustion lining his features.
Harry wordlessly held out an arm, and without a word, Remus took it.
With a crack, they disappeared.
The moment they landed, Harry dropped his arm and strode ahead, leading Remus towards the bedroom where Sirius lay in his eternal sleep.
Remus lingered in the doorway, hesitating. He always did.
Harry ignored him, walking straight to Sirius' bedside.
Only then did he acknowledge Remus.
"He's stable," Harry said, his voice clipped, controlled. "Same as last week. Same as every week."
Remus stepped closer, shoulders hunched. He hovered near the bed, staring down at Sirius' still face. "Thank you for letting me see him," he murmured.
Harry didn't respond.
A heavy silence settled between them, stretching long and uncomfortable. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the far wall.
Then Remus shifted, opening his mouth—then closing it. He looked torn, conflicted.
"What is it?"
Remus swallowed. His fingers clenched at his sides. "Harry, I—there's something I need to tell you."
Harry turned to face him fully, already feeling on edge.
Remus' gaze darted away, fixing on Sirius' face as if that would somehow give him the strength to continue. His voice was weak, unsteady.
"I love him, you know that." His hands trembled slightly. "I never wanted to hurt him. Never."
Harry's stomach twisted. "Then why do I feel like I'm about to hear something that'll make me want to hurt you?"
Remus flinched, but forced himself to continue.
"After Sirius got hurt, I wasn't thinking straight. I was drinking those first few weeks, trying to forget how helpless I felt, how much I—" He swallowed heavily. "I was weak, Harry. I was so stupid. And one night, I woke up, and Tonks was next to me."
For a moment, Harry didn't react.
His brain stalled, his thoughts frozen in place.
"...What?"
Remus' face crumpled, his voice pleading. "I swear to you, I didn't mean for it to happen. I wasn't thinking, I wasn't—"
Harry took a step back, feeling like he had been punched in the gut.
His jaw clenched. "You betrayed him."
"I—I know, I know, but—"
"Before he was even cold, Remus," Harry snarled, his voice sharp and cutting. "Sirius was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, and you—" He shook his head in disgust.
Remus looked utterly broken. "I am so sorry, Harry, I—"
"Why are you telling me this now?" Harry cut in, voice low and dangerous.
Remus hesitated again. His entire body was trembling.
"...Because Tonks is pregnant. It only happened once, but it was enough."
He stared at Remus, blank, numb, uncomprehending.
"No," he whispered.
But Remus nodded miserably. "She told me a few weeks ago. She refuses to—" His voice broke. "She refuses to get rid of it. She wants us to be a family, Harry. She wants me to be with her."
Harry's hands curled into fists. His magic was crackling beneath his skin, a storm ready to break loose.
"So, what are you going to do?" he forced out, his voice dangerously quiet.
Remus let out a hollow laugh. "I don't know. I never wanted children, not with my condition. I never—" He took a shaky breath. "Tonks says it would ruin her life in the Ministry if she had a child out of wedlock."
Harry scoffed. "Ruin her life? Funny how she didn't care about that when she climbed into your bed."
Remus flinched.
Harry took a slow, deep breath, trying to contain the raw fury clawing at his insides. "She's manipulating you, Remus."
Remus shook his head. "No, she—"
"Yes, she is." Harry stepped forward, his voice sharp as a blade. "She got you when you were vulnerable, when you weren't thinking straight. And now she's using a child to tie you to her. But you don't have to marry her to be in the kid's life. You know that, right?"
Remus looked lost, conflicted, miserable. "It's not that simple—"
"It is," Harry said coldly. "As a werewolf, you didn't want to be public with Sirius because you were afraid of ruining his life. So tell me, Remus—how is marrying her any different?"
Remus opened his mouth, then closed it.
Harry watched as the weight of his words sank in, as Remus' shoulders slumped further, as guilt and shame warred in his expression.
After a long pause, Remus whispered, "I'll think about it."
Harry exhaled sharply, looking away. "Yeah. You do that."
Another silence. Then, hesitantly, Remus asked, "You'll still let me see Sirius?"
Harry clenched his jaw, then forced himself to relax.
"I won't stop you," he said flatly. "But I won't make a decision about you until Sirius wakes up. If he wants you gone, then you're gone."
Remus' breath hitched, and for the first time since arriving, he started to cry in earnest.
Harry didn't comfort him.
Didn't offer a single word.
He simply turned away, staring at Sirius' unmoving face, as the weight of the revelation settled into his bones.
And for the first time, he truly understood what Luna had meant.
It will be a long time before he wakes. And when he does… everything will have changed.
Sirius will be waking up to a cruel reality.
~
The rhythmic clatter of the Hogwarts Express soothed some of the unease that had settled in Harry's bones. He still wasn't sure if returning was the right decision.
After Dumbledore's stunt, Harry had nearly decided against coming back at all. But Augusta and Amelia were working on building a solid case against him, and it was only a matter of time before they removed him from Hogwarts for good. Hopefully, soon.
Still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth to be walking straight back into the lion's den.
Luna was curled up beside him, her head resting on his thigh, her soft breaths even and peaceful. But Harry could see the faint traces of exhaustion on her face, the way her normally ethereal presence seemed dimmed.
Healing the bruising in her brain had taken a lot out of him last night, and even then, it hadn't been enough.
Harry gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, making sure she was comfortable before refocusing on the conversation around him.
Blaise finally broke the silence. "How are the preparations going for the big move?"
Harry straightened slightly, lowering his voice. "Libraries are all moved. I've given the elves gold to buy more muggle books and food stuff that can be preserved."
Blaise raised a brow. "Muggle books?"
"Ignotus said the world was very underdeveloped when they arrived," Harry explained. "Hardly any innovation in medicine, food and architecture, and certainly no electricity."
Blaise winced. "Merlin, what a nightmare."
"Exactly," Harry said. "So, I had the elves focus on books about muggle medicine and innovation. If the people there aren't compatible with magic, or if we don't have the right ingredients for potions, we'll need alternative methods."
Neville grinned. "Well, I've stocked up on seeds for you. The Longbottom farms didn't have access to everything you needed, so I used the gold you gave me to cultivate new plants."
Harry smiled. "I appreciate it, Nev. You've done more than enough with the greenhouses at the Keep."
Neville waved him off. "Of course, I'd help."
Theo sighed. "I, on the other hand, spent the summer alone. My father was out almost all the time, which is more worrying than him actually being home."
Harry frowned. "You think he's up to something?"
Theo nodded grimly. "He expects more reports this year. He told me they're planning something big, but refused to tell me what. Said, and I quote, 'Potter might pluck it out of your head. Can't have him or Dumbledore suspecting anything.'"
That was not good.
Before he could reply, a sharp knock at the compartment door made them all go silent.
Harry flicked his fingers, dropping the silencing charms.
The door slid open, revealing Anthony.
"Tony," Harry greeted, smiling slightly.
"Harry, Zabini, Longbottom." Anthony handed them a neatly folded invitation. "Professor Slughorn would like to invite you to his carriage for a little… get-together."
Theo arched a brow. "Slughorn?"
Blaise smirked. "I've heard of him. Likes to collect 'promising' students, doesn't he?"
Harry groaned. "Great. Just what I need, another old man trying to 'claim' me."
Blaise chuckled. "We should at least go, see what he's about."
Theo rolled his eyes. "Have fun being fawned over. I'll stay here and make sure Luna doesn't roll off the seat."
Harry chuckled, carefully shifting Luna's head off his lap before standing. "We won't be long."
The moment they stepped inside, Harry immediately regretted it.
The carriage was lavishly decorated, a small round table in the centre filled with plates of pastries, sweets, and an assortment of drinks. Several students were already seated—including Granger.
Harry barely suppressed a groan.
"Ah, at last! The famous Lord Potter-Black!"
Harry plastered on a polite smile. "Professor Slughorn. A pleasure."
"Come, come, take a seat! You as well, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Longbottom!"
They settled in, taking the empty seats.
Slughorn beamed. "Now, my dear boys, I must say, I was quite hesitant about accepting the Potions position again, but I simply could not pass up the chance to meet such brilliant young minds!"
Harry tensed. "You're teaching Potions?"
"Why, yes!" Slughorn said proudly. "Professor Snape has finally taken up the Defence Against the Dark Arts position!"
Blaise and Neville startled.
Harry blinked. "Huh."
So, Snape had finally gotten his wish.
Slughorn continued, "I simply had to meet you, Lord Potter-Black. What an extraordinary young man you are, brightest of your year! Rising to power in the Wizengamot, securing alliances, and that performance at the Ministry—!"
Hermione stiffened, clearly not liking that the attention wasn't on her.
"Actually," she interjected, "I'm the brightest student in our year, Professor."
Anthony—who had just sat down—snorted.
"Actually, Granger, you're third."
Hermione whirled to him, "What?!"
Anthony smirked. "You may be the brightest in your house, but overall? Theo's second. Harry's first."
Hermione's expression was priceless.
Her face reddened in outrage, her lips pressing into a thin line as she visibly fought to hold back a rant.
Slughorn, oblivious, chuckled. "Ah, remarkable, remarkable! Such talent among you all!"
Harry tactfully avoided all questions about the Wizengamot, dodging any attempts to be 'collected' into Slughorn's circle. He could see Blaise enjoying himself immensely as he teased Hermione about her ranking.
Soon enough, the conversation shifted away from Harry, and after another fifteen minutes, he gave Blaise and Neville a look, signalling that it was time to leave.
Slughorn pouted but waved them off cheerfully.
Harry sighed in relief as they exited.
"I'm never going back in there," he muttered.
Blaise laughed. "Oh, but Harry, Slughorn just adores you!"
Neville shook his head. "At least Hermione nearly exploded. That was satisfying."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head.
~
The first two months at Hogwarts passed in a blur.
Between keeping up with classes, monitoring Dumbledore's whereabouts, searching for a cure for Sirius and continuing his private studies, Harry barely had time to breathe. He knew that things were coming to a head, and he had to be ready.
Most of his free time was spent studying the Marauder's Map.
Dumbledore was leaving the castle often.
Harry had half-expected him to be heading out for Order meetings, but Kreacher had confirmed otherwise. He suspected the old man was searching for the horcrux's, it would make sense that he would know about them, especially with the close call at the Gaunt Shack. The old elf had been especially useful lately, bringing him information he never would have had access to otherwise.
And some of it… was downright hilarious.
Like how Molly and Ginny had a complete meltdown when they learned about Dumbledore's marriage contract with him. He was glad he watched the memory of it.
"You promised me, Albus!" Molly had shrieked, her face turning a mottled shade of red. "You said Ginny would be Lady Potter! Why on earth would you put yourself on the contract? Fix it! Put Ginny's name on it—you promised!"
Harry snickered just thinking about it.
Most of the Order members had looked ill, the revelation of Dumbledore's intentions still weighing on them. Some had been pacified, falling for whatever excuse he gave. But others… weren't so convinced.
Arthur and Bill had exchanged pointed looks, as if they were finally realising just how deep Molly and Ginny's schemes had run.
And Tonks—Harry sneered just thinking about her—had been sitting smugly, one hand cradling her barely there stomach.
Harry had nearly torn the memory Kreacher had provided to shreds at the sight of her.
Dumbledore had some serious explaining to do to his flock and judging by how most of them still looked disgusted, he wasn't having much success.
Harry leaned back in his chair, watching the dancing names on the Marauder's Map with sharp eyes. His thoughts becoming distracted again.
Blaise had come to him with a grim expression and quietly informed him that Draco Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark.
"He's marked," Blaise had said, his voice tinged with something close to regret. "I saw it when his sleeve slipped during breakfast. He was trying to look smug about it, but I could tell—he's out of his depth."
Harry had been startled but not surprised.
They had speculated that Voldemort might have marked him as punishment for Lucius' failures. And if that was true, then Draco was as good as dead if he failed whatever task he'd been given.
Harry exhaled slowly, eyes trailing over the map.
But Draco Malfoy was not his concern.
Not right now.
His eyes flicked toward the small, enchanted map on the desk beside him.
Unlike the Marauder's Map, this one was different.
It was a detailed world map, one that marked locations where Voldemort had been sighted. He had been tracking the movements, plotting points whenever Voldemort's soul went.
The dot pulsed softly, its glow fading in and out like a heartbeat.
Harry had mapped out every location Voldemort had been frequenting that wasn't hidden by a Fidelius Charm. Which was where he speculated the final horcrux to be hidden.
Some were expected, like Riddle Manor.
Others… were more surprising.
A small estate in the Scottish Highlands. An abandoned monastery in France. A hidden fortress deep in Albania.
Harry knew he should tell his friends.
He should.
But he wouldn't.
Because this—this part of his plan?
It wasn't something they could know about.
Not because he feared they'd stop him.
But because he was ashamed and he wouldn't put this burden on them.
Luna was running out of time.
He needed fifty-six more sacrifices before the ritual would work.
Harry exhaled shakily, his magic coiling around him.
This was what he had to do.
~
The cold Scottish air bit at Harry's skin as he crouched just outside the invisible boundary of the wards.
Harry knew Voldemort wasn't here. He'd been watching the Map, keeping a careful eye and that morning, Voldemort's dot had vanished from Britain, reappearing in France.
This was the perfect time to strike.
The wards pulsed, ancient and well-crafted, but… not as strong as they should have been.
He called softly, "Tilly."
A soft pop, and his devoted elf appeared beside him, her big eyes immediately sharp and alert.
"Master Harry," she said, whispering, ears twitching. "The wards, they are strong."
"Can you slip us through without setting off an alarm?" he asked, voice low.
Tilly straightened, her little fingers twitching as she reached out toward the boundary.
The air rippled, parting like silk around them.
Harry felt the rush of magic against his skin, and suddenly the estate came into view.
It was nothing special.
A two-story manor, its stone walls cracked with age, windows dark and empty.
He exhaled sharply, then whispered, "Stay hidden, Tilly. Don't come unless I call."
The elf nodded, vanishing with a pop.
His veil still covering him, Harry moved silently toward the estate, his magic dampening the sound of his own movements.
There were Death Eaters inside.
At least six of them—and one… something else.
A deep, rumbling growl made his ears twitch.
Harry stilled, pressing against the wall.
A troll.
They had a chained troll at the back of the property.
What the hell were they doing here?
Holding his breath, he pressed forward, slipping through the slightly ajar front door.
The stench of potions, burnt metal, and old blood filled his nostrils.
He kept to the shadows, his eyes scanning the room.
There were papers scattered across desks, cauldrons bubbling in the distance. A few Death Eaters stood around, speaking in hushed voices.
Harry listened.
"…She's gaining too much power."
"Our Lord needs us to get rid of Bones before the election," one of them was saying.
"We'll put our own puppet in place," another said. "Yaxley has enough contacts in the Auror Department. We just need to—"
Harry's stomach turned.
They were planning her assassination.
Harry's mind raced. He committed every word to memory.
Harry watched them for another five minutes, mentally mapping out their positions.
There were two patrolling the outer perimeter.
Four inside.
The troll was chained, unable to move much.
They were confident.
Arrogant.
Fools.
The first guard never saw him coming.
A hand over the mouth. A single slice to the throat.
Blood gushed over his fingers, hot and sticky.
He lowered the body gently, ignoring the sudden pulse from the crystal around his neck. His stomach clenched at the close intimacy of the killing, but this was best way for the power of the sacrifice to reach the crystal.
He did the same to the second guard.
This time, his hands trembled.
The bile was already rising in his throat.
Inside, he waited for them to separate.
One by one—silent. Efficient. Deadly.
None of them even realised what was happening.
The last one turned, just as Harry sliced his throat open.
A wet gurgle.
Then—silence.
Harry stood there, his breath ragged, staring at the blood pooling around his feet.
His stomach lurched.
He barely made it to the corner of the room before he vomited everything in his stomach.
He clenched his fists, shaking.
Fifty more.
He let out a hysterical laugh, pressing a hand against his mouth.
He swallowed it down.
Then, forcing himself to move, he swept through the room.
Every piece of parchment, every document, every list of traitors—he took it all.
Then, he saw the library, the shelves were small, but filled with dark tomes and notes.
He emptied it into his expanded trunk.
Then, the potions lab.
He took everything.
And just as he was about to leave, he felt the heat of the fire.
Harry frowned.
The flames in the hearth were burning hotter than they should have been in a lab like this.
He moved closer, and his breath caught at what he saw.
Inside was a dragon egg.
A large, greyish shell with faint purple veins running through it. It looked strange, as if fibres were growing in a striped pattern before shooting out curled strands on the top of the egg.
A Hebridean Black.
Why the hell would they have—
Then it hit him.
Someone must have told Voldemort that dragons could understand parseltongue.
Maybe he was trying to hatch one to control?
Well.
Not anymore.
Gently, he reached out, his elemental magic wrapping around the egg like a protective cocoon.
With utmost care, he lifted it, placing it inside his satchel.
Then, he turned back to the main hall.
He couldn't leave evidence. His fingers flexed, and he summoned his fire, a great serpent of flame coiled in the air, its body flickering gold and red.
"Destroy it all."
Harry watched silently as the flames devoured the manor, licking at the stone, erasing every trace of what had happened here.
Hopefully, Voldemort would assume a potions accident.
He reached the edge of the wards, exhaling sharply.
"Tilly," he called softly.
A small pop.
The elf appeared, eyes wide.
"Take me home."
Tilly grabbed his hand, and the flames disappeared into darkness.
~
The familiar rush of apparition had barely faded before Harry was tackled to the ground by a large wing.
A heavy, warm weight pressed against his chest, scales smooth and cool despite the force of the embrace.
"Mother smells of blood."
Altair's milky eyes peered down at him, unusually solemn, his massive wings folding around them both like a protective cocoon.
Harry swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly tight.
He forced a smile, one hand coming up to scratch under Altair's chin, the way he knew soothed him.
"I was taking care of something," he murmured.
Altair huffed, nudging his snout against Harry's shoulder, clearly sensing the evasion but choosing not to push.
Before Harry could dwell on it, he let out a sharp, commanding shout, the kind that summoned his dragons from wherever they were.
The response was immediate.
A gust of wind heralded Nox's arrival, her sleek black form landing on the cliffside with effortless grace.
Lyra followed shortly after, her nearly grown hatchlings tumbling after her, chirping excitedly.
Harry didn't waste time.
"I found something," he announced. "An egg."
The moment he pulled it from his satchel, the reaction was instant.
The hatchlings rushed forward, their inquisitive noses pressing against the smooth obsidian shell, their chirps turning into a flurry of overlapping questions.
"When did Grandmother lay it?" one of Lyra's little ones piped up, tilting their head in confusion.
Harry rolled his eyes, gently pushing them back. "I didn't. I found it."
Nox's eyes gleamed, her nostrils flaring as she took in the strange scent.
"It feels feisty," she mused, flicking her tail.
"I know," Harry said, rubbing the egg carefully. "I found it in Voldemort's possession."
Lyra's tail lashed once in irritation, while Nox let out an unimpressed huff.
"He's an idiot," she stated flatly.
Harry grinned despite himself. "Agreed."
The egg pulsed with warmth, and he exhaled softly.
"I don't want to leave it unhatched," he said. "But I also don't want to force anyone to take care of it." His gaze flickered to the three dragons before him. "So, I'm asking. Does anyone want to raise it?"
Nox immediately shook her head. "Not me. I'm just a hatchling." Making Harry snort, she hadn't been a hatchling for a long time now.
Lyra glanced at her own hatchlings, who were climbing all over each other, nipping at tails and wings.
"I have enough to deal with," she said, though her tone was fond as she nudged one that was nearly as large as her, back into place.
Harry turned to Altair.
The moment their eyes met, Harry already knew.
The soft crooning sound Altair made, the way his wings fluttered in excitement, how his gaze remained fixed on the egg with something close to wonder.
"I'll take care of it," Altair whispered. "Like Mother took care of me."
Warmth, raw and aching, spread through his chest, and for a moment, the blood on his hands, the weight of what he had done all felt a little lighter. This sweet, sweet dragon. What did I do to deserve him, Harry thought.
A snort broke the moment.
"Suck up," Nox joked, flicking her tail.
Harry turned to her instantly, his eyes narrowing.
"Where did you learn that phrase?"
Nox's lips curled into a wicked grin.
"Padfoot," she declared smugly. "He taught me lots of words before going to sleep."Harry groaned, running a hand over his face. "Of course he did."
Lyra let out a chuffing laugh, while her hatchlings chirped in amusement, clearly enjoying their mother's mirth.
"Well," Harry sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll just have to make sure I raise you properly from now on."
Nox sighed. "You're such a mother hen."
Harry snorted. "I am your mother, brat."
She smirked. "Learned from the best."
Despite himself, Harry laughed.
"Come on," he said, motioning to Altair. "We need to prepare your nest."
Altair's den was warm, nestled deep in the rocky cliffs that overlooked the ocean.
Harry stepped inside, hands full of thick, soft pelts he had gathered over the years, spelled to be fireproof.
Altair bounced beside him, excitement rolling off him in waves.
"What do I do?" he asked, his large form quivering slightly with nervous energy.
Harry smiled, setting down the pelts.
"First, we make the nest comfortable," he said. "Then, we light a fire pit to keep the egg warm. Lyra will know more but you'll have to breathe your fire onto it every now and then."
Altair nodded fiercely, immediately arranging the pelts carefully, his tail flicking as he made a small depression in the centre for the egg.
Harry watched for a moment before moving to the fire pit, summoning flames with a mere flick of his fingers.
Once the flames roared to life, he turned back, watching as Altair curled around the nest protectively.
The egg, now nestled securely, pulsed softly.
Harry placed a gentle hand over it.
Warm. Alive. A new life.
His stomach twisted. It felt so different from the lives he had just taken.
For a brief, self-loathing moment, he wondered, did they deserve death more than this egg deserved life?
His hands trembled, and when he pulled them back, he saw the faint rivulets of dried blood.
Without thinking, he cast a cleaning charm, the evidence of his sins vanishing instantly.
But he still felt it.
A stain not so easily erased.
Altair shifted.
"Mother?" he asked, tilting his head.
Harry shook himself from his thoughts, smiling softly.
"Just thinking love," he murmured.
Altair nudged him gently, his warmth pressing against Harry's side.
Harry exhaled, feeling the ache in his chest ease.
He reached up, pressing his forehead against Altair's snout, closing his eyes.
"You'll be a good father," he whispered.
Altair crooned, his tail curling around them both.
And for a little while Harry let himself breathe.
~
Harry had always found bureaucracy painfully slow, but for once, he was glad that Amelia moved with ruthless efficiency.
It had only taken a few hours for her to secure her office, clear her immediate subordinates, and start the quiet removal of the moles he had discovered.
She hadn't even needed to say much in her return letter—just a simple, "Consider it handled."
That was good.
Voldemort would soon realise he had lost more than just a safe house.
His network was crumbling, his spies compromised, and his followers dwindling faster than he could replace them.
Harry had felt his rage through the connection in his scar—sharp and vicious like a blade pressing against his temple.
The Dark Lord had discovered the ruins of his Scottish hideout, nothing but charred bones and ash left behind.
Harry had woken up that morning noticing Luna watching him with an expression too knowing.
She didn't say a word—just curled up beside him on the sofa in the Chamber, tucked her head against his shoulder, and held on.
Harry liked to pretend she didn't know why.
Or maybe he just hoped she didn't understand what he had done.
Either way, he didn't pull away.
Instead, he let out a soft sigh and shifted his arm, pulling her closer.
He needed to focus.
~
Harry barely made a sound as he apparated straight into the dimly lit library of Grimmauld Place. He had no intention of interacting with anyone, least of all the so-called Order. He just needed a particular tome on blood curses—one that could help him identify the spell Bellatrix had used on Sirius.
He sifted through the shelves quickly, pulling down a thick volume titled "Maleficia et Maledicta: The Anatomy of Cursed Wounds." Just as he slipped it into his satchel, a quiet pop echoed behind him.
"Master," Kreacher rasped, his voice low but urgent. "They are meeting. In the drawing room."
His lips curled into a sneer. Of course they were.
For a moment, he debated leaving—he already had what he came for—but curiosity gnawed at him. If they were meeting in Grimmauld, then he had every right to listen.
Pulling his Veil tighter around himself, he slipped through the corridors. By now, he knew the blind spots to Moody's magical eye—and even if the paranoid Auror glanced his way, the Veil would conceal him completely.
The voices grew louder as he neared the drawing room. With a last flick of his wand, he slid into the corner, hidden by shadow and magic.
The meeting was already underway.
Harry's eyes swept over the room, his disdain sharpening. The same faces as always—Molly Weasley, her face pinched and sour as she whispered harshly to her husband. Arthur, looking wearier than ever but with flashes of defiance in his eyes. Kingsley, who Harry knew was reporting back to Amelia.
His gaze hardened when it landed on Remus and Tonks—their hands entwined, matching gold bands glinting softly in the candlelight.
So, they married.
Of course they did.
His anger curled low and hot in his gut. After months of silence—after abandoning Sirius without a second thought—Remus had chosen her. The very woman whose clumsiness had pushed Sirius into Bellatrix's curse.
And now, there they sat. Smiling softly. Comfortable while Sirius remained trapped in magical stasis, his life hanging by a thread.
Cowards. Both of them.
The crackle of the floo broke the tense atmosphere, and Dumbledore stepped into the room. Harry's glare sharpened. The old man's usual twinkle was missing—no doubt from his latest failed attempt at getting him alone.
Harry hid a smirk. Served him right.
"Ah, you've all gathered," Dumbledore said, his voice warm but lacking its usual confidence.
"We're still waiting on Moody," Kingsley said, leaning against the wall with a relaxed air that did nothing to mask the tension in his shoulders.
Dumbledore sighed and took a seat at the head of the table. Molly's glare deepened as she looked at him.
Harry's brows raised slightly. That was… new.
Kreacher had mentioned the Weasley matron's rage over the failed contract, but seeing her barely concealed anger in person was a delight.
The floo flared again, and Snape stepped through, his face a blank mask as usual.
"Severus," Dumbledore greeted. "What news?"
Snape folded his hands behind his back. "The Dark Lord is… displeased."
A chill swept through the room.
"The Scottish Highlands estate was destroyed. Reduced to nothing but ash." Snape's voice was smooth, but Harry didn't miss the glint in his black eyes. "The wards were still intact, they believe it to be an inside job."
Murmurs erupted around the table.
"What made him truly furious, however," Snape continued, his lips curling faintly, "was the missing dragon egg."
"Dragon egg?" Dumbledore questioned.
"Yes." Snape inclined his head. "The Dark Lord… procured a Hebridean Black egg for an experiment. According to Barty Crouch Jr., Potter has a particular gift with dragons." He sneered.
"The Dark Lord believed that with the right persuasion, he could use the dragon as a weapon against magical strongholds. As it is, the MacFusty clan is no more due to their refusal to hand over the wards to their other reserve."
"That's horrible," Bill Weasley muttered, his face pale. "Charlie would be devastated."
Harry barely heard him, his thoughts racing. Voldemort killed the MacFusty clan for that egg. An entire bloodline, gone.
"And the adult dragons?" Kingsley asked quietly.
Snape's smile didn't reach his eyes. "They… refused his orders."
A cold weight settled in Harry's chest. He didn't need to ask what happened to them.
"The Dark Lord has shifted focus," Snape continued. "He plans to seize control of Hogwarts. With the school under his thumb, manipulating the wixen with the lives of their children will ensure his win."
Dumbledore's hands folded tightly. "This is most troubling."
Harry nearly snorted aloud. Dumbledore's carefully crafted worry wasn't fooling anyone.
"What about Potter?" Snape's voice cut through the chamber. "The Dark Lord has been… collecting information. Weaknesses. He plans to exploit them."
"Harry will be safe under my protection," Dumbledore said smoothly. "I plan to give him private lessons to prepare him for what lies ahead."
Arthur scoffed suddenly. "Why on earth would Harry agree to that, after what you pulled with the contract?"
Murmurs of agreement circled the room.
Dumbledore gave a tight smile. "It was… unfortunate, but necessary. We were lucky the contract was voided so easily."
Harry's nails dug into his palms. Lucky? Whoever believed Dumbledore wanted the contract voided, was a fool.
"I imagine Harry won't be eager to trust anyone after what you tried," Kingsley said coolly.
The conversation shifted then, and Dumbledore turned his focus to Remus.
"Have you heard from Harry?" Dumbledore asked, voice light but edged.
Remus looked down, guilt etched across his face. "No," he admitted quietly. "Not since I stopped visiting Sirius."
Tonks, ever the opportunist, chimed in with a smile. "It's such a shame," she sighed, patting her slightly rounded belly. "We were hoping Harry might agree to be our child's godfather."
Harry's entire body froze.
Dumbledore's expression turned thoughtful. "Indeed. With Sirius… incapacitated, Harry will need another Black heir. And since Andromeda was formally reinstated into the family, any child Tonks bears is eligible."
They were trying to manipulate him again. Using Sirius. Using a child as leverage.
"I'm sure," Tonks said sweetly, "that Harry would agree if we mentioned Sirius would have… approved."
Harry had heard enough.
~
The chamber was quiet—too quiet—as the weight of their conversation settled over them. Harry sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the wood, his mind racing with possibilities. They had been hunting for months—months—and still, the final piece eluded them.
"We need to figure out the last horcrux," Harry said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but beneath it simmered a growing urgency. "We know we've got the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem… and myself."
"That's six," Neville murmured, his brow furrowed.
Harry gave a tight nod.
"That leaves two," he said quietly. "The main soul piece and… the last horcrux."
Blaise leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "We've made a list of lost founder artifacts," he reminded them, shooting a glance at Luna. "But nothing feels right."
Luna, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, shook her head slowly.
"No," she murmured. Her voice was distant—dreamlike—but her fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on the surface of the table. "It's not like those."
"What do you mean?"
She tilted her head, looking past them, her pale blue eyes unfocused but intense.
"It's like you," she said softly.
His throat felt tight. "…Like me?"
Luna blinked, her gaze refocusing as she met his eyes.
And suddenly, it hit him—hard and fast, like a curse to the chest.
His visions. The sharp prickle in his scar when Arthur Weasley was attacked. The faint, slithering voice he had heard before—
"…Nagini. A living horcrux," Harry whispered, his voice cold and sure.
"The snake," Neville said faintly, his face pale.
Harry nodded, his stomach twisting into knots. Of course. Voldemort hadn't stopped at him. He had created another living horcrux and this time, it had been intentional.
"That explains why he's always got the damn thing with him," Blaise muttered darkly, his usual composure slipping. "He brings her everywhere, apparently."
Theo cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his dark hair. "He's paranoid. Probably thinks if she's with him, no one can touch her."
"She must be at Malfoy Manor," Theo added, his voice lower now. "My father says he brings her to meetings."
That complicated things. Fidelius protections. Anti-apparition wards. Death Eaters crawling all over the place.
"How the hell are we supposed to get in?" Neville asked, his tone grim.
"We don't," Luna said abruptly.
They all turned to her.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
stretched her fingers lazily across the table.
"Because," she murmured, her voice light but certain, "Voldemort will bring the snake to us."
"…What?"
Luna smiled faintly, but there was a weight behind it—an edge of exhaustion.
"It's already happening," she said simply. "Voldemort is moving things into place. The snake will come to you."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber.
"How?"
Luna gave a slight shrug, her fingers playing idly with a stray curl of hair.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice soft. "But he's coming. And he's bringing everything with him."
The faint flicker of the torches cast eerie shadows across their faces, and for the first time, Harry wondered if they were truly ready for what was to come.
The following day, Professor Flitwick escorted Harry through the winding corridors of Hogwarts. Despite his usual sprightliness, the Charms Master looked… nervous.
"I don't like this, my boy," Flitwick muttered as they neared the stone gargoyle. "You shouldn't be left alone with him—not after the… incident during the August session."
Harry smiled faintly. "I'll be fine, Professor," he said. "I'm not as easy to manipulate as he thinks."
Flitwick gave a reluctant nod before stepping aside and speaking the password.
"Lemon Sherbet."
The heavy oak door to the Headmaster's office swung open with a groaning creak, revealing the warm, cluttered space beyond. The scent of old parchment, lemon drops, and something distinctly off lingered in the air. Harry stepped inside, his magic coiled tightly beneath his skin—a serpent ready to strike.
Dumbledore sat behind his grand mahogany desk, hands folded neatly on the surface, his expression the picture of calm. But Harry knew better, the old man was worried.
Harry didn't bother sitting down. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, emerald eyes cold and unyielding.
"Well," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "I'm here. What do you want?"
Dumbledore sighed softly, as if the burden of the world lay solely on his shoulders. "I am grateful that you came, Harry," he began, his voice filled with carefully measured warmth. "There are… things we must discuss. Matters vital to the war against Voldemort."
Harry tilted his head slightly. "Oh? I would have thought you'd be too busy drawing up marriage contracts," he drawled.
The faintest flicker of irritation flashed across Dumbledore's face before his mask of benevolence settled back into place. "That matter was… unfortunate. But I assure you, my only intent has ever been to protect you."
Harry scoffed. "Right. Because nothing says 'protection' like binding me to yourself." His eyes narrowed. "Get to the point. What do you want?"
Dumbledore hesitated just a moment too long before speaking. "You are probably aware that my Order has been safeguarding a prophecy—one that concerns you and Voldemort."
Harry snorted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping further into the room. "Save your breath," he said, cutting the older wizard off. "I know the prophecy. I collected it myself last year." His lips curled into a cold smile. "Your little secret has been out for quite some time, Headmaster."
For the first time, Dumbledore's composure cracked. His knuckles whitened as his fingers tightened on the edge of his desk. "You… you know the prophecy?" he repeated quietly, his voice laced with genuine alarm.
Harry's smile didn't waver. "Word for word."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, looking far older than his years. "Then you understand the gravity of your position," he said gravely. "Harry… Voldemort cannot die while parts of his soul remain tethered to this world."
Harry arched a brow. "Oh," he said coolly, watching Dumbledore's surprise flicker across his face. "Will you tell me how Voldemort achieved this?"
"I will only say that he is tethered to an object, likely more than one. I finally confirmed it with Horace, who taught young Tom during his time in Hogwarts," Dumbledore murmured. "I have been searching for them, but I think we would have more luck if we searched together."
Harry shrugged, stepping closer to the desk. "I can't trust you Dumbledore. All these years you could have told me the truth, and only now you mention your suspicions. What exactly do you need me for?"
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, but his voice remained soft. "Harry, I have spent years tracing the remnants of Tom Riddle's past. But I fear he has moved these… trinkets. Without understanding his history, it will be nearly impossible to locate the rest."
Harry's heart pounded, but outwardly he remained still. So, he didn't know where they all were. Good.
"I'm offering to show you everything I've uncovered," Dumbledore continued, his tone almost pleading. "Together, we may stand a chance of finding and destroying them before it's too late. You are the key to ending Voldemort, Harry."
For a moment, Harry just looked at him, before his lips curled into a humourless smile. He had always wondered if Dumbledore knew he was a horcrux, and looking at the man now, he thinks he has his answer.
"And why," he asked quietly, "would I work with a man who has so blatantly tried to steal my life?"
Dumbledore's jaw tightened, but he inclined his head slightly. "I understand your anger," he said softly. "And perhaps, in your heart, you believe me to be nothing more than a manipulator."
Harry barked a sharp laugh. "Believe?" he echoed. "I don't have to believe—you've proven it time and time again."
"It has always been for the greater good," Dumbledore said, his voice a touch sharper now, the façade beginning to crack. "Harry, the sacrifices I have made—everything I have done—has been to protect you and ensure that Voldemort is defeated once and for all."
Harry's fingers twitched. The sheer audacity of the man.
"The greater good?" Harry repeated softly, venom dripping from his words. "I'm not one of your pawns, Dumbledore. I'm not your weapon."
Dumbledore rose from his chair, his eyes burning with intensity. "And would you rather let the world burn, Harry?" he demanded, his tone heavy with self-righteousness. "Would you rather see everything and everyone you love destroyed because you were too proud to accept help? You are powerful, much more powerful than expected but you are walking a fine line!"
Harry's magic flared around him, cold and sharp. "No," he said, his voice cold as winter. "I refuse to be your puppet while you play your twisted games. I've seen what your 'greater good' costs. I won't pay the price."
A mournful sound broke through the thick tension.
Harry's gaze flicked toward Fawkes—the once-glorious phoenix perched on his golden stand. The bird's feathers were dull, his eyes dim, and something deep inside Harry twisted painfully.
He stepped forward, extending a hand toward the bird.
The bird trembled beneath his touch, a faint, weak trill escaping him.
"What has he done to you," he whispered.
Dumbledore's voice broke the fragile silence. "Harry—"
Harry turned slowly, his heart pounding. What he hadn't realised was that the crystal hanging from his neck had slipped out of his robes.
Dumbledore's sharp gaze was locked onto it, his expression frozen with recognition and something far darker—desire.
His voice was tight when he spoke. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.
Harry's grip tightened around the crystal, possessiveness curling in his gut. "This," he said coolly, "is a family heirloom."
Dumbledore stepped forward, his tone edged with urgency. "That is no ordinary heirloom, Harry—"
Harry's eyes flashed. "Given your habit of taking things that don't belong to you, I think I'll keep it close, thanks."
Without waiting for a response, Harry turned on his heel and strode toward the door, ignoring Dumbledore's calls behind him.
"Voldemort will win if you don't let me help you, Harry. There is more at stake than you realise!"
He wouldn't give the old man another inch. He fled the office, feeling anxious at Dumbledores recognition of his necklace. How did he recognise it? This necklace had been hidden at the Keep for centuries. Harry's thoughts were scattered, trying to make sense of it all.
~
Harry had been expecting the letter from Remus. Ever since Kingsley had offhandedly mentioned the birth of Edward Lupin, Harry had been waiting for the inevitable attempt at reconciliation.
Harry's fingers curled around the parchment. He knew exactly what this was about. They wanted him to be godfather.
He exhaled sharply, folding the letter. The others were watching him expectantly, Luna humming softly as she traced patterns on the wooden table.
"You're going, right?" she asked, without looking up.
Harry hesitated. "I don't see the point."
Luna blinked slowly, finally meeting his gaze. "Because you think we won't be here?"
Luna just smiled in that knowing way of hers. "The branches are different this time, the moon was in a different phase and that will change everything."
Neville shifted in his seat. "Luna, you're going cryptic again."
She huffed softly. "I only say what I see, it's not my fault the timeline is so wobbly."
Harry rubbed a hand down his face, exhausted. "Luna, what does any of that have to do with me being a godfather?"
Luna tilted her head, eyes distant. "You'll love your little wolf, he will need you."
He stared at her for a long moment before sighing in defeat. "Fine. I'll go."
Blaise leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "But you won't make him Black heir?"
"Absolutely not." Harry's voice was firm. "That would just be playing into Tonks' hands, and I won't forgive her for her involvement in Sirius' condition."
Theo, who had been quiet, wrinkled his nose. "I still don't think you should do this."
Harry sighed. "It's not the baby's fault." He glanced at Luna again. "And Luna hasn't steered me wrong yet."
Harry apparated to the doorstep, dressed formally as Lord Black. The moment Andromeda opened the door, he inclined his head respectfully.
"Lady Andromeda," he greeted smoothly. "I offer my congratulations on the continuation of your bloodline."
Andromeda blinked in surprise before smiling warmly. "Welcome, Lord Black. Please, come in."
As Harry stepped inside, he took in the comfortable but elegant home. Ted Tonks was the next to greet him, beaming. "Harry! Good to see you, son."
Harry shook his hand. "Likewise, Mr. Tonks."
Before any more pleasantries could be exchanged, the sound of an infant wailing cut through the room. Harry turned, his heart clenching unexpectedly at the sight of Remus stepping forward, looking exhausted and out of his depth. In his arms was a squirming, red-faced baby wrapped in a soft blue blanket.
"Harry," Remus said, a touch nervously. "Thank you for coming. I—" He shifted the baby in his arms, trying to soothe him. "I wanted you to meet him. We call him Teddy."
Harry swallowed thickly, stepping closer. "Hello, Edward," he murmured, his voice softer than he'd intended.
The baby's cries faltered, his wide amber eyes blinking up at Harry in curiosity. Harry hesitated for only a moment before gently taking the child from Remus' trembling arms. Teddy's tiny hands immediately clutched at Harry's robes, and a reluctant smile tugged at Harry's lips.
He let his magic reach out, carefully brushing against Teddy's small but potent magical core. He felt the wild magic in him, the remnants of Remus' werewolf curse, but it wasn't like Remus'. It was free. Unshackled.
Harry let his magic twine playfully with Teddy's, making the baby giggle and kick his tiny legs.
Andromeda smiled. "You're a natural."
Harry hummed distractedly, still captivated by the small bundle in his arms.
Finally, Tonks entered the room, putting out a floo call with an annoyed huff. She plastered on a fake smile. "Harry."
Harry barely spared her a glance. "Tonks."
She seemed irked that he wasn't giving her more attention but said nothing.
Remus, shifting uncomfortably, cleared his throat. "Harry… I wanted to apologise again. For everything."
Harry's gaze finally snapped to him, cold and unyielding. "Don't worry. I'm sure Sirius will move on just as easily as you did," he said flatly.
Remus flinched, his grip tightening at his sides.
"But," Harry continued, shifting Teddy in his arms, "congratulations on your son."
Remus swallowed, nodding. "Thank you." He hesitated. "We… we wanted to ask if you'd be his godfather."
Harry opened his mouth to refuse.
Then Teddy reached up and grabbed his chin.
Harry froze.
This is the worst kind of manipulation, he thought wryly, catching the tiny fist in his own.
He sighed. "…Why me?"
Remus exhaled in relief. "If anything happens to us, we want to know Teddy is in good hands. As Lord Black, you could teach him about the family magic."
Tonks perked up. "And you'll need a new Black heir."
Andromeda gasped. "Nymphadora!"
Harry's entire demeanour went frigid. "Sirius will wake up soon enough."
Tonks had the grace to look chastised, but Harry could tell she wasn't remotely sorry.
Before the tension could escalate further, Teddy let out a hungry whimper, and Andromeda immediately jumped to get a bottle.
Harry raised a brow at Tonks. "Don't you think it's a bit soon for you to be going back to work? You only gave birth a few weeks ago."
Tonks scoffed. "Healers did a good job. And Remus is here." She crossed her arms. "My standing has taken a big enough hit already."
Harry's lip curled in disgust.
Andromeda returned, offering to take Teddy, but Harry shook his head. "I don't mind."
She smiled.
As Harry carefully fed Teddy, the baby stared up at him, chugging the bottle with impressive focus. But Harry stiffened when he noticed something Teddy's amber eyes briefly flickering to green.
He smiled slightly, but he didn't mention it.
After finishing, Andromeda showed him how to burp Teddy, laughing when the baby spat up on Harry's shoulder.
Tonks gagged. "That's disgusting."
Harry just rolled his eyes, vanishing the mess with a spell.
Finally, as he carefully rocked Teddy back to sleep, he spoke again. "I will support Edward as a child of House Black. But any financial help will be for him and Andromeda alone."
Tonks frowned. "Wait—"
Harry cut her off sharply, voice cold. "You have shamed House Black with your behaviour and your part in the state of its current heir."
Tonks' hair flared red in anger, but before she could explode, Remus did something unexpected.
He cut her off.
"Thank you, Harry," Remus said quietly.
Harry looked at him, then back down at Teddy. The baby was sleeping peacefully in his arms.
He sighed, brushing his knuckles over the soft down of Teddy's hair.
He hoped he wouldn't regret this.
But looking into Teddy's innocent face…
He didn't think he could.
~
The warmth of the fire crackled softly in the Chamber as Harry leaned back against the stone wall, absently fingering the crystal at his neck. The others lounged around him, half-buried in scattered notes and crumpled pieces of parchment from their latest ritual attempt.
"Another failure," Theo sighed, tossing the ruined schematic onto the floor with a huff of frustration. "Ignotus said there's no way to separate your soul from his using this ritual. If we try, we'd rip both to shreds."
Harry exhaled through his nose, unsurprised. "Expected, but still," he murmured, tilting his head back. "We'll just have to find another way."
The weight of the sacrifices left hung heavy in his chest. Thirty-nine. The number lingered at the edge of his thoughts, sharp and accusing. He tried not to think about France—about the monastery and the ease with which his blade had pierced through flesh. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. But he still tasted bile when he thought too long on the memory.
A nudge to his knee brought him back to the present. Blaise, sprawled with casual grace beside him, had a teasing glint in his eye. "Don't go brooding on us now," he drawled, stretching his legs out. "We're getting somewhere—two Horcrux's down, after all."
Harry shook himself free of the thoughts and snorted softly. "The ring and locket's destruction was easy. But it's just a matter of time before he starts to notice what we're doing."
"Luna says he hasn't felt it yet," Neville added quietly from where he sat beside Theo. His fingers toyed with a sprig of some plant Harry couldn't identify. "We're safe… for now. We just need to spread their destruction out a bit."
"For now," Theo echoed grimly, rubbing his temples. "I still think we should tail Draco. He's marked, he's doing something for Voldemort, and it's making him edgy. Whatever it is—it's big."
Harry hummed in agreement. "You're right. He's up to something," he said, pushing himself up straighter. "We can monitor him using the map. Once we figure out where he's disappearing to, we'll know what he's up to and how to stop it."
The air lightened as Blaise leaned forward, a wicked smirk curling at his lips. "Enough about Malfoy. Let's talk about something that actually matters—like the fact that I finished my animagus transformation."
A groan erupted from Theo and Neville while Harry perked up immediately, eyes gleaming. "Really?" he grinned. "Well, go on then—show us."
Blaise's smirk widened. With a fluid motion, his form shimmered, shrinking and twisting until a sleek black viper slithered onto the stone floor. His scales glistened like polished obsidian, with faint patterns of gold curling along his back in elegant spirals.
"Fitting," Harry mused, watching as the viper curled into a loose coil. He hissed softly, "Well, aren't you a pretty one?"
Blaise flicked his tongue, and Harry's brow arched as the smooth voice of his friend drifted back to him in Parseltongue. "I have always been stunning, Mother."
Luna clapped her hands in delight, crawling closer to admire the snake's shimmering colours. "Your patterns are beautiful, Blaise," she cooed. "Like threads of sunlight on midnight."
With a lazy twist, Blaise shifted back into his human form, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "I can't wait to talk to the dragons," he announced smugly. "Imagine the gossip I've missed because I couldn't understand them."
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Merlin save me. You and Nox are going to be insufferable together."
"That's the plan," Blaise said cheerfully, shooting him a wink.
Theo huffed, still looking sour. "I'm trying, alright? My magic keeps flickering right at the last stretch—damn thing won't settle."
Neville patted his shoulder sympathetically. "At least you're ahead of me," he muttered. "I'm still stuck on the visualisation stage, all I see is brown fluffy fur."
"You'll get there," Harry assured them, his smile turning softer. He hesitated for a breath, glancing down at his hands. "…I should probably finish my transformation soon, too. Sirius would've wanted that."
Silence fell for a moment. They all knew how much Sirius had poured himself into teaching them the Animagus process—how much joy it had brought him to pass that knowledge on.
Luna tilted her head, her dreamy gaze sharpening just a little. "You're closer than you think, Harry," she murmured. "Your magic already knows what you are. You just need to let yourself see it."
He exhaled, nodding slowly. "I know it has four paws and black fur, feels like shadows," he admitted. "But with everything going on…" His voice trailed off.
"You should finish it," Theo said, his voice unusually firm. "For yourself. Not just because of Sirius."
"And imagine the look on Dumbledore's face if you walk into one of his meetings as a giant beast," Blaise added with a wicked grin. "Worth it."
That made Harry laugh, bright and genuine, the tension of earlier easing from his shoulders. "Alright, alright—I'll work on it," he promised, running a hand through his hair. "Just… don't let Blaise turn the dragons against me while I'm distracted."
"No promises," Blaise said smoothly.
Luna shifted closer, tucking herself against Harry's side, her voice soft but certain. "You'll find your form. And when you do it will bring you closer to your cubs."
Harry looked at her quizzically, wondering how a four-legged furry animal would bring him closer to his dragons.
~
The warm spring air drifted through the open windows of the cottage at the cove, rustling the heavy curtains as Harry stretched lazily on the sun-drenched floor in his Animagus form. His pitch-black fur shimmered under the sunlight, and his emerald green eyes gleamed as he flicked his ears toward the sound of laughter.
Neville, in his golden lion form, pounced forward, batting at Harry with a massive paw, and Harry let out a playful growl before rolling onto his feet. His muscles bunched as he leaped, tackling Neville in a tangle of limbs and fur.
From her place curled on a large cushion, Luna giggled softly. She had been watching them for the better part of an hour, her pale eyes warm as the two of them wrestled like unruly pups. Theo—perched on the back of the sofa in his Animagus form, a sleek kestrel—let out a series of sharp clicks that sounded suspiciously like laughter. And Blaise was out with the dragons. It was rare that they all spent a day at the Cove while school was still in session.
"You're going to break something," Theo drawled, transforming back into himself with a graceful flicker of magic, brushing imaginary dust off his robes.
Neville shifted back as well, his hair mussed and his smile wide. "You're just jealous I beat you to it," he teased, nudging Theo's shoulder.
Theo scowled, though the fondness in his expression softened the look. "A lion isn't exactly subtle, Longbottom. Meanwhile, I can fly. Clearly superior."
Harry rolled his eyes, shaking out his fur before shifting seamlessly back into his human form. "You're both ridiculous," he said, though his voice was warm. He turned to Luna, whose smile had dimmed just a little.
"Still no luck?" he asked gently, knowing how much it bothered her.
She sighed, shaking her head. "No. My mind is too… open," she admitted softly. "It's like trying to grab starlight with your hands—it slips through. Maybe one day, but not soon."
Harry's chest ached at the sadness in her tone. Without another word, he shifted back into his wolf form and trotted over to her, nudging her hand with his snout. Luna giggled softly, and when she tugged at his ears playfully, he let out a soft whine and rolled onto his back in surrender.
Neville joined in, letting out a loud mock-roar before shifting back and pinning Harry down, and soon they were tangled together again, Luna's laughter ringing sweetly through the room.